Jong Kook waits for a dripping, sagging Kwang Soo to punch in the key code to Cherry's apartment. The two had visited the private gym one floor down. While Kwang Soo was far from unfamiliar with the gym himself, being heckled through a workout by Jong Kook was something else entirely. The tall man nearly collapses into the apartment, followed closely by his upbeat, energetic older friend.

Jong Kook looks around the apartment as he heads to the kitchen and helps himself to a cold glass of water.

"Kwang Soo, I'm not going to lie and say it's not weird, but you do have a great setup going on here. How often do you stay here?" He offers his dongsaeng a glass of water as well and it's accepted gratefully.

Kwang Soo gulps down half the glass before he answers. "Three or four or five times a week, depending on my schedule."

Jong Kook is taken aback. "Really? That much?" They're leaning against opposite counters in the kitchen.

"And it doesn't bother Charity at all?"

"No, hyung, I told you, she's almost never even here, and even when she is, she doesn't mind having me around." He holds his hand out for Jong Kook's glass and sets them both in the sink.

"Yeah, but don't you think you should go home once in a while?"

The younger man shakes his head. "Mmm. I prefer to be here," he says vaguely, lifting his head at the sound of the keypad outside the door. He frowns as the door fails to open after one, two, three attempts. He walks out of the kitchen to investigate as Jong Kook pulls open the fridge to grab a couple of eggs for each of them, moving efficiently to scramble quickly them with no butter.

Jong Kook hears the door open and Kwang Soo's reaction.

"Hey, what -- oh, hey, good morning."

There's a small scuffling sound. Jong Kook sticks his head out of the kitchen just in time to see Charity's back as she plods up the stairs.

"Good morning... " he calls as she turns into the hall upstairs. She lifts a hand silently in response, not turning around or acknowledging his presence in any other way. Kwang Soo reappears beside him.

"Sometimes when she's really tired, she forgets the access code," he explains.

"Maybe that's why she doesn't mind having you around -- she'd be living in her hallway, otherwise." Jong Kook jokes.

“Hm,” Kwang Soo hums non-committally, eating his eggs with incredible speed. “Do you want to shower first or should I?”

“You go ahead, I’m going to read this email again.”

Kwang Soo grins. Jong Kook had checked his email immediately upon waking and shouted out with surprise to discover a response from Hannah. Kwang Soo awoke to the older man pounding on his bedroom door, yelling, “Get up! I got a response! Let’s go to the gym!” Jong Kook had read him the text of the short missive three times during their workout. How he was able to talk, to think, so effortlessly while performing a workout Kwang Soo likened to torture was beyond the younger man.

Jong Kook sits down on a stool at the kitchen counter, pulling out his cell phone to read Hannah’s email yet again. He feels like he’s in high school again, trying to analyze every sentence, every individual word. The email seems so straightforward, but still. She’s interested, right? She’s clearly interested. And interesting. She has to be interested. There’s no other possible path for her to take aside from interested. All he has to do is write back, and everything will start rolling downhill.

He opens a blank email response and hovers his thumbs over the keyboard.

Nothing. Why does he feel so much pressure to get this right? She’s going to love him in the end no matter what, right? So just say anything. Anything at all.

He forces himself to start. “Dear Hannah,” he types. He remembers Kwang Soo’s pen pal crack from the previous evening and deletes the two words.

He tries again. “Hey.” Better. “Congratulations. I knew you’d make it.”

He pauses again, chewing on his lower lip.

“Do you want to… “ He deletes again.

“Ugh!,” he grunts in frustration.

“Sorry, I don’t do mornings well.”

He lifts his head, startled to see Charity standing against the opposite counter near the coffee machine, looking unimpressed with his outburst. He hadn’t even heard her come downstairs, so intent was his focus on the two sentences he’d managed in the last ten minutes.

She’s wearing jeans and an oversized gray t-shirt with “C’est La Vie” printed on the front. Her hair is once again up in a bun that looks completely, deliberately careless. As if it takes effort to make it look so messy and disheveled. Her face is bare, dark circles ringing her heavy-lidded eyes, looking more than just a little run down.

He realizes he’s spent a telling amount of time taking in her appearance. “No, I… uh… wasn’t… talking about… I didn’t even notice you,” he finishes lamely.

She a brow and snorts at him, turning back to the single cup coffee brewer as her drink hisses into a mug.

“You know, coffee isn’t --” He stops himself as she dumps a ton of milk and loads spoon after spoon of sugar into her mug. “Well, I guess that’s not coffee anymore so it hardly matters.”

She leans her back against the counter and blinks at him slowly, staring directly at him as she deliberately takes a long sip of her concoction.

“I am not winning many points with you, am I?” he asks ruefully.

She shakes her head sl