“Babe, you’ve been acting a little weird lately. Are you sure you’re okay?” Jiyong asked, leaning in to examine my features.

There were many ways to answer his question. I could have insisted that I was fine and he would have let it go for the time being. I could have told him I was feeling a little under the weather and thought that I was catching my coworker’s cold. I could have told him that I had talked to my mother that afternoon and that the unpleasant things she’d said were still rattling around in my head. He would have believed any of the possible lies I could have gracefully delivered. I could have easily bought myself some more time if I had just forced my mouth to open and deliver the words that would grant me a little extra freedom. Instead, I told the truth.

It was a bad habit of mine, this indiscriminate uttering of painful actuality rather than blissful fallacy. In most situations I had absolutely no regard for the people to whom I spoke and therefore not a single crap was wasted on their reactions. On the rare occasion that I did happen to care for the hearer of my words, it was usually extremely easy to fib my way smoothly out of the hole my truthful tongue had dug for me. Certain things, however, are impossible to retract once you have said them.

The statement “I’m pregnant,” for example.

“What?” Jiyong blinked, his face showing confusion only.

“There is a tiny human being growing in my uterus and half of its chromosomes came from you.” I answered, suddenly feeling illogically cold despite the fact that I was bundled up in a faux fur coat and all the trappings necessitated by a wintry day in addition to an overprotective Kwon.

“I- Are y-y-you sure? Th-that you’re -,” here he gasped, “that?”

I nodded, lacing my fingers together on top of the intricately woven fabric of the tablecloth. My fingers were icy inside of the white Gucci gloves I had been forced to put on in the car.

“Omo. Oh. Oh. Oh my God,” he brought a hand to his lips and leaned back in his chair, his gaze traveling over me like a horizontal scanner of some sort. He paled visibly and I started to wonder if he was going to faint. His face was unreadable.

The food we had ordered lay forgotten on the table. The warm chocolate was no longer appealing to me and I was well aware that anything I ingested would make a speedy reappearance. Jiyong watched me for what felt like an eternity and a half before he pushed his chair back from the table. He stood and walked towards the door. I just sat there and watched him go. I was a genius, any person who came in contact with me would have gladly attested to that fact, but at that moment, I could think of nothing else to do but sit in my chair and watch him disappear. My mind was a blank.

I had no idea how long I had been breathing that air, occupying that chair with no intention further than drawing the next breath into my lungs and processing it. I had made no movement. He returned to find me exactly as he had left me. Wordlessly he summoned a server and had them pack our untouched food into a take-away container which he carried to the car after paying. He opened the door of the Bentley for me and I eased into the passenger’s seat, waiting for him to talk. I couldn’t be the one to speak first. It was my speaking that had the sound out of the bubble the two of us habitually inhabited. My speaking might break the fragile silence that shimmered like twilit air around us to reveal a cacophony. That was a risk I was not ready to take.

He watched me climb the stairs to my apartment, waited until I appeared at the top of the stairwell and popped back into his car. He drove off and I let myself into the space I would have declared my haven on any other day. It was a medium-sized place with everything one could ask for in Seoul. Usually I wandered through it with a grin on my face as I noted how perfect it was for me. Today I dropped my outerwear on the floor near the door and trudged to the bedroom to change into a tank top and a pair of shorts. I pulled the pins from my hair and let them fall where I was standing then flopped face down on my bed in a mindless haze. Aside from feeling cold I was numb. Emotionally, physically, mentally, I was numb.

He returned. I heard the pounding on my front door and knew that it was him. There was no-one else who was courageous enough to attempt to come to my place uninvited. He knocked for a while, calling my name every thirty seconds or so. I was unable to measure the timing because I couldn’t get myself to get off the bed or even turn over to stare at the wall clock. Eventually the pounding ended and his footsteps receded and I was glad for a fraction of a second then puzzled. I was unsure as to whether I wanted him to leave or not. I heard an unfamiliar voice followed by his deeper tones. It sounded like he was alternately begging and threatening someone. Footsteps again. They came up to my door and keys jingled. There was the ping of a lock giving way, the scratch of the door being pushed open and the creak of its hinges as someone closed it too swiftly for its liking. One of these days I was going to actually remember to oil them.

I heard the superintendent’s high-pitched rapid fire questions as they entered my space, no doubt prompted by the heap of garments on the floor. Jiyong responded with tense sentences and asked her to remain where she was. His footfalls echoed as he progressed from the foyer to the living room and into my bedroom. There was a gasp when he spotted me and then twin thuds dulled by the thick carpeting that existed exclusively in my chamber. I felt his hand on my hair, smoothing the wild tangle with gentle motions. He said but one word: my name in an imploring whisper over and over again until I heaved a sigh from the depths of my chest and shifted so that I was looking at him. I noted with detached surprise that there were little crystalline drops moving down his face.

I had never seen him cry. I reached out and caught one of his tears on the tip of my pointer finger, turning it over and watching it sparkle in the daylight that my gauzy green curtains allowed in. He looked me over while I did this. Though my gaze was focused on the teardrop on my finger I could feel his skimming my entire body. I looked up and our gazes locked, his dark brown eyes were intense with things I had no name for as they searched my lighter golden brown ones. There was a moment of speechless staring and then I was on my back on the bed and he was above me, on me but not, holding his body so that he was straddling me without contact. He was literally over me, looking into my eyes before he expelled a sound that was a combination of sigh, moan and cry. He paired our hands and bent to press a kiss against my forehead. I closed my eyes and let him, still afraid that speaking would kill the moment. The cold departed from my bones and my mind thawed out, synapses that had felt like blocked roadways reopened for business and my blood rushed around its network of veins with a thrum that was all but audible.

“You haven’t eaten,” he announced as if it were a revelation, easing to a sitting position near my head and killing an ornamental pillow in the process. His eyes narrowed. “You need to eat. My baby is probably hungry.”

“I’m not hungry,” I explained.

“Okay. Well let me know when you are so I can cook you something,” he held up a hand before I could protest that I was fully capable of creating a meal for myself, “No more Ramen. You need to start feeding yourself properly.”

“But I like Ramen. I like it and it’s cheap and it’s easy to cook. If I feel like eating Ramen I will eat it and there’s nothing you can do about it,” I responded, arguing for the sake of arguing. I had no desire to stuff myself with chicken and shrimp flavored noodles.

“We’ll see about that,” he mumbled in what I knew from experience was an ominous tone.

“Jiyongie,” I sang his name and smirked on the inside as his expression softened immediately, “I really, really like my Ramen.” I made a cute sad expression and twirled my hair around one of my fingers while looking up at him through lowered lashes, “Promise you’ll let me have some, please, oppa?” I saw his eyes widen and his jaw drop, his head tilted to the side as he gulped repeatedly.

“I-,” gulp, “I-um, I-,” gulp, “N-neh,” gulp, “Jagi,” he moaned the last word and covered his face with his hands.

“Thank you, oppa,” I stressed on the last word and sat up next to him. His skin was soft and hot as my lips grazed his neck.

“I’m so weak.” He lamented from behind his hands, “I can’t believe I’m so weak. I gave in so easily.”

“You’re not weak,” I attempted to reassure him.

“The baby is going to walk all over me,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I’m going to be the world’s worst appa. I won’t be able to say no to anything, “Hey, dad, can I get a tattoo?” “Hell no!” “Please, appa, please, please, please?” “Okay.” Our daughter’s gonna get all kinds of tattoos and piercings because I can’t say no!”

He went on in this way for some time and I just listened, laughing on the inside at the imagined situations he complained about. The light outside changed from the brilliance of early afternoon to the subdued glow of five pm and melted into a silken dusk with a barely there shine while he talked. His soliloquy wound down eventually and I rose from the bed, stepping lightly as was my wont, to pick up my black Nokia Lumia 920 from the spot it occupied on my vanity. I turned it on and Jiyong leapt to his feet, taking me by surprise as he rushed to snatch the phone from my hands. I looked askance at him and he hid it behind his back. “Look, before you see this, let me explain. I was worried because you’d been so silent after you told me and I didn’t know what you were thinking.”

I nodded and he handed me my phone, standing there awkwardly as it began to buzz in my grip. I stared. One new message, three new messages, seven new message, ten new messages and two missed calls, ten messages and eight missed calls, ten messages and eight missed called and three voicemails. Five voicemails and it quit vibrating. Whoa. I started to read the messages. “Hey, are you okay? You were really quiet.” “Hello?” “Are you mad?” “You’re mad, aren’t you?” “You’re not responding to these texts so I guess you didn’t like my reaction. Mianhe.” “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. You sprung it on me and…I’m making excuses. I really am sorry.” “Yah! Woman! Answer!” “Please answer.” “Hello…Yessir, I’m one of a kind..lol. Did that make you laugh?” “So… you’re not answering. Okay. Fine. Have it your way. Let the calls begin!”

I started to giggle and looked through the list of calls I had missed. Every single one of them was from Jiyong. If I thought the texts were funny then the voicemails were beyond hilarious. “Your phone is off. Why is your phone off? Wae?” “Woman I cannot believe you turned your phone off. Didn’t I tell you to never do that? Turn it back on immediately so I can apologize properly.” “Please, please, please?” “Please with a cherry on top?” “Why are you so stubborn?” “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Ugh,” he groaned and continued, “I hope you appreciate this. I’m sorry for being all weird earlier and I’m sorry I just dumped you off at your place and I’m sorry for all the crazy texts and I’m sorry for the voicemails too.” “I’m coming over.” “Yah. Why aren’t you answering the door? I know you’re there. Answer the door, please? I’m begging you. Omo. Do you see what you have done? You’ve reduced the almighty G-Dragon to this pleading mess. Yeobo, are you hurt? I’m getting the superintendent. You better be fine. Okay, I got her. We’re coming in.”

“Why are you laughing? I was honestly worried. I went and got the building super and you know that woman freaks me out,” Jiyong whined beside me. “It’s not funny. Stop laughing!”

A laughing fit and a tummy growl later we moved from my room, I to sit on the antique grey couch and look pretty as per Jiyong’s instructions and the man himself to my kitchen. I was expressively forbidden from moving a muscle to perform any task more arduous than channel surfing. I picked up the remote from the little wooden box I kept all my appliance controllers in and turned the TV on. SBS was having a To The Beautiful You marathon and I settled in to watch, wishing I had popcorn. I could have ventured to the kitchen to get some but I would probably have been scolded about the unhealthiness of the snack and lectured about disobedience. I preferred to avoid as many lectures as possible.

 “He’s a girl, Eun-gyul. You’re not gay!” I shouted at the screen as my favorite character, barring the adorable Sulli, agonized over his attraction to his friend whom he thought was a boy.

“You do know he can’t hear you, right?” Jiyong asked, popping up in the arched entryway that granted one access to the kitchen from the living room and vice versa.

“This is the closest I’ll ever get to talking to Lee Hyun-woo,” I stated, turning to fix him with a glare.

“Whatever. The food’s ready,” He turned to lead the way to the island eating area. “He’s not even all that.”

“I heard that! He so is. He’s cute and talented and cute and – whoa. You made this?” I looked from Jiyong to the plates on the table and back again.

“Hey! I can cook! Stop looking so astounded.”

“Let’s see if it tastes as good as it looks,” I murmured, slipping into the chair that he pulled out for me and smiling as I noticed that he had spelled my name out in pineapple pieces on the top pancake in my stack.

I cut a small circle of pancake off and speared it with my fork, bringing to my lips with a look of apprehension that Jiyong rolled his eyes at. It was much better than I had expected it to be and I couldn’t prevent myself from reacting like I’d had a miniature . I shut my eyes, leaned back against the chair and let out a moan, my entire body tensing for a second. When the feeling faded I opened my eyes, blushing hard, and found Jiyong watching me with an expression that surprised me. I’d thought for sure that he would have been laughing uncontrollably.

“Ji? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m fine. I’m just gonna go eat in the living room,” he responded, taking his plate and walking away quickly, leaving me confused.

“Okay then,” I mumbled to myself.

When I was done eating I dumped the plate, cup and silverware in the sink. Jiyong popped up as I was about to start washing them and took the sponge from my hand, all but ordering me to go take a shower. I acquiesced after a lot of futile arguing, allowing him to lead me to my own bathroom. He gave me a chaste kiss and left, closing the door firmly behind him. I stripped, chucked my clothes into the plastic container designated for dirty laundry, stepped into the stall and the shower. Thank God for whoever it was who first came up with the idea of waterfall shower-heads.

“Only you,” I heard his from as if it came from afar and through the sleepiness that filled my mind I wondered when I had gotten out of the shower. “Only you could fall sleep standing up and while bathing, no less.”

I forced my eyelids apart and saw him leaning past me to turn off the water. Oh. Oops. “Lift your arms.” I lifted them and fighting to keep them up while he wrapped the towel around my body. “I don’t think you can make it to the room,” he said, sounding as if he was drifting away. I was awake enough to know that I was the one drifting. My eyes had closed of their own accord and I was insensible to all but his voice and the sensation of being carried.

“You’re too light. You need to gain some weight. I mean, you probably will once the baby starts growing,” I was close to being completely asleep but I could hear him talking followed by the sounds of him digging through my drawers.  I felt my limbs being gently manipulated. Then there was the soft swish of fabric and cool lips touching my forehead.

“It’s strange, you know. This morning I was a carefree idol. Tonight, I’m somebody’s appa. I’m not officially an appa until you’re born but I think of myself as one. I was scared when I first heard about you. I didn’t know what to do. I always wanted to have children but I always thought it would be when I was married. I never imagined I would meet someone like your omma. She’s one of a kind. I have a song called “One of a Kind”. When your ears develop I’ll sing it for you.

Appa’s in a band. We’re called Big Bang and we’re sort of a big deal. I’m the leader and one of the rappers. The other rapper is your uncle Seunghyun – Choi Seunghyun. He’s a strange man. In a good way. Mostly. The other members are your uncles too, Daesung, Youngbae and Seungri. They’re cool like me. They’re going to spoil you so much.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “Omma’s sleeping. You probably made her tired. Maybe you’re sleeping too. I don’t know. You’re too little for me to know for sure. I’m going to go sleep too, though. Goodnight, aegi. I love you,” I was drifting even further and barely felt him kissing my still flat tummy.