A/N - Chapter 11~ The plot thickens (not really :p but by some)

Chapter 11 – My fault they worry

Joon POV

Cheondoong observation update:

Today’s breakfast. One banana.

Lunch. Half a sandwich. Did I mention that was already half of the whole square. So more like a quarter of a sandwich.

Dinner. Three pieces of broccoli.

It was officially getting serious. Cheondoong was barely eating anything, just picking at his food like a five-year old who cuts up their food and then hides it under the knives and forks. It had been nearly two weeks since he had discovered Seungho and Dara’s relationship and he was skin and bones. He had been getting thinner by the day and it was looking medically worrying every time he took off his shirt.

“Cheondoong.” I called out, breaking the morose silence of the room. He lifted his head slowly. “Why don’t you try some of the fish.” I offered him my piece, hoping for some sort of reaction. “You used to love this stuff, especially when G.O pan-fries it.” I waved the morsel in his face.

But Cheondoong just knocked down my flying fork. “I’m fine hyung.” He gave me a half-hearted smile. “Just not hungry.”

“C’mon!” I tried to encourage him. “Open your mouth for the plane.” I flew the fork close to his mouth, but his firmly shut his lips and shook his head again.

“I’m not a baby, hyung.” He said condescendingly. Then he slid his chair back and scraped the rest of his dinner into the bin. “I’m going to bed early.” Cheondoong said, turning his back and walking away from us all.

We all exchanged a heavy glance, but said nothing.

It was a common scene after all.

Dara POV

I drove over to the mblaq dorm with two full bags of groceries next to me.

“Cheondoong!” I called out cheerfully as I kicked the door open. Seungho had given me my own pair of keys to the dorm, so entry was easy. However, carrying two heavy shopping bags made the task harder.

Cheondoong came out of his room blearily. “Noona?” he mumbled, looking exactly as he did ten years ago when I still tucked him to bed with a kiss on the forehead and a pat on the head. His hair was rumpled from sleep and his eyes barely open. However, the moment he saw me, his eyes flew open – alert – and he rushed over to help me with his bags.

For a moment, I could almost pretend everything was normal. That nothing was wrong with my little brother. But I’d be fooling myself to not see the dark circles under his eyes or the aged way he walked around the dorm, as if carrying a huge weight.

“Did you come to visit Seungho-hyung?” Cheondoong asked as he dropped the bags to the table and began unpacking the contents. I slid in next to him and pulled on an apron. Just like old times, I thought. But I winced at his comment.

“No, silly.” I rubbed his cheek affectionately. He made a protesting sound and sat down on the stool. “I came over to cook for you.”

He blinked. “Cook? Noona?”

I puffed my cheeks and put my hands on my hips. “Yes Cheondoong, I can cook!” I picked up the ladle and held it threateningly at him. “Just watch me!”

Cheondoong gave a forced laugh, brittle and shallow. “Sure, noona. I’ll await the results.” He chuckled and walked out of the room just as Seungho sidled in.

“How is he doing?” I whispered to Seungho as I pressed a kiss to his cheek and noted his equally large dark circles.

“Not well.” Seungho admitted, taking another apron and getting ready to help me despite the fact his cooking was worse than mine. “He hasn’t been eating much, so I’m glad you came over to cook. Maybe he’ll eat something you made.”

I pursed my lips and tried to ignore how y Seungho looked in that pink ruffled apron. “Hopefully.” I mused. “But so long as you don’t turn the dish into some chemical weapon!” I exclaimed and batted the hand that held a bottle of sugar away. “Why on earth are you adding sugar to the rice!?”

He blinked at me. “Isn’t this salt?” He weighed the contents in his hand.

“Even still!” I smacked his arm good-naturedly. “Why would you put salt in rice!”

“For seasoning right?”

I sighed. “Get out of this kitchen!” I chased him away. “And get G.O, who can cook, in here!”

He laughed, kissed me on the lips and then dashed out with the bottle of sugar still in his hand. I couldn’t help but smile even in this dark situation. Seungho always knew how to make my day brighter.

I turned back to the marinade I was making once the rice was cooking. Humming, I reached out with one hand for the seasoning and then cursed.

“Seungho!” I yelled down the corridor. “Bring back the sugar!”

G.O POV

Over dinner that night, all of us watched Cheondoong like a hawk. He seemed a little uncomfortable at the sensation of eyes on him and he probed the pork.

“Your favorite.” Dara grinned. “Meat!”

All of us laughed at that. It was true. Cheondoong always demanded for meat, nagging at me even at 4am in the morning to cook him a slab of meat. But now, he just looked at the food as if he was going to be sick.

“Eat up.” Dara encouraged, seeing his resolve waver.

Cheondoong cut a slice hesitantly. It was a tiny bite, no bigger than my finger and gave a hesitant smile to his noona. “Thanks, noona.” He said with false honesty. Then he slid the pork into his mouth and chewed slowly. “Yum.” He muttered between bites.

After what seemed an age, he swallowed the tiny piece and gave Dara his thumbs up.

We took that as a signal to start eating as well. Within seconds, the sounds of clinking cutlery and chewing jaws filled the room.

“I’m guessing,” Cheondoong said suddenly which made everyone freeze mid-way. Mir particularly choked at that moment as he stopped swallowing his food mid-way and then found it was a little difficult to breathe. I patted him on the back hard and he coughed his thanks.

“I’m guessing,” Cheondoong repeated, now that there was silence. “Seungho didn’t have a hand in making this. Otherwise I’m sure everything would have been much sweeter.”

Seungho squinted at him. “What do you mean?” he adopted his toughest, leader voice.

“Haven’t you seen him cook?” Cheondoong gave Seungho the most innocent, wide-eyed gaze. “He just adds sugar to everything!”

“Oi!” Seungho swiped his fork at Cheondoong who ducked and laughed, a real genuine laugh that drew us all into laughing as well.

Cheondoong then responded by tossing his cut up piece of pork into Seungho’s face. Seungho spluttered and the pork slid to the table.

“You!” he growled. Cheondoong fell over laughing in that maniacal way of his.

“Kids these days.” Seungho grunted, sounding exactly like the grandfather he was. “No respect. And you,” he pointed to Cheondoong. “Have you got a machine gun in your throat or what?”

Cheondoong laughed again, clutching his stomach as he unleashed his machine-gun laughter that had all of us imitating in seconds. Seungho stood up, grabbed Cheondoong and pulled him into a headlock. He ruffled Cheondoong’s already messy hair until the kid was begging. We all just laughed.

It felt like a real family then. Like mblaq had been before all this love fiasco had started and Chendoong had become distant.

Only an hour later when I was cleaning up the table, did I realize that Cheondoong hadn’t eaten more than that one bite of the pork. He had thrown the rest into Seungho’s face and it then lay forgotten on the table. As I picked up the slab and tossed it into the bin, I realized that our baby-faced maknae was more calculative than I had thought.

I stared at where he sat on the couch, one arm around Dara and laughed.

Who knew he was such an actor. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one fooled.

Damn brat.

Cheondoong POV

We all sent Dara on her way back home with hugs and kisses. I gave her a hesitant hug, thanking her for cooking dinner. But she had drawn me into a deeper hug and whispered in my ear “Don’t run away, Gaeddong”. I almost wanted to cry.

But I can’t cry. Not yet.

Dara departed, waving one last time from her car window and we all retreated back to our room. G.O finished clearing up, Seungho was laid back on the couch in a food coma and Joon and Mir were fighting loudly over the remote.

I watched them all and then sneaked away, back to my dark room.

With the door firmly behind me, I slid to the floor and for the hundredth time that day, felt like crying.