Dara gasps. 

  Holy crap!!!   "Kwon Jiyong!!!!!!"    She's in panic. She tried covering her chest then her face then her chest again.    She was only wearing her bra and a skirt for christ's sake!    "Oh I'm sorry!" Jiyong turns around and she wishes the floor would open up and gobble her whole.    "No swearing in my house you dimwit!!!! Get out, get out! What are you doing here?!?!?" She scowls at him under her breath.    "I'm sorry I didn't mean it! I was...looking for the washroom." He pauses, "Why were you even changing here? You got your own bath in your bedroom! You didn't even lock the goddamn door!" He roared back at her.    "This is my own house! Which means I can use whichever bathroom I like!" She slapped his back. "Why would I even lock the door when there's no guy around?! You're gay!"    Dara wanted to kill herself the minute she said that.    Argh.    He was silent too.    'Stupid Darong. He's gay so why are you overreacting, you dweep!?!'    What was she thinking?    Psh. She's losing her marbles. Yes.    "Hey I'm sorry, I forgot you were...um, gay." She started, completely mortified. "I didn't mean to yell. I actually need.." She coughs. "..your help. I can't get my arms through this top unnie bought me and I uh..don't know how it goes." She murmurs.   She heard Jiyong swears under his breath. Palming his face, he slowly turned around to face her.    He stares at the floor and Dara her head to the right, fazed at his reaction.    For someone who doesn't knock before entering, he's being shy? For a gay, ain't he being too modest?    Hilarious.   She inwardly chuckles, waving the shirt at his face.    He glances at the inanimate object then yanks it off her hands, sighing. Dara wanted so bad to laugh.    What an odd gay.   He was staring at her face, and now he's had his eyes fixated at her body. She felt conscious once again but brushes it off quickly, reminding herself none of this is affecting him.   Still her heart won't stand still and her cheeks are warming up to the color of the sunset.   "Kwon?" She looks up at him.    He moved his eyes back at her face. "Neh?" He whispers.    "I'm getting cold, can you like, um hurry and help me dress up?" She pretended to squint at the painting on the wall.    "Oh. Yeah, alright then." He coughs. "Mianhe, rabbit."    Gosh. She's feeling all warm and fuzzy again.    "What's even the point in dressing up like this when guys only like girls when they're wearing less?" She points out.    Frowning, he stopped midway through putting the crop top in her head. He runs his eyes over her face. "Don't do it for guys, then. Do it for yourself."    She exhaled. "But that's exactly the point. Even when girls dress up for themselves, these morons will insist we do it for them."    Jiyong chuckled and remained silent throughout the whole time.           Dara was sporting her Rick Owen's leather over the knee boots and a white Kye crop top and skirt. She grabbed her Chrome Hearts suede backpack dagger flap and her black Moschino coat.   Yeezus. She smells, feels and looks exquisitely expensive. She decided to leave her face be as all this is already making her want to throw her insides out. A few hours more and she'd go mental.    Grimacing, she walks out of her room to find Jiyong comfortably leaning on her couch while humming to a song she's not familiar with.    She cleared and he stood up from his seat, turning around to face her. His eyes widen for a second before it bore a teasing glint.    "Hmn. Not bad, rabbit. Not bad." He gives her a moony expression.    Dara rolled her eyes at him. "Shut up. I think every piece of meat feel like this." She grumbles. "Can we go? I can't wait to be freed from these clothes. Jeesh." She walks over to him, pouting.    The douche smiled at her, seemingly enjoying her apparent distaste for anything exorbitant.    He offered her a hand and Dara gawked at, blinking several times. She shouldn't be bothered, she suppose. So she took it but jerked a little at the contact.    Because...there was the strangest feeling of contentment that ran up her spine; a feeling not even her puny brain can grasp. It was like coming home from a hard day's work. As though coming home from an out of town trip. As though giving her an air that's almost...comforting, like a home.   Yeah. A home.            Kwon Jiyong curses himself. He didn't mean to barge into the washroom and..and gawk at her. He wasn't raised to be a peeping tom.    He was going to run away the minute she screamed but his whole entity just froze at the sight before him. It seems that with her, he always manages to lose the battles all too easily.    No words can depict it. She's just got the most lavishing beauty. Half-, blushing furiously and trembling under his eyes, he would have devoured her like the rake he was. Instead he just badly wanted to run his fingers through her entire body and stash her into his pocket. Forever keeping her his. All his.    He kept fighting the mental image, which she worsened when she asked him to stay and help her dress.    He's certain eternal damnation will be casted upon him. With gut retching in disgust and guilt, he conceded.   All the while, he tried. He tried hard. God knows he tried to shove off all lewd or indecent thoughts. He'd refrain from looking at her..or her body. He knows he should think like a gay, act like a gay. But whenever she would rant or pout or scrunch her nose, his imagination gets wild and overboard; whenever her skin touches his even in the slightest, he couldn't help but be aroused and chomping at the bit.   A man can only struggle so much.   It dawned on him just how much he might lose in this crazy arrangement than just his sanity.    Impending doom.   He wanted to kill his hyung, Dongwook. Yes. Kill that insufferable creep who put him through all this!    That scheming cousin of him must die.                Dara looked down at their linked hands and gulped hard at the possessive way his arms slipped around her as few men get on the elevator with them. He didn't let go even when they stepped out and walked to where his car was parked.    He was unusually silent again and she can't figure out if she likes him that way or nah.    And for the love of Zeus, she can't find her tongue as well.    They were both mum and just like him holding her hands, she finds that it was somewhat comforting to share silence with him too.    Unexpected.   He led her to his car, the legendary white Lamborghini (at least for Dara it is), and opened the door for her. She pulled her hand away and scooped two masks from her backpack.    Facing him, she sees him raise a brow slightly.    "Well genius, you're a major hotshot. A celebrity. So go wear this mask so people won't clobber us up."    He regarded her with an amused look then laughed.    "Seriously?" The guy is mocking her, she's sure of it.    Pft. And here she was, protecting both their identities. While the douche of a gay laughs his head off at her.    She can't have her face plastered on ANY penny-worthy tabloid or magazine. The thought alone sends spiders through her brain. Ouch.    "Seriously." She hisses.   "Aren't we just about to get our couple rings and meet my parents in a few weeks? Hasn't it occurred to you that the media will definitely find out? You know, with me being a