Zelo POV:
“So, hyung, tell me the story!” you exclaim to Him Chan as everyone flops onto the sofa.
“Okay,” he begins.
As he tells his story, the group reacts by gasping, widening their eyes or clasping their hands over their mouth. It was quite the story indeed.
“Wah, hyung! You saved her life!!!” you yell, tackling and hugging him from behind.
He chuckles, ruffling your hair.

“She was in the practice room earlier,” he mentions. “I saw her just before she stormed off.”
“She has that type of attitude?” asks Yongguk.
“A lot. Like a fierce dog. Eye contact can be considered as a form of aggression to her.” he jokes. “But in all honesty, it’s true.”
“Don’t you know her name?” you ask with curiosity.
He shakes his head, and the group nods and goes to sleep.

Madeline POV:
You walked to the coffee shop. It was only downstairs from the dormitories, close to the streets of the school facility. There was a small alley, which had a coffee shop, a bakery and some other small businesses that were built upon the side. The birds tweeted and the leaves from the trees rustled as you walked past. In this way, you felt peaceful.

You open the door of the coffee shop, and a gentle ring of a sweet bell is triggered, which allows the shop keepers to know when a customer comes in. You were one of their most regular customers, and of course, they knew you well.
“Ah, Madeline Kim!” calls out the ahjumma that owned the shop.
“Annyeonghaseyo,” you greet, bowing to her.
She smiles warmly, and leaves to prepare your regular cup of coffee. She knows exactly what you want.

You take a seat and lean back, looking out the window to see the lush, green trees which slightly covered the view to the large campus. The ahjumma places your coffee gently on the table, and you thank her. She stops to tell you something before she leaves.
“You should start working here,” she suggests. “I’ve started hiring students and I already have one new employee, but I could use more.”
“I’ll think about it,” you reply, taking a sip from you coffee.
It tastes different. As you open your mouth to say something, she interrupts.
“I didn’t make your coffee today.” she says, with a grin. “I let my new employee do it, because he requested to.”
“Ah,” is all you can say before she leaves you alone.

You take sip of the coffee, your tastebuds tries to explore the new flavour. It was a familiar flavour. You raise an eyebrow, trying to figure it out. Where have I tasted this before? You shrug, banishing the question from your mind. I should visit appa (father) today. Finishing your coffee, you get up, grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder. You leave the coffee shop, giving you farewell to the kind ahjumma and leave.

The hospital was only a few minutes walk from the alley. It's a shame, the walk was quite enjoyable. You look up at the tall, white building in front of you. ‘Seoul - City Hospital’, is what the sign to your left reads. You sigh, and walk inside. You wrinkle your nose, smelling the strong scent of antiseptic and other strange odors. You came to hate the smell of the hospital.

You walk up the stairs and through the hallways, memorizing the path to where your father was. ‘Kim Ahn’ was the sign displayed on the door. You slide it open, to reveal a clean and plain room. In the left side, is the bed, where your father lay peacefully, with his eyes closed. The monitor next to him beeps at a steady pace, telling you he’s still alive; for now.

You laugh hysterically. How long is this torture going to last? Kill him already, you thought. Just take him, so I don’t have to suffer like this. How long is this coma? Two days, five weeks, four months, twenty three years, three decades? How long, how long? You walk silently to the bed, and gently brush your hands over his hands.

“I miss you, appa,” you tell him, even if you know he can’t hear you.
You look up, and sniff, holding back your tears. I can’t cry. Not now.
As you slide open the doors to leave, in the hallway, you can hear wails and cries from three rooms away from yours. Another dead person. You sigh, and chuckle bitterly. This is horrible, I’m going so crazy that I can laugh in the midst of death.

You drag your sluggish feet to the dormitories with a solemn expression. Someone taps your shoulder.
“Annye—” he says before you interrupt him.
“Kim Him Chan,” you say, flicking your head back around.
He increases his walking speed just to catch up with you. He whistles casually by your side, as if he were your friend or something. You weren’t his friend—he was getting annoying.
“Why do you manage to annoy me so much?” you ask him rhetorically. 

Of course he answers. Of course.
“I’m interested in you.” he whispers softly, jumping in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.
You swerve around him and continue walking, increasing your pace slightly.

“I might see you in class!” he yells out from behind.
You just continue walking, ridding his soft voice from your ears. Pest.

In the middle of the night, in the dorms, you turn your laptop on. You sit up in your bed, resting your laptop on your lap while plugging in earphones. You type as quietly as you can under the dim lighting from the screen. As usual, you found yourself watching Teen Top videos. Aish, Chunji-ah, I hate you so much. Love-hate as they say, was the feeling you developed for Chunji. More hate than love, though.

On the broadcast he confidentaly lists the traditional symbols of longetivity.

*Flashback*

“Chunji,” you remind him. “Don’t forget that it is the twelve traditional symbols of longevity!”
“Huh?” he doubts. “Isn’t it ten? Are you lying to me?”
“No!” you exclaim in denial. “It’s twelve, it’s twelve!"
The memory of laughing to school flashes in your mind.

*End of flashback*

The host and the rest of Teen Top laughed at his ridiculous answer.
"Chunji you pabo (idiot), it was ten. I lied, it was ten." you whisper to the screen.
He is laughing.

How dare he leave me like that, even after we promised. How dare he. It hurts me. You shut the laptop, slamming the screen down in anger. Every single night you were like this; searching for Chunji’s face on your screen, carefully studying him. That was the only way you would ever be able to see him: through a laptop screen.