세나: The idea wasn’t exactly charming—given that I had already a dire state of the mood, now I have to take care of someone sick. The second one I don’t mind, but having just revealed my background story to that guy now seemed to churn my guts in an uncontrollable mess. Like I had gone stark in front—wait, that’s a terrible comparison, but certainly I somehow regret that I told him who I really was. What I really was. And telling him about what happened between my best friend and I…was that appropriate? I don’t know. Breaking down just seemed perfectly right, perfectly easy, but right now as the silence is deafening me as my thoughts are the only ones I could focus on, I’m thinking twice about how I will ever conjure the guts to look at him straight in the eye again.

“What happened…really?” I mumble, hoping that the person’s head on my shoulder would answer, but he’s asleep. Jung Ilhoon is asleep.

“What was that again?” Penpennie speaks, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. “There was something itchy inside his…jaw?”

Decreasing the distance between my brows, I try to rethink about the many possibilities. One idea stands out, but I want to deny it. Oh, no. “Mumps,” nonetheless my mouth forms, in grave parlance.

“How’d you know?” Penpen replies.

I put my hand on the side of Ilhoon-oppa’s head, to keep it settled atop my shoulder. “I’d once had them. I was fourteen by then,” and here, something clicks inside me. Without really meaning to, I peek at Sungjae who’s seated next to the patient and, as if he’d recognized that same realization, meets my eyes. I’m the first to look away. He wasn’t there when it happened.

“Have you guys had it before?” I ask.

“Not that I know of,” the guy seated next to the driver answers. “But I certainly haven’t had it yet,”

“You should stay away then,” then I quickly rephrase, “I mean, mumps is viral. You should be able to give oppa an isolation room,”

“If we do have one,” Sungjae mutters.

I ignore him. “Me, I can take care of him because I’m already immune. You guys…I don’t know. Meet up about this later or something, perhaps?”

“Noted,” Penpen assents. 

That’s the last thing spoken until we get to the dorm. Jongwon-oppa (their manager) announces when we stop in front of the building of where their dorm should be, “We’re here,” and that’s our cue to get down. Sungjae, since he’s the one next to the door, helps Ilhoon-oppa in getting down, somewhat in difficulty, and in that process his hand accidentally brushes against mine. I immediately see, from my peripheral vision, that he’s snapped his head up to look at me, but I don’t give him a glance. We the invalid up the several flights of stairs and then we’re standing in front of the door of their dorm.

I’ve never actually been here before. As soon as Penpen enters the dorm, I could easily make out the scents of seven boys mingled together in a single atmosphere wafting right towards me. Honestly my apartment is slightly bigger than this, but maybe I’ve been brought to that conclusion because their home is crowded with lots of things, whilst mine is where only a few objects are put. They were seven, after all, compared to me, who was living alone. I had someone to share the unit with, apparently, but did Sungjae sleep there for once? No. Though we’re in a little cold war now I still look forward to that day. Worry not—I plan to make him sleep on a separate bed.

The maknae line, apparently, sleep on the upper beds on the double decks (I was suddenly stricken by the idea to call them ‘Upper Bunk Bed Buddies’ for that, but I keep it to myself) and since Jung is a little unable to climb up his, we resolve to settle him on the bed of Changsub-oppa, who sleeps under the second maknae’s bed. I tell Peniel (who else would it be?) that he’d tell his hyung about this and change the sheets when Jung is over the fever. I sit on the bed side while the other two maknaes are out, calling for a doctor to come on over to check on Ilhoon-oppa.

Alone with him, that’s when I realize that Jung Ilhoon’s fever has gone higher—soared higher than it was a few minutes ago. His teeth are chattering and, alarmed, I get a cloth and wet it to put it on his forehead, to at least somehow cool him down. Maybe inappropriate, but I feel thankful that he’s having this fever. It means his body is fighting the sickness. “Shhh,” I shush him to sleep, draping the blanket up to his chin and he grabs it, along with my fingers. His grip is so tight I’ve no heart to remove my hand off.

So I let it stay there for a while. While I’m at this I let my eyes do a little round trip around the room; how packed this room really seems like, and how utterly messy. The beds are made, but I’m a girl, after all, and my standards for “clean” are much different from masculine ones. When I’m done with that, I get my phone from my pocket and start to decide whether I should message the other guys an update on their dongsaeng’s state. Then, as I stare back at the screen, I feel awful when I look at the background while the phone asks for the passcode to unlock it (I turn the passcode setting on; well, you never know) and my eyes droop in sadness. The injury caused by the offense restarts again in my chest—or perhaps it doesn’t restart, I’m just reminded. All these days it’s been sitting there in my bosom, and I do all means to distract myself, for the sake of forgetting it. All  the more I feel horrible when I recall my own words to Penpen a while ago, on my rant about Sungjae. I’m still really angry, but seeing my best friend here on the screen of my phone…I just…I don’t know. There he is, smiling brightly with -like eyes made even smaller with the grin, doing a peace sign with a hand and then there’s me beside him, making a grouchy expression with my tongue out and my nose wrinkled, feigning that I didn’t like this but apparently, that’s just how I pose when faced with a camera. Sungjae had insisted on taking this picture, and by the looks of the photo, one could see that he was—indeed—holding up the phone.

I do a heavy sigh of lethargy, unsure what to do about this fight. I could always talk to him, but…my pride isn’t letting me. I was just hurt—really—hurt, and though put in the way that my best friend said it in a calm, matter-of-fact sort of manner, I really, really didn’t like it, to the point that I was offended.

Creaking, the door suddenly is opened, and of course I know that someone’s entered though I’m not looking up. Too preoccupied to care about who it is, I say, without looking up, remembering I have to tell them— “Take some vitamins. You really need it.”

“Really? Thanks,” the voice says, zero sarcasm, and my heart stops at the sound of that voice. Why am I so dumb? I badly want to turn to liquid and then evaporate, or probably hide under Ilhoon-oppa’s blanket.

Because, who the hell would talk to someone they’re in a fight with? Some of you maybe, but when Sungjae and I fought, even looking at each other’s way was close to impossible, so how much more about making up? Statistically, out of ten chances he and I would quarrel only once, but when that does happen, well, it’s not easy.

I don’t answer to this. I quickly lock my phone back and the screen turns off, just in case he notices I was looking at him…at his picture. Goodness gracious, good thing someone comes to the rescue. Someone is inside the room once more, announcing, “The doctor will be here in fifteen minutes,” and I look up to look at Peniel whose look is darting back and forth between  me and Sungjae.

“Okay,” Sungjae and I reply together, but this time I make sure I don’t make any other contact with him, both eye or verbal. He sorts to get out of the room, and, indeed, a quarter of an hour later, the doctor comes.

“Apparently you’re right, Miss Pyo. Ilhoon-ssi is having mumps. Those who still haven’t had it make sure to protect yourself; mumps is a virus.” He flips to another page in his clipboard and scribbles something, which I warrant I couldn’t possibly read because of his gibberish doctor handwriting. “Now I’ll be giving you the prescription—” he tears the page off and hands it to Penpen, the one closest to where he stands. “A few antibiotics and some pain relievers when it hurts, and he’ll be good,” the boy whom he hands the paper nods in comprehension.

“How long is he going to endure this, doctor?” Sungjae queries.

“That would depend, actually. Most cases I’ve witnessed, three to five days. But he’ll be fine. Worry not,” he offered a smile, simultaneously followed by a bow. “Now if you’ll excuse me,”

“Thank you,” we bowed all together, and then out the doctor goes.

Donggeun is the one to speak first, facing us, “Sungjae and I will be off to buy the medicines, so you stay here. Watch over him, alright?”

“With pleasure.” I smirk.

“Kaja,” the hyung gestures to his dongsaeng, and the latter follows obediently. From the corner of my eye I see Sungjae hesitate a little before going, maybe to bid me goodbye. But he doesn’t, just remembering in the nick of time.

“Yeah,” he mutters before going.

So I’m left alone with Sungjae’s hyung, Peniel’s dongsaeng. He’s sleeping soundly now, but the fever is still the same. I pick the cloth from his forehead, and I think it’s almost dry because of his warmth. Darn, I wish I knew where they put the thermometer here. I silently hoped that his case isn’t really bad right now. I go out of the room to wet it with water, and when I’m back to the room I refold it and replace it on his forehead. “The worst is yet to come, Ilhoon-oppa,” I whisper to him, and just when I’m about to remove my hand he puts his on it.

“Se Na-ya,” He says with a very faint smile, his eyes still closed. Oh, since when did I let him address me like that? Never mind. It’s not like I’m bothered by it.

“Yeah, oppa?”

“When’s your birthday?”

“December 18,” The question seems a little far-off, but I answer. “Why?”

“Remind me…” he heaves a sigh, still not opening his eyes. “To buy a gift for that day,”

I would’ve blushed, but I’m more bewildered but at the same time amused and flattered. I had never regarded him in a romantic way—that would be like me getting linked with all of the maknae line. That wouldn’t be really good for a sensible girl like me. “Why…thank you,” I smile sincerely.

“I should be thanking you,” his grip on my hand suddenly feels warmer. “It’s mumps, isn’t it?”

“Hmm-mm,” with a bob of the head.

“I knew it,” he snickers softly. “Tell the others to take care, alright,”

“Already did.”

“Good,” he sighs, and that’s when I think the conversation has ended. I’m wrong, though. After a minute or two of hush he speaks again, which quite startles me. “Have you and Sungjae made up?”

Lying would be of no use, I know that. “Not…not yet. Maybe soon,”

“You better,” he replies. “Sungjae would prefer leaving the country with a light heart. He’d die there in Singapore of sadness…if he doesn’t get to talk to you…you know,”

Oh, right. A few days from now they have a schedule in Singapore for a performance. It’s supposed to be five days, and knowing my best friend…well, he’s a freak when it comes to checking on me. It’s been his habit—or should I say obsession, to check on me every now and then despite of the fact that he is the busier one. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” I chuckle.

“Exactly.”

I heave a sigh. This guy is sick, so his humor must be off. “Alright then,”

“I won’t be healed from this mumps unless you two make peace,” he states stoutly, even with eyes closed.

“What? Unfair!” I gasp. “Hey, what’s that got to do with us?”

Though weak, oppa manages to stifle a laugh. “Everyone’s affected, Se Na.” here he opens his eyes, but only slightly—only very slightly. “Everyone’s affected…” he repeats, for greater impact, in a softer tone, closing his eyes once more. He takes my hand and puts it on his chest. Ah, what is he doing? “And I like your hand here. It’s really warm,”

I hope you know we’re both sick. Mine’s just worse. “Well you are warmer. Fever,” I tease.

He hums something which I construe as agreement, and I assure him that later he’ll be taking his meds. Meanwhile he should get his sleep first.

“Good night, Se Na-ya,” he greets, though funny, it’s afternoon.

“Nightie,” I reply, and, thinking for a moment that it’s Sungjae I’m taking care of, I am possessed by the urge to stoop down to kiss his forehead—luckily I catch myself in time. I don’t. He dozes off almost instantly, and, seeing his peaceful face, I mutter, “Not until he apologizes,”

It takes two hours for the two boys to get home, and upon their arrival I see that Sungjae is the one holding the bag where the medicines are. While Penpen sorts to get water, my best friend hands to me the bag with an awkward smile, which I take with cold monotony and a listless expression. Immediately, Yook gives up.

The sun sets and the dusk turns to a dark night, and it’s about ten in the evening that the others arrive, which is my cue to go home. I ask them who among them have had mumps before, and none raised their hand. This is bad. Now the only one fit to take care of Ilhoon-oppa is me, which means I will have to stay here to keep an eye on him. Sure, they can give him his meds, but they’re too tired to do that and wake up in the middle of the night and moreover—the more important matter, they might get sick by the contagion.

“Won’t you get affected by that again?” Minhyuk-oppa asks with much worry.

I assure him with a smile. “I’m immune now,”

“It’s settled then,” the five boys plus me look at Eunkwang-oppa who’d been tossing a thought in mind for a while now. “Se Na stays.”

“What?” I blurt. “But—”

“You don’t like it?” Changsub-oppa asks.

I shake my head. “But I—you—well, I can’t.”

“We don’t bite, Se Na,” Sik-oppa laughs awkwardly.

“Yes, I know, but—is it really fine with you?”

Minhyuk-oppa—bless his motherly instincts and all—answers, “Why, there’s not another soul fit to take care of Ilhoon Jung the invalid,”

“Okay then,” I nod, though the idea still wasn’t enticing. It’s my first time being here in their dorm and this is how it goes. “Can I…can I just go home first? I need to do something there and…I’ll be changing,”

“Sure,” the leader nods.

“Thanks,”

“I’ll go with you,” two voices suddenly interject. Probably it was out of his natural instinct—but Sungjae also volunteered. The other was, well, who would it be? No other than Shin Penpennie, of course.

Probably my visit brought about the longest, most awkward, most agonizing seconds of the entire house.

“It’s fine,” I say, proud to have kept my voice fair. Choosing Peniel would be a little too malicious, and choosing Jae would harvest a lot of reactions…whatever they are, I don’t want to know. And I don’t think I don’t want to talk to Sungjae yet. That’d be like rubbing salt in a wound. Choosing no one sounds like the fairest and the easiest. “Be right back,” I bid, before going out.

As I tread down the road back home, when I’ve walked a few feet from their dorm someone suddenly calls behind me.

I turn my head to give him a slightly irritated look. “What?”

He stops in front of me, huffing. “I figured it wouldn’t be safe for you to go out at this time,”

“Because I’m a kid?” I raise a brow.

He grins. “Yes,”

I roll my eyes in dismissal, and toss my head to one side, gesturing him to follow me.

“Hey I’m sorry your first visit went like this,”

“It’s fine; it was a state of emergency,”

Lowering his head, he mutters something which touches me. Well, not really, but just fairly. “I’m sorry…”

I snicker. “For?”

“You know, I…” he sighs. “I violated your…life.”

“No,” I remove my hand from the pocket of my sweater to elbow him. “I should be the one saying sorry. I just blabbed all of a sudden,” I look to one side, avoiding his gaze.

“I liked it though,” he chuckles, though with a hint of politeness.

“Just don’t ever tell, okay?”

“Of course, Se Na-ssi,”

And we divert our talk into another topic, as Penpennie and I tread to my home.

aaaah hahaha how do you like that? your OTP breaking before your very eyes ? XD

sorry it's a little biased here the author personally ships PenNa HAHAHA but hold on! hold on! we'll never know ~

and how about some IlhoonxSe Na moment, anyone?

SILENT READERS!

I have something for you ! here here here! HAAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHA 

(sorry I'm just really a fan of that)

okay

need I say more?

-b