4

My mother did not return that night.

Hours later, Baekhyun and I convened in the kitchen. We had not dared mention it to this point for fear that saying it aloud would solidify it somehow, but I knew even then that a mutual suspicion was storming over us. A sparsely worded agreement led us to dial the friends my mom had named would be on the trip with her.

After several rings, a drowsy “hello?” reverberated from the speaker.

“Good morning, it’s Baekhyun.” He took over the phone. “I just wanted to call and ask how your trip was.”

There was a prolonged silence from the other end before, “Huh?”

He repeated the question.

“I never went on a tri—Oh." Some rustling that sounded like movement. "Oh, I forgot, um, yes. I’m back now. Good morning, Baekhyun. Oh, yeah, the trip was great. I'm sorry, the jet lag is still catching up to me.”

My stomach sunk further down at the speaker's every stumble over her own words. Baekhyun made a smooth apology, wishing her a nice day—and I would have believed the cheer in his tone were I unable to see the stilt of his profile as he spoke—and hung up. I tentatively suggested another name in our contacts.

“Hello?” This recipient picked up almost instantly.

Baekhyun reiterated himself for the second time that morning.

“Baekhyun…I'm sorry. Do you remember what I told you a while back? I’m actually kind of busy now, sorry. Take care.” It was painfully simple to realize who that person, what their role in our current predicament, had been.

Neither of us said anything, letting the cold dial tone substitute our silence. Finally, unwilling to let my ruminations drown me any longer, I went to the pantry in search of ingredients. Then I headed towards the counters, all the while muttering about a waffle recipe I had discovered online. I assembled breakfast alone for some time before Baekhyun trod over to me, ready to provide assistance. Smiling,  I handed over a small bowl compiled with the filling components for him to mix while I prepared the dough.

“Pumpkin seeds?” He scrunched his nose.

“Don’t judge until you taste.”

The dough would take about an hour to rise in the oven, which he grumbled about upon learning. I snickered, recalling my own impatience when I was just starting to take up cooking, and pushed his begrudging figure into the living room. Striped rays of sunlight were just barely beginning to peek through the window blinds, and the angry honks that usually plagued the streets outside were absent on the weekend day. The quiet of the morning taking its effect on us, we did not do anything but let an on-trend daytime drama play on the television. We idled on opposite ends of the sofa until Baekhyun scooted over and bunched me onto his lap.

I glanced at the clock. It was only 8 AM, and apprehension had already stolen several hours of nighttime sleep from me. As if the realization had resurrected my tiredness, a yawn slipped.

I dreamt of being swallowed by a cloud, solid and fluffy as a kitten's belly.

My eyes snapped open at the sound of a crash. The character on-screen (the male lead?) was hovering over an upturned coffee table. Anger issues, I mused in my drowsy state, always a romantic trope.

I lifted myself off of Baekhyun, who had become both my sleeping bolster and my sleeping partner. The obnoxious TV had not shocked him awake as it had me. His head lolled idly on the headboard, and his rosy lips were parted enticingly. I tapped them.

What time was it? 8:20. There was still over half an hour to wait for our waffles.

The revving of a car right outside the window startled me a second time. A keek outside between two panels alerted me to joggle Baekhyun awake.

“I think Mom’s home,” I whispered urgently as soon as his eyes drifted open. He showed no signs of awareness. Then, all at once, he darted forward for a quick peck and lifted me to stand. The doorknob twisted and I shuffled to his side just before my mother appeared, mien seeming to me too cheerful for all the disorientation amongst her family that had occurred in her absence. When our eyes met, however, her smile faltered. I struggled not to read into it.

“I’m late,” she started with a tittering giggle. “The flight was delayed.”

I took in a sharp breath. Baekhyun frisked for my hand behind our backs, which I quickly realized was more to contain himself than me. Taking the initiative before just my hand was no longer grounding enough for him, I was the one to answer my mom.

“We were making waffles. They should be ready in an hour.”

She brightened up again and stepped forward to give me a hug and smooch on the cheek. It didn’t feel quite right to return them, a painful fact when I recalled my behavior around her just weeks prior. I muttered a 'welcome back' before she moved on to Baekhyun, whose grip never once loosened—on the contrary, it locked tighter as their hug proceeded.

Once my mother had ushered in on the both of us, she mentioned something about a forgotten item and dashed back out to the car that was still rumbling by the curb. Baekhyun and I shared a look as soon as she disappeared. He exhaled and finally released my fingers, which were left throbbing at a similar pace to my heart.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“For what?”

“For…” He paused. “Existing. You're probably the only thing that's keeping my spirit intact right now.”

I laughed wryly and allowed myself to take him in a brief hug, which he clung onto for an extra second. “That means I should thank you back.”

I was not going to stick my arm into Baekhyun and my m