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She’s doomed. Oh my god.
Chae Song-hwa squints once more at the block of text on her lock screen—just to make sure it isn’t still a dream—and the throbbing pain in her temples becomes much more apparent.
‘14 missed calls and 20+ unread messages,’ it says. From her three very loving (overprotective) older brothers.
From oppa #3, received 1 hr ago: We’re otw sis.
The farther she scrolls up her inbox, the nearer she feels she is to her doom.
From oppa #2, received 34 mins ago: Uri dongsaeng-i, y aren’t u replyin? I hope u hadn’t forgotten about ur post-bday celeb! Ur oppas will pick u up @ ur apa~teu. See u~ <3 <3
From oppa #1, received 9 mins ago: Be there in about 15 minutes; just got caught in traffic at the intersection. I’m expecting you’re all ready to go when we get there.
*New message!*
From oppa #1, received just now: Also
…
* New message!*
From oppa #1, received just now: may I use your restroom?
“Shit!” Song-hwa lets out a shriek, almost throwing her phone across her room. She makes one hurried sweeping glance at the state of her apartment, and decides she needs to move. Fast, if she still wants to live.
Because her brothers are going to kill her if they saw this. And she has only about five minutes left before that happens.
“Shitbricks!”
Jumping out of bed, she starts swooping up everything on her way. Across her carpeted floor lay empty bottles of alcohol, and beer cans—opened, unopened; crushed, spilled, and neatly stacked. There, at a far corner by the large window are crumbs and tattered bags of junk food and undisposed cup noodles on her dainty dining table.
And then there’s this one colorful paper bag in the midst of all the mess, suddenly causing her to halt. A faint memory from late last night rushes to her—her close friends huddled around her on her carpeted floor, all pink and bleary-eyed from drinking, cheering for her to open the gift they prepared.
“Shit shit shit!” she grumbles, finally remembering what’s inside the bag.
A pack of condoms, a tube of lubricant, tissue rolls, and this one small card that had ‘BEST-LAID PLANS & WISHES FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY’ in big, bold letters written on it!
Fuck you, Yong Seok-min and Heo Seon-bin!
Song-hwa tries hard to rack her brain for a way to hide all these scandalous (at least for her) stuff away from her oppas’ prying eyes. Because she’s almost sure they’d somehow have their way into being all let into her apartment, and that they’d inspect all the suspicious-looking things their eyes would lay upon, and that she’s going to be doomed by then.
Like doomed-doomed. She couldn’t even possibly just throw these all away, because she thinks her brothers might actually even check her trash bin. And because these are, after all, gifts her friends had gotten just for her.
“Shit shit, what to do, what to do, shit!” Song-hwa couldn’t stop pacing around her apartment. If anyone from her family hears her, they’d surely reprimand her for her language. Fortunately, or not, she thinks, no one is here to see the great Chae Song-hwa swearing nonstop and losing her composure. No one—yet. So for that meantime, maybe, “Fuck all this shit!”
Yup, fuck all this shit.
This is her only choice. She is very desperate.
“Good day, neighbor!” she flashes the guy a big, forced smile. Too enthusiastic for someone whom she had never talked to before. Not for the past two years they’d been living next to each other in the same complex. She doesn’t even know his name.
Seemingly unbothered by his neighbor’s sudden chummy greeting, the guy, with bits of his hair sticking up and his eyes bleary from sleep, just smiles back at her.
“Do you happen to want some…beer? I’ll give you one can if you hide all of these for me!” she says, almost ready to shove the big plastic bag she carried all the way to his door.
If he was surprised by the very peculiar offer that came to him out-of-the-blue on this very random Saturday morning, he surely doesn’t let it show.
“Just one?” he chuckles, playfully stealing a peek at the contents of the bag. It seems stuffed with a lot of things, and he mocks disbelief for being offered only one can of beer.
Song-hwa blinks at him, her tone firm. “Please.”
Noticing the despair her voice was laced with, Lee Ik-jun’s stare grows soft and serious.
“Hey, are you in danger? Need any help?”
“Yes, yes, I’m in danger and need your help. So kindly take these with you. There are some more left in my apartment, so can you please wait for me here?” She says without pause, and he finds himself helplessly nodding and accepting, with no choice, the bag she just abruptly placed in his arms.
A few rapid heartbeats later, she appears again with two—three more tattered packs of beer and one very colorful paper bag slung on her thin arms. Lee Ik-jun puts down the plastic bag he has in his arms by his doorstep, and walks up to her to help, but not before things start falling away from her grasp, rolling on the floor.
“What the heck is happening?” Lee Ik-jun asks, helping her pick her items up. He finds the situation so random and amusing and almost lets out a laugh if only the woman did not look so in distress.
“It’s a very long story,” she replies, sternly.
“I have all day.”
“I have only two minutes. Or less.”
Ik-jun, with six cans of beer tucked under his muscular arms, gives her a sidelong glance, as if letting her know he’s still very willing to listen, and is actually genuinely curious.
“Geunyang… I have three older brothers,” she says, gesturing with three fingers. “And they are coming here to pick me up any minute now. And my friends left all sorts of…scandalous things in my apartment last night. My oppas are going to kill me, for sure, if they see those,” she says, looking at him with brows furrowed.
Ik-jun nods in acknowledgment, trying to take in her situation, and then freezes when their fingers brush against each other as they try to pick up the same item at the same time.
A box of condoms, it reads, and Ik-jun lets go of his touch, letting out an incredulous gasp.
“Th-this is my friend’s. Not mine, I swear!” Song-hwa flicks the box back towards him, as if in disgust.
“H-hey, why do you look so disgusted!? These things are…i-important…in staying safe!” Ik-jun blabbers, and he knows his face must be all red now, just like her.
“Ya! Just stop—oh shit, SHIT!” Her phone rings, and she quickly pulls herself up and fishes it out from her pocket. “Yes, oppa? You’re here? Okay, okay.”
She gives him one last look as she holds her phone to her ear, and Ik-jun winks back at her as he knowingly, hurriedly gathers her other items at his doorstep.
“Hey, I really need to go—they’re here. Thanks so much, and see you!” she says, waving her goodbye.
“See you, neighbor!”