프니엘: When I’m out of the building a sharp gust of frosty wind bites my skin. I roll down my sleeve, and turn my head from side to side, deciding where I should go. From what I recall, there’s a coffee shop that’s a walk away from here. Soon enough I commence my march there, also thinking about whether I should bring the guys some drinks on my way home.

The bell-chimes ring upon my ingress, and it’s a relief that there’s only a few people now. It’s just me, a couple seated by the window side, the baristas, and—

Another clanging of the bells behind me. When I turn my head I see a girl—quite tall—with hair ranging from black to brown, with bangs swept to one side. She doesn’t bother looking at me; she merely walks past me and immediately heads to the counter. Her back’s hunched, the bun on the back of her head’s tied improperly, and she’s wearing rugged clothes—jogging pants, a thin gray sweater whose sleeves reach up to her fingertips, just above a yellow shirt inside.

“A hot chocolate, please,” I hear her say to the barista, and I stand behind her.

“Coming up,” the barista says, and she walks to her desired table while she waits for her order.

The girl accidentally grazes her shoulder against my arm, and, interpreting it as a bump she immediately bows her head several times, and, from her minimized voice, I could hear she’s almost dead with lethargy. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Sorry, sorry—“

“—it’s okay, really,” I open a palm in front of her, and laugh a little to ease her growing embarrassment.

When she looks up I see three expressions in one second—first she was apologetic, then it turned to surprise, which later on transformed into a smile—not just any smile, but knowing one; a smug smile that hinted she knew of something.

And I merely stand there dumbly, mouth half-open in stupor.

“Um, sir?” the barista looks at me with an inquiring raise of the brows. “What would you like?”

“Eh…uh…one…one…cappuccino please,” I say to him, raising an index finger.

“One cap coming up,” he says with a smile, and makes my order.

For a moment a sense of discomfort wins over me, and I scuff my shoes in small circular motions on the floor. Looking over my shoulder,  I see the girl busy typing away on a laptop I didn’t notice she was carrying a while ago. Hesitation takes a hold of me, but I don’t know what causes me to walk towards her table, and goodness knows where I got the audacity to draw out the chair, and sit.

She doesn’t notice me at first. I see that for the fraction of a second her droopy eyes land on me, but they fix themselves back to the screen. “Yes?”

“Um…” I find the words pitched short in my throat. What am I supposed to say? Hi, my name is Peniel. I suppose you know BTOB since you smiled at me like that a while ago. May I know your name? are you our fan? Who’s your favorite? But no. None of those comes out.

“You know the café’s almost empty and you decide to sit at the same table as me. That must mean you need something,” she says, still nonchalantly, and her rapid taps on the keyboard gives me the feeling that she has no errors at typing at all.

Oh my god. I have never been this intimidated in my life before. “Um…”

Noticing my inability to speak, she changes the topic and asks, still busy with what she’s doing, “What’s another word for ‘annoy’ again?”

“…What?”

“ ‘Annoy’. What’s another word for it?” she says the word in English. Does this mean…?

“Do you…by any chance, speak in English?”

The typing stops, and she looks at me. “I do.”

A smile spreads across my face. “’Irritate’. ‘Vex’. ‘Aggravate’. Use any of those synonyms,” I say in English.

A small chuckle escapes . “Thank you.” And she punches in the word. Well,  whichever it is.

“Here’s your order ma’am, sir,” a waiter pops out from nowhere, and places our orders on the table.

The girl, who seems younger than me, sets aside her laptop with a slight push. “Thanks,” she smiles.

As soon as the waiter disappears she looks at me, “I shocked you, didn’t I,”

“Hm?” I look up from my sipping of my drink.

“I apologize for my rudeness. I’m a little cranky today; I’m tired.”

“Apology accepted,” I smile easily. “Do you mind if I ask? What is that you’re doing?”

She takes a brief look at the screen then at me. “I write.”

“You mean type.” I joke with a pokerface.

She laughs. “Well, it’s technically called typing but I write—in a less literal sense,”

“And what is it that you write?”

She swallows once from her drink. “Web content. I’m a web content writer,”

“You seem too young to work,”

“Right you are, sir,” she smiles.

“What does a web content writer write about?”

“It depends,” she fixes her sight back on the screen. “You know Koko Krunch?”

“What?”

“Koko Krunch.”

“Those chocolate cereal thingy?”

Two nods of the head.

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Well, I’m currently working on the site of the company they’re under,”

“Oh,” I find my lower lip protrude out a little in wonder and understanding. “What else do you do?”

After a while of correcting whatever errors there are on her writing with one hand she answers, “I consider myself a freelance, actually,”

“Freelance?”

She sighs and scowls at me. “And you’re supposed to be the adult,”

“No, I mean!” I shake my head. “Why a freelancer? Shouldn’t a girl your age supposed to be going to school?”

“I do.” She answers a little too quickly. “Well, I did.”

“I’ll try not to cross that line,” I tilt away a little, holding out my palms, suddenly bashful again. “What else do you do aside from web content writing?”

It makes me even more embarrassed that when she looks at me, there’s a wicked smile on her face. “I do proofreading. My life revolves around writing, you see. I do online writing too,”

“Do they pay you for it?”

She thinks for a while. “For the web content writing and proofreading, of course. But as for the online writing, seldom,” and she sips from her cup once again.

“I see,” I nod.

Another round of questions and answers are exchanged between us, and before I even know it, our drinks have run out. There’s a moment of silence and suddenly she groans, in an obviously angry voice, “Ugh, low batteries!” she shuts the flap of her laptop a little too hard I’m afraid it’s broken. When she lifts her cup her frown deepens. “I guess I should go home, huh,” when she stands up I halt—

“Wait, let me go with you!”

There’s a blank look on her face for a long while. Then she asks, “Are you sure?”

“It’d be un-gentlemanly of me if I wouldn’t…” I answer in a smaller voice, with a smile.

She sets her sight on the café’s door. “Okay then,”

“Can I ask something?” I say meekly with my hands in pockets, while we walk.

“Sure you can,” she says, and fumbles something in her sweater’s pocket.

“Why did you smile like that a while ago?”

“Oh my gosh!” a loud squeal comes from her, which startles me, because the loudness of her voice exceeds the loudness of the midnight’s silence. “I still have it here?” and what I see next is that she has a packet of Tabasco sauce. She quickly nibbles on the wrap and tears it open, and the contents in. “I’m sorry, what was that again?” she mumbles, teeth gritted making the speech a little incoherent.

My brow twitches. Seriously. Who does that? “I was—“

“—Oh, the smile,” she interrupts. “You ask why?”

“Ne,”

“The answer’s right behind you,” she points up, and when I turn, there’s the building of where our dorm should be.

“What…” I haven’t noticed. We’re here already? I  turn back to her. “Are you a fan?”

She laughs. “I would be, but no—not yet.”

“What do you mean?”

She sips more of the Tabasco. “You know, my best friend calls me Fire Tooth,”

“…What?” okay if the weather is not relaxingly cold and nice right now I’d be vexed. “Why?”

“I love to eat spicy food. Now off you go,” she pushes my back with minimal force and smiles. “I suppose you have schedules later,”

“But you haven’t answered my question yet—“

She seems to ignore me.  “I forgot to say. You look so much better in person,” her eyes smile and the corners of curl upward, while her teeth bite down the packet in between.

That compliment takes me off-guard, that my cheeks warm and I have to hide my mouth with the back of my hand in pathetic attempts to cover my blush. “T-t-thanksss…”

“Sure,” she walks away, and I halt her exit again.

“Wait—“

“What,” she looks over her shoulder.

“W-what’s…what’s your name?” I swallow once.

It takes a moment—a very long moment for her to answer. “Look, this will weird you out—“

“—please, at least give me your name,” I say, meaning to be imploring, but end up sounding beseeching.

She chortles. “You will know. Soon. Sooner than you expect, even,” she pauses for a sigh. “For the meantime, call me Fire Tooth,”

“Fire Tooth…” I repeat the wordS silently.

She walks farther and farther away. But before her back recedes completely into the distance, she bids, “See you soon, Peniel-oppa,”

However I get to the dorm with only my stupor leading me, only goodness knows, but when I open the door maknae is the first one I see. “You said you were only gonna be gone for a while?” he muses with a teasing smile.

“You’ve been gone for two hours, hyung,” Ilhoon adds. “What did you do? Had a date along the way?”

I look at him slowly, gathering my wits. “No…I…”

“You what…?”

“Just…had a drink…and made a friend.”

“Interesting!” Sungjae exclaims and laughs. “Now tell us about that friend,”

“Maybe tomorrow,” I scratch my neck, and crane it. “I’m tired.”

“If you say so,” Sungjae shrugs. “Now dress up and we’ll go lights out any time now,”

I just realize that all the talking really consumed my energy when I put my pajamas on. As I lie on my bed awake during the night I stare into the darkness, only being haunted with intrigue and wondering about what the real name of that Fire Tooth girl could be.