I bit my lip as I fidget on the throw pillow hadabuhjee lent me. Jiyong was pressing the ice pack on the cut over his right eyebrow by himself in the back seat, grunting as he does. Meanwhile I feel uncomfortable at the shotgun, since it’s my first time in years.

“I told you Sandara, I was fine driving without someone sitting on the shotgun. You should’ve seated with doryeonnim in the back seat.” Hadabuhjee said, his dry old voice at least lightening up the mood for a little bit. I laughed, though a little bit forced and said, “It’s okay. From time to time, shotgun won’t hurt would it?”

“Shotgun hurts.” Jiyong said, immediately, which made it look like it’s a contrary. “When pointed straight to your heart.”

I gulped, what was that for?

The tension between us grew thick that I began to sweat, and Hadabuhjee thought that the reason for that was because the air coming from the air conditioner wasn’t enough. He turned the air conditioner’s temperature from mid-cool to high.

“You don’t need to do that.” I whispered, suddenly. Hadabuhjee chuckled and answered, “It’s okay, Sandara. Just relax. We’re almost there.”

But that was the problem: I can’t relax. The thought of being inside Jiyong’s family car, and that I’m going to his house because his mother requested me to do so doesn’t make me stay put. I can feel my heart beating so fast that I hardly hear the noises around me. My head is spinning while it flashes Jiyong’s family members in my head. His mom, his dad and his sister—also her family, since I’ve played with Jiyong’s nephew a few times already. Do they already know of the break up? Or do I have to act in front of them as I do in front of the other students?

I gulped, and my subconscious hides inside her lair as soon as I saw Jiyong’s house—no, mansion—getting near. It was located uphill, isolated from all the other houses in the suburbs. I don’t know the exact words to describe their mansion, so I’ll leave it up to your imagination.

Hadabuhjee started to climb the small hill. From behind I heard Jiyong grunt.

When we reached the top, Hadabuhjee turned and made a complete stop in front of the mansion’s huge twin wooden doors. As if everyone inside the mansion was anticipating our arrival, I saw a swarm of house helpers bursting out from the inside with their outrageous outfits. Today, Jiyong’s mother picked the concept of The Hunger Games, so the house helpers were wearing different clothes based on the district they are in. Hadabuhjee whistled. “Ma’am got carried away with the concept.”

You see, Jiyong’s mother has this . Since she’s managing a fashion line, she uses their house helpers to know if the clothes she makes are of best quality. It was way back then when she refused to have mannequin models (another long story). Now, she’s using it as a play. She would make 26 costumes from a specific movie, and make their house helpers wear it, regardless of your age or looks. Then, Jiyong’s father liked the idea, and much worse, devised that every week their house’s interior would change based on the movie.

And with that said, I’m starting to fear what I’ll see inside.

The house helpers split in half, making a way in the center and I saw Jiyong’s mother. She was wearing simple clothes with her hair tied into a simple bun. She’s copying Katniss’ mom.

And she’s not angry.

Jiyong got out of the car first then opened my door for me. It didn’t remain unnoticed by me his mother’s smile when he helped me get off. When my feet were already touching the ground, I brushed Jiyong’s hands from my waist but didn’t forget to mutter, “Thank you.”

Jiyong was waiting for more. My subconscious tells me to look at him, but I know I shouldn’t. With that begging smoky, seductive gaze, I am helpless. I am so much helpless.

He was about to say something but was cut off timely by his mother. “My dear children,” She exclaimed. “If you please greet the old woman.”

I looked up and saw his mother again since I can remember. It was too long ago that I forgot, since I don’t really like attending socialization parties (which are the only time the Kwon family would spend time together aside from every evening at the dinner table and while on weekends, Jiyong stays in my house if he doesn’t have a game that time). So, I don’t really have that much bonding time with his mom when we were still dating. The only times I would know about her was when I’ll ask Jiyong about her.

Jiyong went towards his mom, and I followed from behind, walking in small steps. When Jiyong was about to hug his mother as a sign of greeting, she rushed forward and hugged me instead, so Jiyong kind of hugged the air.

“Sandara,” She whispered, wistfully. “I’ve missed you dear.”

So much for the second meeting.

She broke the hug and examined me in arm’s length. “Wear your jacket and come inside. I’ve called your mom and told her you’re having a sleepover here with us.” She said, making me groan. “Come, I’ve cooked dinner.”

One of the house helpers went behind me and opened up the jacket Jiyong’s mom was referring to. It was the same as what the tributes had worn in The Hunger Games. I took it from her, even though I know that she’s raising it to help me wear it and slid the jacket on. I noticed Jiyong wearing the same thing, but the only difference was mine has the Mockingjay pin.

“Come, come.” Jiyong’s mother said, placing her laced hands in front of her. “I’ve prepared squirrels for dinner.”

I almost puked.

I entered the mansion in not so equal fashion as Jiyong and his mother. They acted as if the house was normal. I acted as if I was inside a military base. If you think that the costumes are hardcore enough, think again, because the interior of the house is much more hardcore. Everything was divided according to the districts, and plus the Capitol. It was like I was in the city of Panem. The kitchen was District 11, the receiving area was District 2, the bedrooms are District 12, 1, 4 and 5 respectively starting from Jiyong’s bedroom from the right then to the master’s bedroom to the left and the others, I still can’t find because I was just at the entrance.

“There’s bread on the center table. Please do feel comfortable, my dear.” Jiyong’s mother said before she disappeared into the kitchen, which had a door with a grapevine growing around it. I fidget, bit my lip and looked at the couch. It wasn’t inviting enough.

Since it was based from District 2, the couch was basically made up of weaponry, masonry and the like, though the bread looked inviting. “Sit on the couch.” Jiyong suddenly ordered, but I don’t know if I could. There were metal spikes coming out of the couch, a scimitar was at the center of the long couch which made it look like it was a symbol, and the armrests weren’t really armrests, they were quarterstaffs.

Jiyong sighed, and plopped himself down on the couch. I closed my eyes, before I could even see him sitting down and prayed, Please don’t die. O my god, don’t die.

“Dara,” He groaned and my eyes suddenly shot up. Instead of a dead, bloody Jiyong, I saw a smirking, teasing Jiyong. He laughed. “Come on, they are made from foam. The artists only made it realistic enough to scare.”

There was a tug on the corners of my lips, and I unconsciously smile. If there’s one thing I regret doing now, is that I actually ran up to him and plopped myself on the couch beside him. Jiyong laughed, a hearty one and said, “You’ve grown fat. I felt the foam beneath me vibrate as if a magnitude 6 earthquake hit it.”

I pouted. “No way.”

“Now, you two can get to talk later.” His mother suddenly piped in. “Dinner is now done.”

I thought we were going to eat squirrels. Instead we ate beef shaped like a squirrel. It was braised, cooked evenly and the mashed potato tasted great together. I enjoyed the food so much I forgot Bom strictly told me not to eat too much meat per day. But who cares, she’s not here.

“So, Sandara, where do you plan to work?” Jiyong’s mother started the conversation after eating. They have this policy not to talk while eating.

I stared at my plate for a second, and then looked up to look at her. “I was planning to go abroad, since I already have an application sent there. I was offered a job in a real estate company.” I answered, and it didn’t go unnoticed in the corner of my eyes the sudden shock in Jiyong's face. Sorry

“Why don’t you work in our company? We also have a real estate business.” His mother offered, smiling so openly that I wanted to accept the job. But I have a goal.

“I want to find my father.” I answered. “And find some answers.”

There was a long period of silence, a tension that only comes out when the last words weren’t good. I can feel the raging heat coming from Jiyong beside me.

“Soo,” His sister suddenly said, placing her gaze on her brother. “Who wants to watch a movie?”

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to watch a movie because as soon as we had exited the dining area, Jiyong had pulled me upstairs to his room. His grip was too hard, and I am not strong enough to take it off, so I just followed.

He slammed the door behind him as soon as we had both entered his room. Jiyong ran his fingers through his hair, as he screamed out loud. I was glad enough their walls are soundproof.

“Dara, what were you thinking?!” He suddenly said, making me jump. “We have talked about this a thousand times already, right?!”

Tears strolled down my cheeks, a thousand feelings I’ve kept before that I can’t take out because I was too scared, too frail. “So what if I decided to find my father? What is it to you? Huh? We broke up remember? You ended this relationship almost two weeks ago, bonehead! We were through weeks ago! So what are you to me anyway? What are your opinions in my decisions anyway?” I shouted, louder than I could even imagine. Jiyong closed his eyes and let the tears stroll down his flushed cheeks.

“You don’t understand.” He said, whispering but loud enough for me to hear.

“What?” I asked. “What I don’t understand?”

“I still love you, okay?” He shouted. “I love you! There wasn’t a time in that few weeks that the love went away. It only had grown stronger, a need. I love you that’s why I need you.” His last words had grown into a whisper. Jiyong knelt in front of me, his hands on his legs. “I love you.”

I wiped my tears, but they were too many to wipe it all at once. “You what?” I opt.

“I love you.”

And it was enough for me to break down, to kneel also on the floor. I hugged him, cradling his head in the crook of my neck. “I love you.” I replied, closing my eyes. “I love you, still.”

Jiyong hugged me back, wrapping his arms on my waist. “Don’t leave me again.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked.

“Okay.” I assured.

That night, we slept together in one bed again, though did nothing. I felt his warmth again, the feel of his breath on my forehead and his hands on my back. I missed all of him.

I closed my eyes once I heard his first snore.

“I love you.”

He’ll be the first one to reconcile.