Chop. Chop. Chop. Crash. Chop. Chop.

The arrhythmic chipping chops of the knife hitting the wooden cutting board wakes me up from my deep slumber. The warm evening glow fills up my bedroom. Everything seems so tranquil that it still feels as if I’m dreaming. I crawl out of my bed and cautiously peek out my bedroom door.

There are pots whistling and the faucet running endless water. I take meticulous steps, not to bring any attention to myself. "Ow!" A deep male voice hisses as the chopping sound stops. I peek out from the ending corner of the hallway wall. With his back turned away from me, a blonde male figure is stirring up a huge pot like a witch. Pieces of cut up vegetables are all over the kitchen counter. The sink is overflowing with dirty dishes. The pot, itself, has brown goo burning on the sides—and the worst of all, the room smells sour and oniony. It stings the eyes.

V turns around and lays down a bowl of concoction unto a tray and looks up. Our eyes meeting—him staring at me with flour over his face and me, staring at him like a peeping tom in the corner. Without the slightest of hesitation, he smiles his rectangular smile and chimes, “Good morning!” I step out from the hiding corner, straighten up my posture as I head over to him with my head held high. ‘After all, this is my house, isn’t it?’

“What are you doing here?” I snatch the silver ladle from his left hand and toss it into the sink. He spins around like a fairy, grabbing my waist and shimmies both our bodies towards the kitchen counter stool.

“I made you stew!” V proudly presents the chunky greenish brown blob as I take a seat. “I made it.” He holds up a spoon. I gawk at the menacing poison he has created.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I solemnly say. V takes off the pink frilly apron and slides his toosh on top of the kitchen counter to take a seat next to me.

“Why would I want to kill you?” He says, taking a bite out of the cucumber. “I’m a great cook. You don’t trust me?” I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.

“I don’t.” I push the stew away and face V, still chewing on his cucumber without a care in the world. V looks over at me from the corner of his eye. “How did you get to my house?” I start. V points to the pair of keys I always carry around in my purse. “Are you saying you carried me home?”

“I did. And may I say that you are not any lighter than J-Hope hyung.” ‘Gasp! How dare he?!’ My thoughts hiss. ‘It’s all in the s, I tell you! ALL IN MY SIZED 34 A S!!’ my nerves scream.

Poker face. “You could’ve just left me at the café. Why would you go through all that trouble? If what you said about your love for Yoon Gi is true, won’t that make me your worst nemesis?”

Coldly and coolly, “If I did, who knows what you’ll say to Suga hyung?” V leans in a bit closer. “Besides, like I said, Suga hyung isn’t interested in you like that, Miss. Tae Hee. Get that through your thick skulled head.” With his index finger, V pushes the middle of my forehead. He doesn’t back off but sighs and looks at me with a sudden change of eyes-- innocent lamb like glare as he dishevels his hair. “Come on. You should eat. You have low blood pressure.”

“Low blood pressure?” I scoff. “Just because I fainted doesn’t mean—“

“What? Is there some other reason as to why you fainted?” V holds up a spoonful of the stew, waiting for me to take a slurp. He looks concerned but also as if he knows something about me that I didn’t want anyone to know. ‘How does he look so sure of himself?’ I think to myself. I grab V’s soft but firm hands, telling him to put the spoon down.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

“What do you mean? I’m V!” He makes a peace sign with his right hand and holds it up to his face. He’s trying to make me laugh. 

I, without hesitation, grab his right index finger which is bleeding and put pressure on it with a napkin. 

Whispering, “Ever since I’ve met you at the dinner party, why do you always appear wherever I go? Why do you always look at me in a way that no one has ever looked at me? Why are you always there for me whenever I need someone? Why does it have to be you? Why?” My questions come out endlessly. I stare at his right index finger that I'm holding tightly in my hands. V retreats his finger as he comes down from the counter and takes a seat next to me on the bar stool. He grabs my big cheeks in between his big and warm palms to puff them out more. “Tae Hee,” his voice trembles. “It’s not fair.” He gulps before finishing the rest. “When are you going to tell Suga hyung?”

“Tall hum whut?” I muffle. His big brown eyes are staring straight into mine-- making me feel completely vulnerable. 

“How do you expect me to compete with you when I know you don’t have much time left to live?” He spatters as tears droop down his handsome baby face. 

The front door clicks open. Dad, dressed in a pink business suit, stops in his tracks seeing a grown man crying and me, looking like a bloated squirrel.