세나: I lose my voice the instant I am asked; my tongue suddenly like sandpaper and I feel like someone’s forcing me to swallow a mouse. Ilhoon-oppa continues to eye me with unfaltering interest. I consume all my willpower to say, to drive the topic into another issue, “Why were you looking at my laptop?”

I must have expressed it in a high tone that he seems taken aback, tilting away a little at my outburst. “Well it was open! I didn’t mean to look at it!”

“But you were!” I exclaim, storming forward to clamp down my laptop, and hug it to my chest. “You were looking at it!”

He blinks several times, flummoxed at my anger and he says; good thing he doesn’t level his mood with mine, “Alright then, I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have looked. But what are you so angry about, anyway?”

“How much have you read?” I snap back.

“Not that much. I was just scanning, not reading,”

I narrow my eyes at him automatically. But when I realize I’m doing this, I fix my expression, not letting myself give away hints that I’m hiding something—which, unfortunately, I’ve undone the first half, not to mention miserably. “Very well,” I reopen the laptop and press the power button.

“Wasn’t that The Lunch Box?”

I’ve been on the verge of freaking out for a minute now, and I’m still trying hard to tie down the urge of threatening him to death. Despite of the danger, I still choose to be honest, giving him the least of all the truths. “Yes.”

“I haven’t read that chapter before,”

When the sentence is done I reverberate it inside my head, making a quick check for any hints of taunting or teasing. For a long, yet short second I do this, carefully getting in between each of the words. No; Ilhoon-oppa sounded genuinely curious. Genuinely innocent.  I seem like I’m avoiding the questions asked to me, but this is better than revealing my secret. “Oh, so you do read the chapters?”

He still looks confused, but he smiles, maybe not noticing that I’m not answering his inquiries. “Yeah. we all do. It makes us better with the acting and we understand the story better. What chapter was that?”

“Five,” I clear my throat. “Chapter five.”

“You made the script for that yet?”

It’s still in the making. The chapter, that is. “Already working on it. Just skimming through it first,”

“That’s good, then,” he smiles, and gestures to the direction of the door. “Are you going back there?”

“Hm-mm,” I nod, and go with him. While we walk there a peaceful miasma looms over, which I would be more than happy to get rid of, but I can’t formulate any good thing to talk about. Honestly, Ilhoon-oppa and I aren't really close. It’s even funny that I call him oppa whilst with Peniel, I don’t, since the latter is older than him but I treat him with less honorific. I keep a good pace away from him, as if afraid that he might do something—he doesn’t, of course, but I just feel the need to do so. He doesn’t know. He absolutely doesn’t know. I heave a mental sigh of relief knowing that my secret is still safe with me. Very much safe.

He opens the door since he’s the one leading the walk, and we both walk into the room. The room’s still like the way I left it a while ago. Sungjae and Eunkwang-oppa are still playing. The others still remain on their posts. Ilhoon-oppa sits next to Hyunsik-oppa and that’s when I feel safe again. I resettle on my seat in between Sungjae and Peniel.

“Hey,” Sungjae greets, not peeling his eyes off the screen. His thumbs tap rapidly the buttons on the controller.

“Hey,”

“Where’d you go?” this is instantly followed by an interjection of “oh!” and that signifies Eunkwang-oppa beating him again, and the game gives them a recap of their scores.  Here he turns his head to me.

“Uh…the practice room. I went there to get my laptop,”

“Oh,” he fixates his eyes again on the screen, as the game starts again. I hear Eunkwang-oppa promising aloud “I’m gonna beat you again!” and, looking at my best friend’s face, I remember what happened a while ago. I feel embarrassed, so I quickly get rid of this thought and settle the computer on my lap and pat it twice, as if to tell it not to give me heart attacks the next time. I rest my back on the sofa, imitating the pose of a slouching Peniel on my right. I glance at him, and the way  his eyes are downcast on the screen of his iPad makes me want to observe him more; he’s as still as a stone, save for some time he sweeps his index finger on the gadget to change the page of his reading. I’ve seen old pictures of him; when they just debuted I mean, and compared to then, he’s gone a whole lot slimmer and I’m like you gotta eat, man but I admit he’s gone handsomer. And I mean, really handsome. His side-swept bangs were trimmed, now fashioned in soft spikes standing atop his forehead. I blink slowly. My eyes travel from his wide forehead (hey I shouldn’t say that; I myself have a big forehead but Sungjae’s the only one that knows of it and it’s concealed by my bangs) to his turned up nose, to his eyes (from my view it looks closed) to his mouth. My, my. Peniel does have a slightly broad chin, doesn’t he? but after all, that’s what makes him good-looking. My eyes continue to travel down below…to the crook of his neck, and his collarbones…and his…chest.

Why does this guy love to wear V-necks so much?

I don’t know that I’m already staring at him with my mouth agape until I feel something push my chin upward. “What are you looking at?” he grins, his slightly big two front teeth showing, his hand on my jaw.

I blush. Hard. I tear my eyes away from what I’m looking at instantly. I feel his eyes boring holes into my face so I try to speak, which surprisingly comes out fairly, “I was just wondering why you like to wear V-necks so much.”

“Oh? Is that it?” he looks down on his chest and somewhat tweaks the hem upward. “I just like them,”

“You and your vast collection of V-neck shirts, Peniel Shin,” I chuckle. “Don’t you get cold?”

“Not really. But of course when the weather’s too prickly I wear other kinds of clothing.”

“It’s just that…” I find myself looking at it again, like my eyes haven’t had enough yet. “It’s really…” when I realize this I divert my gaze again.

“Really what?”

“It’s…” snapping my fingers with one eye squinted, I try to overcome the lexical gap. “Uh…”

“Distracting?” he suggests.

Bam! “Exactly.” I say with a sigh.

“Does it bother you?” somehow, his eyes have a mischievous glimmer in them.

“Not really,” I shrug.

“Well then,” he takes a little peek at his screen, maybe to check what part he was. “It’s a force of habit,”

“You don’t mean distracting women with your broad chest, I hope?”

I get a chuckle for this. “Not that. Wearing V-neck shirts.”

Doing this slight tilting of the head, “I see,”

“I WIN!!!” on my left Sungjae cheers aloud, even raising a fist in the air. We both turn our heads to him and tap his back twice, lightly.

“Congratulations,”

“Thank you!!!” Sungjae laughs ecstatically.

I smirk at this. “Does this always happen?”

Apparently the guy on my right hears this. “Oh, always, alright. Even at the dorm they would play that game. Once Sungjae had to break a watermelon with his head for a self-inflicted penalty,”

I laugh. “Seriously?”

He becks. “Yeah.” while the two gamers cheer and mope about on what had happened, Peniel swivels the topic onto something else. “By the way, Se Na-ssi, how many chapters does The Lunch Box have?”

Suddenly, my laptop which I remember is nestled atop my thighs feels heavier. I feel so exposed; so revealed, and the urge to run possesses me. I swallow the hard big lump in my throat. “So far?”

“Hm-mm.”

“Five.” Then I shake my head. “I mean, four, but the fifth chapter will be there soon,” and, in a haste, I take possession of my laptop and stand. “Now if you’ll excuse me,”

“Where are you going?” Sungjae asks.

“Uh, somewhere.” Anywhere away from here, I want to say.

“But—“

“I’ll be back,” I promise, and dash to the door to get out. I hope I’m not being too mysterious or anything.

I close the door behind me, and lean my back on it, my hand on my chest to control my staggering breathing. I shut my eyes tight and tell myself to calm down. I feel a little bit guilty, a little bit ashamed, a little bit embarrassed, a little bit of everything all at once. For a while that my breath doesn’t stabilize I already think about what happened a few days ago. But then I’m just panting. Just panting. If my body rebels against me again, things are not going to be pretty.

“Pyo Se Na,” I mumble to myself, breathlessly. “Get that of yours working right now because tonight’s the deadline,” and, eyeing the scorned laptop, I snatch it, and type away immediately, working on the fifth chapter of The Lunch Box, leaving the world behind.

***

Later at dusk I accomplish the work and send it to the site. I really feel the irony as I do that; it feels like I’m fooling myself and there’s this one thing that I feel sorry about. Because I am to act out the story, there are restraints that hinder me from being free with the story. I want to go all-out on the Peniel Shin-Lee Bo Mi love story (well sans some sensual scenes, of course) but me being pna502 the author, Se Na who harbors a crush on Peniel, and Bo Mi who will play a love story with the said guy (only the fictional version), it’s a little…difficult, on my part. Now don’t ask. Assuming three roles at the same time is like being asked to balance stacks of fragile plates on your palms and head and expected to not let them fall.

“Se Na-ya?” Sungjae says, making me turn to him.

“Hm?”

“I think you should get home now,”

I glance at the nearest clock. “It’s still seven in the evening,”

“That’s already too late for you,” he states firmly. “You need an early bed-rest. Aren’t you forgetting that you’re sick?”

“I was sick,” I snort.

“You still are,” he flattens his eyes at me, imitating my frown. “Off you go,”

My shoulders slack. “I honestly still don’t want to go,”

“But you have to,” he smiles down at me, pushing my back a little with his hand, gesturing me to stand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll call you before I sleep,” I say, with an air of resolute.

My best friend’s smile seems to have gotten wider. “Sure,” he turns his head a couple of degrees to call out a nearby hyung of his. “Peniel-hyung!”

The other guy glances at his dongsaeng with a wondering rise of the brows. He rises from his seat and walks over to us, and even with the absence of light over his head, I feel him towering over me.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” my best friend says, and a split-second before he says it I’m already looking at him with a warning widening of the eyes and pucker of the mouth, but he easily ignores these signals. “Can you walk Se Na home?”

Peniel looks at me weird, as if asking for my approval.

“Hey! Why not do it yourself?!” I yell at my best friend, and when I realize I sound like I don’t want Peniel to come I quickly add, “You bother other people!”

Sungjae waves his hand dismissively. “I’m doing something, Se Na,”

“Which is?” I raise my brow at him.

He shoots me a look that plainly says just do it  and this is where I know I should stop arguing, because anyway, I’d feel bad if I make Peniel feel like I don’t like him (which is so not true) so I gracefully change the debate into another topic, “Will it be okay for you, oppa?”

He stares down at me with mingled confusion and reassurance. “Of course it’s alright,”

Sungjae looks at me with both brows cocked like he wants to say I told you so. Holding back the obscenities I want to yell right at his face I replace them with a defeated sigh, “Fine. Let’s go, Peniel-oppa,”

Before I turn on one heel I tell Sungjae with my face I’m dealing with you later, pal  because, even if he knows that I really hate to be treated like this (being teased, I mean) he really still likes doing it. geez, friends. Their favorite pastime is to rack your nerves.

Presently we march, sort of too peacefully, Peniel and I. It’s a starless evening and Seoul is still bustling with people to and fro, and we take a route which is we think will be obscured from the public eye. Stalkers, you know.

We walk in a fashion not too fast, not too slow, either. I think this walk will take another fifteen minutes. “Hey why don’t we go to the café? I’m bored,” I say, just for the sake of saying something.

Unexpectedly, I get a contrary answer. “We should get to your home as soon as possible,” he says friendlily, but imploringly.

I pout. “Okay, then,”

Maybe something in my crestfallen expression strikes him, that he puts his hand on my head and rubs the top affectionately. “Sorry,”

“For?”

“For refusing.”

“Oh? Psh,” I wave a hand to ward it off. “It’s okay, really, I understand. You guys just want me to have proper rest,” which I will have for the rest of eternity, when the time comes. I silently add.

 “I thought you’d take it badly,”

“The what, your refusal? Of course not! Geez, oppa, you worry too much,”

A lopsided smile appears on his face. “There it is again. Come on, you can call me with just ‘Penpennie’ when we’re alone,”

I bite my lower lip, suddenly abashed. “Well, I…”

“Why do you not use it when we’re in front of them?”

I look to one side blankly. “Maybe because…they’d think I’m rude?” we’re getting nearer and nearer to the building of my apartment now.

He chuckles. “You do have a point. And that sounds like we’re intimate,”

My nostrils flare when his frankness makes a sensation of warmth run across my cheeks and nose; that I have to cover the half of my face. “Uh…yeah…” I dumbly say.

We’re silent for the moment next, up to the moment that we climb up to my floor. However we manage to fill the silence with silence itself, without any extreme awkwardness, only goodness knows. We now stand in front of the door of my unit and I say to him, with obvious determination, “I insist that you enter,”

He stares at me, perplexed. “Is that necessary?”

“Not really, but, come on,” I push the door open and I hold his wrist, so he cannot not follow. I lead him to the dining area and tell him to sit. “Would you like something to drink?”

He smirks at my docile waitress acting. “Water. I’ll have water,”

“Won’t you like some coffee?”

He shakes his head politely. “No, thank you; water will suffice,”

“Alright, then,” I hurriedly dash to get water, and set it before him. He thanks me. I sit down, resolving to prepare my tea later. “Say, Penpennie, what do you think of my sanctuary?” I ask with a grin.

He looks up from his glass while drinking, and sets the glass down. He looks around to examine. “It’s really pretty. That’s my first impression when I got here the other day.”

I look around. “Sorry it’s kind of messy,”

He smiles. “No. well maybe if it is, you do a pretty good job concealing it,”

I laugh at this, slightly flattered.

“This place really looks like it’s owned by two people, Se Na-ssi,”

“Really? Why?”

“It just gives off that feeling,” he smiles tenderly, looking at the yellow light caused by the chandelier. “Are you and Sungjae gonna buy a new house when you get married?”

 Why does it feel like he just pushed a button that shouldn’t be pushed? “I don’t know. Ask him,” I say with brevity, and slowly rise from my seat. I walk to the cupboard,  to get a, well, cup from there to prepare my tea.

“Ah, Se Na-ssi, I really think I should get going now,”

While raising my arm, I’m having difficulty in reaching the cup. It’s quite far from my hand. “Oh? That’s too sad. Well…” I step back a few paces, to see how far my desired cup is. “You sure you’re leaving?” I walk forward again and tiptoe, reaching forth, but to no avail. Penpennie walks and stops beside me.

“Yes. Besides you can’t go to sleep if I stay with you here,”

“Why not? You can lull me to sleep,” I joke, and continue stretching my arm but still, I couldn’t reach it. I’m starting to get impatient.

 He laughs, and when he notices my struggle, decides to help me. Though I’m always told that I’m tall for my age, this guy is still taller than me. “Maybe I will,” he says, raising his arm and easily grabbing the cup. He gives it to me with a smile, along with, “Just give me a chance, Se Na-ssi,” and something in the way the sentence is expressed makes me feel it’s ambiguous, though I cannot see what’s behind the literal meaning. I find myself dumbstruck, bewildered at this, and I don’t reply all the while he bids, “Goodbye, Se Na-ssi.” he says, over his shoulder as he walks away with a friendly, yet somehow careless wave of one hand, and I don’t even get to reply before he goes out of the door before closing it, saying, “Good night,”

I’m confused, but my face feels hot.