COUNCIL ROOM, 8:02 PM

Taeyeon: It's not against the rules to sleep by the door. It's not against the rules to talk to him. You didn't mention those rules, nor are they written in the rule book. You can't take your words back!

Calm down Taeyeon! Don't disrespect your elders. That's when I felt the need to stand up, kneel down, and give my multiple apologetic bows to the invisible council.

Taeyeon: I'm sorry for speaking in a high tone. I mean no disrespect to my elders. I really only want to do something for a friend.

Jung Hyungdon: Omo, did our Taeyeon just one-up the Council? She's right though, we did not set those rules. We have no means of punishing Taeyeon for setting camp by the glass door, providing company to the punished G-dragon. All. Night. Long.

***

LIVESTREAM CHAT

User 1: Look at our cute Taenggoo making a little bed by the door. Her huge Spongebob doll is so adorable.

User 2: My Jiyong oppa's looking so pale! I wish they feed him. At this rate he can get a fever!

User 3: Amidst the fiasco with Kim Yuna, I don't think he deserves to be out in the cold Winter night like this. And with hunger too.

User 4: Taeyeon, please warm his heart with your voice.

User 5: What are you doing MBC? THIS IS HUMAN CRUELTY! You have to feed G-dragon!

User 6: AlwaysGD and GDsupporters are having a donation drive for GD's shelter and food. Please click this link to help out.

User 7: If MBC won't feed him, then we will! If he can't consume from inside the house, then he shall consume from outside.

User 8: The scene with the glass door separating Taeyeon and GD is like a romantic scene in a drama. Jjang! Team GD-Taeng scores.

***

GARDEN AND FRONT DOOR PORCH, 9:04 PM

I carefully closed the door, afraid of waking up the other housemates. I didn't exactly wish for them to find out what I was about to do. From the sliding glass door overlooking the garden, I saw that Jiyong was just lying on the pool chair, cold and lonely. His back was turned.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Oppa, how are you doing?" I called for his attention. He immediately stood up and turned around to see the camp I have already setup.

"Yah, what are you doing? You can't give me any stuff from the inside!"

"I know. These are for me, because I'm sleeping here," I declared with a careful smile.

"What?!"

"I can't give you food or a blanket, but I can at least provide you company."

He began to panic, approaching the glass door from his side. He flattened his hand directly to where I flattened mine from my side. What a perfect scene for a romantic movie. Wait, what?!

"The elders might punish you! I told you, don't let my sacrifice go in vain. You have to be comfortable and safe in your bedroom. Just go sleep inside!"

"I am comfortable and safe, as long as I have this," I then pointed to the life-size yellow atuffed toy that I have settled on the ground.

And as long as you're around...

"Of course. Mr. Square Pants can always do the trick," he smirked, staring at my huge pillow too.

I suddenly remembered I used to call him Mr. Squarepants. Yeah, Mr. Squarepants always made me comfortable. He gestured for the two of us to sit. We sat on the ground, Indian-style, facing each other with the glass door between us.

"Jiyong..."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you very much for saving me." For always saving me.

It was him who made me hold on when I felt like giving up to my ulcer four years ago. It was him who made me give value to life once more when I almost gave up to my depression after our breakup.

"Remember what I told you six years ago?"

We were staring at each other so deeply that any discomfort or awkwardness I felt beforein his presence now became nonexistent.

"How can I ever forget? It seems like only yesterday when you told me that."

It also seemed like I was only 19, head over heels with that one senior singer I met backstage in M! Countdown, on the very first stage of SNSD. I really already forgot that I was already 26, SNSD's leader, representing the group to salvage our ruined image. Now my stay inside the House of 20's became all about Jiyong. Maybe I did not forget about the original goal of joining this show. Maybe I just chose not to think about it.

"I told you that..."

Don't say it. Please don't say it. Not here. Most especially, not now.

"...maybe God created me to save you."

Those were the very same words that sealed the deal when I turned 20. March 19, 2008. The day Kwon Jiyong told me those same words was the day I agreed to his request -- for him to have the exclusive right to save me.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe, we just have to accept the fact that saving me just isn't what you were born for."

My deep words shut him up for a good ten seconds. Then, mimicking my earlier response, he replied, "Maybe. Maybe not."

We both laughed.

"I'm sorry for not doing a very good job in the last four years," he told me sincerely, now facing away from me, his back leaning against the glass that separated us. I did the same, until we were completely faced away from each other.

"If saving you was really my purpose in life, then I am doing a miserable job. I'm not even doing the job at all. I don't even know where or how to begin apologizing for that. This is why I became so desperate to save you right here, right now. It's not because I'm putting up a face to others, or self-serving, or trying to win the game. It's because I am sorry to you, to your family, to our friends, and to some extent, to myself."

He sounded so sincere, so honest, so real. The sound of truth reached out to me, and I suddenly heard... Sniff. Shoot. I can't cry. Not here. Not now. Sniff. Sniff. I only cried harder, as silently as I could. I hugged on my stuffed toy and buried my face in Spongebob's chest. I couldn't stop crying, until he finally heard me. I couldn't make myself look up to check if he faced me again.

"Don't cry. It's bad enough that this glass door is separating us. It's real torture that I can't lend a hand and wipe your tears, or lend a shoulder so you can comfortably cry."

"It's okay. Mr. Squarepants would suffice," I murmured.

"Hey Spongebob, keep her eyes dry and her head comfortable, arasseo?"

"We're setting ourselves up for big trouble by talking like this," still I murmured, the stuffed toy making me comfortable.

"You wanna know something?" he asked, and now I felt comfortable to actually look up. He was facing me once more. When our eyes met, he continued, "I feel like I really don't care."

Me neither. But I couldn't voice that out. I felt so relieved to hear him confirm that it wasn't only me who wanted to let all my emotions out.

"So are we talking about this?" I asked him, very carefully.

"Only if you want to," he answered.

"What if I don't?" I contradict