IV

Whoever said that "sleeping on things" is the best way to find the perfect solution to a problem, well, was damn wrong.

It's 3:05 a.m. and I can not even keep my eyes closed for fear of something happening. It's as my every sense is alert, waiting for the worst to come. I tried to read, I drew, made braids to my Mom's old dolls. I even reorganize my closet - which I do about once a year - but instead relaxing I freaked out even more and the result is that now I'm close to a nervous breakdown.

The thing that annoys me the most, though, is that Yifan is snoring. How can he sleep so soundly after all that has happened? I find it profoundly unjust, so I decide to wake him up.

The wood creaks under my bare feet, when I go into Dad's room. Yifan snoring stops almost instantly, but it's something I don't pay attention to. I approached the edge of the bed and crouch down on my knees, watching him as the dark paints shadows on his face. Yifan is handsome. I think I've never met anyone else with such a strong aura of pride and magnificence. Watching him, I have the impression that nothing could ever harm me.

I'll protect you, EunAh, he seems to say. I sigh and slowly stand up, because waking him up now seems very wrong: he was wounded today. He also struggled.

His hand around my wrist is the only thing that keeps me from moving: I feel the thumb gently the back of my hand, so I sigh.

"What happen?"

"You were snoring."

"So?"

"I can't sleep."

I confess, with such small voice that even I'm unsure to have spoken. Yifan sighs slightly and pulls me toward the mattress.

"I'll make you some place." he rolls towards the free edge of the bed and beckons me to slip under the covers. I blush and shake my head, utter embarassment.

"Come on, EunAh. Don't make me get up."

I hesitated for few long seconds, during which Yifan turns his back and hugs the pillow, muttering words of appreciation for the warm sheets. After another sigh, I slide under the covers and curl up on the opposite side. Yifan's back brushes slightly against mine and I don't move, beacause although almost imperceptible the contact can calm me down.

"EunAh..." mutters Yifan, little after. His voice is hoarse and sleepy and I think he's about to fall asleep again. I don't answer him, but I turn to stare at his broad shoulders until he continues the sentence.

"Thank  you."

Thanks to you, I think, but I'm now too sleepy to tell him.

"I'm going to town."

Yifan stops fixing the wooden logs in the fireplace and turns around to give me a skeptical look that for some reason irritates me. Neither of us has alluded to what happend last night and when I woke up he had already made coffee and toasted a few slices of bread: we had breakfast in a peaceful and a little awkward silence, until I chocked with a crumb of bread and Yifan laughed to tears, wiping out every trace of tension.

"What is that face?"

I ask him, settling in front of the mirror to watch my hair. I wrinckle my nose, annoyed by the strands that despite my efforts go on their own. Through the reflection, I see Yifan watching me with a teasing smile.

"Are you really able to drive that thing?"

I raise an eyebrow and grabbed a pillow from the couch to hit him in the face.

"Don't call him thing! And yes, I drive it wonderfully well." I bark, irritated. Yifan laughs, then approaches me and ruffles my hair, destroying the braid and my every attempt to appear neat.

"Ya!" I try to hit his shoulder with a slap, but he dodges me without difficulty and continues to chuckle even while putting on a pair of Dad's old boots.

"I'll come with you."

"No way."

I stop him instantly, hands stretched out in a pathetic attempt to sound convincing. Judging by Yifan's look, I must have failed miserably: he removes the keys from my hand and also open the door like a gentleman, to make me understand that I have no chance to win.

I continue to protest vehemently as we cross the snowy garden and sank to the ankles in the withe and fluffy coat. It's even colder than the other days and I'm almost tempted to return home and rest in front of the fireplace.

Yifan seems perfectly at ease, with that shirt that can not keep him warm in any way.

"Why don't you feel the cold? It's not fair!"

The interior of the car is even more cold and I sunk in the padded seat to find some heat.

"I want to drive."

It annoys me that Yifa