Jongup was being ridiculous - just a little.

It had been a week since he’d first announced his refusal to leave the apartment. So far he’d been able to keep word with his oath. And while it was great and all to keep your promises, this one, I’d somewhat hoped would die out pretty quick.

And I wasn’t just saying this because it meant having to go out grocery shopping alone.

(Okay, maybe it had a little to do with the fact that carrying food - all raw and all - enough to feed two boys - more, seeing as Jongup and I both had a tendency to overeat the usual expectation - for a week or so was just a little heavier than I thought it’d be.)

The first few days he didn’t wake up earlier than me, laughing when I rushed out with my hair closely resembling a rooster (that Youngjae would too often point out to me when I got to class), I’d thought that maybe he was just playing hooky, relieving in a late puberty and the need to rebel. If I’d known he’d make a habit out of not going out, I might have said something the first day he shrugged with that cheeky grin of his.

Nagging now, seemed awkward and a whole week out of place.

“I really don’t see why you’re not leaving the house.” I rolled my eyes at least a hundred times now a day. Must’ve broken a world record or something. Mom would have warned me that my eyes were going to roll behind my head and never come out - but that wasn’t possible, right?

Coming home my second trip to the grocers this week (with Jongup staying home full time, the food in the fridge didn’t last nearly as long as it used to), Jongup and I were unloading the mountains of microwavable food - one time too much for this week. If my friends were here to see, they might have thought we were preparing for the apocalypse with non perishables.

If I got a say in it though, I might’ve said our situation was a little worse than the apocalypse.

(At least during an apocalypse, I wouldn’t have to be shuttling food from the grocers to home in the middle of summer.)

Jongup paused in his stacking the many cups of instant noodles to tilt his head, his tongue stuck out in artistic muse. No clue what he was doing, but if I had to guess, he was trying to figure out how to stuff more cups in the cabinet without it avalanching all out. “I just don’t feel like it.”

I rolled my eyes. Again.

“That’s a dumb excuse.”

He shrugged. “Why do you leave the house then?”

I paused, squinted my eyes and my lips. Where was he going with this? “To go to school?”

“Yeah? Then why do you go to school?”

He had me there. I opened my mouth, the automatic answer, ‘to get a job’ hanging on my tongue before disappearing. You didn’t necessarily have to go to college to get a job.

(Steve Jobs had dropped out of college and he made money quite fine.)

Jongup turned to me then, giving me a too knowing look; ‘I told you so,’ was what it said.

(‘ you,’ was my facial reply.)

Ignoring the look - trying, not working - I went back to putting away another microwavable dish in the freezer and in time, Jongup did the same, decidingly giving up on stacking instant noodles and kicking them to a further corner in the kitchen. The conversation was over.

When our half assed cleaning was over, I took my place on the living room couch with a (text)book in hand, determined to finish reading over last week’s lesson this time before falling asleep. Jongup manned the kitchen, waving a spatula with the promise to make something good tonight for “your poor back, lugging a whole box of instant noodles, my you’re strong!” He was mocking me.

And I might have fallen asleep a little over a page into the chapter when the doorbell goes off.

I didn’t (I swear) fall off the couch.

Rubbing the sleep (the pain) away, I crawled to my feet, hiding a yawn and heading to the front doors. Whoever it was at the door, they were going to pay.

“No, wait!” But Jongup had intercepted me halfway toward the front steps, a pink apron (one we’d bought simply as a joke our first going out) hanging limply around his neck and a greasy spatula pointed directly toward me. “Don’t answer the door. Please, just trust me.”

I’d always heard of people going crazy from staying inside for too long, but I’d never thought Jongup - of all people - would fall victim too. I was halfway to barking out a laugh when there was a loud kick and screech from outside.

“Moon Jongup! Open the door!”

Oh. Oh.

His look was grim when he nodded, taking my wrist to drag me further away from the door, back to the kitchen where he’d left the ham sizzling on the pan. “Trust me, you don’t want to deal with her today.”

I didn’t want to deal with her any day, to be frank.

The pounding went on for another ten or so minutes before the guard from downstairs came up to help her down, begging her to please be quiet. Jongup’s shoulders remained stiff even after his mother’s voice faded away. And the dinner was set, but both our appetites had long escaped us.

We sat in silence, picking at our rice until Jongup cut in.

“I had another dream today.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “I was… older. Working in a office. You know, the really high top one with a fancy tie and suit. It was everything my parents always tried to talk me into. I mean, I didn’t see it, but I just knew I had like a million dollars under my kids’ pillow for his tooth fairy and all.” He squinted, shook his head and frowned.

“I had a family. A beautiful wife and a few kids. Anything anyone could ask for. But then I looked out at the streets and saw people laughing and - and I wasn’t sure anymore.

“They weren’t rich, but they looked so happy.”

Jongup’s eyes turned to me, searching - begging.

“And I was jealous. I had all this money, but I didn’t have it.

“They looked so happy, Daehyun.”