Chapter 7. Part 2.

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Fabio rolls in his chair

"I hate Mondays. It's dragging and it's dull." 

I look up from my desk

"I don't mind Mondays. It's cool if you have plans afterward." 

'You have plans afterward?" 

"Hm. But first I have to finish the plot of this play. 

"Play? You're working on a play? I thought your task force was to address development issues." 

"It is. We are working on Theatre of the Oppressed to demonstrate to the suppressed people how they have been wronged and how to stop it. It is contribution-based. "

"Ah. Stop! I get it. Engaging community and such."

" Exactly." 

"Now tell me why you're so psyched for a dull Monday? " 

"Nothing worthy of mention," I say with a sly smile.

*

I see the black Chevy parked next to the building and stride with a thumping heart. As I sit inside the car I turn to Dae Sung

"You sure it's a good idea to pick me up? I could have met you at the store" 

I breathe in my frozen hands to warm them up. 

"Hi to you too. What's wrong with picking you up? For all who cares I'm taking a friend out."

Right! A friend. Keep that in mind, clumsy heart! I exhale and he starts the car glancing at me

" Paparazzi's don't care about two guys hanging out to tail them." 

He corrects as he senses my discomfort at the word friend. 

"Hm. Where are we heading?" 

" You'll see." 

He drives us for a while before parking at a public parking lot. We get out and a gust of wind whooshes past my face and I wince. 

" Are you cold?." He looks over his shoulder considerate. 

"My hands are freezing, and mean Hyung didn't give me the gloves I left in his car." 

His face gets serious and his body goes tense

"You don't have any other pairs than those?"

He starts walking as I follow him

"No. And they were gifts." 

I run after him as he walks faster and in hurry. 

" I'll buy you a pair." 

"But I have a pair. It's with Hyung." 

"As long as you're not wearing gloves, it means you need a pair anyway. Plus, I guess Joon Woo lost them" He mumbles. 

"Lost them or threw them away?" 

"What's the difference? The point is you no longer have those ugly gloves; hence you need a new pair." 

" But..." 

"No more talking about those damn gloves." 

He berates and I step back involuntarily

"Sorry!" 

I mutter and he spins around to face me

"Every time you say that word I feel like a complete jackass." He seems sincere.

"You're not a jackass. You're just moody and I feel like I somehow switch your mood by getting on your bad side." 

"The first part of that statement is true. You can switch my mood and I hate it." 

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