North - South

Fried chicken/2

Usually, when he opened the door, Se-ri was on the couch working with a sewing kit that he couldn't imagine where had been found in his home, or busying herself in the kitchen with boiled vegetables of some sort to which she only occasionally remembered to add ramyeon.

Therefore, when he opened the door and was welcomed with an odd silence he wasn't used to anymore, it took him a few seconds before visiting all the other rooms – the kitchen: empty, her bedroom: empty, the bathroom: empty too – and panicking without even realizing that his pulse was rushing and little drops of sweat were forming over his temples.

Had someone taken her? Or maybe she had gone somewhere? That woman was so inconsiderate and clumsy, she would have put herself in danger in no time.

Eventually, at the end of the corridor, he heard a little noise. A few strides and there that damn punk was, on top of a folding ladder, apparently reorganizing his small storage room. Ishhh.

"What are you doing?" His tone came off icy, and still less icy than what he would have wanted, the anguish rapidly clotting in a lump of fury, his hand already on the ladder, ready to take her. Did she have any common sense? What if she would have fallen?!? Ishhh, stupid brat.

"Oh? Just reorganizing," Se-ri managed to keep her voice on an innocent tone, that weirdo always needed a soothing tone when he was upset for no reason. Men. All the same.

"It's dangerous. I would appreciate it if you would stay in the other rooms, where I can see you when I come back."

Turning so that her back was now to his face, Se-ri hid a not so small smile. So, the reason why he was so upset was that he couldn't see her? Who did he think he was, her bodyguard? 

"So ... what if I stay within your sight?" Are you realizing the ridiculous you're sounding, weirdo?

"Then you'll be safe. As long as you stay in my sight."

Se-ri turned again, this time to look at him, scanning if it was his usual routinary weirdness or if he was maybe also drunk or under the effect of some drug. Because it seemed as if he was, he was weirder than usual. "You're not in the Avengers or anything. How can you be so sure of yourself when you don't know what lies ahead? Do you think you can win all the time?"

"There aren't many memories of defeat in my life."

He repented what he said already when the words were still on his lips. What kind of idiot could even say something so stupid, ishhh. Turning to walk off the room, his face shrank into a self-disgusted, ashamed expression. 'There aren't many memories of defeat,' what kind of idiot talked like that, seriously? And getting that nervous because he wasn't finding her, as if she was a gem of some sort? Ishhh, how to lose dignity in no time.

But Se-ri followed him in the corridor, her small steps straining to catch up with his long strides that he was keeping purposefully long. 

"What is this smell? Fried chicken? Are you going to stay for dinner?"

It took just that question for him to inflate his cheeks and pull off a silent, smiling, relieved sigh. Apparently, she had missed the idiot he had been, or she didn't care.

What the man put in front of her was an entire – entire, whole, it had to be at least one kg or two! – fried chicken. Something that Se-ri hadn't seen since when she had left her parents' house, and that even back in the days she was barely allowed to see while her brothers bought it at the KFC in the village.