Chapter 11

Seulgi

Seulgi trod her way through the apartment. Seven steps from her side of the bed (four of Sehun’s) to the doorway, eight to span the living room (if she walked to the left of the obnoxiously large coffee table that Sehun insisted they buy so that the Disney Scene-It board would fit in the middle with ample room to spare) and end up right outside of the kitchen. There she would pause, not daring to enter that infernal room where that infernal boy so often danced to his own renditions of soulful girl band top hits while making food that always managed to make Seulgi drool. Seeing nothing, she would promptly turn on her heel, stalk back to the bedroom (this time walking around the opposite side of the coffee table), and repeat her tiny circuit.

Where could he be? He left hours ago… Seulgi glanced down at her faintly illuminated wrist watch. 9:00 p.m. Her brow furrowed.

Okay, he left 45 minutes ago… it’s really the same thing.

Seulgi felt the familiar, sharp pain of her teeth tearing away at the skin on her bottom lip. Normally such an action would have resulted in a self-rebuke of the sassiest variety, but tonight the pain came as a welcome relief. She wrapped herself in it, relishing the acute pangs of sensation that each insistent tug of her teeth sent coursing through her body like a reoccurring tidal wave crashing down on her, temporarily purging her of her overwhelming doubts and anxieties.

Seulgi sighed. Did I make him feel like he had to leave? She turned around slowly and padded her way back through the bedroom.

Of course not, idiot! He just wanted to go out for a drink. Don’t read so much into things. She held her shoulders a little higher, her tentative gait transforming mid-step into a confident stride.

But he wanted to go without me… I bet it was that damn Baekhyun! tightened, lips curling up at the corners into a full blown snarl that she knew (after all, he had seen Sehun cower in its wake on countless occasions) could wilt freshly picked spring daisies and newborn children simultaneously. Upon reaching the kitchen she whipped herself around, her stride becoming a volatile stomp.

That bloody blonde Baekhyun! Convincing Sehun that he needed to join him for an oh so exclusive night of debauchery. Probably wanted Sehun to help him get the attention of some gorgeous twins who have caught his fancy. Or, knowing Baekhyun, triplets.

She shuddered. Her long, too thin fingers began to pick at the hem of her black cotton tee. Another nervous habit she thought she’d kicked. Oops.

Midway through the living room her impressive stomp ran out of fuel, subsiding to a nervous tiptoe.

But what if it was his idea… to go… without me. What if he couldn’t stand the awkward tension anymore and deemed rough, hedonistic, tattoo-laden ual pursuits in the club toilet as his only solution?

Seulgi slumped and sluggishly approached her side of the bed. Her eyes stung and she felt wearier than a couple circuits around the inside of her house merited.

God, I must have been walking for hours. She checked his watch: 10:00 p.m.

Oh, bugger off.

*

Seulgi was now doing yet another thing that she had sworn she’d never again do: cooking. Well, making fresh lemonade actually. But it was close enough.

After trying and failing miserably to lull herself to sleep for the past four hours, she had decided to attempt to assuage her worry with action. Even if Sehun was upset with her, she didn’t have to sit idly by and wait for him to leave. She was a secret agent, dammit, and it was time she started actively trying to solve her problems instead of walking around the flat like some helpless, forsaken bear.

So she was planning to greet Sehun, when he inevitably returned home, with lemonade. It was simple, sweet, and fruity (well, it’s made from fruit and that freaking counts for something, okay?). The perfect embodiment of one, Oh Sehun.

Plus, her partner would probably be smashed when he got home and would be less likely to notice if the lemonade tasted like piss. But that was just a bonus.

Seulgi bustled around the kitchen, frantically navigating the maze that was normally Sehun’s domain to find a pitcher and the necessary ingredients.

Ingredients… ingredi… wait. What the hell do you even need to make lemonade?

She closed her eyes and tried to picture the tiny, makeshift lemonade stand that used to reside in her mom’