/Taewoong finally looks up at Myungie, who is sitting across the table and still busily eating./

/In Taewoong’s mind, his younger self is hanging out with the APL Boys at an awards show, while Myungie is grabbing the spotlight only a few metres away, enveloped in the glare of the cameras. They are not facing each other. Is this a real memory, or just a construct of Taewoong’s imagination? It seems likely that this was a real event, or maybe an amalgamation of many real events when they’d almost run into each other after their respective debuts./

T: Then you show up at the last place on Earth I thought I'd see you, 

risking salmonella…and hepatitis...

You tell me that you're still in contact with my kid brother, who was like,

some nobody that you were forced to babysit years ago…

You show up at his sty of an apartment, bearing Hanwoo! 

A cut of meat I’ve never even held, until today.

…

/Myungie is dabbing his chin with a napkin and not quite following./

M: So…

did you want to go home,

eat the Hanwoo?

T: No!

I…

Just…

Why are you being so…

Good?

/Taewoong says helplessly, and almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, the atmosphere of the restaurant changes. As if all the noise surrounding them had been reduced to a dull static. As if they’d been plunged into ice./

M: …Why am I being good?

T: …Yeah.

You don't have to be. 

That’s for sure. 

Even if you didn't do well by my brother, 

what could we possibly say to you?

/Taewoong’s shoulders are tight - his hands are clenching - but the words keep coming now, uncontrollably, and he carries on./

/As he does, shades of his younger self also resurface: a scrappy young man who didn’t yet have metal in his face, who only wore anger and struggle, but who was not yet marked by the world-weariness that would cause him to eschew truth and human connection./

T: Is this what they call, I dunno, “noblesse oblige”?

M: “Noblesse…”?

T: You know, acting generous. 

Being a big man, ‘cause you know you're the shit.

M: I know what it means.

That’s not it at all. 

Actually, 

I don't think that's a thing 

in our line of work.

When no one has real power, 

what’s the point in acting generous? 

/Myungie looks off to the side, as if distracted by a thought, and it’s hard to parse his expression. But very quickly, he turns his gaze back onto Taewoong - and Taewoong can see, to his dismay, that Myungie’s face had become a closed door./

M: And I’m not being good, Taewoong.

I’m being good to you.

There’s a difference.

/Taewoong is unnerved by Myungie’s cold manner. Maybe, in another context, these words could be considered innocuous, even complementary. But in this moment, it seems almost to be a veiled threat./

M: Besides, 

I think your perception might be a little skewed.

Say Seungho texts me, all bummed out and in need of advice, and I ignore him. 

/A scene of Seungho waiting by his phone for a text reply.

Another, of a phone glowing in the darkness./

M: Well, that would make me no better than those sorry excuses for seniors, 

who never helped us back in the day. 

You know the type. 

The shit-eaters who tried to throw you out of a moving car once,

and who smashed a bottle at my head, just because the CEO paid me a compliment. 

The ones with no talent were the worst.

/Flashback: multiple boys surround one. We can only see them at the foot level. Strewn across the ground are shards of bottle glass./

M: Look at the winners in that so-called group I almost joined, 

Who hated me and wished I would die, but who still threatened

to put me in the hospital if I pulled out, because they needed my skills.

Piss off!

You might think I’m going above and beyond, 

but it doesn't take much, 

to be better than those guys.

/Myungie’s expression is alive with feeling, inflamed, as if the events he is relaying had not aged a day in his mind. Taewoong looks back at him with bitterness, and it’s clear that the same memories stir him in quite a different way./

T: Well, 

I had to join that group.

M: That was your choice. 

We all had one.

/Taewoong bristles. This is a step too far. He stares at Myungie incredulously, wondering why the person who once knew everything about him would go out of his way to say something so caustic, but Myungie doesn’t even look back./

/And just like that, the moment has passed. Their surroundings flood back in, much too bright, and their heart-to-heart is apparently over./

/In fact, unbeknownst to Taewoong, Myungie is staring with interest at something going on at another table that had a clear line of sight to them. Yes - he’d finally noticed the stalker-fan table!/

/The intensity of being noticed by the object of their affection gives Jinnie and Yoona a huge fright, and Yoona almost drops the stealth cam. Meanwhile, Chaeyeon, who is scrolling her phone and apparently texting someone, is less engaged…even dozing off!/

Y: So they’re coming right now? 

C: Yeah, 

I think they’re just waiting for the subway.

J: Eep!!

Tell them to seriously hurry it up!

C: Right…or miss all this action!

Yawn…

How long are they just going to keep sitting there?…

/She says, referring to their targets./

/Myungie has some idea of what these girls are up to, but keeps his expression neutral. Meanwhile Taewoong remains oblivious, too occupied with his own misery./

T: Hey, 

it’s getting late. 

I'll go get the bill - 

M: No, 

sit. 

T: ?

/The emphatic tone in Myungie’s voice, despite there being no change in his expression, catches Taewoong’s ear, and he glances up questioningly./

/Ever the picture of calm, Myungie now stands up. He shows Taewoong a meaningless smile./

M: Don’t move. 

/Now Taewoong is really confused. He grabs his jacket and slings it over his shoulders, his eyes never leaving Myungie./

T: …What, you’re paying? You sure about that?

Going to hand over your platinum card to a neighbourhood diner?

M: Just trying to be a good rich person. 

Also,

/In a smooth motion, Myungie unties his scarf and throws it around Taewoong’s neck, pulling him in close, so that they are almost cheek to cheek! Taewoong startles badly, his entire face on fire./

T: ?!

M: You’re going to need this in a minute. 

/Myungie then wraps the scarf several times around Taewoong - maybe too tightly! - and pulls it into a thick knot./

T: What is going on - mrff - 

M: Go straight out the front doors and keep walking.

/The girls notice that something’s gone sideways. Panicking, Jinnie reaches out and grabs Chaeyeon’s nose, nearly wringing it off her face and stopping her cold in mid-speech! While Yoona looks on helplessly./

J: Holy crap, shut up!

Look,

they're packing up,

they're leaving.

/Myungie shoves Taewoong off in the general direction of front of house, while Taewoong holds out both arms in front of himself helplessly./

M: All right, off you go.

T: I can’t see - 

? 

?

/With Taewoong taken care of, Myungie quickly whips around. Without the giant knit cap acting as a poor cover, his iconic black hair is coming loose, and the curls tumble over his shoulders. The restaurant goes into a frenzy, as the other patrons barely contain their shouts of recognition./

M: Hey!

“Obasan”!

/"Obasan" has his back! With a hearty thumbs-up and smile, Auntie props open the back door where they normally take in deliveries, so that he can make his getaway./

Girls: Hurry! He’s going out the back!

Wait, Malik!

Malik!

/But it’s too late, Malik flies out the door like a rocket, while Auntie grins behind him, proud to be an accomplice./

/Meanwhile, Taewoong is staggering to the entrance of the restaurant, where they had first arrived. But just as he makes it past the front double doors, a throng of young people come charging in!/

T: ??

!!

/They nearly knock the stuffing out of him! His arms are left waving in the breeze, like a wavering windmill. But before he can steady himself, he hears one of them distantly call out,/

?: …C’mon, what! He’s outside?

/…And back they come, charging back the other way! Nearly trampling Taewoong underfoot…/

T: Oof!!

/Now he’s really had it!!/

T: What - hey!!!

Pff - 

What the actual fuck, you lemmings - 

/Taewoong rips the scarf off his face and is ready to give them what-for, but then suddenly sees what they were all reacting to./

/There are about 50-100 people thronging outside, mostly youth but also passers-by on the street, and even someone who definitely looks like a reporter. All were trying to get a glimpse of Myungie, who had safely climbed back into the ever-reliable black SUV, and was now making a speedy getaway. The determined fans rap on his windshield and pound the sides of the car as it pulls out onto the road./

Fans: Malik! One picture!

Eek!

Malik, you’re crushing it!

“Go make a hit, 

crushing it, 

Ice-

-maker!!”

/They chant, alluding to Malik’s latest single “Icemaker”./

/Now too scared to make a peep, Taewoong once again pulls Myungie’s knit cap and scarf over his face, and makes a hasty retreat into the neighbourhood./

/Luckily, no one pays him any mind - they are all preoccupied with their phones and trying to get a good shot of Myungie’s private vehicle, or texting their friends./

Fans: “Go make a hit, 

crushing it,

Icemaker!”

/Through the foggy and dewy tinted window, Myungie looks out onto the crowd, as they slowly slide backwards from his field of view. Meanwhile his driver, whose face can partially be glimpsed in the rearview mirror, is already yapping away…/

Driver: Whew! 

Bunch of sick puppies, aren’t they…

You good and all, Mr. Malik?

…Sir? 

Bodyguard: Hey! Watch the turn.

Driver: Relax! I got it…

/What the driver saw in his rearview mirror, before his eyes reverted back to the road, was the sight of Myungie, soaked to the bone, his hair tousled and wet, his eyes vacant. He was smiling, one corner of his mouth upturned, but also somehow sad./

/Was he thinking about the cruel parting shots that he had taken at Taewoong and grieving their relationship? Or merely happy to have seen Taewoong once more? Even for his own cronies, it can be hard to understand Myungie sometimes./

/Outside, snow appears to have given way to freezing rain. The snow that had accumulated on the streets now puddles around Taewoong’s boots. Maybe he is not even aware that he is dragging his feet through the mud. Suddenly, a message arrives on his phone./

T: ?

Who’s texting me…

/The meeting with Myungie, which had ended abruptly without closure - which almost seemed like a dream - clearly hurt him too, though he couldn’t yet put the “why” into words./

/While staring vacantly at his phone, he may have briefly wished for something - a follow-up, maybe even an apology for inconveniencing him - but then he realizes,/

T: Can’t be, he doesn’t know my number.

Who…

/He clicks to read the message. And then...he freezes./

T: …No fucking way. 

You must be fucking kidding me!!