of bribery & mindless mischief |

The next day, Baekhyun asked Haeun to play basketball with him and their other friends.  She refused.

The day after that, he asked her to go fishing with him.  She said no thank you.

On the third day, Baekhyun asked her if she wanted to get snowcones at the corner store, but she denied him blithely on account of “chores,” which caused Baekhyun to be suspicious because she loved blueberry-flavored snowcones and any excuse to get out of the house while her mother was there.

By day six, Baekhyun was extremely fed up with Haeun’s avoidance.  Each offer he made was more appealing than the last, but she continued to reject his advances to the point that it actually hurt his feelings.  Traditionally during the summertime months, the two neighbors were practically joined at the hip from dawn to dusk, so he didn’t know why this year was any different, and it hurt, though he would never admit it.

Finally on day seven, after much deliberation on Baekhyun’s part, he resorted to the ultimate bribe.

“Haeun, if you’ll play with me today, I’ll ask my mom to make us cookies.”

Baekhyun, at 7:45 in the morning on a Friday, was standing at her doorstep looking earnest, slightly apprehensive, and something else she couldn’t identify.  Behind him she could see the thick summer fog, could smell the dew, and she knew without having to walk out that the day would be a muggy one.

After a second or two of weighty silence, she crossed her arms and gave him a suspicious look.  “Why?

“Because cookies,” he replied smoothly.  Even though Baekhyun didn’t particularly know why she was shunning him, he knew she wouldn’t give into any of his overtures easily, so he had come prepared for a fight.  And in his puerile mind, because cookies really seemed like a legitimate point of reason.  He was twelve, after all.  And cookies are good.

Haeun bit the inside of her cheek.  She eyed him for a few moments.  The humid air was beginning to ade the air-conditioned house.  He gulped.  Then, “What kind of cookies?”

Baekhyun sighed, one part out of relief and the other part out of frustration that she actually needed clarification.  It was a girl thing, he was sure. “Triple chocolate chip cookies, Haeun.  What else?”

She squinted at him, the reason for which only God in heaven knew, before finally heaving a great sigh and opening the door a little wider.  “Have you eaten breakfast yet?”  He shook his head.  “Fine—come in.”  She rolled her eyes, unconsciously channeling her inner teenager, and let go of the door handle.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Jung greeted Baekhyun.  Unlike Baekhyun’s mom, who tried to be super crafty and prided herself in being a supreme homemaker in this degenerate twenty-first century, Mrs. Jung took a more laid-back approach to life.  Within the family, her cooking methods were known as “arcane, immeasurable concoctions,” because everything she made was thrown together largely by feel.  She might use a recipe for a point of reference or inspiration, but the end result was always the product of improvisation, and it worked for her about ninety-two percent of the time.

Anyhow, at this time, Mrs. Jung was preparing the fixings for a hearty breakfast sandwich.  Ingredients were the requisite items, such as toasted bread, fried eggs, and bacon, but also included avocado, fresh spinach leaves, and a hint of lime just for kicks.  A fresh pot of coffee was being made as well, and though Baekhyun did not like the taste of coffee, he did think it smelled nice.

Haeun and Baekhyun each took a seat at the kitchen island, stools scraping briefly across terracotta linoleum flooring before settling with the smallest of creaks under their slight weight.  And neither spoke—Haeun was preoccupied watching her mother’s movements whilst Baekhyun traced mindless, unfathomable patterns on the shiny Formica countertop.  It was strange, really, because normally they’d be bickering by now if just for the sake of it (which was the case more often than not, if we’re going to be totally truthful).

Things were changing, though.  Maybe they didn’t realize it consciously, but it was there and weird and neither of them knew how to feel, least of all how the other was feeling.  Technically speaking, their relationship had been evolving for a while now, as relationships are wont to do.  But it was still in that vague abstruse stage where it’s kind of discernible but also kind of not, and this little detail made acting normal a little difficult for the both of them.

(And also he had compared her to a Shetland pony—let us not forget.)

Later that day sometime after breakfast, in a rare turn of events, Haeun and Baekhyun found themselves without parental supervision.  Mrs. Jung was volunteering last-minute for a summer reading program—called Helping Those in Need Read—and Mrs. Byun had taken a trip into the city to Bed Bath & Beyond to shop for a third cousin’s impending wedding shower.  But the how and why could not be filed under concerns for Baekhyun and Haeun; they just wanted three or so hours of uninterrupted playtime.

They ended up in the Byun’s junky, allergenic garage, rifling through old dishes and domestic tools and toys long meant to give away, as well as various supplies for failed or abandoned DIY projects—just to find something interesting or inspiring.  In Haeun’s opinion, the eclectic collection of old dishes were prime playing-house material, but she was hesitant to make the suggestion since they may be too old to play house now.  Besides, pine cones and leaves worked just fine, too.  She just thought the dishes were pretty, albeit chipped and cracked and mismatched.

She was going through a chest of old baseball paraphernalia when Baek let out a loud hum before popping up a few feet away.  “I found something awesome!” he announced.  He wielded something in the air, looking like a buzzed patriot.  Haeun didn’t think they’d come across Mr. Byun’s secret stash of spirits, but maybe she was wrong.

“What is it?” she questioned curiously.

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