“Yah, Park Hyemi.”

Someone was frantically shaking my leg.

And I didn’t like it.

“Hyemi-ah.”

I reluctantly lifted my face off of my pillow and swept stray strands of hair from my cheeks. I turned to my side to see what the urgent matter was.

“Mmmmrrrf.”

“Honey, get up.”

It was my mother.

“Okay, okay… I’ll be downstairs for dinner, give me five more minutes.”

“Dinner?” she snorted. “Honey, you’ve been sleeping for nearly two days!”

That last sentence made me shoot up from my warm cove, causing me to stare at my mother in utter disbelief. I scrambled through my pillows and found my cellphone.

12.36 pm.

Nearly two days had passed since I was conscious.

Indeed, I’d been sleeping for quite some time since I’d locked myself in the safe haven that is my bedroom after running away from our cowardly pandemonium. I could remember coming home and staggering to the stairs like a drunken mess.

“What?! Omma, why didn’t you-”

“We have company downstairs.”

Just as I was about to ask who our “company” might be, a thunderclap headache attacked my head, pounding on my temples. I groaned in pain, wanting to pull all my hair out all of a sudden. The emotional pain had subsided, but undoubtedly this was its physical equivalent.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting on the edge of my bed to feel my forehead. I swiped her hand away because my skull was literally throbbing and one touch might send it exploding.

That’s what you get for snoozing for two freaking days.

“I don’t have a temperature, it’s just a headache. Who’s downstairs, anyway?”

“You’ll see. Hurry, wash up and get dressed.”

I groaned in protest but did as I was told in less than ten minutes. I blatantly threw on a loose-fitting blouse and a pair of jeans. Who were these people anyway, that I had to dress all prim and proper?

--

“Mrs. Do?”

“Oh, Hyemi-ah!”

Kyungsoo’s mother ran to me as if she hadn’t seen me just a few days ago at the mini mart. She pulled me towards her and started my hair.

“Thanks for the other day, honey,” she smiled, and my stomach fluttered at the thought. She was thanking me for tending to Kyungsoo.

Who was standing right behind her.

“I- it’s fine, Mrs. Do, it’s nothing,” I fibbed. It wasn’t fine, and it definitely wasn’t nothing, especially now that he was boring intense stares into my soul.

“Your mother invited us for lunch and I thought it was a great time to catch up. It’s been a long while.”

“Yes, it has been a long while,” Dad chimed in, “so shall we?”

We all awkwardly sauntered across the hallway and entered our humble dining room where my mother was garnishing the set table with napkins and unnecessary finishing touches. I took my usual seat, and Kyungsoo, presumably pushing the limits, sat across me. His eye contact was much too overpowering, so I fumbled with my cutlery and kept my head down.

“We’re so sorry to hear the news,” my mother sympathised. She was incredibly talented at making small talk.

“Oh, it’s alright,” Mrs. Do looked up from her plate, “we’ve all come to good terms with it. We’re… moving on, I suppose.”

She smiled and patted Kyungsoo who was still watching my every move. I wanted to kick him out of the house because I couldn’t eat properly. I was gradually losing my appetite while the adults chatted amongst themselves about work, politics, current events, and then eventually, about… us.

“Oh, I remember clearly how little Kyungsoo was when they were still in middle school,” Mum reminisced and laughed, “and now look at how he’d grown!”

“You probably have a girlfriend now, don’t you?”

Dad’s question sent me choking.

“No, sir, I don’t. Hyemi would perhaps tell you if I did.”

More choking.

“Park Hyemi, here, drink some water,” Mum filled my glass. “That’s probably because you slept for two days.”

“Two days?” Mrs. Do gasped. “Oh, poor Hyemi! Kyungsoo probably exhausted you!”

Oh, yes.

“N-no, it’s not that-”

“I’m sorry if I did,” the doe-eyed boy mumbled and then wiped his mouth with the napkin. His eyes were still focused on me, and for a second, I caught them, but I wasn’t geared enough to hold it.

“Why are both of you so quiet today? Is something wrong?” Dad asked, creasing his forehead. Undoubtedly, there was tension in the air and I couldn’t blame my father for noticing, but I decided it wasn’t very practical to tell him right up front what was happening in between us.

“W-what? No, I think we’re just… tired,” I strained a laugh and glared at Kyungsoo to play along.

“Yes, we are,” Kyungsoo nodded. My father seemed convinced and resumed with his food.

I forced myself to finish my now chopstick-battered bulgogi and refused to participate in any more questions I wasn’t exactly prepared for. Another few minutes swiftly drifted by before I cheerfully volunteered to clean up and take care of the dishes and leftovers. Although in reality it was such a bothersome chore for me, it was the only way I could escape the brewing tension and more.

“I’ll help her.”

But, of course.

All three adults more than happily dispersed from the dining room and into the lounge – somewhat pleasantly surprised of our sudden eagerness to tidy up – while I was left in my own kitchen with the very person I didn’t really want to face at the moment.

“You can- uh- go, I’ll be fine doing it alone,” I muttered while fiddling with a huge casserole. I was trying to place it under the tap so I could run it over with cold water, but with my luck’s consecutive attempts to play up against me, it slipped off of my hold to crash on the kitchen floor with a sonorous clang. Under my breath, I cursed at the innocent saucepan.

“I don’t think so,” Kyungsoo smirked, and crouched down to pick up my mess. I struggled to stop myself from throwing a fit at him because I was already on the brink of passing out from embarrassment; I really wasn’t keen on chucking more of my dignity into the rubbish tin.

In mutual agreement, I sponged, he rinsed. The pressure was heavily laid upon my shoulders because he did his job quickly and promptly while I was constantly wetting the sponge after every glass and cup. When I got around to the chopsticks and serving spoons, I decided to step my game up a bit, furiously sponging each one and practically hurling it towards his side of the sink.

“I know you’re mad at me, but don’t take it out on poor cutlery,” he bluntly remarked and religiously continued rinsing.

I stood in silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Still in silence.

“Hyemi-ah.”

I was onto the plates now.

“Look, if you’ll only want to see me or talk to me when I’m braver, then so be it,” he stopped washing and shut off the tap.

I stopped, too.

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Here I am, swallowing what’s left of my pride and apologising to you. If that’s still cowardly, then tell me exactly what I have to do, because right now, I don’t know.”

Kyungsoo whispered the words, but in such a manner that was inarguably concrete and genuine. He shuffled closer to my side and looked longingly at me, waiting for a reply. I kept a stone cold expression on my face but dared not to look him in the eye because if I did, then I might eventually give in and say things I would regret later.

“I don’t know either.”

I finally ree long, hard gaze, in the hope that he would read my eyes and find the explanations he was looking for there. I braced myself for a gush of anger and frustration coming from him, because it was exactly what I would have done if someone was to give me the vaguest answers in history.

But he pressed his bee-stung lips together and curved it into the warmest smile I’d ever seen.

My heart leapt.

“Good. Then we’ll start again,” he said, and then took my soapy hands with his, “because I want to find out… together.”