The nerve of that girl! They wouldn’t
even leave him alone. All day, reporters trailed him, asking the same stupid
questions.
“Damn people, why can’t you just
leave me alone,” he protested.
The reporters jotted his words down,
their intention: to splash his words on the front page of tomorrow’s papers.
Hwoarang grew sick and by the end of
the day he was pissed. When he left the set of his new movie, four men trailed
him, driving past him then cutting him off so they could take a picture of his
face. The whole charade nearly caused an accident and when the paparazzi cleared
the way, he sped up and drove off. When he reached his house, an army of
reporters was waiting for him at the front gate. Just when he thought he was
having a bad day, it got worse when a reporter asked, “Do you have any idea
that your lover could be using you to get a story?”
“What tha fu-” Hwoarang had
driven into his driveway before he could finish his sentence, yet the press were
quick to record his words. Using him to get a story? Did that lady mean to say
that Naya could have purposely ran into the street so that he would care for
her?
“That bitch!”
Hwoarang
still remembered the location of the apartment building she resided at. He reared his car and drove out of the driveway and to her home so he could give her a
piece of his mind. The time to get from his house to hers would take an
occasional twenty minutes, yet he got there in less then five. His anger boiled
and he could not stop thinking about the satisfaction he would gain after
yelling at her. That cheap whore! How could she just use me?
He turned into the garage and parked, occupying two slots. He did not care how
he parked or where, just as long as he got inside the building and talk with
her. Even if she were not home he would wait all day. Hwoarang could only think
of seeing her, yet he felt surprised at how urgently he went to her. It’s my
anger, he thought, trying to persuade himself. I won’t let her get away.
“Tell
me Naya’s room number.”
The
teller at the front desk grew speechless when Hwoarang approached him. He was
stupefied with admiration. Hwoarang asked him again, nearly losing all patience,
yet the teller still could not get over his presence.
“Ah…uh.”
“Tell
me her room number,” Hwoarang barked.
The teller reacted quickly, his hand
reaching for a directory keeping his eyes glued on Hwoarang. When he slammed
the directory on the front desk, he fumbled through the pages, his hands shaking
violently.
“I don’t have all day,”
Hwoarang said impatiently. He kept staring back at the front doors, hoping the
press would not come rushing after him.
The teller soon found the name and
replied, “Fourth floor, room 18.”
Hwoarang thanked him despite his
foul disposition and quickly walked over to the elevators. The lift to the
fourth floor took an eternity. Hwoarang stood on his heels, and shifted his
weight from side to side. The muscles on his arms flexed as his mind thought
over the things he would say to her. No matter how pissed he was, he would not
stoop low by calling someone names or threatening them. Whenever anyone pissed
him off he just told him or her how it is.
Soon the chime came, signaling his
ascend to the fourth floor. Hwoarang got off and made a left, following the
teller’s directions. He reached the end of the hall before he found the broken
door addressed with the number eighteen.
At first he was too angry to notice
the scenario. He thought of barging in, but when he saw the placed trashed he
grew alarmed.
“Hello,” he called.
No answer. Hwoarang slowly
approached the door, his eyes peeling through the open crack.
He caught a glimpse of a slight
movement and saw someone crouching on the floor, picking up some of the mess. He
instantly recognized her. “Naya?”
She turned to look back at him. A
small frown crossed her face then she said, “What are you doing here?”
“What happened,” he asked,
ignoring her question.
“Someone broke in.” She stood
up, surveying the mess. “It looks like they were searching for something.”
She gave him a narrowed gaze now that he stood next to her. “What are you
doing here,” she asked again.
Hwoarang continued to gaze into her
apartment. The furnishings were simple yet arranged in a fashionable manner. He
assumed that she kept house even though it looked like she never had any
visitors. “What would they be looking for?”
“I don’t know…you still
haven’t answered my question.”
He gazed at her. He forgot
immediately after gazing into her eyes. “I don’t remember…”
She frowned up at him. Ironically,
it was she who reminded him of his purpose for visiting. “Oh really, I thought
you stopped by because you were pissed, knowing that the press is probably
making bogus stories about you. That really takes a toll on someone’s
reputation, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, they say you used me to get
a story,” he replied curtly, now remembering. “You think you can use me?
Hell, if you did that from where I come from, they’d beat your ass.”
“Not if I beat theirs first.”
She bent down to pick up the papers she had gathered and then walked past him,
entering the kitchen. She placed the articles on the kitchen counter next to
the phone. The blinking red light caught her attention, which removed all
attention from Hwoarang as he spoke. She cut him off by pressing the ‘play’
button and the message began.
“Hi there,” it was Anna’s
voice, “after last night I decided to pay you a little visit. Since you
weren’t home, I did a little redecorating. Hope you like it.” The messaged
beeped when the Anna had hung up the receiver.
“Who was that,” Hwoarang asked,
the voice sounding dangerously familiar to him.
“A co-worker.” Naya replied.
Someone at the door caught her
attention. It was a police officer.
“We came as soon as possible, but
there is a horrendous crowd of reporters downstairs. I think they’re looking
for you.”
“Figures,” Naya said passively.
She walked over to the door the let the rest of the police officers inside.
When the first one saw Hwoarang, his
face lit up. “Hey you’re not that celebrity guy are you? Yeah, you are,
thought so. Heh, my kid idolizes you. He wishes that his old man could be more
like you. Hey, do you think I could have your autograph?”
“Not at the moment,” Naya cut
in, “you’re here to investigate.”
The cop gave her a disappointing
look. “Well, I don’t know how soon we can do this. There are other important
things that happen around Tokyo and more urgent things at that. The soonest we
can investigate is within a week, but that means we’ll have to close off your
apartment for o-o-o-o, say at least a month.”
“WHAT?” Naya looked astounded.
“Did it occur to you that I live here? This is my home.”
“Well, don’t you have any place
to go?”
“NO!”
“Then find a hotel.”
“You think it’s that easy? Shit,
what the hell is wrong with you? It’s obvious that there has been a break in
and just last night someone tried to kill me and again to day they tried doing
it again. My apartment was the safest place until this morning when the damn
press chased me inside. And it doesn’t help with him,” she pointed to
Hwoarang, “standing here because I could easily lose my teaching position once
the university finds out that we are supposedly having an affair! Can’t you
even spare me one ounce of sympathy? My life has been torn apart in one day. At
least do something with your life by helping me out!”
“You two are lovers,” the
policeman stupidly replied.
Naya grew impatient and walked out.
She banged her fist against the wall, leaving a dent. Hwoarang followed outside,
feeling guilty. When he thought that he had it bad, she had it far worse. He
decided to cool her off.
“Hey…”
“What,” she barked.
“Look…don’t you have any
family or a friend you could go to?”
“No…not even friends. I’m
anti-social.”
“Well…” he thought a moment,
trying to think of a better idea, yet none came to him. Suddenly, he said
something that shocked her. “…you can stay at my place.”
She stared up at him with wide eyes.
“No thank you. I don’t want your charity.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Look, you said
that nothing in your life is going right for you so let me just make it a little
better by giving you a place to stay, temporally of course. Once you find a new
place you can move out.”
“No, not a good idea. Besides, not
everything is going bad. I just got a shot at obtaining my teacher’s
certificate three months early and I’m sure the dean will help me out when I
tell him what’s happened. I’ll be fine, really.”
He studied her. “You speak words
of certainty yet your expression lacks conviction. Besides, I still feel that I
haven’t done enough after I hit you. It was my fault, you were running for
your life and I should have stopped.”
“A simple apology is fine,
really.”
“Well then lets just say I’m
doing this to help you out. It’s about time I started thinking about other
people rather then trying to find a way to satisfy myself.”
She gazed into his eyes and knew he
spoke with sincerity. To prove his naturalness further, Hwoarang left her and
approached the officer. They conversed for a minute then he came back.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him that if he needed to
find you then all he has to do is come to my place. I have more than enough room
and I can sleep on the couch downstairs.”
“No…I’ll sleep on the couch. I
don’t like your bed, its too soft.”
Hwoarang smiled. Finally, she
agreed. After ardent persuasion she broke in her pride. Odd were the events that
unfolded. Yet, as odd as they were, he did not know why he liked the idea of
having Naya stay with him.