2.1 | The Better Half and Half ✓

EIGHTEEN>> Hey, I'm your bartender buddy

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN| Hey, I'm your bartender buddy | CHOI HANUEL

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A day passed incredibly fast, and the three of us tucked up on the living room couch as we watched an American black and white slapstick comedy. I laughed at the side-splitting actions of the actors, knee slapping humor encouraged me to rub my tears. In doing that, my fingers brushed past my phone that was grounded next to me.

It was ringing and I saw a brown bear emoji popping up, it was Taehyung who was calling me. I had to ignore it because I couldn't afford to disconnect my eyes from the screen even for a second.

I turned my head back only to check if Molan and Uncle Mojo were there─ breathing. Nothing, absolutely nothing in that movie left any powerful impact on Uncle Mojo, who sat immobile. On the other hand, Molan seemed tense as if something was festering within her.

"Uncle Mojo, Molan, should I play another genre film? I thought it was our favorite of all times," I said with a nugget of momentary disappointment.

"No, it's fine." Molan tried hard establishing some sort of connection with the flick; her eyebrows pulled up like tight strings.

Bless my stars, every time I held my head sideward to register her twisted reactions, she didn't say anything. Rather, I would be stunned if her eyes left from the wide LCD screen to anywhere (not even to my face!).

A while later Molan interjected in between seeping her flabby wine, "Ah─ Uncle please turn down the volume." He complied. Next, she ordered me to light up the dense space. I complied, too. But the fringing matter seemed beyond the realms of the business world.

His observant eyes assessed her face. "Molan? Is everything okay?" he asked, peeling his back away from the sofas back support, who sat next to her leaving a big-boned person's space in between.

I took to my spot, except for the fact that my body was toward them. "Yeah, Molan. I've been noticing that too."

"I don't know. It's like . . ." she raised her hand and then dropped them down as if she was instructing the musicians. She cradled her flute in her hand with disinterest.

"Molan, speak up. Is anyone bothering you at the office?" I said carefully, bedding forward with a gusto of a boxer. "Tell me his name? I'll break his bones. Real smooth."

She dismissed that with a broken laugh, that I knew was perceptibly redundant. "No, it's not that. I would rather end his matter there and then, instead of bothering you people."

We stared at each other in silence and she finally spoke, "It's about last night at the salon. Hanuel you remember that guy who cut my hair?"

I opened my mouth wide and nodded my head frantically. "Oh, that Jung Hoseok. Do you want any sort of beauty treatment? Like he said he can do manicures, pedicures, waxing. I've his number; it shouldn't be a problem." I slipped my fingers in my loose, yellow frock top pocket, and after realizing it wasn't there, I reached out for it.

"Hanuel, that's not the thing!" She tilted her head and closed her eyes, pressing a hand to the side of her neck. "It's really weird, the ending, why would he pretend to be a petty worker when he was the actual owner's brother?"

She looked at Uncle Mojo, waiting to get his opinion on this. It was under the mantle of his pure white hair dyed in black, that made him a figure available to seek help. Also, he was the only elderly figure at the mansion she would look up to in the absence of our parents presently. "I'd like to say only advice to you two, forget everything about the past and focus on the future."