Kim Junmyeon is a walking cleaning machine.

He likes things neat and his pristine, white socks ironed to perfection. In his room, everything is sparkling clean and dust-free. The pens and stationary on his study table are all color-coded and organized in a way that even a random stranger wouldn’t have unnecessary difficulty searching for things. Clothes are carefully hanged on his dresser and they’re all separated by color, type and by fabric material.

Not to mention that his apartment is constantly shrouded in a mist of lavender air freshener—a scent that Jessica can never stand—and that was why he’s doing it.

Sica is his flat-mate, bossy enemy, and pretend girlfriend. Financial problems pushed him to the edge and made him start looking for someone to share the pricey apartment rent with. Now, he does not even like Jessica Jung but he likes his neat and quaint apartment located in a tall building in the midst of Seoul enough to make him swallow his pride and preferences just to stay in this place longer.

They actually don’t get along well and if isn’t for trivial things like where Junmyeon has placed the broom or whether they should have spicy Kimchi or not for dinner; their conversation would otherwise be just filled with nods of hello and acknowledgements.

However, on the first weekend that Sica spent at their place—Junmyeon learns a valuable fact about her; thou shall never allow a Jessica Jung into the kitchen. No one had warned him that and Junmyeon was filled with shock when he comes home one day to find Sica singing in the living room with a cloud of smoke oozing from the kitchen where she had forgotten the kkongchijorim that she’s cooking.

“I’m sorry, I forgot. It’s meant for you though; I wanted to show you my thanks by making you something. The recipe that I found online sounded easy so I decided to give it a shot but I found out its too difficult so I thought I should sing to the gods to help me out.” Jessica explains timidly as Junmyeon busies himself with opening the windows to let the smoke out after turning the stove off and throwing the burnt food away.

Junmyeon attempts to swipe the thin air clear with his right hand and he inhales a lungful of smoke. “Where did you get the idea that the gods can help you with cooking?”

“In my brain,” she blinks and stares at him as if it’s the most obvious thing in this world.

He wants to say something more but his snide comment dies down on his mouth as he looks at her wide eyes and shaky hands that she’s clasping together and for the first time ever, he gathers that a pretty, rich and sometimes-stuck up Jessica Jung could be scared too and he blames himself for being blinded by her status and first impression of her to actually take the time to get to know who she really was. Right now, she looks like a child who has accidentally knocked her mother’s favorite vase over and was waiting for the scolding and lecture that she knows she deserves.

Junmyeon shakes his head as his infamous ‘grandmother wisdom’ infiltrates his thoughts. It’s this side of him that makes him too vulnerable but he can’t find it in himself to change. “Come on; let’s get something to eat outside and a whiff of fresh air.”

“Aren’t you going to clean this all up first? You hate leaving things untidy.” She comments as her eyes flick over to Junmyeon’s hands that were now around her wrist and softly towing her out of the kitchen.

“It can wait.” Junmyeon replies and walks her out of the apartment.

[ The night is frail and young. We were just two kids who may or may not be living life to the fullest. Maybe we were meant to know each other and maybe we were meant to be chased out of the apartment because of a forgotten dish, but nevertheless; we’re together and that’s what matters. Clearly, we were near strangers and I don’t even know the most basic things about her like her favorite color of if she used to play any card games when she was younger, just like I did. Yet I find myself not minding our differences and ignorance so much as we walk into the lively streets of Seoul. It felt like it was just us, just two kids who would conquer the world one step at a time. I might be right, I might be wrong but I know we’ll be together in the end. I pray we’d be together in the end for she’s a delight and I’m basking in the warmth of her voice.]

Days after their late-night escapade and dinner outside, Junmyeon finds his eyes roaming to look for Sica’s lithe figure around their apartment during random moments of the day. He’d be writing away on his laptop, hands pressing keys in a constant motion and eyes fixed on the monitor when Sica would come home from her Business classes tired and jumpy.

He notices that she has a habit of leaving her shoes wherever and dropping her large book bag wherever there’s a space to cram it in and that the whole living room would be clean and sparkling when she’s gone but the moment that she’s in; it’s like a hurricane came over to visit their place. The fact that she leaves traces from where she’s been didn’t escape his notice, for instance; an empty bag of chips would be left just where she sat down to watch her favorite TV show and her cheers would echo so hard, Junmyeon is always under the impression that the neighbors two floors away could hear her.

Catcalls, barbaric yell and haughtiness irritates him but he doesn’t mind that with Sica.

“Junmyeon-shi!” her piercing voice breaks the silence enveloping them, making Junmyeon jump off his chair out of shock and knocking his coffee mug over.

“What’s wrong? Did anything happen?” he walks over to her, even though the hot liquid is now making him uncomfortable with such heat. He can worry about himself later, for now; he’s determined to make sure that everyone around him is okay before himself. Selfless, worrywart, and clumsy; that was what Kim Junmyeon was.

“What color should we paint the walls?” she asks, holding up swipes of wet paint in different pastel colors lined across her arms and even her face. A shirt hangs loosely around her thighs; covering the hem of her jean shorts and making her seem like an elementary kid who managed to dip herself in every color imaginable.

Junmyeon laughs and Sica raises an eyebrow at his peculiar reply. 

“Sica, are you aware that it’s one in the morning?” he asks, taking off a neatly-folded towelette from the shelf beside him and wiping his arms with it.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t looking at the clock when I decided that I can’t sleep tonight and that I have to do something to get my mind off things.” She admits in that blunt and trusting way of hers then she holds up a paintbrush in front of Junmyeon. “Mind painting with me?”

“I don’t know how to paint,” he admits but his actions say differently as he takes the brush confidently and starts to look over the buckets of paint that Sica’s frail body seemed to have carried over to their living room.

“Me neither but I think we should just start to dip the brush in the paint and glide it over the wall? It can’t be that hard, right? Oh god, I hate thinking too much.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t sleep. I’m surprised that you sacrificed your precious sleep anyway, we should cover the floors and move all the furniture to the middle just so they won’t get painted on.” His common sense takes over and they start to do their work silently. Chairs were scraped to the dead center of the wall, a newspaper lightly covering the flat screen TV for extra protection (Sica doesn’t want her precious baby hurt) and Junmyeon’s shirt on the floor later and the two finally starts to get to work.

[ She does things without thinking them through. Whatever her instincts tell her, she follows it.  The honey-haired girl always catches me by surprise with her childish antiques and inability to sit still or leave things clean. She keeps me guessing and it seems like I’m never going to figure her out—and I don’t want to. As we were giving life to the walls, she keeps on talking and she enacts tales of her childhood and about how wonderful it is. Her eyes light up whenever she talks about something that she’s deeply interested in, along with the raising of her voice. After a few weeks of staying together, I found some things about her that I personally don’t approve of but if I was given the ability to change it about her, I wouldn’t.

She’s growing on me, like stem-less vines around a perfectly independent plant. It demands a lot from me and it seems like it doesn’t want to leave my side. At first, I think it’s peculiar but as of now; I don’t think that I can recall the times that my vine hasn’t been around me—and I don’t want it to be gone. Let it grow on me. Let her shimmy its way to my system; let her sly smirks and deep peals of laughter make the hair on the back of my head stand up. Let her grow on me. ]

“Seriously, get off the phone. It’s already late and I need to get some sleep.” She stifles a yawn and presses her hand phone closer to her ear to hear Junmyeon better.

The warm sheets and darkness of the room tempts her to sleep but Junmyeon’s humorous remarks and the creamy sound of his voice encourages her to keep on talking; just like what they have been doing for four hours now since Sica arrived in her house because of the spring break.

“I’m outside your house.” She hears his reply and she bites back a laugh.

“What are you, Edward Cullen?”

“No, I’m Kim Junmyeon and I need to see you right now and the thorns in the roses of your garden aren’t helping.”

---------------------------

“What’s bothering you?” the moment that they’ve finally found an empty park, Sica asks him out of curiosity; for she never thought that she’d see the determined and independent Suho like this.

Suho heaves a lengthy sigh of resignation and tips his head against the familiar warmth of Sica’s shoulders. He’d never let anyone see him like this, not even his best friend and confidant; Luhan. Being scared was something that you could not associate with Kim Junmyeon but its times like this when Junmyeon realizes that no matter what he does, he’s still human and he still feels. Dark rings rest underneath his eyes and fatigues overwhelms him to the point that even the act of standing up straight takes a lot of effort.

“I’m nervous,” he admits and his hand searches for hers in the dim light. And when he feels the familiar, smooth texture of her hands; he intertwines their fingers naturally as if they were once more back together. As if they were one being that had been separated; however briefly.

“Is this about the story that you sent to a publishing company?” she asks, distracted by Junmyeon’s left hand which was now fiddling with the hem of her favorite macramé bracelet—something that she wouldn’t be caught dead without. It wasn’t his hand that distracts her, rather; it was the feeling that the mere contact brings. There go those butterflies fluttering around the walls of her stomach once more. There goes the slight shiver that she feels, for she can never get used to the amazing creature that is Kim Junmyeon.

“Yes, what am I going to do? What if they don’t like it? What if I end up getting ridiculed; I can’t take it. It’s too important for me. I’m confident enough to send it to a publishing company but I’m protective because I put half of my heart in there.” The worries, doubts and insecurities bubbled forth on the surface and tension now reigns in the air.

“Listen to yourself talk, you sound pathetic.” She reprimands but the affectionate chuckle that accompanies her remark make it sound endearing. “Even though you only let Luhan and Yoona read your story and you forbid me from glancing at even one word—I’m sure that it will all be okay.”

“How can you be so sure?” he pouts his lips like a child unwilling to listen to his mother.

Sica playfully elbows him and yawns. “I know because you’re Kim Junmyeon and I have seen some of your old writings and I think that they are wonderful. I believe in you and you should, too. Oh my god; I actually sound kind!”

He wraps his arms tightly around her and she hugs him back, his body vibrating through her deep laughter.

[ She makes me feel like I’m drifting through cloud nine with a halo above my head. One smile from her assures me that I can do anything I imagine. She’s like my personal power supply, giving me all the energy that I will ever need. It seems like I’m always taking something from her but she keeps on nagging me that my ‘motherly side’ is sufficient enough for her. I don’t really understand it that well.

During the times that I need her the most; she’s there with a lean shoulder to cry on. Although, she’s much more vulnerable than I, she doesn’t show it. She’s like a book waiting to be written, a song waiting to be sung, a treasure begging to be found and most of all; a woman willing to be loved. My book is the one thing that I want to give her as thanks; for it’s the only thing that could compare to the magic that she evokes in me with her rare smiles and cold shoulder at times.

Cold, sensuous, warm, beautiful, barbaric, sadistic, tough, vulnerable, unpredictable; a walking contradiction—that’s the kind of girl that I fell in love with. ]

“Finally! I can read them now!” Sica claps her hands at the row of ‘best sellers’ in a bookstore where Junmyeon’s “Contradiction” were carefully placed.

She turns to Junmyeon, her eyes alight with excitement and happiness bursting forth the surface. “I told you I believed in you.”

As Sica reads the book the moment they arrived home, Junmyeon makes her a cup of coffee and observes her every move and every emotion that her facial expressions show. Warmth and bliss fills his heart as she smiles at passages he knew would make her happy and love contains his heart as he witness the tears of happiness in her eyes during the last pages. It took her two hours of reading the whole book that took Junmyeon half a year to write but regardless of time, they both know that it’s something that nothing can replace.

The moment he saw her eyes read the final words and the question it contains, she drops the book and walks to his direction. Sica makes a fist and sends it flying to Junmyeon’s stomach and she yells, “You idiot! Why did you have to make me cry and why was your character wearing my bracelet?! And of course, you ahjumma; I will marry you. Yes.”

Her punch was no joke but her next words were enough to heal the physical pain she caused. Junmyeon grunts in pain and reaches out to Sica. When she feels the warmth of Junmyeon’s hand against the back of her neck, Sica stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips against Junmyeon. God didn’t bless her with Junmyeon’s gift—she didn’t know how to express her feelings through words and through creations and she hopes that somehow, her kisses and hugs and snide remarks will equal to what she really feels about him.

Junmyeon kisses her back, slow and deep. Their bodies moving into an unplanned synchronized choreography that only those who have known each other for too long can pull off. They let their senses and feelings guide their hands to each other’s warmth and body, their minds numb and their chest overflowing. For a few seconds, breathing was forgotten as they try to take in more of each other as a second pass by.

Just as Sica pulls Junmyeon’s shirt up; a strong force pushes the door of their room open and out came Yoona and Luhan yelling, “Congratulations on your success—Oh.”

“You always come at the wrong time,” Junmyeon takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes.

The two doe-eyed lovers simply shakes their head and laughs along with Sica and Junmyeon; the awkwardness that used to surround the room completely vanishes.

[ Her body is a wonderland and her whole being is like liquefied perfection. She’s sensuous, fluid yet sharp enough to cut right through me at times. We’re both growing and there’s a myriad of changes that we should adapt to now that we’re officially married. ]

[ The strands of her hair are gray now, where they have been dyed blonde before. Lines were now apparent on her face and her voice wasn’t as loud as before but she still scrunches her nose in disgust when someone mentions cucumbers and she still fiddle with her macramé bracelet when she’s nervous—and she’s still the walking contradiction that I have adored. Old age has caught up to her, just like it did with me but never once did it lessen our love for the other. It made us appreciate the other more and as each year pass by; we came to realize more reasons why we were meant to be together. Did we have a happy ending? I don’t think so.

Happy endings don’t exist, for the most beautiful love stories are the ones that love and time keeps eternal. The best love stories are the one that go unwritten and raw; they’re the ones that flow and glide through the pages in your life like ink on paper. No love story is greater than the other and I could safely assume that  the memories that I spent with the person I love (no matter good or bad memories) are times that I would never exchange for anything else in the world.

Now reader, I have to go for my wife is persuading me to train our youngest grandchild that cucumbers are bad for you and that they are disgusting. I don’t agree with her but I love her so train our grandchild, I shall. Goodbye, and I hope that your story would be as fruitful as mine. ]

-FIN-

[a/n: I got a bit lazy on the ending but that's the exact message that i want to convey. Anway; I hope you liked it! (: Although it might seem short (: I would elaborate on my note further but I need to fix my things for school now so I'll be waiting for your comments and I'll deeply appreciate it! (:  

This one is for everyone who keeps on subscribing to my stories even before I actually post the one shot up; thank you. Your faith means a lot to me. I can't just ;sobs;----- If I could give you a hug now; then I would. ]