It's been a few hours since Seungwan had left, and Irene had already practically run out of productive things to do. She's already cleaned her room, dusted the living room, and taken a walk around the block to get a better understanding of the city around her. Seungwan had suggested to take Irene sightseeing, but she had kindly rejected under the pretense of having all the time in the world to check it out on her own (Really, she would've loved it, but thought that it would be better not to distract Seungwan in the midst of her writing process). 

She glanced at the clock. 12:14 PM. Still about five hours until Seungwan would come home and not nearly enough to fill up that time. Irene slumped on the couch, wrapping her arms around Manen. He was so soft and fluffy, but still didn't quite replace the feeling of hugging Seungwan. Not that she knew yet, but she imagines that it would be very nice. Head half pressed into the cushions, Irene looks at the collection of old films in the television cabinet. It would be a good way to whittle down the hours, but Irene just couldn't manage to watch one without Seungwan. The best part of the experience was always to hear her witty commentaries on the glaring inaccuracies of the science fiction films, or how Irene could vent to her about the inconsistencies within the period dramas. Movies were meant to be watched together.

All of this moping didn't waste nearly enough time, leading Irene to merely become buried in thoughts of Seungwan. Since it was just past noon, maybe she was on a break. Maybe, maybe, it would be a good idea to call her. The genie pulled Seungwan's phone out of her pockets, hesitant to call it her own yet despite the singer's insistence. Turning the metal block in her hands, she looks at the backside covered in stickers and wonders how long Seungwan had this.

She slips into a magic-induced trance, blue wisps forming a vignette around her vision as she recalls memories of Seungwan and Seulgi sitting side by side in a teen's bedroom, plastered with posters of bands, musicians, singers, and guitarists. They talk about upcoming school events, whether they're going to the soccer game next Friday, or what band just released a new album. Every so often they pause to place another sticker on the back of their phones. Sometimes they'll argue about which goes where, about which looks best, about which looks too cheesy. In the end, they always agree, making sure that they put the same one in the exact same place on their respective devices. That way, whenever they are apart, they'll still be connected somehow.

Irene blinks back to the present. I suppose that answers her questions as to why Seungwan would be keeping this. Absentmindedly, she traces the outlines of the stickers of microphones and cameras. The way Irene treats the phone slightly more delicately after that, she would never comment on. With a few swipes, she unlocks the phone and scrolls down to Seungwan's contact. She's lucky that the singer walked her through the basics of navigating this technology the other day, or she would be completely lost by now. Trying not to crack a smile at Seungwan's cheesy contact photo, she presses the call button.

After two rings, she can make out the groan of a long stretch on the other end of the line. Irene starts worrying that now might've not been the best time to call. What if Seungwan was in the middle of a take or an important conversation with the producers? Irene didn't want to pose any inconvenience. Her voice came out a little shakier than she intended. "Hello, Seungwan?"

Chuckling comes through the receiver, Seungwan's laugh enough to chase away all Irene's insecurity. She could practically hear Seungwan smile through the phone. "Yes, it's me. Did you need anything?"

Just hearing her voice was enough. "No, no, I just wanted to check to see how you were doing. I hope I didn't interrupt anything..."

It wound on like that, the banter and thinly veiled flirting enough to pull Irene from the depths of pessimism that she found herself faced with beforehand. The wish though, that was something new. Even when only half-awake, Seungwan found new ways to surprise the genie. Why wish so small when you had magic at your fingertips? Why not wish to have the world's best voice, or to be the most talented musician? The more Irene learned about the singer, the more she discovered seeming contradictions. All of her talent was coupled with just as much insecurity. All of her ambition was tempered by just as much humility. To wish for more assurance when her talent was more than enough... it seemed cruelly ironic to Irene. Hypocrisy never looked so beautiful. 

Irene sunk even further into the couch, tightening her hold on the chipmunk plush which smelled too enticingly of the girl around which her thoughts never ceased to center on. She shuts her eyes, thinking back to the comfort of her bed this morning. 

She was half-asleep when she heard rustling in the other room. Though the sounds were muffled, she felt as though she could hear the tossing of fabric and the incessant opening and closing of cabinets. Irene dug her head into the sheets to escape the noises. This method, of course, was still not enough to stop Seungwan from her incoherent mumblings. 

"Damn it..." Muffled rustling. "...Laundry... Don't have anything to wear." A cabinet closes. Another drawer opens. The gliding of pulled cotton. "This will have to do."

Irene doesn't think anything more of it, drifting back to sleep as the sounds quiet down.

The present Irene bolts upright on the couch. Hey Ferb, I know what we're going to do today! Irene shouldn't have agreed to watch that cartoon series with Seungwan.

At least she now had a new mission to accomplish: laundry! Knowing where Seungwan kept the bin, Irene crept over to the door of Seungwan's room. With a little apprehension, she opened the door, doing her best to avert her eyes in case this could be considered a breach of privacy, instead making a beeline for the woman's closet and grabbing the laundry basket, hastily making her retreat.

After walking into her own room and tossing old clothes into the bin, Irene slides on her shoes and a coat. With thoughts of lavender fabric softener, she joyously heads towards the laundromat she saw down the street while on her walk earlier that day.