Bogum flinched when the several papers filled with black and white photos dropped in front of him, the dull thud of object hitting the metal surface of the table, dismantling the quiet room and the hum of the overhead fan – his only source of distraction from the mesh of thoughts in his head.

His lawyer had stopped his rambling on about the number of solutions that they could do, an escape plan that mostly consist of bribing police officers and eyewitness. Bogum found no fault in Atty. Lee’s logic, he’s spent enough money on this guy to trust him to get him out of the confines of this cold room. 

But the thing is; he’s never been in handcuffs (except bedroom activities, of course) before, he’s never had to deal with busted and bruised lips (except from it being in between another pair, during steamy sessions, of course), he’s never worn torn shirts (except under small and delicate hands tearing it apart), bloodied from the scuffle that he never knew would hit him.

Under the scrutiny of Lieutenant Kim Saeron, he’s never felt so small and so … irrelevant. To be subjected under this fragile and petite woman, his pride and ego took the beating more than his aching body. The pain in between his thigh throbbing from the mental jab than phantom attacks from the night before.

“You bribed this ahjussi,” Saeron said, pointing at a printed blurry screenshot of Bogum shoving an envelope to the guard, “we got him to confess about what you did,” now staring at him with blank expression. The expression not seating well in the pits of his stomach, making it churn with a mixture of unease and nerves.

Saeron pushed the paper away, revealing another set underneath, “The lobby attendant here voluntarily made a statement, she said she called the police station, discreetly at that, afraid that the guard will stop her.”

“These are just a few of the evidences we gathered, Mr. Park,” Yoojung said, leaving the wall she’s leaning on to stand beside Saeron, arms crossed in front of her chest as she stared him down, “and that’s just from the recent case of harassment and assault that you did to Ms. Irene Bae.”

“Imagine if we actually gave you a glimpse of everything in our hands,” Saeron spoke up, leaning her face on the back of her hand, smirk lining her lips, “would you still be here under interrogation or finally locked up in one of those grimy cells you’ve avoided so far?”

“That’s enough, Officers!”

Saeron and Yoojung didn’t spare a glance to the lawyer beside him, who’s mumbling about respecting the silence of his client and that they should just take the matters to court instead of beating around the bush with this ‘useless and senseless interrogation’ and ‘my client is innocent!’.

“Innocent, huh?” Yoojung mused, casually pulling out a lewd photo of a Bogum with a woman, who looked much too uncomfortable in his arms to be enjoying the affair, “I wonder what this is?”

Bogum visibly paled at the sight.

He almost trembled in his seat, trying to contain the fury and anxiety in his limbs as he looked at his lawyer. He thought that case has been dealt with. Atty. Lee looked at him with a confused and fearful frown in his face, not expecting the two officers in front of them to have that card. Bogum is trying to restrain himself from spewing angry words at his lawyer, knowing that anything he’ll say will be used against him.

“Well, well, well,” Yoojung spoke, mirth coating her words as she leaned both hands on the table, “looks like we hit a spot, Mr. Park.” She looked down at Saeron who gave her a knowing look before looking at the silent exchange between client and lawyer. 

If the furious look and clenched jaw is any indication, they both know they hit more than just a single spot. The fearful look on the lawyer’s expression, though, was more than an enough answer to them. The photo may have contained more than just a photo of Bogum and an anonymous woman but the telltale signs of a secret long buried away for years suddenly coming back to haunt him is etched in the lines of his face that looked like its aged a few years after a single night in a cold room.

“Anything you say will be used against you, Mr. Park,” Saeron said, standing up, towering over the two men who looked at her with poorly disguised bravado, “but you don’t really have to say anything.” 

“We got it all under control.”

Saeron’s last words ring in his ears, as the two officers left them to stew over a mistake that should have never surfaced. The printed pictures of the table giving him haunting images of grimy walls, pee scented rooms, and dirt, gruff individuals in uniformed orange garments. He pushed the papers away with a shrill cry of ‘NO!’ bouncing off the confines of the cold, small interrogation room.

***

Babe, r u up? Sorry I left while ur still sleeping. I got my statement from unnie already, we cnt delay this case any further. Anyway, I know u might be hangover rn but pls try to eat something. I think unnie made some sulguk before I left. I love you

Yeri read the message Saeron sent a few hours ago, after noticing that she’s clutching the cold texture of the soju bottle instead of her girlfriend’s toned arms. She squinted at the bright light of her screen, trying to ease off the ache that attacked her eyes straight to her brain, letting go of her phone in the process, which hit an asleep Sunmi in the face, the loud ‘Ow!’ almost woke up the slumbering couple a few steps away from her.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Sunmi sat up, immediately sat up, clutching her left eye with both hands, glowering at a sheepish Yeri whose mumbling apologies while patting her on the head.

“What happened?” Seungwan asked, rushing over to the living room after hearing Sunmi’s shout.

“This kid hit me with her phone!” Sunmi exclaimed like a child would to a parent, whiny with furious edge in her tone.

“It was an accident! My phone fell, unnie!” Yeri responded, another child who looked chastised under Sunmi’s glare.

“Phone fell, your fac—OW!” 

Yeri bolted down the floor at Sunmi’s cry, the older girl clutching her head like it’s about to split open. But that was a wrong move against her part, though.

As she herself fell back when a bout of dizziness blurred her vision, the oxygen rushing into her head along with the aftereffects of hangover, both Yeri and Sunmi slumped down together on the floor suffering from their boozefest earlier. Seungwan shook her head at the heap of mess that is her friends.

“You both are so weak with alcohol,” Joy, who’s now sitting up, in all her tousled-hair glory, with barely any remnants of hangover or if she even drank with them, said. Pushing back the strands of hair away from a slumbering Seulgi, who looks like she’s not about to wake up any time soon.

“Now, now, Joy, don’t be like that,” Seungwan told her off, chuckling at the groaning mess (zombies?), Joy only rolled her eyes in reply.

“Seungwan ah!” 

“Oh, unnie, looks like your girlfriend is calling you,” Joy teased, as Seungwan looked behind her to another call from Joohyun.

“She’s calling me.”

“Oh? No response on the girlfriend part?” Joy chuckled as Seungwan muttered a ‘whatever’ before she retreated back to the kitchen.

“Now,” Joy stared at the groaning pile of body that is Sunmi and Yeri, looking around as she picked up a discarded pillow, throwing it at them who only … well, groaned in response.

“Will you two shut up!” she half-yelled, half-whispered (how to make that sound when Joy’s voice is a booming mesh of mischief and sarcasm), “a bear is hibernating, have some respect,” ending it with a tsk when the two barely listened to her, combing Seulgi’s hair who barely flinched at her voice.

***

“Are they okay?”

Seungwan joined Joohyun back at the kitchen, finishing up the left over egg rolls she made, “Yeah, just hangover,” Joohyun chuckled at her response, imagining their friends whose groans can be heard in the meager distance separating the kitchen and the living room.

After the small incident earlier, featuring pounding hearts and burnt bacons,  the two peacefully continued the task of cooking breakfast (or should Joohyun say brunch), making small talks and sharing timid smiles behind kitchen utensils – a picture of pure domesticity. Seungwan thought it’s not hard to imagine this kind of life with Joohyun beside her.

And Joohyun thought the same. 

Despite the lack of words to cement this budding relationship, they both know they’re headed down that path. What a few words could be, mean less when their actions gravitate towards one another. But Seungwan thought differently.

Sure, words sound planned, manipulated to make the other person believe in spoken letters of promises and vows that loses its meaning once the action backing it up does the opposite. But it all depends on everyone right? She wants to believe she can do both.

Seungwan wants to etch her promises of a life, not devoid of sadness, but something worth living for as long as they’re together. Actions speaking honest confessions of a love that knows no bound.

“Say, Joohyun…” 

“Hmm,” Joohyun hummed in response, not glancing at Seungwan as she diligently cut up chives.

“Would you like t—“ RING!

 The shrill sound of phone ringing interrupted Seungwan’s questions, belatedly recognizing that it’s her own phone that stopped her mid speech. She exhaled a frustrated breath, turning the stove off before brushing her hands on the apron. She picked up her phone from her back-pocket.