“What?!” the tallest exclaims and you glance at them. “You're iamdrum ?” He laughs as you continue to wash the cutting board to prepare lunch. “What a coincidence, man. I'm getthatjaecken. We've played together, remember?”

“What are they playing?” You ask Sungjin, who glances at them and shrugs.

“Battlegrounds?”

They have their ROG laptops placed on the center table of the living room. Dowoon also has his laptop there despite having a desktop pc in his room.

They start plugging their earphones on and launch the game.

“Okay! Lezz get that chicken dinner!” Jae exclaims as he claps.

“Oh yeah, Battlegrounds,” you confirm after hearing the chicken dinner that indicates the winner of the game.

You take out the meat and start cutting as Sungjin just sits on the high stool and watch your every move. He asks about your run and is surprised to know you had a competition.

“It's too cold for a run,” he knits his eyebrows. “And you still train? How can you run in this cold weather?”

You just shrug. When you start cutting thin strips of fully fermented kimchi, you get startled when Jae suddenly shouts.

“Save me, save me!”

“Aw!” You put the knife down and take a closer look at your finger that's now bleeding.

Sungjin is quick to stand by your side to get your hand with the wounded finger.

“Jae! Tone it down!” he shouts angrily as he holds your hand gently.

As if Sungjin hasn't said anything, Jae yelps again. “330! 330! Around the tree!”

The buzz-cut exhales a sharp breath as he shakes his head. He puts his attention back to you. “Does it still hurt?” he queries but without even hearing your reply, he pulls your finger to his mouth.

Your eyes widen when he the blood of your wound. You are about to pull it back but his grip is firm. He peeks at you while he does it. His hands are big and the veins are prominent.

You feel your cheeks heat up and the warmth of his hand wrapping yours doesn't help either. The memory of your first holding hands is making it worse. 
 

You were both walking home and he was playing with his ball. You noticed the veins and gasped.

“You really have nice hands,” you beamed.

An eyebrow raised and he just scoffed.

“You have big hands, too.”

“You just have small ones.”

“Nahh, you do have big ones. Let me see,” you raised a hand and spread your palm open. “Let's measure our hands. C'mon,” you motion him to put his against yours.

With a sigh and a creased forehead, he did what you told him to. He trapped his ball between his waist and right forearm as he placed his left palm against yours.

“See?” You grinned. “It's big. It can wrap my hand perfectly. It must be nice to hold hands with you,” without a warning, you slid your fingers to the spaces of his and close your hand to hold his.

He tried retrieving his hand from your hold but you were gripping it tightly. He tried for quite a few times but you're persistent not to let go. He exhaled sharply in surrender.

You moistened your lip as you tried to calm your heartbeat. He looked disappointed again. You bit your lip as you tried to ease the pricking on your chest. Although he always shows a hint of disapproval in every move you make towards him, you still couldn't mak yourself be immune to it. You always expect it but you also always hope that would change. But even when he stopped resisting, it still hurt you when he heaved that sigh.

You plastered a bright smile, as if you won the victory, despite of the feeling of having a hundred of needles being jabbed on your chest.

You continued walking with fingers intertwined, still holding his tightly, afraid that he'd pull it away. After few minutes have passed, though, you loosened your grip and you smiled silently, and genuinel, that even your eyes were smiling, too, when he was still holding your hand as if it was a normal thing to do. The warmth of his hand around yours reached your heart.

Maybe his mind didn't want to but his heart found it as a natural thing to do, you hoped. 
 

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Jae's yelling pulls your mind back to the present. “That's my car! Dude, that's my car!”

You clear your throat. “Is it okay to do that?” You query, pertaining to what he just did with your cut-- the blood.

He just smirks in response.

“I'm okay now. I'll just put a band-aid around it.”

He shoots you a piercing look before putting down your hand, still not letting go of it. “No, I'll do it.” He pulls your hand and motions you to the stool. He nods at it, telling you to sit and he holds your waist as you do so.

You suddenly feel dizzy. Was he like this before? You mentally shake your head. You feel a little bit confused because you know he isn't like this. He's practically allergic to people's skin. You roll your eyes from the thought.

“Stay there,” he demands as he finally lets go of your hand. He walks towards a drawer and gets a small translucent box--first aid kit.

He still knows your house as if it's his own.

He paces back towards you and starts tending on your cut. When he is done, you instantly stand up to get back to preparing meal but he tells you to sit back.

“I'll cook,” he states. “You're not supposed to handle a knife.”

You glare at him. “I'm not a kid, Sungjin.” Your jaw clenches.

He stares back at you. “That's not what I meant.”

“That's exactly what you meant.”

“No,” he creases his brows.

“Then--”

“I just don't want you getting hurt,” he cuts you off.

Your breathing hitches as your gaze lingers on his eyes. You fold your lips together as you take a gulp.

“I'm not gonna hurt myself.”

“You just did.”

“I was just startled.”

He lets out an air softly and leans forward to the sink. “Please,” he pierces his eyes on you. “Just let me, okay?” his voice, despite being a little raspy, is soft. Yet it pulls you to agree to whatever he wants, as if he's demanding.

You find yourself silently nodding as you situate yourself again on the high stool.

“Kimchi soft tofu stew, right?”

You nod. "We still have salted shrimp there,” you nod at the refrigerator. “We can use that instead of salt for a nicer flavor. Also, for the base, let's use anchovy broth.”

“Meat, kimchi, red pepper flakes, garlic, and sesame oil all together?” He rolls the sleeves of his hoodie before he washes his hands.

Your lips part a bit as you see an aqua blue and black strings, laced with each other in spiral, with a charm dangling from it, encircling his wrist.

He still wears it.

He proceeds to put the ingredients in a pot and put it over medium heat.

“Stir-fry. Three to four minutes?”

You snap back to your senses. “Yeah.”

You continue to watch him cook. You tell him how you want it done from time to time.

You pout unconsciously as you think that if it's the old you, you'd probably be staring at him dreamily right now.

A smug plasters on his face. “What?” You look up at him as you reach out for the glass of water and sip from it. “Do you think I'm ready to be a husband already?”

You cough and almost spit your drink. You put down the glass and he let out a manly chuckle.

You clear your throat. “The tofu,” you mutter and he shakes his head while wearing a lopsided smile before brushing his palm on his head softly.

He adds the big chunks of soft tofu when the broth he added earlier is already boiling. “Guess not, ‘cause my wife-to-be ain't ready yet,” he murmurs to himself but you do not hear it clearly.

When you ask him what he was murmuring about, he shakes his head.

“I just said I'll be patient,” he looks at you in the eyes.

You can almost hear the loud thumping on your chest because of his piercing gaze. Knowing that he's not really a patient person, you nod, thinking that he's talking about the stew when he actually meant that he'll be patiently waiting for you to be ready.