.

.

The entire apartment was suffocating.

She tried her best not to look. She'd pace the kitchen to look busy, maybe dust off Rika's unused desktop, or just lounge face first into a pillow. There was an eerie silence, one she'd tried to break many times, only for her mouth to stop working and any noise get caught in her throat. Her phone beeped in her pocket, an email since everyone was working or busy cooling down from just about anything the day had thrown at them. She tried her best. But in the end, her gaze would drift from whatever she was trying to distract herself with, to find him.

He was by the window.

She doubted this was a coincidence on his part. The corner was impenetrable. The filing cabinets to his right blocked him from being snuck up on and to his immediate left was the window that has been delicately repaired. Hardly any signs of a struggle or vandalism remained. But she only had to look at his face, the stony look he held as he stared at his lab top screen like it was a dead rat in his lap and knew that the window would never be left unguarded.

Protecting me, huh? She swiftly averted her gaze back to her pillow, not wanting to be caught and reprimanded. She toyed with the thought. To her heart, it was nearly enough to send her into a squealing fit of teenage emotions. More than once she had to hit herself with her own pillow to contain her delight that, he was here, here! God Seven had come for her!

To her ears, it sounded like falling nails.

"Don't get close to me." That was understandable, he was upset. Everyone needed space and she wasn't about to change that even if her heart was beating in her ears.

"Don't get attached." If he was seriously demanding that of her he'd have a better chance just ripping her heart out and dissecting it. Everything about his presence, his protectiveness, and his self-sacrificial tendencies (which was bullshit and if the party was ever going to happen, she'd make sure to smack him with Yoosung's kimchi) was enough to have her weak in the knees. The RFA had a level of caring each member possessed. Seven went above that, beyond it, and snatched her up above the rest like it was child's play.

"Forget about me."

She let out a silent exhale.

What's forgettable about you? She let herself glance at him, feeling wistful. His hair was tussled, torn in a disarray from running his hand through it. It made his bags under his eyes stand out, but the grim determination in them made him look like a statue of a warrior. His back was straight, headphones barely hanging on to his ears as he muttered to himself, the soft hum of his voice almost putting her to sleep. The insistent tapping of his keyboard was the only noise in the room. Briefly he'd pause every now and then to take a swig of soda, before plowing back into numbers and meanings that baffled her.

I would never forget you. She felt the lump in her throat grow and swallowed it down. You're funny, charismatic, and loveable. I know that's who you are. You're pessimistic, broody, and torn. I understand.

She heard him sigh in aggravation, muttering increasing at a difficult problem. It passed by into the tide of meaningless mumblings and tick tick tick of his keyboard.

It was suffocating.

I just want to talk to you. She buried her head into her pillow to hide the pout forming. I want to help you. I want to be with you, not against you.

Another beep. She twitched but let it go, feeling too put out to handle another outrageous party guest. For a moment, she entertained the idea of making a dash for the door. If she was running off, he'd have to chase her down. She batted the thought away as quickly as it came, knowing he'd only give her the same lecture as before. It might even make him worse.

"Are you going to answer that?"

She yelped, twitching her head around in surprise. He was a master at multitasking and if the circumstances were different, she would have laughed. He was typing at his lab top still with one hand while the other cleaned his glasses with robotic grace. His eyes, however, were locked with hers.

Her mind blanked. He hadn't so much as looked at her since he arrived, only a few dark looks and a scowl. It was hard to break free from the smoldering color. She could hardly hear her own jumbled thoughts in the chaos of her racing heart.

"W-What?" She made out.

His gaze sharpened and he seemed to weigh the positive and negatives of social delights before gritting out, "Your phone. You got a message."

Her mouth was moving before she could think, "It can wait."

That got a reaction that wasn't moody. He raised an eyebrow, barely seen over the rim of his glasses. She tried not to look away, finding his eyes slightly more accusing then before.

"Wait for what?" He asked, but then his expression flattened. "Not that it matters. You can do whatever you like now."

She almost wanted to throw a pillow at him. His brooding was upsetting, but she took a deep breath for patience. Getting angry back at the one who was pissed to high hell wasn't going to solve anything, other than probably breaking the window again.

The things I do for you.

"I'm going to call someone." She announced. She didn't get a response as he reached up and put his headphones more securely on his head. Rude.

She didn't know who to call, not at this hour. Jaehee was busy, Jumin likely alongside that matter. Zen was completely out of the question with the destructible and literal time bomb sitting in her apartment. V was still a lost cause. That left…

"Oh!" The voice that picked up on the other end was frighteningly cheerful compared to the atmosphere of the room. "It's you! How are you doing? I was hoping my dinner would cook faster so I could send you a picture, but it looks like you beat me here before then."

She could already feel the smile tugging at her lips. It was relaxing, hearing something so normal in the situation now, "Message me it later."

"Will do!" Yoosung's laugh carried over like twinkling bells. "It smells good! Have you had dinner yet?"

"Not yet."

"You should probably get take out." She could almost imagine the blonde nodding to himself. "I don't know what you look like, but to me, you seem like a takeout person. Is that weird?"

The opportunity was ripe with the taking. The mischievous grin crawling across her face would probably give Jaehee a heart attack, "Are you saying my cooking is bad?"

She heard him choke, "What?! No! Never! I'm sure it's tasty!"

"How do you know?" She lamented, sighing dramatically, "I could just set the kitchen on fire and call it pot roast."

Yoosung made several different noises, before settling on whining, "Don't do that! I'm sure your cooking is fine. Why not have Seven try it out? He can vouch for you."

Ah. She winced when she heard the typing stop. I hope he's actually listening to music. Guilt tripping him through Yoosung wasn't my idea…

"It's fine." The clock told her it was almost the top of the hour, so it'd be best to start food now. "I was actually about to make some food."

"Wow, really? What are you going to make?"

Honestly, no wonder the red head enjoyed teasing him so much. He presented opportunities at the drop of a hat. She let herself wink, "Secret!"

"What?!" Yoosung sounded scandalized. "Seven is rubbing off on you! Soon enough, you'll start dressing like him too, am I right?"

She snorts, but the idea starts in her mind. She can't imagine herself in his jacket, but it would smell like coffee. It'd be a bit big since it was baggy even on his frame. The idea turned itself around in her head, imagining her no longer alone on this bed and wearing his jacket as he smiles-

"How is he doing anyways?" Yoosung's voice breaks her out of her reverie. Cheeks warm, she glances fretfully around her to stave off the embarrassment. A happy grin is nearly ripping her face apart and the urge to scream happily into her pillow grows.

Her eyes meet yellow and she freezes.

"Hello?" Yoosung sounds far away.

She can't make a noise, because for a moment there's nothing dark in his eyes. They sparkle dimly, his face no longer set like a statue, but soft and gentle. There's something about the way his deranged hair makes it look like he woke up from a long nap, with a faraway stare.

"He's doing fine." The voice coming out of her mouth sounds breathless. "I'll talk to you later."

"Huh? Okay. Make sure you both eat, okay? Take care!"

Beep.

He hasn't moved, but his soulful look moves from her to the wall. He's deep in thought and she almost wants to take a picture. He looks peaceful and harmless, much less rough and cranky then he was moments before.

"Seven?" She tries, sort of worried for his sanity.

The red head slowly blinks. He looks like he's waking from a drowsy haze as his eyes meet hers again. She can still feel the heat in her cheeks and desperately tries to worm it down to form coherent words.

She swallows thickly, "Are you okay?"

He exhales, looking solemn in the shadows of his corner. She feels herself twitch, wanting desperately to run and wrap him in the biggest bear hug she can offer. He deserved so much.

"I'll be fine." He doesn't sound angry, only weary. "What are you making for food?"

He had been listening. She bit her lip. Why are you giving me that look…? You said you wanted nothing to do with me. Why do you look so…in love?

Shaking off that, she decides to savor this temporary mood change. She doubts it'll be long before he's back to brooding and being insufferable. With a clap that makes him jump, she's scrambling to her feet.

"It's my specialty secret!" She announces, trying to hold in giggles, "It's a divine offering to the one and only, God of this specific apartment!"

He was definitely awake now, giving her a bewildered stare, "What?"

She wills her feet to move, wanting to sit down and play some more, but knowing he'd just snap. It does feel good to toss finger guns at his corner.

"You'll have to wait in suspense!" She shakes her head mournfully. "It's tragic, but food as holy as this needs preparation and finesse! I'm sure you understand."

He deadpanned. She barely set foot in the kitchen before returning with a half empty bag of chips. From the look of growing irritation on his face, she didn't have long before God Seven erupted.

Cheer up, Seven. She laughed as she threw the bag at his feet, dancing away before he could react beyond a startled yelp. I'll be lonely if you keep to that corner all the time. You're still sorting out your emotions, but don't be too hard on yourself. To me, no matter how you act, you'll always be my lucky Seven.

She barely heard his annoyed sigh behind her of 'divine food isn't stale chips' before diving into the long list of emails waiting for her.

.

.

It was agonizingly hard to keep going.

He couldn't. No matter how much he tried, her warm smile and sparkling laugh was in every corner of his mind. Photogenic memory was terrible right now and he was slowly festering in his own wounds.

I don't deserve you. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at her back longingly. You don't deserve me. So why are you trying so hard? So stubborn.

Despite that, his mind replayed her expressions to him like a theatre. It was painful and soothing all at once. He couldn't enjoy it, but he could savor it. Her light was overwhelming. If he wasn't careful, she could snuff out his will with it, leaving him powerless against her stare.

You don't know what you do to me. He closes his eyes, pushing aside the raging conflict of emotions. He pushes and pulls despite the headache raging against his skull. No matter what, her smile is still there. It breaks and heals. It hurts and warms him. The confusion makes his chest hurt.

That's it, isn't it? He couldn't help the amused if exasperated smile. She was still facing away from him, fiddling with her phone and making aggravated noises at her emails. It was cute and endearing and god, did he want to kiss her-

Shit. He lets his head fall into his hands. It was unbearable now, the thought of her smile going away or the laugh muting out. The conflict in him rose, stuck between despair and love. She remained oblivious across the room, even as he reluctantly took a chip from her bag. He pulls of his glasses and pinches his nose, feeling the headache roar in his ears and his heart drumming through his chest.

I give up. He almost wanted to spit on his own shoe at the admission. How the hell can you be so cheerful and happy…?

The smile flashed in his head. It was almost taunting him.

You don't know what you do to me.