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Then came the news that Kim Jongin was staying. I was a whining mess as I convinced my mom that her daughter was old enough and that she can manage on her own. Heck, I'm free from the teen my age had to carry for seven years. (Unless, you'd like to put it as twenteen then that'd be fine.)

"But your goldfish didn't even survive a day with you."

My jaw dropped as she made me recall the death of my goldfish. "Mom how could you!"  

"I'm just saying that you'd be fine with Jongin. It's not like you haven't seen each other for so long."

We actually... haven't.

And just thinking about how things will turn out scares me. Just a little bit.

"But still–"

"Nope. He's on his way so do some last minute cleaning over there." She was just as hard-headed as me, no wonder.

"It's clean the way it is." I stubbornly reply.

"Fine."

"Fine.​"

"Love you."

"Ugh, love you too, mom." I roll my eyes, defeated by two words.

And that's how we ended our call... and how I found myself cleaning the apartment last minute.

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