With Jongup finally officially here, we decided to divide the chores around the house.

“Is there something you want to do?” I paused, frowning and tapping a finger to the sofa arm. That was a dumb question. Who the hell wanted to do chores? Because if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have minded letting the house clean itself, or not at all. “I- uh, I mean is there something you’d rather do?”

Jongup laughed, shrugging slightly. He was laughing at me, I was sure of it. Though a little tempted to get at him for it, I let it slide, rolling my eyes and pulling my legs up onto the couch to tuck under me. He sure did smile a lot.

“I want to wash the dishes.”

“The dishes?” He nodded, still smiling that goofy thing he’d sported since … well, since we’d begun this conversation, really. “You want to do the dishes?” Back at home in Busan, my brother and I’d always fought over who would do the dishes, until our sister came to smack us upside the head. Usually, I ended up doing them, just because he was older; but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t get revenge later - sometimes, I’d bug bomb his bed or set and hide various alarms around his room.

Jongup was nodding, pulling his hands from his lap to an excited description. “It’s fun.”

He might have been book smart, but something told me that he’d been more than once dropped on the head when he was little. Maybe his mom had accidentally stuffed him in the washer and did the clothes with him in it.

“I like the bubbles.” He was trying to excuse himself, using his hands more than words to explain, but the meaning wasn’t exactly coming through. “They’re relaxing.” I honestly couldn’t see what was so relaxing about bubbles unless the word “bath” came with it. But hey, it’s not like I was complaining. He could do the dishes if that’s what he wanted to do.

Trying - and my guess not doing so well - to hide the building excitement of not having to do the dishes, I nodded and waved a hand to him. “If that’s what you want to do.” It was what he wanted, I wasn’t going to be the one to stop him. “Then how about I …” I squinted in thought, a bad habit I’d picked up during my kindergarten days when I’d thought my brother was the coolest thing in the world next to ice cubes - I’d been horribly wrong, he was anything but cool. “I could clean the living room?”

Jongup seemed content with my suggestion, clapping his hands together as if to put an end to our discussion.

Sundays, we decided, would become our clean up day. We’d wash our clothes and take care of the filth piled up in both the restroom and kitchen; I’d take the restroom our first month and then swap with Jongup over to the kitchen the next. Our rooms would be kept in whatever the condition best suited us and that came to the end of our distribution. It felt like a fair enough agreement, if you asked me. Also probably the fastest agreement I’d met. Usually, these came with a whole lot more yelling and ignoring of the other party.

“That’s that then!” I clapped my hands together and smiled, unconsciously seeming to have copied Jongup’s earlier motion. “We can start … next week!”

He agreed. Jongup turned out to have a more agreeable personality than Heechul, who’d always made it a point to argue with me even if he was wrong. Again, I wasn’t complaining. I’d take an easy-going, agreeable Jongup to a complaining, whinny Heechul any day - not that I’d actually say this to his face.

With our chores divided and settled, there was this one other thing that was on my mind.

“I’m hungry.” Food was a very important part of our daily lives, mind you. It was very important to eat at least a good three square meals a day. “And so is the fridge. We should go shopping.”

Jongup was laughing at me again at this point, and by now, I’d grown used to his gentle snickering over my … well, everything. Calling him out on it, I doubted would do anything to dent the overall cheerful atmosphere he seemed to radiate. “You’re always hungry. I don’t know how you’re not overweight yet.”

“I have a blessed metabolism and you’re just jealous.” As was the other half of the Seoul population, it seemed.

I didn’t give him a chance after that to complain or reject my invitation - demand? - to go shopping. Uncurling my feet, swaying a little from the weird tingling feeling you get after sitting still too long, I grabbed at Jongup’s wrist and tugged him out, giving him just enough time to grab his jacket hanging over the back of the sofa.

“Do you know where the supermarket is?”

Jongup made a horrible Seoulian.

The trip to the supermarket was less than exciting.

Jongup manned the cart, while I walked ahead, throwing things in that I claimed needed. I was almost positive that Jongup replaced half of the things I threw in, because when I turned back to check how full our cart was, it wasn’t nearly as high rise as I’d expected it to be. I didn’t call him out on it.

The lady at the meat section made a comment about me when we went to the far end of the market to order. She called my accent cute, killing whatever left pride I had in my attempt at Seoul dialect. All the while, Jongup snickered, hiding under the collar of his jacket;or at least, he was laughing until the lady asked if I’d brought my baby brother to the store with me. He went a bright red in the face after that, trying to explain that we weren’t related and that he was not a baby.

I laughed, this time at him.

an: merry christmas. i found out i could change my minor to graphics next semester if i'm lucky. YES.
oh and #merrychristmasbap now excuse me while i go sob over being single in a sea of couples.