A/N: What do you mean, did I just do this in the last hour and a half? Pff…No. Maybe. Yeah. I did. Look, friends. It's been a shit couple weeks. I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I can only handle so much. And getting back in the swing of things has been the biggest pain in my ass lately. I'm feeling kind of tsun lately. So, I'm sorry this is up late, but I need a minute, ok? But I missed you. x

I don't remember coming to bed last night. As far as I know, I went into the bathtub last night and…Did I fall asleep in the bathtub? That sounds accurate. Because I sure as hell didn't remember putting pajamas on. Let alone the nice, silky ones. I worked my ass off yesterday and even though I'd never admit it to Seven (because I didn't need that I told you so), I needed as much help as I could get. This room for Elizabeth was a big project and it's too much for one person to take on by themselves. Particularly me. Granted, I got a lot done yesterday. To get all the shopping done in one day was a miracle for me. But I knew I'd have to go into it today with backup.

In order to get my backup, I'd have to be delicate. I know Saeran already agreed to it, but sucking up a little couldn't hurt. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a Red Bull from the fridge. Orange. Orange was Saeran's favorite. He bounced between orange and lime. Why? I think it's because that's the closest he can get to drinking cleaning chemicals without dying. I don't ask about how Saeran gets his catharsis. Whatever works for him. But I had a can of orange Red Bull in my hand and a prayer in my heart. Hopefully, Saeran won't bite me this morning. Or kill me for coming in so early.

"Saeran…" I kept my voice down, my hand resting gently on his shoulder, "Saeran…Wake up, sweetheart…We have a big day ahead of us."

Saeran's eyes opened up. Only slightly. Just enough to glare me down, "No."

"Saeran, please," I begged, offering my tithes of caffeine, "I brought you a present…"

"You've learned," he grabbed the cold can from me and cracked it open.

"Of course." For a split second, the light caught a corner of Saeran's bedroom wall just right. And it caught my attention. The drawings I saw in the black books over his shoulder were carefully and meticulously drawn in black Sharpie on the wall with a few more added. Saeran had an affinity for decapitated stuffed animals. Why? I don't know. I don't ask why Saeran is Saeran. I let him have that. But I had to ask, "Saeran…Did you do those?"

"Do what?" Saeran rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"The drawings on the walls," I noticed, "Are those yours?"

"Who else would've done them?" he took a heavy drink from the Red Bull can, "Yeah. Why?"

"I didn't know you were artistic," I got a better look at them, swinging his lamp toward them, "These are really good."

"I didn't know it either," Saeran shrugged, "That was my therapist's idea. She said I should find a creative outlet, so I did. And that's what came out."

"It's pop surrealism, right?" I remembered studying a few art styles back when I first started my blog. I had someone from the old think tank I worked for show me pop surrealism and it kind of grabbed my heart in the weirdest way. Just when I think I got out of it…

"That's right," he looked at me strange, "How did you know that?"

"Pop surrealism is one of the few art styles that look like the artist is going through some shit," I pointed out, "And as far as art is concerned, I'm not sure if I could find a style myself that would suit you better."

"Thanks, MC," Saeran wasn't sure how to take that, "I don't know if you insulted me or if you're seconds away from giving me a hug."

"No insults intended," I assured him, "How long until you're ready to walk out the door?"

"If you'll plug my straightener in for me now," he let out a little yawn, "I can be ready in about thirty minutes."

"Deal," I kissed his cheek, "I'm going to go make sure your brother's still breathing."

"I've been right here since one o'clock this morning," Saeran promised, "And I've been sleeping ever since."

"You don't need an alibi, Saeran," I rolled my eyes, "I know."

Although, I hardly remembered going to bed last night. I wouldn't be surprised if Seven carried me to bed. Granted, that boy has noodle arms, but I knew he could carry me. When I walked back into our bedroom, Seven was nowhere to be found. Huh…Strange…I could've sworn I left Seven here when I woke up. He was still out like a light when I woke up. And I've only been awake for a few minutes myself.

"Good morning, my love," I felt a kiss on my cheek and a pair of arms around my waist, "I hope you slept well last night."

"Good morning," I squirmed a bit, my insides warming up, "Where have you been?"

"I had to potty…" Seven buried his face in my neck, "And I'm going to go back to sleep, if that's alright with you."

"Only if I can go back to Jumin's and get some work done," I bargained.

"Only if you take Saeran."

"He's already awake," I told him, "I took care of that myself. It helps to bring Red Bull with."

"Damn right, it does," Seven jumped back into bed, pulling me down with him, "You can't go back to Jumin's."

"I have to, Seven," I argued, "I have a job to finish. And even though I'm pretty sure Jumin would never, screwing up with him as my client would tarnish my record and I can't have that. If it makes you feel any better, he's not even there while I'm working. And Saeran's the only one that has security clearance as far as my outside help is concerned."

"So," he cuddled me, "Does that mean I can't stop by and visit you at work?"

"Because we all know what you stopping by and visiting me at work would mean," I kissed his forehead and pried him off me, "And if I let you anywhere near Elizabeth, Jumin would have me killed. So, I'm going to go to work. I suggest you find something to keep you busy. If you don't have anything, I have coloring books in my desk drawer in my office."

"You know me all too well, 606," Seven gushed, "But I'm pretty sure something's going to come across the wire today. And I'll have a gun to my head while I get it done."

"Not…Literally, right?"

"Vanderwood's moods are controlled by the tides…" he assumed, "Or some witch he met online. Can never be too careful about people you meet online, MC. Always remember that."

"I think he met that witch at Pizza Street," I teased him, "But I'll be home tonight. Promise."

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," I love him.

I left Seven alone to go back to sleep and walked back into the kitchen. Saeran wasn't the only one that woke up half dead this morning. However, I wasn't expecting to see Vanderwood in the kitchen already. I knew he got here early regularly, but after what happened with Seven and Bridget and the therapy Seven's in desperate need of after that, I didn't think he'd make himself too seen. When I sat down and Vanderwood turned around, he was a deer in the headlights. That's not something that happens to someone like Vanderwood too often.

"MC…" he gave me a polite, yet nervous nod.

"Vanderwood…" I reciprocated, still a tad bitter.

"Coffee?" Vanderwood offered.

"Yes please…" I watched him get my world's greatest PE teacher mug down from the cabinet and start making my coffee. But as much as I'd love to be the world's greatest PE teacher, I couldn't be today, "Travel mug, Vanderwood. I have places to be."

"Oh, sorry…" Vanderwood grabbed my beautiful, marble printed ceramic travel cup instead, "Hey…MC?"

"Hmm?"

"Are…" If I didn't know any better, I'd think Vanderwood was about to short circuit. It's adorable. Seven gets the same way when I ask him riddles. He was stuck on 'what gets wetter as it dries?' for a week. And then, he ended up tormenting Yoosung with it for a month afterward, "Are we…?"

I knew what he was trying to ask. And as far as I know, things between Seven and Vanderwood are pretty cleared up. At the end of the day, I couldn't blame him. Vanderwood's probably constantly wound up because of Seven being the occasional pain in the ass. So, I wasn't going to let him beat himself up anymore for being human. I got up from the island and really threw Vanderwood for a loop.

I threw my arms around him without another thought, "Yeah. We're good."

"Good," Vanderwood let out a little sigh of relief, "Because I don't know what I'd do without you, MC. I really don't. But I'm kind of into Bridget a little more every time we see each other."

"I know you're into Bridget," I giggled, the innuendo not lost on me, "Seven saw it with his own eyes. And now, he likely needs extensive therapy."

"Or as we call it in this house," Vanderwood handed me my coffee, "Tuesdays."

"Wait…" I looked at him strange, "What?"

"You didn't know that?" he wondered, "Saeran's therapy day is Thursday. Seven's is Tuesday."

"I didn't know Seven was in therapy at all," I admitted, "You think you know a guy."

"That might have been one of those things I keep to myself," Vanderwood shrugged, "But you were bound to find out eventually. How else do you think he keeps up his prescriptions?"

"I suppose you're right." I just wish Seven would've been the one to tell me instead of Vanderwood.

"Alright, MC," Saeran came in and grabbed another Red Bull, "Let's roll before I lose my buzz."

"Ok," I shook it off, "We'll be back later, Vanderwood."

"Eight o'clock, right?" Vanderwood assumed, "I think that's the time Seven told me."

"Around eight, yeah," I nodded, "Make sure he doesn't burn the house down."

"I always do."

"And…" Seven's words came back to haunt me, "Don't hold a gun to his head while he's working. Please…"

"I won't," Vanderwood promised, reaching into a black backpack on the kitchen table. He pulled out a black leather band with a box on it, "That's what this is for."

"Vanderwood…" I held my face in my hands, "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

"It's how I keep Seven on task."

"No…" I took it away from him, "You are not putting a shock collar on Seven."

"Come on, MC," Vanderwood begged, "Please? It's one of those things that makes the job worth it."

"You're not putting a shock collar on Seven," I put my foot down, "It's not happening. Not today. Not tomorrow. You're not using a shock collar on him!"

Seven's alleged shock collar was yanked out of my hand, courtesy of Saeran, and put in his pocket, "We'll just hold onto this for safe keeping."

"No, no, no," I took it back, "I don't trust you with it either."

"Love you, too, MC," Saeran whined, "What the hell? Why do you hate fun?"

"Because fun that involves randomly zapping Seven throughout the day isn't fun," I rolled my eyes, "Sadist."

"Masochist, too," he clarified, "But that depends on the person. Are we leaving yet?"

"Yeah," I made sure to hold on tightly to that shock collar. That's not happening. Not on anyone in my house. Because whether anyone wants to admit it or not, that's my house, too. It might be Seven's name on it, but I've put blood, sweat, and tears into it. I've put a stamp on it. I have a toothbrush in the bathroom and underpants in the dresser. And I can make those kinds of declarations. No shock collars…

…Although, that's one of those things I never would've thought I'd have to say in my own house.

Regardless, Saeran and I got into my car and started heading for Jumin's. Because despite the proximity, I didn't feel like walking quite yet and if I needed to send Saeran for one thing or another, he didn't need to be carrying it back. Especially if it's something like paint. Because I had a feeling I'd need some paint today. If one can damn near took up the entire wall, I'm going to definitely need more paint.

"Hello, MC," Jumin met us in the lobby. Although, I don't' think he was expecting Saeran, "I see you brought help this time."

"What's up, Trust Fund?" Saeran didn't even look up from his phone.

"Yeah," I nodded, "I hope that's ok."

"As long as it's not his brother," he allowed, "I'm not going to stop you. In fact, I'm happy you did. You still have your key, yes?"

"Yeah," I showed him my key ring, "I'm good."

"Be careful," Jumin waved us off and likely headed off to C&R for another day in the cutthroat business world. I don't envy him. Not for that anyway. For his beautiful penthouse views, I envy him greatly. But that's envy for another day.

Saeran and I got in the elevator and I unlocked Jumin's front door. Back to the day to day grind. I'm going to be honest. I loved living in Seven's house and I wouldn't trade it for the world. But if we're going purely from an aesthetic standpoint, I loved Jumin's penthouse a little more. It looked like something out of a magazine and even though Seven's kitchen was pulled straight out of Better Homes and Gardens, it was just the kitchen. And Saeran's bathroom after I got my hands on it. And my office once Seven put it together. If we didn't have a wedding to take care of, I'd go through the whole house right down to the studs, but alas.

"You know, MC," Saeran took a good look around, "When you said you had a job you needed help with, I didn't think you were working for Trust Fund."

"Don't call him that," I rolled my eyes, "Jumin has his moments where he's more than just his trust fund. Hell, yesterday, out of nowhere, I had a fully catered lunch. And it was s o good, Saeran. My god, it was so good."

Because much like his brother, the way to Saeran's heart was definitely through his stomach. Although, Saeran was more appreciative of it than Seven. Saeran could eat something and pick apart the ingredients list like it was nothing. Honestly, it's an admirable skill. But if the prospects of a good lunch didn't just make his ear prick up like a dog that heard about bacon.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah…" I showed him a picture, "Not so bad now, is he?"

"I guess not," Saeran admired the work of art that went through my stomach yesterday, "You think we'll get that again today? Because that noodle bowl looks magical."

"I wouldn't put it past him," I shoved my phone back in my pocket, "Elizabeth! I'm back!"

"Elizabeth…" Saeran thought, "That's his cat, right?"

"That's right." And I watched her saunter her way down the hall and rub against my shin. I couldn't help myself. In the next few seconds, I scooped her up into my arms and snuggled her a little, "There you are, sweetheart."

"Wow, MC," he gasped, "It's like having a gentler version of Sae…"

"Shh!" I stopped him, "No, no, no. We don't mention him here. I don't need Elizabeth clawing me today."

"Alright," Saeran stopped himself. Although, he tried petting her. Only for Elizabeth to hiss at him, "She hates me, too."

"She hates your brother," I pointed out, "She might just hate you by association. You do kind of look alike, Saeran."

"Don't remind me," he pouted, "So, what did you need me for?"

"Down here," I put Elizabeth back on the floor and started walking toward her room, "Start painting. The cans are over there. If you need more, let me know. It's nothing overly difficult. It's just a lot to manage on my own."

"I can see why," Saeran took a good look around, "This room is huge. What's the endgame?"

"Kind of going for a nursery look," I filled him in.

"Didn't know Trust Fund was seeing someone," he shrugged, "Good for him. Another trust fund kid in the world."

"No," I clarified, "It's not that at all. This is…Well…This is a room for Elizabeth."

Saeran stared blankly through me, "This is for a cat."

"Yes…"

"We're doing all this work…For a cat."

"Yes, Saeran…"

"And he's paying you for this?"

"Yep." I know it sounded ridiculous, but I knew how deep Jumin's pockets could be.

"And you're paying me for today, right?"

"Yes, Saeran," I assured him, "You're getting paid for a change, too."

"We should get to work then," Saeran's tone totally changed after that. He did have a point, though. Despite how ridiculous this was, it was for Jumin. And if Jumin was paying me well, then that meant Saeran getting paid well. And we did have work to do. And a shit load of it. Even though this was for Elizabeth, a paycheck was still a paycheck. Where there's a Jumin, there's at least six Jumins in the near proximity. All I ask is that he drops my name.