I'm going to flip tables -__-" This new board makes it so hard to format stuff ;A; LOL, or call me primeval but I prefer formatting my chapters the manual way. Anyway, sorry for the missing update in November, I try to update on a monthly basis but November's filled with birthdays (including mine) and so much...things to do. Since I have a break in December, I'll try to get three updates (including this one!) so watch out~!!

Also, I wanted this update to be made on Sunday in honor of Troublemaker's debut but...yeah, that didn't happen. How do you guys like Troublemaker so far :)?

Note: This chapter is written in the past tense 

 

ღ________Chapter 8: Warmth, So Much Warmth

I stare at the painting of a woman sitting in the corner, staring at the scenery outside her window. People say that she’s looking out because she longs to be outside, some say that she’s depress and is locked inside and the window is her gateway to reality. The meaning’s subjective. It depends on the context of the person looking at it. I think it’s a woman who’s always in the shadows, watching from afar, and continues to do so and can only admire the people under the sunlight.

That’s my perspective of the painting, but when I look out the window, there’s no subjectivity. It’s raining, it’s drizzling more like and none of us brought an umbrella thanks to the inaccurate weather reports. I look to Gayoon, then at the advisor. Gayoon shrugs, and the advisor stammers for the right word. We have around twenty-four children under the age of nine, we have no umbrellas and we’re leaving the museum in ten minutes.

The daycare I volunteer at is rather rich in money. From the generous parents’ donations to the reputation the daycare has in the respected industry, it’s not surprising. Nor is it surprising that frequently, there are trips to museums, amusement parks, farms or sometimes, special guests to entertain the kids. I’m just lucky I get to mooch off them.

When we are a meter away from the exit of the museum, just gawking at the rain and the disappearance of the bus driver, I decide that I’ll take the bad end of the straw.

“I’ll go rally the bus driver,” I motion outside and Gayoon steps out.

“Airi, it’s pouring. You’re going to get wet,” she frowns.

“He's probably hiding from the rain near the parking lot, it’ll be a short run,” I perk up but she continues to frown.

The advisor frowns as well, “Airiss, you’re going to get sick if you go out.”

“If we wait for the driver to magically appear, then we’ll be waiting for another half and hour or so.”

Gayoon and the advisor both look at each other in a mental debate. The advisor can’t leave; she’s the one that’s legally in charge of these kids. If anything happens, Gayoon and I will be fine. She’ll be the one taking the blame. Gayoon can’t go out because she easily gets sick. I don’t mind anyway.

With a simple goodbye, I dash out in the rain. It wasn’t a full five seconds when I felt the rain penetrating my skin with its wintriness. It wasn’t that bad, I remind myself over and over again. Soon, I see the driver and we’re all loaded in the bus with most of the children dry, but overall, we’re a happy dry bunch.

“Thanks Airiss,” the advisor thanks me and I nod. “No problem.”

“You better get yourself all dried up before you get sick,” Gayoon says, handing me some napkins.

I shake my head, “It doesn’t make a difference Heogaga.”

She violently jabs a bunch on my forehead, “It’s better than nothing.”

I laugh and take the napkin from her hand. “Thanks.”

*~*

One by one, the kids are picked up by their guardians. We sent a notice home to every child, informing them about the early dismissal, due to the rain. Some parents need a phone call home to remind them to come pick up their child. Sangryul was one of those kids, except his phone call didn’t get through. Soon, he’s the last kid left.

“Where does he live?” I ask and Gayoon scans her file with her dishevelled hair – thanks to her pulling it from the endless calls to Sangryul’s house. 

She tells me and the address resonates in my head. It isn’t far from work; I can drop him off and head to work.

“I’ll take him home,” I say.

Gayoon looks at me with raise eyebrows, “You’re awfully charitable today.”

I glare at her, “I’m always charitable.”

“He could wait until the advisor’s done with work, she can drive him home.”

“But that’s in an hour; I’ll just take him right now.”

Gayoon continues to stare at me strangely, but sighs in defeat. “That’s great, thanks.”

*~*

The weather’s crazy. It showers us with rain for an hour, then it’s bursting with rays of sunshine. I look out of place with my slightly damp hair and clothes that hang off of me from the water. I look at Sangryul and he looks blank (it’s the usual).

A familiar melody fills our ears; it’s a sound from everyone’s childhood that evolves laughter. “Sangryul, do you want ice cream?”

He shrugs but through his eyes, how they never left the ice cream truck, told me otherwise.

“Are you sure?” He emphasizes his point with another shrug and draws his eyes away from the truck to the ground.

“Come, let’s go get ice cream,” I walk ahead but stop and look back. Sangryul looks at me, then his hand twitches and he returns to looking at the ground.

I smile a bit; he’s cute, really cute. “Come on Sangryul,” I reach back and hold his hand. He nods and I notice how he tightens his grip on mine. Every bit of him reminds me of myself more and more. It isn’t good, but what’s good for us isn’t really what we want sometimes.

Sangryul looks at his ice cream. “You don’t like it?” I ask and he shakes his head.

“I like it,” he stares at his chocolate vanilla twist ice cream and sits on the bench. We have an hour before the time Sangryul’s suppose to be home.

After fifteen minutes, when we’re both finish with our ice cream , I think of Sangryul. His blunted affects, I wonder if his parents know about it. I wonder if they care?

“Sangryul, who do you see at home?”

He ponders, as if it’s a hard question. “I see Mom.”

“What about Dad?”

“Sometimes, sometimes never. I don’t remember.” He jumps off the bench and looks around. I stand up as well, suddenly feeling awkward around a five-year-old. His dad’s not home very often but his Mom is. Somehow, it doesn’t add up to his blunted affected but nothing’s what it seems. At least my life wasn’t.

“Sangryul, you have ice cream on the corner of your lips,” I smear it off with my thumb. He stops for a bit, unfamiliar with the action. His eyes waver with crashing waves of emotions but he does nothing further to show it. 

“I can’t eat street food.”

“Ice cream isn’t street food,” I joke but he doesn’t get it. He looks troubled with the thought of eating ‘street food’ so I spare him some mercy.

“Okay, it’s a secret. You didn’t see me today so you didn’t eat ice cream or street food, so you didn’t break the rule. Okay?” I hold out my pinky and he locks his with mine.

Even if Sangryul has blunted affects, he’s still an average five-year-old. He needs care, he needs attention, he needs the paternal love.

“Come, let’s go catch the bus.” I hold out my hand and this time, he doesn’t hesitate to grab it. Again, he holds onto it tighter.

*~*

“Why do you care about me?” Sangryul ask, his hand feeling limp in mine. I held onto his tighter but there was no response.

I smile, “Because it’s human instinct to care for others.” I see bits of me lingering in him. How lost he looked, how scared he looked and how happy he looked. He slides across the bus seat and looks out the window. He doesn’t respond to my answer but he smiles through his eyes but as quickly as it comes, it quickly disappears.

When we got off the bus, I stare at the rows of houses with expensive exteriors that range from swimming pools to vast gardens, and with high fences overlooking the street. Sangryul’s grip on my hand tightens as we get to the core of the neighbourhood. We stood in front of a particular house; it was much bigger than the rest and judging from the way Sangryul stared at it with a pique look,told me that it’s Sangryul's house. I wasn’t surprise that Sangryul’s from a well off family – as if the nannies picking him up and the crayon sets weren’t proof – the way he talked, how his words flow gave his background away.

Surprisingly, Sangryul has the keys to get in and Sangryul and I walk down the long path together. I didn’t bother to stare at the rosebushes or the fountains in awe, the eerie feeling of solemnity ate away the fascination. With a few knocks on the door, a frantic woman was revealed. She stared at me in question, then her eyes widen at Sangryul.

“Sangryul, why are you home so early?”

I spoke up, “We went to a museum today and we sent a letter home to the children’s guardians, informing everyone but no one came to pick up Sangryul. So, I brought him back.”

“Thank you so much,” she bowed and usher for Sangryul to come in. Sangryul looks at me and I nod, telling him to go. He lets go of my hand and walks inside with the maid.

“Hello. I’m Chae Airiss, an assistant at his daycare,” I extend my hand in courtesy.

“Hello. I’m Park Mae, Sangryul’s mother.” She shakes my hand.

“Mrs. Park –”

“Mae is fine,” she interjects.

“Mae, I notice that a nanny always picks Sangryul up from school. Does work make it difficult for you to pick him up?”

She shakes her head, and I begin to see that anxiety lines every one of her actions. “No, I’m home, I – I just prefer not to go outside.”

I frown a bit, “It would really make Sangryul happy if you pick him up.”

She looks up at the word, happy. “Really?”

I nod, remembering the times when Mom or Dad would pick me up from school, with hands ready to be held and smiles that could lit up the world. “Yeah, it would.”

“Oh, how rude of me, would you like to come in to dry up and have some tea?”

I shake my head, “It’s okay, I have to go to work.”

“The most I can do is let my driver drive you to work.”

Mae looks indecisive, frail and a push-over but she manage to stick me in a car and have a driver drive me to work. That makes me feel indecisive, frail and even more of a push-over.

*~*

“When you get home, sleep.” Kerin orders at the foot of my doorstep with Junhyung behind her, looking at me sympathetically. Facing the wrath of Kerin’s nagging was the worst thing, especially when you’re too sick to respond properly.

“Yes Mom, I will.”

“Get well soon, okay?” Yoseob says, giving me a little punch on the arm.

“I will.”

“If you want, we can come and cook for you or you can stay over so someone’s looking after you,” Nia suggests, worried.

“Nia, I’m just sick. I’ll manage.”

“Remember Airhead, sleep.” Junhyung says and I nod for the 20^th time.

*~*

No more than an hour after I settle in, I hear the doorbell. I roll my eyes, hoping to be freed from Kerin’s ridiculous lectures. I open the door to the lady down the street, the one who owns the bakery store. She always smiles at me and wishes me a good morning and vice versa. She's a lovely woman with a warm heart. I like her.

“Hello Mrs. Choi,” I greet her and welcome her inside but she shakes her head, saying it’ll take a minute.

“Airiss, are you still sick?” She places a hand across my forehead and I don’t inch back, too faze to think. I remember this familiar gesture; it felt so caring and so...unfamiliar at the same time. “Your forehead’s less hot.”

I remember doing the same thing this morning and how she fusses about me living alone, how it's not safe. I brush it off with a laugh and bid her a good day. 

I nod, “I got better from the medicine.”

She looks back to her bags, scurrying to find something. She pulls a thermo out, “I made some congee since I know you’re living alone and no one’s here to look after you.” I stare at it for a while. Can I accept it?

She puts the thermo in my hand, and I feel the heat of it spread to my fingertips, and it reaches my heart. I smile genuinely, feeling my cheeks sore from the awkward action but at the same time, surging with her tenderness. “Thank you Mrs. Choi.”

“If you wouldn't mind, Airiss, you're always welcome to my house for dinner. You’ve been here for years now and I still haven’t greeted myself properly, I feel ashamed of myself.”


“Mrs. Choi, don’t feel ashamed of yourself. It’s my fault for being so distant but thank you so much, for everything.”

When she leaves, I smile and place the thermo in the fridge. Who knew that I, Chae Airiss, will still have people caring for me even when I’m sick. Who knew something warm still existed? I feel my cheeks getting wet and I hastily wipe them away.

*~*

After two hours, I finish my homework and eat some of the plain congee. My appetite still didn’t return so I opt to go outside to draw. Before leaving, I remember telling Hyunseung not to come today with homework being the excuse but I don’t want him to see me so... feeble. I don’t want to be weak, I don’t want it.

A cough ripple through my throat and I cover my mouth to suppress it. I continue drawing, the pencil ad infinitum drawing gentle here and there, forming the few specks of reality on my page.

“Risu.”

Shock, I turned around to see Hyunseung. He doesn’t look very happy and with me being sick and undeniably lazy to deal with lectures, I decide to play dumb.

“Yes?”

He walks closer to me, “You’re sick and you’re out at the beach, are you crazy?”

I sigh, like a child getting caught for eating the last cookie. “I finish all my homework and I was bored in the house.”

He kneels down and holds my hand, and flinches. “Your hands are freezing.” I never notice how cold they were until he held them. I tried to bend my fingers and notice how stiff they seem and how hard it was to perform such a simple task. The contrast between my icy fingers and his burning ones is scary.

“Come on, we’re going.” With a swift movement of his arms, he takes off his coat and hangs it on my shoulders. I tell him I wasn’t cold but he doesn’t take no for an answer.

“Hyunseung, you do know that I’m sick, not paralyze?” I ask when we walk back, me under his coat and him carrying my bag and sketchbook.

He rolled his eyes and I turn away to hide the smile prying at my lips.

*~*

Hyunseung does a little inspection of the house. From the tip of the table from the deepest corner of the room. I watch Hyunseung scurry here and there. “Hyunseung, what are you doing?”

“You’re sick, things can’t be disordered.” He says, opening the fridge door. He bends down, looking into the fridge with a scowl.

“You really don’t have anything in your fridge?” He looks back up with eyes that wanted questions. I smile, hoping to ease the anger, all the time trying to press myself against the wall, hoping to sink in.

“The fridge gives it a familial feeling,” I joke and he sighs.

“Come on, we’re going out to get food.”

“I have congee from the neighbour.”

“You need food in your fridge anyway, so might as well go today.”

“At the supermarket in the city?”

Hyunseung stops, rigid for some reason. “How about the local supermarket?” He suggests.

I frown, “It’s more expensive there than the one in the city and it has fewer supplies.”

“We don’t want to take long anyway, so let’s just settle for the local one.”

I couldn’t pinpoint why but I felt like Hyunseung’s avoiding something. Why though? “What’s wrong with the one in the city?”

“Risu, there’s nothing wrong with it. You’re a sick person and we need to feed you as soon as possible.”

“But –”

“Come on,” he reaches out and holds my hand. Sneaky. I never knew how good Hyunseung is at diverting attention away from him in such an amply manner. I knew he was good at it but this only prove how long he’s been doing it and I don’t remember how many times I’ve been mislead by him.

*~*

“Why are you getting so many apples?”

“They’re more efficient at waking a person up in the morning,” he drops a few into the plastic bag. It looked funny, Hyunseung in such a domestic surrounding. “It’s better than caffeine.” He added.

It continues like that, with him picking out the groceries and me just following. “Risu, can you stop staring like that.”

I laugh, “It’s just strange seeing you in a supermarket buying groceries.”

“Better get used to it then.” He smiles.

*~*

Our talk about apples and the ‘better’ bread takes a toll of twenty minutes. Hyunseung suddenly turns into a Doojoon with his lectures on how to choose fruits and vegetables to how I should get myself familiarize with the supermarket. It felt like a mother taking her daughter to the grocery store, not a couple buying groceries.

“Hey Hyunseung, you know –” I turn around to find no one there. Hyunseung wasn’t there. I panicked a bit and looked down the aisle; he wasn’t ahead of me either. I continue walking, one step at a time, the panic only growing, the world growing seemingly smaller and smaller. But I don’t know why I was so scared. He’s not going to leave.

Suddenly, I feel hands clamp themselves over my eyes, and I break into a small smile. My panic takes over as I feel myself turning around and hugging him – tightly. Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave me. 

He chuckles a bit but hugs back, “Why the sudden affection?”

“Where did you go?” I ask, staring up at him. I don’t admit that I was scared.

He hesitates for a bit but smiles, “I saw something interesting in the other aisle so I decided to take a look.”

I frown; it wasn’t like Hyunseung to leave without telling me. Every time he left in the middle of the night, there would be a note in the morning but today was different. “Are you sure?”

“Why would I lie to you?”

He was right, there wasn’t a reason to lie. “That’s true.”

*~*

I look outside the window at the passing stores. Food store, book store, fabric store, every kind of store you can find is here on the street of Seoul. I don’t go to the city very often, maybe thrice every week but I tend not to. Crowds, the constant murmurs and the busy people aren’t my sanctuary.

Then, something catches my attention, from the deepest corner of my eyes, I see it. A rare fragment of my childhood comes back; it comes back just like that.

“Dammit,” Hyunseung mutters something inaudible under his breath and I stare at him.

“What?”

“I forgot to get something at the supermarket,” he shifts uneasily in his seat, puzzled.

“We can go back –”

“No, there’s a store over there nearby.”

“Is it really necessary?”

“It’s needed,” he says cheekily. I sigh heavily as Hyunseung halts the car to a complete stop. “Risu, you stay here –”

“No, I’ll go look around the area,” I suggest.

He narrows his eyes sceptically, contemplating whether to let me go or not. “Where are you going to go?” I press on the lever and the car door opens. I look up again to see Hyunseung on the other side of the car.

“Around the area,” I shrug, he continues to stare. 

“I’m only younger by a year Hyunseung; I’m not going to get lost.” I chuckle to his stern expression.

He quickly comes over, and holds a firm grip on my hand. “Fine, but keep your cell phone on, okay?”

“Okay,” I nod. After a bunch of reassurances (mostly for Hyunseung’s sake), Hyunseung agrees to part ways for a mere fifteen minutes. I walk ahead, quickly becoming one with the massive crowd. Within ten seconds of threading my way through, my phone rings and I roll my eyes at the caller. “Hello Hyunseung? It’s only been a few seconds.”

“I’m just making sure that your phone’s on,” he laughs and I chuckle.

“My phone’s working. Have fun getting the important ingredient.”

“Remember to call me—” I hang up on him.

*~*

From the constant crashing and rattling of utensils, I don’t think Hyunseung’s a ‘natural’ at cooking. “Hyunseung, do you need help?” I feel the protest of my throat at such a loud decibel.

“No, don’t come in. Seriously! Don’t come!” He threatens and I sigh, flipping through the channels.

When I hear a rather high squeal from Hyunseung, I drop the remote and run to the kitchen. “What happened?” I see Hyunseung holding a bowl and a spatula in defence.

I roll my eyes but flinch at the slightest movement. “Jang Hyunseung, what are you going to do about the crawling crab?” I jump out of the crab’s way and closer to Hyunseung. I hold onto his arm as he tries to imprison the crab.

The important ingredient is the crab which is on the floor, crawling for freedom.

“I don’t know what happened, I cut the elastic around its claws and it just fell. Now it’s –” Hyunseung looks at the crab, “Yeah.”

“Well, catch it,” I say.

“Stop holding onto my arm so tightly Risu,” he gives my hand a few gentle pats.

“If you can catch it,” I correct myself and loosen my hold on his arm.

I knock the chicken off the counter in the midst of chaos, “The chicken...”

“Don’t worry about that, it’s already dead.” I laugh and roll my eyes. Hyunseung makes the simplest things turn into the craziest things.

*~*

“Plain congee’s still the best.”

I glare at him while stirring the plain congee. “Where’s the chicken and crabs?” I ask mockingly.

“It didn’t turn out so well,” he chuckles. “You probably can’t eat it anyway.”

“A 'natural' at cooking, eh?”

“Better than you,” he retorts.

*~*

After dinner’s done and the dishes are washed, Hyunseung plops himself on the couch, tired. “It’s been a long day, from cooking to cleaning to—”

I throw a pillow at him and it hits him square in the face, cutting him off. “What cooking have you done? You messed up my kitchen for three hours and in the end, it’s only Mrs. Choi’s congee for dinner,” I laugh and he frowns.

“You’re ungrateful.”

“I am.”

“The fruits were good though,” he says, hugging the pillow.

I sit beside him, “It wasn’t yours though.”

“It was, I paid for it.” I roll my eyes. Technically, he's right. 

He reaches for the grocery bags and pulls out a movie. He got it when he went looking for his missing ingredients. From the look of the cover, it was a horror movie. I wasn’t much of a horror fanatic but I didn’t mind watching them, nor did I prefer them. It's a neutral liking I have towards them. “Did you watch this before?”

I shake my head, “No, you like horror movies?”

He shakes his head, “I like them. I never watched it either and I was hoping you didn’t. We can guess the dialogue together.”

I laugh too loud. “Hyunseung, you’ve got to be kidding.”

“No, I’m not. It’s going to be fun,” he puts an arm around my shoulder, “Come on.”

I chuckle, “Fine.”

Through our arguments, my arguments base on their actions, expressions or my psychological knowledge and Hyunseung’s arguments base on his instincts, I find myself laughing until my lungs heave for air. I never realize how something so silly, so simple could be so funny and memorable.

It’s supposed to be a horror movie but through our assumptions, we manage to turn it into a story about a lady getting revenge because her husband didn’t give her the last piece of cake. All of it is credit to Hyunseung’s vivid imagination and my practical thinking (though, not so practical). Through the movie, he kept his arm around me during the gruesome scenes and rather debauched parts. I felt safe during the movie.

The softness of Hyunseung’s sweater is sleep-inducing by the time the movie ends. I find that out when I hazily lay my head against it. Keeping my head up is a hard task for my sicken self to handle and laughing takes up a lot of strength.

“If you’re sleepy, go to bed,” he whispered.

I snuggle closer and he sighs. “You’re not going to respond, are you?”

Silence.

“Alright then, might as well read you a story.”

I frown, “I’m not a little kid.”

“You like that story, don’t you?”

I didn’t react, too tired to think of anything and the effects of the medicine is catching up. “Okay,” he stretches forward, reaching for the book, pulling me with him. The book I got from the bookstore during my fifteen minutes of freedom. The book from my childhood, when my dad use to read it to me almost every night before bed. It held a special meaning and I couldn’t leave it when I saw it.

I open my eyes and I see the royal blue of the book and the memorabilia comes back. I sit up and hold one end of the book and he holds the other. “Let’s start,” I say and he rolls his eyes.

“So I can’t get you to open your eyes but this 27 paperback can?”

“I’ll read the first page.” I start to read the first few lines as he pulls me closer and rests his head against mine.

It felt warm and cozy.

*~*

“Risu, we’ve read the story, three times already.”

“It’s a good story,” I try to stifle the yawn but nothing goes unnoticed in his eyes. 

“Sleep Risu, how are you going to get better?

“Medicine.”

He frowns and we engage in the battle of mentality, with me losing. “Alright, alright.” I stand up and try to stretch, with Hyunseung following suit.

“You know, you’re going overboard, being this overprotective.”

“You’re sick and you’re stubborn, I think that’s a valid reason to be worried.” He replies cheekily and I roll my eyes. “Come on Airiss, let people worry about you; it’s not a sin, you know.” 

I shrug, the closest thing to a, “It feels weird, having people worry over me, spoiling me. I’m not use to it.”

“It’s hardly spoiling. I should be doing it as your boyfriend.”

I smiled bashfully at the mention. Boyfriend.

“Come on Risu."

“If you don’t leave now, you’re going to be home late,” I head towards the door but don’t hear his footsteps following.

“I’m going to stay here.”

I turn around, and my brows furrow. “What?”

“Knowing you, you’re not going to be sleeping anytime soon. I’m going to make sure that you’re asleep before I leave.”

I don’t even try to argue, to reach a compromise because as stubborn as I am, Hyunseung’s the same but worst because he has reason and logic on his side.

When Hyunseung tucks me in, I feel like a child again, when my dad use to tuck me in and would sometime read a story. I miss it so much, that familiar feeling. He leans down and brushes my bangs away and places a delicate kiss on my forehead. “Good night Risu, sweet dreams.”

*~*

I woke up, coughing. I stare into my dark room and notice that Hyunseung’s gone. I smile a bit at the memory of him and turn to my nightstand to find something – courtesy of Hyunseung. I find a glass of warm water with some pills and a little note.

“If you wake up in the middle of the night, and you need to take your medicine, it’s all here on the night stand, next to the glass of water. Don’t get out of bed, and try to sleep again.

Get well soon. I love you.

-Hyunseung.”

I smile and mutter "idiot" under my breath. I grab a light sweater and head downstairs. There was Hyunseung on the couch, sleeping with the steady rise and fall of his chest. I shake my head in dismay; the extent of his stubbornness leaves me pondering.

My fingertip traces his jaw line, trying to capture the image of him sleeping. I sweep his hair to the side and place a kiss on his forehead. “Good night Hyunseung. I love you.”




 

ღ________Comments

I'm the idiot that decides to write a totally new beast fanfic in the midst of updating five other fanfictions, so after the three updates this month (hopefully), updates will be more slower. Apologies in advance ^^ I personally really like this chapter as nothing much happens just a ball of fluffiness all in the name of chapter 8! :D

janale6: I’m glad you enjoyed the chapter ^^ I created some problems to prepare you guys for the bigger problems coming up ahead, so watch out! :D  Thank you for commenting <33 

Halimalikesrice: Aww, thanks for your encouraging comment <33! You’ll find out at the end of the story about what happen to them :D LOL, a bald Jiyong! I might actually consider that for real! As promise, I hope that I can have three updates this month! :D