[CONTENTID2] Re-opened Wounds [/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID1]

I entered the house, welcomed by its tranquility as Jaejoong remained asleep on the couch. Two headphones were plugged in his ears as the voice recorder stayed tight within his clutch. A weak, but genuine smile twists the corners of his mouth as if he dreamt of something pleasant.

He truly did look like an angel.

~~

I submerged the rice within the water, letting it soak the grains. In order to keep myself from boredom, I filled the other pot with chicken s, garlic cloves and waited for it boil.

Moments later, I poured the prepped chicken broth into the pot, mixing it in within the other ingredients. The chicken broth I’ve been dreaming of was soon coming into reality as I took a sniff of its meaty, ginger-like scent. Then, I drained the water away from thleavee rice as I tilted the bowl towards the sink.

“How should I do it? Like…like this?” I asked, angling the bowl at the sink.

A surge of jitters invaded my stomach as he clasped his hand onto my arm, assisting me as I poured the water into the drain.

“Make sure the rice doesn’t fall out,” he whispered into my ear.

“Don’t worry…look it’s good now, right?” I asked, setting the bowl on the counter.

He leaned his head down, inspecting the rice’s condition. “Pretty good, now put it in the bowl.”

“Why are you teaching me how to cook? It’s not like I need to learn since you’re here,” I said, dumping the rice grains into the simmering pot.

“How about if I leave? You need to cook in order to survive,” he said, stirring the bowl.

My baby looked so intent, so eager whenever he cooked. Just something about his gaze and his stance screamed seriousness. He wasn’t the meek, mousy Jaejoong-but a guy filled with passion.

Looking at him from above made me want to him and savour him all too myself. He looked too cute for his own good. I wanted to wrap his small frame in my arms and give him all my warmth. Aish. He’s too cute. What am I going to do?

“Now cut the garlic,” he ordered as he pointed to the cloves of garlic spread out on the cutting board.

“You want me to cut those? How about if I cut my finger?” I pouted.

“Don’t be such a baby Yunho-ah-“

“No, don’t call me Yunho. From now on, you have to call me Yunnie,” I said, ruffling his hair.

“Yunnie?” he asked, looking up at me with those puppy-like eyes.

“Of course…”

“Okay…Yunnie…go cut the garlic.”

“You’re too mean Jaejoongie,” I said, walking over to the counter.

How the hell was I going to do this? I only knew how to threaten people with knives, but not cut food with it.

I lifted the knife slowly, hoping not to injure myself -or Jaejoong. I grinded the blade of the knife against the garlics, pretending to know what the hell I was doing.

“Not like that!” he cried. “You have to peel the skin off first,” he said, grabbing one of the garlics. Piece by piece he pulled on the skin, just until It came off.

“Ohhh,” I said, mirroring his actions.

“Then,” he said, taking the knife. “You crush it like this,” he said, pouncing his palm on the knife, crushing the garlic.

“Wow…” I said.

“Then you peel off the cloves,” he said, scratching the papery texture of the clove.

“More peeling?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Of course…that’s what cooking is…”

“Aish, too much work,” I said, peeling the clove.

“It’s therapeutic,” he said.

“Are you kidding?” I asked, glancing over him. “You know what’s more therapeutic?” I asked.

“What?” he asked, placing the knife down.

“Holding you like this,” I said, scooping him up within my arms. Reacting to my embrace, he wrapped his legs around mine, making it seem like I was carrying a baby.

“I love you Jung Yunho,” he said, cupping my face with his hands. He lands a smooch on the tip of my nose, making me feel all warm inside.

“Me too,” I said, placing him on an empty counter. I lifted his shirt and placed my head inside, breathing in every bit of his sweet, dewy flesh.

He tightened his clutch around my body, reacting to every kiss I landed on his body. “That feels nice,” he moaned.

I pulled away from the stuffiness of his chest, getting a glimpse of his face once again.

. This guy already drove me to the brink end of craziness, but I didn’t give a damn. This guy was better than a cigarette, the thrill of banging a girl, the adrenaline that entered within as you land a victorious punch.

I crouched over him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Do you know how much I love you Jaejoong?”

“So much that you could die?”

“How the hell did you know?”

“You tell that to me everyday. When we’re in bed. When we’re making love. When we’re eating. When we’re taking a shower…so much times that it’s stuck in my brain.”

~~

Why did a simple task such as draining water make me feel sentimental? I’m totally losing it. Just the temperature of the water triggered a sweet sense of nostalgia, along with the ginger’s strong scent, and the sound of the boiling water.

I joined the rice with the water as I swirled the spatula around, ensuring that the rice wouldn’t sink to the bottom.

“Stir it as if your life depended on it!” he chimed.

“Damn! My arm is hurting!!”

“If you can beat up Yoochun…you can do this…”

“Don’t mention that bastard,” I said, clenching my teeth.

~~

“Jaejoong, wake up,” I said, putting down the tray of porridge on the unoccupied side of the coffee table.

“Wh…what?” he groaned from the couch. “What time is it?”

“It’s six o’clock,” I said, sitting on the ground as I face him forward. “You have to strengthen up, so eat lots of it.

“Okay,” he said. “What is…”

“It’s porridge…” I said.

“I thought you were stereotypically too manly to cook,” he remarked.

“Aish…just be grateful I made you something okay?” I asked.

“Thank you Yunho. Happy?” he asked, crouching over the table. He took a whiff of it as he pulled his head closer to the steam.

“It smells…familiar…” he said as a smile enters his face.  “I didn’t know you could cook something like this since you act dumb around the kitchen all the time.”

“Well, it’s the only thing I know how to cook. It’s been stuck in my memory for ages…”

“I can’t believe…it tastes exactly the same…how…” he beamed.

“…”

 “This porridge…it reminds me of when I cooked him this porridge…”

“Your first love?” I asked.

“Yeah…I told him…I told him that he wouldn’t be able to survive on his own if he’s clueless about the kitchen…it seems that he’s doing good after all,” he said, eyeing the bowl.

Jaejoong sniffled between his words as he blinked back his tears.

Somehow, the sight of him crying caused my heart to throb. The image of him crying paralleled with the likes of a lost, helpless child yearning for his mother.

“Jaejoong…”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

“Loving someone strongly like that…how did it feel?”

Jaejoong flicked his eyes away from the bowl as he darts his gaze towards me. His dark, lifeless eyes lit up, glistening within the sun’s rays as a glint of eagerness sparks within him.

“It felt warm…it was numbing…numbing to the point that I was blind to our obstacles…blind to society’s expectations…blind from his father’s anger towards our love.”

“But even if you were blind to all those obstacles…then why did you separate from him?”

“Because…because people like to assume things. People like to point fingers and blindly blame their wrongdoings on others…especially on innocent, helpless people with no power.”

~~

A week has passed since Jaejoong’s sickness. Thankfully he recovered, because that meant I would see him less. It’s not that I hated him. I certainly liked him having around, but in order to weaken my raging hormones, I had to keep him out of my sight.

I’ve been painting a lot. So far, I was in the progress of painting an oak tree on the middle of a hill. Beside it was a red telephone booth. Somewhat, I’ve been envisioning these things at random times.   

Ring!

Who was this? Despite it being an unknown