Twenty Five

Listen if you want ^^ It makes it better, I think : Obsess - SS501 (Click)

“That’s… 15 slices. No, I need more.” I talked to myself as I set out the loaves of bread and vegetables. It was Saturday night, and since tomorrow I was going out, I decided to set everything ready for breakfast. I wanted to wake up early, finish making the sandwiches for us and Hyukjae and sister.

Now I had to make enough breakfast for not 6 people, but 8 people including myself.

Oh, I’m turning into a servant-girl. Stuck in the kitchen 24/7, 365 days a year, feeding five hungry people, two dogs who don’t love me, and one cat who seems to be the only person supporting me right now.

I chuckled and chopped up the onion and tomato, and stirred the cooked rice for tonight’s dinner. “Um, more salt…” I muttered and added more salt.

“SHOOT HIM ALREADY!” I heard Top wail from the living room. I shook my head, amused. They were all playing video games against each other. I didn’t know about Jiyong. Lately, all he’s been doing is moon about in his room. I shrugged and continued about my work.

Half an hour passed, when I heard the kitchen door open and shut. I turned around to see Jiyong opening the fridge and taking out some orange juice.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hey.” I replied, not facing him.

Silence after that. He didn’t leave the kitchen and trudge up to his room as he’d been doing the past two weeks, but instead leaned against the counter beside me. And observed me cooking.

If there was one thing that made me uncomfortable as hell, it was Jiyong watching me cooking.

It had happened ever since we all started living together. Even then, none of them knew even how to open an instant noodle cup; I was always the one who cooked and filled their stomachs. In those times, there would be instances where Jiyong would have nothing to do and came and observed me cooking. And it would frustrate me in the beginning but afterwards, it used to embarrass me. Which was what was happening right now.

“Um… don’t you have anything to do? Like, compose music… lyrics, or stuff?” I asked him, nearly dropping the pan of oil.

“Nope.”

“Um… play video games?” I asked, still not facing him.

“Nope.”

“… Okay.” And I kept quiet with that. He continued his hawk-like observation as I walked around the kitchen, dropping things and burning things.

After a long time in silence, he broke it.

“You’re going out tomorrow?” and he made the ‘ssshhhrrrup!’ sound, indicating that the orange juice in the carton was over.

“Yeah. I have a date.” I kept my voice calm and cool.

“With the guy that kissed you?” I froze. Somehow, I felt it wasn’t just me; but he spoke as if the words coming out of his mouth were white hot knives. It almost felt as if he was spitting the words out. But one loo