Jessica knew it was going to be a tough week at work, so the weekend better had to be good. The previous night, she had to walk a dumbstruck, silent Yuri home, and that was the last of the bearable errands that she wanted to do. She had to make up for the time she supposed to have stayed out longer in the bar.

Meeting up with Donghae could perhaps make up for—everything.

That Saturday night, the more clearly she could see Donghae’s figure standing in front of the boutique, the faster her heart beat. Problem is, it was hardly what she called a ‘date’, because Donghae asked help on finding her cousin a new purse. It was purely a professional, no-feelings-involved form of amusement and recreation that she had to do with him.

But well, she couldn’t care less—after all, she’s going to talk to Donghae again, and it’s a rare opportunity for girls to talk again to someone they only met by accident. She had to grab that chance.

“So, what’s up?” Donghae smiled.

“Hm, nothing, just working harder than the usual.”

Jessica wondered if she said it right. She could be boring at times. ‘It’s not a date, it’s clearly not a date,’ she thought.

“You’re good at finding purses, right?” Donghae asked. “Well, you girls know much about shopping.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jessica chuckled. “It robs me of cash every week.”

“Very well then,” Donghae said. He led Jessica inside the boutique, and started walking through the shelves and aisles. Jessica tailed behind and saw stuff from bottles of perfume, shampoo, and blocks of herbal soap, to bags, purses and leather key chains. She gently tapped her bag and silently vowed not to be overwhelmed by the things she could buy at that moment.

She was about to turn around when a hand grabbed hers and led her to—well, she didn’t care, because the hand that held hers was nobody else’s but Donghae’s. 

“Okay, so where are we?” Jessica asked, out of her mind. Donghae laughed at her clumsiness and held his hand out to the purses. “I think my cousin would be happy if you picked something that suits her taste,” he said.

“What’s her taste, anyway?”

“I don’t know, can’t tell,” Donghae replied. He ran his hand onto his chin and looked up at the ceiling. “What do girls like you like for a purse?”

Jessica smiled knowingly at him. “Well, boys do think function before style. Girls, on the other hand, want to be more sophisticated, but you know that, right?”

“No, no. Tell me more about that,” Donghae insisted. “People think that boys can read a girl’s mind better than a girl can read ours, but it’s the other way around for me.”

“Okay, If I were to pick a purse,” Jessica continued cautiously, her eyes poring over the shelves of purses and bags, “I’d choose of course my favorite color, which is any shade of red. But if I didn’t want to be robbed, I’d prefer black. And girls would like purses with pockets, or else they’d get tired of rummaging for things. We still put a bit of function in our thoughts.”

Her hands went over the bags, until she pulled out a black-gray purse with a leather strap. She opened the zipper and her fingers ran over the seams of the pockets. She then wore it over her shoulder and examined herself in the mirror. Donghae watched her as she swung it sideways. 

“This, I think, is perfect for your cousin.” she said. “But how old is she?”

“Same as yours,” Donghae answered.

“She’s working?”

“Yeah, and she’s not a bit mindful of her belongings.”

Jessica chuckled to Donghae’s amusement. “I’d like to meet her, then.”

Donghae smiled and eyed Jessica from toe to the head. He then stared at her for a couple of seconds, leaving Jessica somewhat vulnerable and embarrassed, until Donghae stretched out his hand to reach for the purse.

“I think it looks good on you.” Jessica answered it with a blush on her cheeks. 

“So, tell me, what should I know about boys?”

Half an hour later, both of them were laughing their hearts out along the sidewalk, not minding the people in the streets who were looking at them intently. Donghae blabbed to her about guy stuff: the disgusting habits, the tendency not to dress up that well, the tendency not to have hair cut for years, anything that Jessica could laugh off to. But he also talked about guys having feelings, about guys looking for someone to take them seriously, about guys who actually cared.

Jessica didn’t know much, still; it was usually awkward for her to hang around with guys, but Donghae was such an open and carefree person, she simply couldn’t resist talking with him casually.

“You know, I wear the same pair of jeans for a week,” Donghae jeered, “Or even more.”

Jessica giggled. “Ew, you seriously should have your laundry done.”

“Come on, I also know girls who wear slacks for a week. People have to be practical.”

“Says who?”

Donghae cleared his throat before answering. “I work two jobs, you know,” he said, “I deliver pizza, and I work at a car repair shop down the block. I don’t treat any of them as a part-time job.”

Jessica scoffed at him. “Don’t tell me, you do repairs while delivering pizza?”

“What I mean is I take both my jobs seriously,” he said smartly, “How about you?”

“I love my work, too,” Jessica said, “I enjoy every day that I’m in the office. It’s a lot of stress, but I have my colleagues, my friends, and my best friend who knocks my brain out of my head. I’m perfectly fine with it. It’s not about taking my job that seriously, but it’s about working smart and with a bit of that heart.”

“What an insight you have there.” Donghae said. He kicked a pebble, which rolled straight across the street. “Your best friend must be lucky to have you.”

“No, I’m the one who’s lucky.”

“Well, I am, now.”

Jessica paused. What did he even mean? Since that conversation, she fell silent until she was at the doorstep of her apartment. It was weird though, because as his words echoed through her head, she took one or two times to glance at the silent guy beside her. They were both silent, but they both wanted to say something.

“Well, it has been a good night, thanks,” she said. Then, under her nose, Donghae held out the package that contained the purse.

“What the—“ 

“It was actually for you.”

“But, you shouldn’t have.”

Donghae grinned at her again; this time his smile was more endearing. “Consider it a more appropriate payback for stealing your purse.”

“How about your cousin?”

“Let’s just say she was my imaginary cousin who wanted to give you the purse,” he interrupted. “Good night Jessica. See you around.”

Jessica clutched the package tight as Donghae walked across the street. Suddenly, twisted to form a smile that she never had worn before, not even in front of her best friend.

“Thank you.”

In a little way, he reminded her to be more mindful of her valuables.


---


Jong Woon woke up to the sunlight peeping through the blinds, and the smell of chicken gumbo in the kitchen. It couldn’t have been Yoona’s fault that the room was reeking of food aroma, because he’d never seen Yoona cook before. Then he realized that now was his chance to see her whip up a dish.

Without even washing his face or fixing his bed, Jong Woon dashed right away into the kitchen and found what he was wishing for.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, leaning onto the kitchen counter.

“Hey, morning, sleepyhead.” Yoona smiled at him, and he smiled back—it was one thing he needed to jumpstart his day. 

“You’re not supposed to do that. I’m in-charge of the kitchen,” he said, walking beside Yoona. He peeped at the pot of soup as Yoona nervously stirred its contents.

“At least I’m a bit more domesticated,” Yoona replied, “You said you hated girls who didn’t know how to cook.”

Jong Woon smiled. “But I love you.” 

Yoona blushed, and for a minute she stopped stirring into the pot and turned around to face Jong Woon. Jong Woon was about to lean in for a kiss when Yoona held out the ladle in front of him. She blew the hot liquid and leaned closer to Jong Woon.

“Go on, taste it.”

Frustrated, Jong Woon nonetheless rested his lips on the rim of the ladle and took in some of the hot soup. He glanced up and pondered for a while as Yoona stared at him, waiting for an answer.

“How is it?”

Jong Woon looked down and whispered to the floor. “It’s good.” He then grinned at Yoona and gave a livelier answer.

“It’s good!”

“Great! I can cook more next time,” Yoona quipped. She cupped Jong Woon’s face, then went back to see how her chicken gumbo was doing.

“You’re so boring last Friday, you know,” Yoona added as she covered the pot of gumbo, “You left me to drink soju all by myself. And I was the only one blabbing about work.”

Jong Woon rubbed his eyes. “I’m driving, and I don’t drink.”

Yoona laughed. “Or was it because of the bike crash you had?”

Jong Woon tried hard to remember when that was. Truth is, it was all easy for him to do so, but something was holding him back.

“Oh, yes, when we first met.”

“Two years ago.”

The phrase suddenly sent an icy knife into his heart. His smile disappeared, and it somehow alarmed Yoona.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I didn’t mean to bring the past this far.” But Yoona was only partially responsible for that—Jong Woon had just looked at the past through a powerful telescope: his heart.

“It’s not your fault.” Jong Woon replied.

Yoona worriedly stared at Jong Woon. She held Jong Woon’s hand and squeezed it lightly, and gave him a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay with her, I know you will,” she said, “I’ll always love you, give my best shot, and you’ll soon forget how it feels to be hurt.”

Jong Woon nodded his head. “Thanks, babe. I love you, too.”

He then fell silent beside Yoona as she opened the pot and sniffed the soup. “Smells good, right?”

“Yeah.”

He chuckled and walked out of the kitchen, feeling the walls closing in on him. Yoona’s chicken gumbo indeed tasted good, but it tasted somewhat different. 

“Yoona,” Jong Woon called from his room.

“What is it?”

“Can I take some of your gumbo to work?”

At the kitchen, Yoona smiled to herself, not knowing what was going around Jong Woon’s head. But who cares? She was in love, too in love with him, and nothing would stop her from loving Jong Woon even more.


---


The events staff didn’t dread meetings before. Not until later that day, when, from the moment Yuri stepped into the conference room, she had been complaining about slow work progress for the event. What they knew is that the Kwon Yuri they knew didn’t exist at that moment.

When Jong Woon walked into the room, bringing the final drafts for the promotional posters and brochures, he was somewhat taken aback by Yuri’s glare. He had been busy calling people and going out of his way to back up other staff—in fact, he was so immersed into the urgent that he forgot all about Yuri’s bad mood that day.

“But, Yuri-sshi, we’re days ahead of schedule,” the editorial assistant mumbled, and Jong Woon could see her fingers apprehensively scribbling notes in her planner.

Meanwhile, Yuri ignored the editorial assistant and moved to talk to the photography director.

“You know, I wasn’t at all pleased at the cover photos you’ve submitted to me,” she sharply remarked, and the director slightly opened his mouth to retort.

“It’s my fault,” Jong Woon interrupted, “I failed to check the cover photos and have them counter-checked.” He held tightly to his folder, wondering how much it would take for him to overhaul the designs again. “The art director has checked them, though, and he found it okay.”

Yuri frowned at him. She roughly pushed the photos across the table towards him and spoke loudly. “D’you think I’d be settling for an a-okay? Tell me, how can photos of children playing in the streets tell something about autism awareness, hm?”

Jong Woon thought this was going to be a war.

“I assure you, Yuri-sshi, they’re kids afflicted with autism,” the photography director explained. Yuri-sshi was still glaring at Jong Woon, and they thought she expected an answer from him.

“You heard him,” he said, trying to be as calm as possible. “What we’re trying to do here is show the people that kids with autism aren’t any different from normal kids. They deserve to be treated equally.”

Yuri chuckled mockingly at him. “Seriously, Jong Woon-sshi. Do you know what it takes for this event to be successful? It’s the appeal. People wouldn’t care about kids playing in the streets, but they’d surely care about kids looking strange and acting strangely.”

“No, Yuri-sshi,” he protested, “It’s the message you put across that matters. Besides, we don’t have the authority to place pictures of people acting weirdly.”

“You better get that authority.” Yuri snapped. “You shouldn’t have come here. You don’t know anything about advertising.”

But Jong Woon knew, he knew everything, because he had been working with her since the day he first got hired into the company. And he hurt with knowing. Wondering what was wrong with Yuri, and with him, he fell silent as Yuri went to talk with the logistics staff.

“Have you contacted the printers yet? Told them about the costings?”

“Ma’am, I didn’t, but—“

“Weeks from the event and I get incompetent staff!” Yuri shouted, shocking most of the staff members, except Jong Woon. He knew Yuri way too much to even be surprised. “How are we supposed to push through with the event promotions?”

The logistics head bowed her head even lower, and her voice trailed off as she spoke non-stop, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I was busy contacting the supplies department for the photo shoot so I had to ask help from Jong Woon-sshi. He did all the work for me.”

Yuri raised a brow and looked at Jong Woon.

“The printers would all have backed out if not for him, but he managed to ask for an extension. Everything is okay with the printing press now.”

Suddenly, Yuri’s composure crumbled down as her eyes rolled to and away from Jong Woon. It was the finance staff’s turn in the firing line, but before the head could speak, Yuri waved stood up from her seat.

“You know what, let’s call this a day. We’re all tired. We’ll talk things out when we’re ready.”

Indeed, she was tired, because at ten in the evening, she found it hard to lift even her shoulder bag from her table. She spent the next ten minutes riding elevators, treading hallways and walking down the stairs, wondering why she was in such a bad mood that day.

When she walked out of the door and saw Jong Woon trying to start his motorbike, she knew why.

“Hey.” Jong Woon smiled weakly as he repeatedly kicked the starter of his motorcycle. The engine simply coughed and wheezed like a kid having asthma.

“Um, hi,” said Yuri, almost whispering. “I-I see you got your dream bike.”

It was when Jong Woon failed to start the motorbike again did Yuri feel bad for snapping at him that day.

“Well, here goes my dream bike,” Jong Woon chortled as he tried to start the engine again. “It won’t start.”

Yuri watched the motorbike wheeze and cough again, and though she wanted to help, she wasn’t a mechanic and she didn’t know how to make a bike start with just a wave of the hand. She stood there and hoped for a taxi.

Things went awkward for her when Jong Woon paced back and forth in front of his motorbike. That moment, she wished Jong Woon would just try and try starting the engine again, just so she could get distracted. And why wasn’t there any taxi?

“Problem?”

Soon, one of the security guards emerged from the parking space of the company building. Yuri sighed in relief. “He’s got a problem with his motorbike,” she said nonchalantly, as if she was just some bystander. 

The security guard bowed down and looked closely at the motorbike engine, examining its parts, as Jong Woon stood by watching him. Yuri pretended she didn’t care. Minutes later, the guard unscrewed and pulled out a small burnt-out object from the engine.

“It seems you have to have this towed, sir,” the guard spoke, “The spark plug is burnt.”

Jong Woon grinned. “I see you’re a mechanic.”

“No, I used to have my motorbike years ago, and I had the same problem. You should put it under regular maintenance to keep it from recurring.”

It was the moment Jong Woon realized he couldn’t keep watch of his motorbike, other its gas and its speedometer.

“Well, that’s a wake-up call for me,” Jong Woon said, scratching his head. The security guard glanced at Yuri, who wasn’t anymore looking at their direction.

“Are you taking her home?”

“No!” both of them answered, then Jong Woon looked down, “I mean, not that I couldn’t offer her a ride.”

The guard laughed. “Hah! Well, you can take my bicycle.”

Jong Woon thought it wasn’t a good idea. “No, seriously, I can just—“

But it was almost late in the evening, and Yoona was waiting for him. He looked at Yuri, and he began to worry about Yuri not being able to go home. 

“It’s going to be a long ride, you know. A bike can work. Besides, I’m just starting my shift here. You can drive it back to me tomorrow.”

Jong Woon hesitated, but he figured it was the fastest way home.

“Dang, where’s the taxi when I need it the most?” Yuri stomped her foot. She heard it all, and she didn’t want another awkward moment with Jong Woon.

“Fine, I’ll take you home.” Jong Woon said bluntly, much to Yuri’s surprise.

“No, I’m not going home with you.”

But she did, because minutes later, she could feel Jong Woon trembling as he drove the bike along the streets. She sat uncomfortably on the metal seat, and as much as she wanted to shift her position, she worried that it would make it harder for Jong Woon to drive.

Didn’t she know how much he hated driving a bicycle?

“Just like, the old times, huh?” Yuri mumbled.

“Yes. Hold on,” the driver pedalled faster as it approached a steep hill.

“Well, I could just step down and—“

“It’s fine, really. I can, handle, this,” Jong Woon heaved.

Again, awkward silence ensued as Jong Woon drove through curves in the streets. Yuri coughed and cleared occasionally, though it did little to ward off the uneasiness between them. She thanked the blast of cold wind on her face for at least giving her a distraction.

When Jong Woon reached a corner, he finally spoke.

“You still live there, right?”

“Yeah.”

Then it grew silent again—Yuri just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Look, I’m sorry for today,” she said hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to snap at the staff, and at you. It was, I was—in a bad mood.”

“I knew you’d be, and it’s perfectly fine.” Jong Woon replied. “Two years ago, you almost snapped at me for stealing your lunch.”

“It’s my home-cooked chicken gumbo, you prick!” Yuri answered loudly. “It’s my favorite!”

“I can see that,” Jong Woon grinned, “You put too much black pepper in it.”

“Which makes it your favorite. You’re such a copycat!”

They laughed together for a while, then tried catching up their breath, until everything was silent again.

“But why were you in a bad mood anyway?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Broke up with your lover, I see?” Jong Woon joked.

“No. I—“ Yuri hesitated again, “I never had one.”

“Seriously? Psh. Guys would have been all over you.”

“Well, that’s life.” Yuri decided to change the subject. “How about you? I saw you with a girl in the bar last Friday. Probably dating the right girl already?”

Jong Woon braked the bike momentarily, then sped off again. “Her name is Im Yoona. We’ve been together for a year.”

“Oh. That’s good news,” Yuri answered. “So you first met—“

“At a party,” Jong Woon lied, not wanting to bring back the past, “She was a student then, and well, I was jobless.”

“I see, I see.”

Yuri couldn’t say anything more; she hated how her heart started crumbling at the mention of the girl. But her heart had no right to do so, so why should it hurt?

Then again, the mere fact that it had no right to crumble hurt Yuri a lot.

“It’s going to be tough along the way,” Jong Woon spoke, “The event starts in three weeks, right?”

“Yeah, I hope we’re still in one piece at that time.”

“In one piece?”

“I mean, I hope we’ll still be alive.”

Jong Woon laughed quietly. “You’ve stayed longer in the company, so I’m sure you’ll make it.”

“That’s rather a mishap,” Yuri replied. “Every day feels like I’m on the verge of giving up.”

Jong Woon slowed down as they approached Yuri’s house. “Well, you can’t get out, not when I got in again. Do it and you’ll have to go through me,” he jeered again. Yuri scoffed, but she felt it urgent to utter a word of gratitude.

“Thanks.”

They soon reached the gate to Yuri’s house, and when the bike came to a complete stop, Yuri got off slowly and walked in front of the gate. Meanwhile, Jong Woon stared at the random patterns on the concrete road to pass off the time. Only when Yuri opened the gate did he look up and weakly smile at her.

“Alright?”

“Yes. How ‘bout you?”

“I’ll be fine.” 

Yuri felt she had to say something more—she hurt, she wanted the two years ago back again, she was happy just going home with him—but when she opened to speak, Jong Woon cut her back.

“We’re cool again, right? Friends?”

She didn’t know if they were, so instead of saying ‘yes’, she just nodded her head—it’s for Jong Woon to figure out if it’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. For one last time that day, she saw Jong Woon smile at her again, and she followed his path towards the blind corner, until he and the bike he was driving disappeared at that corner. 

Yuri then breathed in deeply, and her words trailed off into the cold night air as she whispered:

“Friends.”

---


Yoona sat on the couch, a bowl of oatmeal in her hand, as she stared for a full five minutes at the door. She was glad she wasn’t anymore seeing Jong Woon lying with his face down on the couch at five in the afternoon, but she missed his company more. Suffice it to say that she had been summoning Jong Woon’s busy spirit to come home at that moment. It was already seven in the evening, and she couldn’t wait for him to talk about anything, anything but work.

It was the first time she wouldn’t be blabbing about work, thanks to the creeper who gave her a weird task, and a weirder reward. That day in the hotel, Siwon had been giving her the silent treatment, and it left her thinking, “What now?” for the whole day. Then again, she shouldn’t be worrying about it; she should be thinking of Jong Woon, her knight in shining Ducati.

Still, it bothered her even more when Siwon came to her desk that afternoon, only to ask for something.

“A pen?” Yoona asked quizzically.

“Yes,” Siwon answered.

“You’re the first executive I knew who doesn’t bring a pen along with him to work.”

Truth is, Yoona didn’t think about how it could be a lame excuse for Siwon to talk to her, because she wanted Siwon to talk to him about serious concerns. But she hated him, didn’t she? Why the fuss?

Alone in the apartment, she shifted her position on the couch, and thought of the lazy Friday night that Jong Woon and her had at the bar, and realized that it was actually that last time she mentioned her job. She breathed in and out slowly, trying to circulate the flow of blood through the veins in her wobbling brain, simply because she suddenly couldn’t think straight.

“What does he even want from me?” Yoona asked herself.

The door knocked. Yoona’s thoughts went back to Jong Woon.

She rushed to the door, shouting “Coming!”, and slowly opened the door to put in a bit of surprise for her lover. Unfortunately, she became more surprised than the guest who appeared at her door.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Siwon stood at her doorstep, dressed only in his undershirt and jeans, and carrying with him a bunch of folders. 

“You left this at your desk, in case you forgot how important these would be for the hotel inventory.”

Yoona’s face contorted, but Siwon was smiling nonetheless. “You could’ve just left it there.”

“Ch-yeah, and allow one of the bellboys to take it along with the bags of the hotel guests?”

Yoona wondered why the folders have to go along with the bags. But she had enough of overanalyzing, anyway. She tried to reach out for the folders, but Siwon swung them to his back, out of her reach.

“What now? What do you want from me?!” Yoona shouted. Siwon’s smile turned into a little smirk, and she didn’t like seeing it. It spelled trouble.

“I think it’s time you treat things like these as gems,” Siwon said. “This costs the company’s assets and liabilities, and of course, your job.”

Yoona raised a brow. “Fine, so you’re going to kick me out of work? It’s completely okay with me, in case you’re being that sadistic.”

Siwon swung his head sideways. “I’m not doing that, because you still have a lot to learn from your management trainee. But, as my punishment for neglecting these documents,” he cradled the folders with his one arm, “I’ll give them to you only under one condition.”

“What?”

Yoona felt even more disgusted with Siwon’s searing lips. But it was just the prologue.

“You’ll go out on a date with me.”


---