Housecat .13.

I never knew I’d fight for something so savagely before in my life.

In fact, I’d never even so as touched the idiot sitting next to me in second grade when he blatantly stole my share of a classmate’s birthday cake. As much as I wanted to dig into that rainbow goodness, I didn’t even so as flinch as he pulled it right from under my nose and feasted on it shamelessly; crumbs tumbling to my desk in a mocking array of blue and green. And I watched all this with a straight, blank face.

What was the point in fighting for the cake? It was gone, and the closest thing to getting it back was most likely in the boy’s puke because of how much cake he’d really eaten. It was only a matter of time before his stomach ached.

I was the same in high school, when we’d arrived in South Korea to take up residence. To this day, I remembered my first high school crush, and the day which I confessed to him. I was 16 and he was a year older than me; eyes sparkling and school shirt tucked in his pants; when I poured my heart out to him one morning without thought, and he said nothing in response… well, he said nothing for the following week anyway.

I suppose this was around the time it happened. At first, I wasn’t bothered by his day-late response. In fact, I thought it was normal. And so did my friends. So I waited patiently for a second day, a third day, and by the fourth day, I began to worry. By the fifth day, I began feeling slightly—only slightly—hurt. And by the following Monday, the worry and hurt transformed into a mangled irritation when I discovered a brief text message from him. The words ‘I’m sorry’ was his response.

Two words. Two incredibly vague words.

I had ridiculed myself enough confessing my piling feelings for him, and on top of that, had to wait seven days for his answer, which consisted of two words, which he couldn’t even say to me in person? I wasn’t sad, nor did I feel a pang of hurt. My friends comforted me and offered me a generous amount of encouragment, however little did they know, the most prominent of emotions I felt at the time was anger. Anger and irritation. And that was the day I’d discovered Ninja Warriors.

I was bitter at the time. I had probably even ridiculed Genji and his team of undead ninja assassins as they scoured the endless nights in search of the evil new emperor whom kidnapped their precious princess of the peach fields, but the more I watched, the more enchanted I was. The theme song reminded me of myself: a man rising from the grave; his face streaked with snot and tears as he wept to the song with his fellow ninjas of the night, and I felt my heart pound with intense familiarity.

Their pain was akin to mine, but what struck me the most was their willpower to overcome their frustrations. Being undead came with the handicap of constantly dropping your own limbs. But here was Genji – rising against the odds – charging forward into the dead of the night, rushing towards Hideyoshi’s castle of doom to save the princess, and his determination moved me. It encouraged me more than my friends did. More than the anger and irritation and hurt my sunbae had caused me.

And thus, I’d found something new to look forward to besides my senior’s stupid face at school. I’d found a show that helped me deal with something no one else possibly could… and I also found myself an obsession.

‘YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!!’

‘Sir, calm down!’

‘No, I’m not going to calm down, darnn you! I won’t let you take this place even if it’s the death of me!’

‘Sir, calm down, or else we’re going to have to call the cops.’

‘CALL THEM…!’

‘You IDIOT!’ Suga yanked my arm, and I stared at him incredibly flustered as he pulled up beside me. ‘Are you crazy? Do you even know what you’re saying!?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ the repo guy said, waving his clipboard at me with a disgusted look on his face. ‘Take a moment to talk some sense into your crazy boyfriend because clearly he doesn’t understand my language. We’ve sent countless notices. Even pushed back the dates a few times. If anything’s to blame here, it’s your negligence.’

I pointed the steak at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Wait, did you just call me crazy?’

Suga sighed irritably and pulled me out of the apartment again with a painful yank. I followed behind him reluctantly; my head pulsating and the area on my face that had been bashed in now starting to burn with a never before seen vengeance.

‘Dude, what the heck!?’ I shouted irritably when he let go of my wrist. ‘Can’t you see—’

Suga slapped me. Hard. So hard that I momentarily saw a handful of stars invade my field of vision and I had to blink a couple of times to get them to disappear. My head suddenly felt a little lighter, and the blood drained from my face, which was surprisingly a comfortable sensation. Man, I was getting the daylights beaten out of me today.

‘So? Have you finally come to your senses?’

I glared at Suga but he didn’t seem in the least bothered with that. He had his arms folded over his chest, probably looking like the child of sunshine compared to me at this point, and I had to hand it to him, he looked good. Curse myself for admitting this kind of thing in such a situation.

‘Listen,’ Suga said in a way that made me feel awfully stupid for a moment. ‘Let me handle this. OK?’

I groaned. ‘No, no, noooo, you don’t understand…! It is imperative I say—im-per-i-tive—that I don’t lose this place. Oh God, I don’t even want to think about being homeless…’

However Suga quickly stopped my mindless rambling by placing a single open hand between us. ‘Trust me,’ he said with such steely eyes, that I couldn’t really fight back.

I put the steak back on my face and watched him as he ambled back into the apartment and had a chat with the repo warden. Honestly, since when was I so compliable? I was certain if it was anyone else I probably would have flipped over a few tables and perhaps been in jail by now for attempted homicide on the repossession team in my apartment who rocked up to kick me out, but Suga – for some unknown reason – had a ridiculously good hold on me.

'Trust me'… we