Chapter Three

That Same Day -- Nightfall -- 7:30 PM

One of the bedrooms in Kidoh's apartment acted as his office/home-made music studio. As you sat on the sofa in the living room, staring at the glowing television screen but not really watching t.v., you could hear him loudly pumping out lyrics to a track he'd just created. Kidoh always sounded so powerful when he rapped, especially when it was a song he'd written himself. He could knock a person off his or her feet with his rap alone.

But since lunchtime, when he'd run into you at the little clothing boutique, he hadn't said much to you. When you'd said anything to him, he'd only nodded his head or given a half-hearted smile. Even when Namjoon had come over earlier and joined Kidoh in the studio, your boyfriend hadn't taken a break to come out to the living room to talk with you.

You quickly yanked a couple of tissues from the little cardboard container next to you, placed them over your mouth and nose, and released a couples of sneezes. Your head ached some, so having to deal with Kidoh obviously giving you the silent treatment wasn't helping. Just as you stuffed the soiled tissues into a nearby garbage can -- you'd pulled it close so you didn't have to get up from the couch -- you heard the door of the home studio open and close.

Jin and Namjoon came into the living room. This was your chance to get some answers.

"Is Kidoh angry about something?" you asked, staring up at them from the couch.

Reaching for his jacket which hung neatly on the back of a chair, Jin gave a shrug of his extra-broad shoulders. "Oh, he'll be okay. Just give him some time with his music, and everything will be good."

Your hand dove into the tissue box and you pushed another tissue against your face just in time -- containing another sneeze.

"Are you sick?" Jin asked softly, pausing in his trek toward the apartment door. "Get some medicine, roll into bed, and just sleep, all right? Don't worry about our Kidoh, he's fine. You take care of you right now." He made two of his fingers into bunny ears and smiled. "See you later."

Jin left through the front door, closing it behind him.

"Our Kidoh," you groaned, hearing Jin's words repeated in your achy head, "Our Kidoh? Namjoon, what's up with Kidoh? Why's he acting so cold?"

At first, Namjoon had been standing off to the side, saying nothing, his hands folded in front of him. Sure, he had the stage name of Rap Monster, but Namjoon could be mature and informative when he wanted to be. Uh, well, sometimes.

He took a seat on the couch beside you. "Man, that guy in there -- Kidoh, his pride's hurting, got me?" Geez, of course the drama king side of Namjoon had to come out. "He wants you and his relationship to be heavenly, girl, but right now? Wow. No. It ain't good."

"Namjoon, what in the world are you saying?" you laughed, a bit overcome by his ultra-serious face and dramatic expressions.

"It's like," Namjoon paused, even holding his hands still as he thought, "It's like, damn. You know? A man doesn't like seeing his girl hugging three dudes -- it's like that."

"Are you serious? He's upset about me hugging my friends?"

Namjoon touched your shoulder as if to get your attention. "Yo, but they're dudes, right? Right. He's in there, and I don't know, he might be about to write 'Y U Mad, Pt. 2.' He should, though. All the good songs have a part two." Sliding his shades down on his nose -- yes, sunglasses at night, not too odd for Rap Monster -- he stood up. "I got to go now. I'll be back tomorrow to pick up Kidoh so we can hit the road."

"Oh, yeah. The 'We are Real Hip Hop' Festival is tomorrow night. Even with the possibility of a snowstorm?"

"Hip Hop doesn't take a break for snow," Rap Monster answered, sounding like a true professional. He swiped his coat up and made his exit out the apartment door.

The low voices on the television screen were the only noises in the apartment. You didn't hear any sounds coming from the studio. With some difficulty -- your legs were feeling so tired -- you dragged yourself up from the couch.

Then you heard the muffled tune of Kidoh's newest mixtape again.

Okay, fine, I won't bother my silly ole jealous-for-no-reason boyfriend while he's working, you reconsidered, falling back down onto the couch cushions. And you know what? After I take a little nap right here, I'm going to tell him how crazy he is for worrying about me getting hugs from the guys...

Less than five minutes later, you'd fallen asleep on the sofa, your hand still clutching a tissue just in case.

 *                               *                               *

The Next Morning

Your eyes were closed, but you heard Kidoh's unmistakable laughter nearby. He sounded like he was trying to keep his laughing to a minimum, but couldn't help it.

With your dry eyes still shut, Kidoh asked, "Are you sure? You're really going to work? You're sick, baby."

"Of course I'm going..." Finally, you opened your eyes. It was then that you realized you'd fallen asleep in the doorway of the closet, your head resting against the wall. I barely remember waking up and walking around...I do remember groaning like a just-awakened zombie...You looked down at the clothes you were wearing, and saw that your groggy mind had thought a tank top and pajama pants were the perfect ensemble for work. Probably wasn't a good idea to get dressed while half-asleep and sick. "Okay, maybe this isn't the best choice for an outfit, huh? I'll try again. And could you turn the heat down some, Kidoh? It's burning up in here." You disappeared back into the walk-in closet once more.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, when you reappeared in something that you'd struggled into, you were greeted by Kidoh's concerned face. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his long legs stretched out, and he looked up from a bottle of orange-colored medicine.

"It's so incredibly hot in here, Kidoh. Don't we have a fan or something?" you complained and just as the world started to spin around you, you felt his arms wrapped around your torso. For such a thin guy, he sure was strong.

"It's not hot in here, sweetheart. It's you," he explained, touching your forehead. He led you toward the bed.

"Is that a pick-up line? I thought you were mad at me, Kidoh. You know, because of the..." and with your eyes closed again, you extended your arms outward like you were giving an invisible giant a hug.

"Yeah, I guess I was mad. But really, I was mad at myself for sweating those guys. I shouldn't have acted like that," he said quietly, as he pulled your shoes off with one hand. In his other hand, he still held the medicine.

"But you shouldn't be jealous of Seogoong, Atom, and Xero. They're just my friends. I'm the one who should be jealous of, of..." you felt yourself drift off, the pillow so soft under your cheek, but you shook yourself awake again. "Kidoh, please come and lie down right here and tell me about Australia."

Kidoh laughed. "Oh, man, you are really sick." He paused, reading the bottle in his hand. "This flu medicine is expired, but...it should be okay, right? I don't really know about this kind of thing."

"Baby, baby, listen to me, come here, listen to me," you said, urgent for no reason, reaching for Kidoh blindly, your eyes too tired to open again. You pulled yourself up on the bed and said, very seriously, "Kidoh, everytime I listen to 'From Trainee to Singer,' I cry oceans. I'm not kidding...if I hear that song being played, I just...tears like waterfalls..."

"I'm taking you to the hospital." Kidoh's voice was firm.

As you vaguely felt him helping you toward the door of the apartment, you whispered with a very loud Seogoong whisper, "Don't ever let anyone make you feel embarrassed of that audition tape -- you know the one, right? You rocked that bowl hair-cut, baby, you rocked it."

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