Sandara wanted to wake up, but her eyelids felt heavy. Instinctively, she reached for the tip of the duvet and took it off from her body, hastily. When she felt the coldness blow against her bare legs, her eyes shot up and was welcomed by the dull ceiling. She’s still not used to it, because her bedroom back at her house has a painting of the panoramic view of New York at night, just like what the photograph looks like at the back of the postcards her stepmother brings home whenever she’s from a business trip. And to ease herself from the ache she has from being kept outside, she paints the photographs all around her bedroom, and chose New York for her ceiling, solemnly because whenever she sees the panoramic view of New York at night, it makes her relax and live up her life to the fullest.

She sprang up to her feet, stretching her body and grabbed the T-shirt Seungri lend to her, because he was concerned that she might also wear a dress in the house. It rests just after her buttocks, just right to classify as a decent nightgown if ever it is a nightgown. Sandara grabbed a hair tie from the clear bowl on the bedside table and tied her hair into a ponytail.

She went out of her room, and stride towards the kitchen to start her work. Sandara opened the fridge, grabbing a ceramic pitcher and poured herself a glass of water. As she drank it, she unconsciously turned around and the glass fell off from her grip, her eyes wide in bewilderment.

“Ow!” She cried, gritting her teeth, when her stimuli kicked in.

“! Are you okay?” She heard Jiyong ask as she looked down at her bleeding right foot. He gingerly placed his hands on her waist, and lifted her up, making her sit on the countertop. Sandara kept on wincing, and she lifted her foot up to inspect it. It was bleeding, really bleeding and it was ugly. The dark red blood kept on trickling down to her ankle.

“I’m sorry. Did I frighten you?” Jiyong asked as he reaches up for the first aid kit on the fridge.

“I was just shocked.” Sandara admitted through gritted teeth. Jiyong placed the first aid kit beside her, opening it and taking only what’s needed, and placed it beside the kit. Gingerly, he grabbed her lower thighs and guided it to the kitchen sink to her right. Jiyong opened the faucet, water rushing down from its mouth and slowly, washed her bleeding foot. Sandara groaned, but when she’s about to stop him from washing her foot, she thought that he’ll just get mad so she placed her hand instead on his upper arm.

“You’re going to be fine.” He cooed as he closes the faucet and dried her foot with a paper towel.  Then, he moved her again, now away from the faucet.

“I’m sorry.” Jiyong murmured, still drying her wet foot.

“Okay.”

“You’re scared, are you?” He smirked.

“Why?”

“You’re monosyllabic.”

Jiyong throw the paper towel into the small trash bin beside the sink and grabbed a cotton ball then, pouring a little povidone-iodine in it. Sandara winced as he dab the cotton gingerly on her wound, which is a small slit starting from the crook of her big and second toe. It didn’t look like it’ll be a scar, but it hurts.

After dabbing povidone-iodine to her wound, he started to wrap her foot with gauze. Sandara watched him, very concentrated on his work. She unconsciously laughed.

“Do I look ridiculous tending to your wound?” Jiyong asked as he doubles the layer of gauze, his smile can be seen even though he had his head bent.

“Are you used to tending wounds?” Sandara asked, wiggling her foot when he finished his job with a knot; Jiyong placed his hands on his hips, and smiled up at her, contended.

“I tend to my own wounds. I do kickboxing, that’s why I get more wounds than a usual person could have.” He answered. Sandara looked at him, cocking her head to the side and asked, “What are you doing here?”

He leaned forward, but when Sandara assumed he was going to hug her by the waist, he started to clean everything up. She pouted, crestfallen and start to move her legs up and down one by one. “The president asked me to deliver the new trainees’ schedules for this week and next week. The guy named Seungri opened the door for me, and got back to sleep. I welcomed myself in, sat on the couch and one hour later, you showed up.” He said, biting his lower lip and a red tinges appearing across the bridge of his nose to his cheeks.

“You want to help me cook breakfast?” Sandara invited, about to jump off the countertop when Jiyong stopped her. “Sure.” He answers. “I’ll just clean this up.” He points out to the shards of glass on the wet floor.

Sandara watched him as he cleans the mess up, and as when he was tending to her wound, he was very concentrated. His forehead is creased, his lips are lopsided, his nose scrunched up and his eyes squinted. In everything he does, Jiyong is always concentrated yet happy-going. Why did he act like a jerk on their first meeting? Because he’s pressured? Shamed? Sandara couldn’t point out the details and reasons.

“So, what are we going to cook?” She heard Jiyong ask, and she was brought again back to home Earth. Sandara jumped out of the countertop, grabbed one apron hanging on the wall beside the fridge and wore it on. “Bacon and egg.” She answered as she knot the ties together. “And guacamole, perhaps.”

“Here, let me put this to you on.” She said, wistfully, grabbing another apron from the hook and wore it on Jiyong. She knots the tie around his waist together, and when she’s done, she clapped his back.

“Let’s start.” She said, and grabbed the ingredients from the fridge while Jiyong got the pans ready. Sandara placed the frozen bacon in the sink, still inside its plastic and opened the faucet. As she waits for it to warm down, she asked questions about Jiyong and her mother. She did remember her mother’s classification of Jiyong as her boyfriend.

“Why did my stepmother call you her boyfriend?” She asked, looking straight at the bacon being warmed.

Jiyong rolled his eyes in disgust and answered, “Don’t ever think about it. She’s old enough to be my mother, and I hate her attitude. She just wanted my money, that gold digger.”

“Why would she want your money?” Sandara asked, mystified as she gathers the bacon up and close the faucet at once. She went beside him, opening the plastic and gingerly placed strips of bacon on the heated pan.

“Oh right, you wouldn’t know. There was a rumor that your father’s company is slowly going on a bankrupt.” He answered, flipping the eggs. Sandara watched him in horror. When did he start breaking those? She asked herself.

“But they were selling expensive drugs.” She murmured, absently.

“Ow!” Jiyong cried out, holding his finger up and dropping the rubber spoon spatula. He had accidentally burnt his finger when he was about to retrieve the spoon spatula after flipping the eggs, his finger accidentally rubbing against the metal part of the frying pan.

Sandara grabbed his hand with the injured finger and brought it up to her lips, kissing it with fervor. “Watch out next time.” She said after kissing it, and made him hold the spoon spatula again. Jiyong watched her in utterless bewilderment.

“How did you know they were delivering expensive drugs?” He asked; now back to his original self. Sandara flipped the bacon, gazing at it rather melancholy and answered, “I escaped when she wasn’t around in the morning on the day of the party. I was on my way to the company when I bumped into you and Taeyang.”

She heaved a sigh, and continued, “It was devastating to see. There were drugs mixed with the fruit crates.”

“Maybe the rumor was mainly to get the media out of their delivery. If I can remember clearly, there was a former rumor that one of the fruit deliveries was sabotaged by the police because an informer told them that it was carrying expensive paraphernalia. But I guess, the informer mistook it from the other because in the boxes were fruits.” Jiyong said, now plating the eggs.

“I don’t see a reason why my stepmother would marry you though,” Sandara said, changing the topic. “If it’s because the money, that would sound absurd. Besides, the look she gives you is much more intimate than what I receive from her.”

“Even if she persists, I won’t marry her.” Jiyong said, holding the plate of eggs in his hands.

“Why?” Sandara asked, but as soon as Jiyong leans forward to her again, she wished she didn’t. Their gap was only a millimeter, and his nose was already tickling hers. They both close their eyes, and when he was about to kiss her on the lips, a cough stopped him. Jiyong kissed her nose instead, and placed the plate of eggs on her open palms; Sandara quickly opened her eyes, blushing.

They both turn to where the cough came from and saw Seven, perched on a chair at the dining table with his chin resting on top of his palm. “Good morning.” He greeted, smiling.

“Good morning.” Sandara managed to greet back while Jiyong plates the bacon.

“Did I interrupt you both to something?” Seven innocently asked, his smile not reaching his eyes and his eyes glinting wickedly. Sandara placed the eggs on the dining table, and answered, “No, not at all. We were cooking breakfast, together.”

“Cooking?” Seven repeated. “What’s with the kiss? Surely, I didn’t do that to my girlfriend when we're cooking together.”

“Sandara was just adorable, and because I can’t take it, I kissed her nose.” Jiyong reasoned out, joining Sandara and Seven in the dining area as he place the plate of bacon on the table.

“Oh really? I don’t recall myself kissing my girlfriend’s nose when she’s too adorable.” Seven said, his tone implying Jiyong to back off.

“Then, you’re a bad boyfriend.” Jiyong glared at Seven. The latter glared back.

“I pity your girlfriend, for not experiencing romantic things.” Jiyong further said, one eyebrow raised and lips twisted in mock amusement.

“Please, don’t fight.” Sandara pleads, placing one hand on Jiyong’s chest and the other, fingers spread evenly and outstretched to Seven, stopping him also.

“We’re not fighting.” Seven denied, smiling dearly at her and Jiyong just rolled his eyes.