/Insert image: A polaroid shows Taewoong and Myungie in their trainee days. Myungie is looking directly at the camera; he has one arm draped comfortably around Taewoong's shoulder, his hand resting on Taewoong’s chest. Taewoong seems to be a bit taken aback by the gesture and is red in the face. The bottom of the image is inscribed with a date: 2009.11.30. It may have been one of the last records of their best days./

/We flash to a negative of the same image, and superimposed over the image are the words,/

[“The Truth Tellers Part 2”]

/At the hospital, leaving the outpatient wing, are Taewoong and the little brother that we’ve heard so much about, Im Seungho!/

/Seungho’s back is turned to the viewer, but we can see that his foot has a splint on it, and that he is hobbling on crutches. He is wearing a varsity-style jacket with a giant patch on the back depicting a tiger’s face, and some baggy sweatpants. Even considering the fact that he is bending slightly, he is noticeably shorter than his brother./

/As they stand atop the stairs leading out of the building, Taewoong tugs on Seungho’s sleeve./

T: Hey, watch your step. 

There’s a tonne of slush on the steps.

S: Thanks, Bro.

T: Sigh…don’t mention it. 

/Taewoong has turned into a literal sheep, he is so embarrassed by his own mistake. How did he misjudge the situation so badly that he left his own brother at the hospital?/

S: ? ?

/For his part, Seungho looks over at his brother with an endearing cluelessness. He is an energetic young man, with round cheeks and round eyes, and very thick eyebrows. Mostly, he seems to radiate happiness! Despite having a sprain, maybe even a fracture, and losing out on the opportunity to see both Malik and P. T. Barnum in one day, he is as cheerful as can be./

/Taewoong’s little toylike Kia is sprinting busily down the snow-covered road. Sleet continues to pummel the landscape around them, turning tree branches into towers of white crystals./

T: Tell me something, Seungie.

You really did this to yourself while buying green onions??...

S: Yeah, Dude.

The lady’s still holding it for me. 

If you drive past the dorms and hang a right, 

you’ll see the green grocers.

/Taewoong’s proverbial sheep ears once again twitch with shame. The car flies around a corner./

S: But it’s OK, they don’t close until 11:30.

T: Geez,

and here I thought you were out playing with girls…

S: Bro! How could I!

/Back in Seungho’s apartment, they set down a huge bag of green onions with an audible thunk./

T: Here, it’s OK, I’ll put it in.

/Taewoong says, referring to the fridge, and quickly resumes his fight with the belching innards of Seungho’s overtaxed ice box. Meanwhile, Seungho looks around at the floor of his apartment in puzzlement./

T: Hurrk…

S: Ok, but…how come all my food’s on the floor? 

Minho’s, too. 

T: It’s all gone bad. 

Hey, listen! 

You and Minho seriously need to buy a label maker, 

it’ll save you another trip to the hospital. 

S: Sure, 

get it for me?

T: Fat chance!

Time to be an adult,

have some foresight, 

live mindfully.

/As he is making this rousing speech, Taewoong sees and casually swipes his gloves, which were still sitting on the burner where he'd left them./

S: ?

T: Anyway, guess what’s for dinner!

/Taewoong takes out the Hanwoo, which is still gleaming in its golden case. He shows the case to Seungho with an expression like a gleeful little boy, and Seungho marvels appropriately./

T: Be honest, 

have you ever had a top grade Hanwoo set??

S: Sure, Minho had a birthday recently.

/Seungho says, without missing a beat. Taewoong is so stunned by this response that all he can do is stare back, as his own head inflates like a hot air balloon with barely-suppressed rage./

S: …The trainee debt isn’t real!

T: So what were all those transfers I made to your account last year??

T: You MZ kids sure have some values!

/Taewoong mutters to himself, incensed./

/Despite his foul mood, he is very meticulously grilling the sliced Hanwoo on the burner, hovering over it anxiously with metal tongs. Beside it, a small batch of green onions had been made into fresh kimchi. Naturally, everything is on the ground. Why doesn’t anyone actually use the foldout table in this household?/

/Unbeknownst to Taewoong and Seungho, another young man has emerged from hibernation, and now appears behind them. Behind him, a strange miasma wafts from his bedroom, as if concealing a netherworld that is even more of a hygiene disaster than the kitchen./

/This young man has very scruffy, very bleached blonde hair, and looks to be about Seungho’s age. His shirt is stained, and his legs are visibly covered in untrimmed fuzz. As he talks, he is absent-mindedly scratching himself. He does that a lot. The sound of the unexpected interloper’s voice nearly causes Taewoong to drop his spatula!/

Mh: S’up, Uncle. 

T: ?!

S: Minho!

/Seungho and Taewoong both spring to attention./

S: Minho, what were you doing?

T: Minho, were you in that room the whole time??

/Minho is taken aback by the barrage of attention./

Mh: Uhh, sleeping…

And…yes?

T: But, didn’t you get my message? I booked time to inspect your apartment…

Mh: So I locked my door.

/Minho says, absently picking his ear, as if this were a perfectly acceptable answer./

T: Wow…

MZ’s…just…wow…

/The three of them are now sitting in a circle on the floor around their banquet. It looks like they have also broken open the extra large ramyun, which had come to a boil./

S: No wonder you didn’t pick up my calls for help!

I could have died, Dude.

Mh: For real? Sorry.

/Minho had the decency to look a little sorry./

/Despite his moral and physical injury, Seungho doesn’t seem all that bothered by the events that transpired. He carefully picks up some fresh kimchi with his chopsticks, and carries it over to Minho’s noodle bowl./

S: S’OK. Eat the onions, 

before I decide to flay your entrails 

with these here chopsticks!

Mh: Then I’ll just barf my guts all over you. 

Blehhhhhh.

/Minho responds eloquently, sticking out his tongue. As they bicker, Taewoong watches them with a sense of wonder, and mumbles to himself,/

T: So, the onions were for Minho? 

S: Aw, hang on, Dude. 

You’ve got some gunk in your eye. 

Sorry, this is gross…

/Seungho goes right in and picks out the offending nuggets from Minho's eye with the edge of a folded napkin. Minho flinches and his eyes tear, but he obediently holds still…well, except for the unceasing stream of ramyun entering his gullet./

Mh: Hic!

S: What are you going to do, 

when we actually have fan girls? 

Mh: I’ll feed you to them first, you’re the “cute one”. 

Just let me do my thing, y’know? 

S: Your thing? And what’s that,

Putting your underwear on inside out? 

Mh: Hey! That was one time 

And I didn’t even have lowrises on.

S: One time, 

that you know of!

/As Taewoong watches them, a dim image of him and Myungie materializes in the aperture of his mind. Him cooking vegetarian naengmyun diligently for both of them on a hot summer day, coating them properly with sauce, and Myungie doing…well, whatever the opposite of helping was./

/His expression softens. Maybe the kids were going to be all right, after all. Maybe they could even teach him something, remind him of some long-forgotten truths about the trainee experience they all share./

T: …Hey,

You kids doing OK?

I mean, 

Do you like your lives now? This job, this company…

/Minho and Seungho pause in their play-fighting, and Minho lets go of his bullying grip on Seungho’s nose./

S, Mh: …

/Minho clams up and immediately looks into the middle distance. He has a dark expression on his face, as if there is so much that he wants to say, but cannot. He kicks the question over to Seungho, who is still rubbing the sensation back into his poor little nose./

S: Well, nothing’s perfect,

But, you know how you used to tell me, 

that it’s totally awesome to live on your own?

/Taewoong thinks back to the morning’s conversation with Myungie. If Seungho’s also saying it, it must be true…/

T: I…think so, yeah. 

S: Yeah, I really feel that. 

/Seungho gives a big wide smile and a chest bump./

T: …But you’re not really on your own though, you still have this eye goop monster to deal with.

Mh: Hey.

/Minho complains, his surly little eyes seeming to extend forward like a snail's. Seungho smiles at Minho./

S: Well, 

he’s the best part about living here. 

/We cannot see Minho's reaction, but he seems a little pleased by that comment! Seungho’s answer is so earnest and un-self-conscious, that Taewoong feels like he has to tease them a little./

T: Oh, but hang on! He doesn’t look out for you, he doesn’t answer your texts, or do anything for you. He takes up basically your entire fridge. 

What makes him so great?

S: Ok, I know, but,

That’s the part that’s nice about it, actually.

/Seungho says cheerfully, maintaining his composure even as Minho tousles his hair into a spiralling mess./

S: He’s not you, or Mom, or Dad… 

We’re different. Really different. 

And yet…

we live together. 

Isn’t that amazing? ‘Cause,

like…my whole world’s gotten bigger with just one more person. 

T: Right. 

Even though,

it’s technically smaller. 

/Taewoong sure can be awful sometimes! Now Seungho is mussing up his own hair in embarrassment./

S: …I don’t know what I’m trying to say. 

T: Ha!

S: Like…it’s like!

Trying on a new style of clothing for the first time, 

and realizing that you kind of love it,

And that maybe you never had much flavour in the first place. 

So I - 

Oop - 

/Taewoong is staring at Seungho with wide eyes. Then slowly but surely, his hands start to form a cheek heart pose. At this, Seungho quickly realizes that what he said can be totally misconstrued./

S: No!! 

I didn’t mean -

Mh: ? 

/Minho briefly looks up from inhaling his ramyun, completely clueless./

T: Seungie, I don’t think he caught that! You might have to repeat that last bit - 

S: It wasn’t anything!

Well…I said I…

/Seungho launches himself up from the ground with surprising speed for someone who is still on crutches, surprising Minho, and shouts,/

S: I’m going to get more napkins :)

Mh: …That’s the big news?

/Seungho makes his hasty getaway, but not before stomping on Taewoong’s outstretched foot with one crutch./

T: OOF

/Night falls over the empty bottles of Cazz beer, the paper plates and disposable chopsticks, the unmopped floor. All is still and there is no sign of the guys. The analog clock on the wall shows that it is about 12:31AM./