With another month came another deadline, and today was that day.  ChanYeol had woken up considerably earlier than usual to attempt to clean his apartment, but the task proved to be harder than he expected.  He always knew he had a plethora of random items lying around, but he didn’t know he had this much.  It came to the point where ChanYeol just didn’t know where to put his things, and the room full of his more valuable items was already so full that he was afraid to open the door and check.  For the first time in his life, ChanYeol was scared of his own apartment.

By noon, the author had to resort to cramming whatever he could into the cupboards of the kitchen and the cabinets under the bathroom sink.  He even managed to hide his collection of elephants made from cotton balls under his bed, along with three miniature vacuums, a broken printer he refused to throw away, a large tub of purple crayons, and much more.  ChanYeol smiled to himself, examining his apartment that was significantly less cluttered than a few hours ago.  But he still had more work to do if he wanted his home to look presentable.  The sofa was still upside down, various citrus fruits lined the windowsills, origami dragons remained taped to the walls…  But before ChanYeol could begin to turn the sofa right-side-up, he heard the lock on the door turning.  Scrambling around for whatever reason, ChanYeol tried to think of a way to stall his editor, but she had already walked inside.

Straightening up, the author looked at the female expectantly and smiled shyly, hoping she would say something about the apartment.  As she shut the door, the first thing MiKyung noticed was that the clothing item of the month was not on the refrigerator—not even the magnets were there.  The chairs were actually placed around the dining table, only a few sheets of newspaper remained on the floors, and the sink was actually empty for once.  Looking into the living room, the editor noticed that the tower of shoes that was usually placed atop the television was missing, and the vacuum cord was actually wrapped around the device instead of strewn across the ceiling by means of duct tape.  By no means was the apartment clean, but it was significantly less unkempt than the editor had previously known.  With all these sudden changes, MiKyung was almost glad the sofa was inexplicably upside down.

It was then when she noticed ChanYeol standing beside the couch, and his attire that day puzzled her.  Normally, the author would have been wearing a simple white t-shirt paired with denim jeans, but instead he was wearing a blue plaid, button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark wash jeans to match.  She also took note that the clothes looked as if they had never been worn before that day and was almost unsettled by the drastic change.  It came as a relief to MiKyung when she saw that ChanYeol’s hair was still messy as ever and that his bulky glasses were resting atop the bridge of his nose.

“Why did you clean your apartment?” MiKyung asked quietly, still surprised that the unit didn’t reek of garlic and acetone.  The author’s smile faltered just slightly as he hesitantly replied,
     
“I…I thought you would like it.”

MiKyung took a moment to scan the vicinity one more time (momentarily wondering where all his things disappeared to) before looking back at ChanYeol and saying, “Well, clean is always good, but… I mean, do whatever makes you happy. It’s just… Something just seems off.”  The younger had a hard time keeping her gaze on the other, as she often found herself glancing at spots on the floor where items did not reside.  By then, ChanYeol’s tentative smile had been replaced with a dejected pout, and his crestfallen eyes looked down at his feet.

“Oh, I see…”

An awkward silence settled between the two; it was an unfamiliar, unwanted feeling.  The two had never been at a loss for words around each other, and it was unnerving to realize this.

“Do you have your manuscript?” MiKyung finally asked. She tried to look at the other’s face, but she couldn’t bring her gaze past his neck.  The author, with his gaze still turned downward, nodded just barely and shuffled off into his bedroom.  A few moments later, he came back into the living room and slowly made his way to the editor still standing in the foyer.  ChanYeol didn’t look at her as he held out a manila folder, the real manuscript actually within it this time.  Silently, MiKyung took the folder and placed it into her shoulder bag.  She hesitantly took one last glance at the taller man, almost wishing he would look back at her.  But when she realized he wouldn’t, the editor wordlessly turned around and opened the door, walking away and letting the door shut behind her.  The author remained in his spot, his eyes fixed on the floor where MiKyung previously stood.  It was silent in the apartment.

----------

Another month dragged by, and MiKyung still hadn’t texted ChanYeol once since he gave her his number.  She hadn’t even visited his apartment, not that she needed to, but the author made no efforts to see the editor either.  The mid-winter weather already chilled the office, but the youngest editor’s turn in personality made the temperatures drop an extra couple of degrees.  These days, MiKyung seemed more susceptible to snapping at anyone who bothered her too much, and JoonMyun was the first to intervene, albeit subtly.  One day in the office, the older editor looked at his junior and said, “Today is deadline day.”

“I know,” MiKyung quickly replied, clearly not in the mood to talk to anyone.  After listening to the clicking of keyboards in the room for a brief moment, JoonMyun continued,

“That means you’ll have to see him.”

“Obviously.”

JoonMyun was not pleased with the other’s short responses, and he leaned back in his desk chair, his full attention on the female editor.  “Did you guys fight last time?” he asked carefully, gauging the younger’s temper to predict her reaction.  Thankfully, she wasn’t going to yell at him this time.  She merely sighed in irritation, refusing to look at her senior, and answered,

“No, we didn’t.”

“So what happened?”

“Nothing,” MiKyung immediately said in response, desperately wanting to end the conversation.  But JoonMyun was adamant and continued, despite knowing he was pushing the younger too much, too fast.

"You know your partnership will suffer if you two don’t communicate, right?  It’ll show in your work as well.”  The younger remained silent, hoping JoonMyun would get the hint, but he kept talking.  “I don’t know what happened, but you two should start talking again.  There’s nothing worse than an author and his editor refusing to speak to one another.”  Having had enough, MiKyung abruptly stood up out of her chair and threw the straps of her bag over her shoulder.  JoonMyun held his breath, waiting anxiously for the other’s reaction.

“It’s not my fault,” the girl murmured, and the older realized her voice cracked on the last word.  Without another word, MiKyung walked out of the office, hastily wiping away a stray tear.

Within half an hour, the female editor made it to ChanYeol’s apartment, but she spent an extra five minutes standing in front of the door, wiping her face and trying to calm her breathing.  When her breaths were relatively even, MiKyung fished out her ring of keys and inserted the one labeled “#104.”  After opening the door, she froze and remained silent, her eyes adjusting to the extreme darkness inside.  The only light came from the hallway outside, but even then she could barely see a meter in front of her.  Closing and locking the door behind her, MiKyung flipped on the light switch, but no light came on.  She tried the switch a few more times, but the result was the same.  With a quiet sigh, the editor took her cell phone out from her bag and used the light of the screen to guide her path.

The floor was, thankfully, relatively clear, but MiKyung still took short, careful steps.  She turned her cell phone screen towards the kitchen, using the thin light to look for any sign of the author but found none.  After seeing that there was, again, nothing on the refrigerator, MiKyung looked into the living room and jumped a little when she saw a figure sitting on the ground in front of the couch, motionless.  Putting a hand to her heart, the editor regained her composure and positioned the light so that she could see the other, but not to where it would be directly in his face.  “Do you…have your manuscript?” she asked, surprised at how quiet her voice was at the moment.  The author was staring blankly at the floor and remained silent; MiKyung asked again, clearer this time, “Park ChanYeol, do you have your manuscript?”

After an excruciating moment of silence, the older shook his head dismally.  Pinching her eyebrows together, the editor took a deep breath and said, “Don’t lie, Park ChanYeol. I know you’re hiding it somewhere.”

“I don’t have it,” ChanYeol suddenly spoke. His voice was rough and lower than usual, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while.  With his raspy voice, the author elaborated, “I don’t feel like writing anymore.”

Refusing to believe what he just said, MiKyung recovered from her initial shock and retorted, “Quit it, ChanYeol.  I’m serious.  I need the manuscript now.”

The man sighed and stood up slowly, his gaze still on the floor.  “I’m telling the truth, so please don’t bother me about it.”  He began to walk past the girl, but MiKyung grabbed his arm and turned him to face her.  She looked up at him, trying to meet his gaze but ChanYeol would not cooperate.  Hesitating at first, MiKyung asked, “What do you mean you don’t feel like writing anymore?”

“I just…don’t,” the author simply replied, still refusing to look at the other, who laughed shallowly and asked if he was serious.  “I’m serious,” was all he said in response.

Suddenly, MiKyung slapped ChanYeol across the face, causing his head to turn to the right.  By then, the girl’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could see the lack of emotion in the other’s face.  “No, you’re not. Quit telling lies. Say you’re lying,” she managed to make out.  After a moment she continued, in significantly weaker tone, “Say it.”

“I’m not ly—”

“Park ChanYeol!” MiKyung shouted, her voice shaking. She clenched her fist tightly, forcing herself to refrain from hitting the man in front of her.  “Don’t tell me you don’t feel like writing anymore!  Are you crazy?  We’re so close to publication, and all of a sudden you don’t want to finish it?  Quit overreacting and open your eyes.”

“No, MiKyung-ah,” ChanYeol spoke, finally looking at the other and realizing how much it hurt him to say her name.  “You need to open your eyes.  Do you not see?”

“See what?” the editor asked after a moment, perplexed.  The older man gently held MiKyung’s arms in his hands and looked her straight in the eyes, asking,

"You really don’t see?”

The girl was silent, not knowing what to say.  She searched his eyes for the answer, but no matter how much she looked, she just couldn’t see it.  When she didn’t say anything, ChanYeol took a cautious step towards the younger and whispered softly, “I like you.”

At that moment, everything finally dawned on MiKyung—why he tried so hard to keep her around, why he wanted to spend time with her, why he wanted to try new things.  She didn’t know what to say and stepped back, pulling herself out of ChanYeol’s hands.  A wave of guilt crashed over the girl, and she felt tears stinging at her eyes, threatening to fall.  Nervously, MiKyung looked at the floor, the couch, the kitchen—anywhere but at ChanYeol.  She just couldn’t do it.  Without even one word, MiKyung turned and walked away from the other, hurriedly opening the door.  As soon as it was open, she squinted at the flood of light but continued her way out.  She left the apartment and made her way down the metal stairs; once on the first floor, MiKyung sat down on the stairs and buried her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking slightly.  She didn’t care who passed by and stared at her oddly.  She just wanted to cry.

I'm sorry.  I had to do it.  I built up all your hopes, only to crush them.  Um, so...secret's out.  ChanYeol likes MiKyung, but how will she react?  It took me like, six hours to write this, lol.  I started at 10 a.m. and worked until three, then went to work for two hours, and resumed at 6:00 p.m.  Hahaha.  This chapter is also the longest one so far, at 2,111 words.  o__o

Not gonna lie, I started tearing up when I was writing the last half.  ;~;  When I write, I get really into it and start imagining myself as the characters.  It gets a little schizophrenic at times, but it helps me.  Does anyone care?  XD  Anyway, I think it's sad.  I can't say much more without giving away parts of future chapters, though.  Was this a good chapter?  I'm afraid it'll come out too cheesy.  Confession scenes are always so cheesy.  Did you guys like it?  ; A;

Replies to comments:

@kirstie: Favorite chapter?  Yay!  :D  Thank you for commenting!  ^^

@pearl-blue-diva: I'm so happy to hear that.  ( ; ㅂ;)  And yes!  Mission accomplished!  MiKyung's tears have caused intrigue!  How are the tears in this chapter?  :D

@parkyeon-ah: Oh, my.  o__o  I...I accept your love..?  XD Just kidding~  I accept whole-heartedly!  \( ^ o^)/ ♥  Well, bye then!  Haha~

@Oppa_faster: A proposal?!  What?!  I don't know what to say!  Well, since you already bought the ring, all right!  But after this chapter, you probably want a divorce, huh?  Maybe I should just reject you... xP  Thank you for commenting and making me laugh~  Hahaha!

Oh, man, you guys.  After reading your comments, I smiled so much that my cheeks hurt, but I didn't care.  I love seeing all of your reactions.  It makes me so happy.  QAQ  Speaking of things that make me happy, subscribers make me happy!  Today's wonderful, fabulous cookies go to:

nideshije
bananatofucheesecake
hannahkwoon
Yupina
Oppa_faster

Five new subscribers, bringing the total to twenty-one subscribers!  ; A;  You guys make me cry every day.  Just like how INFINITE forever cries whenever they win an award.  Speaking of which, it's their two-year anniversary!  Celebrate!  We're having a party on tumblr, lol.  See you all next time~  ^^