6

Baekhyun and I were lounging together and watching another popular drama while we waited for room service when my mother called. He powered off the TV and dashed to open the door for the employee that had conveniently arrived at the same time as my phone rang.

“Hello?” I greeted. No one replied from the other end. “Mom?”

“Sweetheart,” she finally responded. “Are you busy now?” Her voice sounded thick and forlorn, and I knew it wasn’t because of the telephone service this time.

I glanced over to Baekhyun, who stood with the breakfast cart at the door.

She didn’t allow me to answer anyway. “Never mind. I want to talk to you face-to-face. Do you know where Baekhyun is right now?”

“He called me yesterday,” I lied. A second pause ensued, which I took advantage of to clear my throat of potential conviction.

“We both need to tell you something. You’re still at your dorm, right?” Mhm. “I’m going to book a ticket to see you, so please make some time in your schedule, okay?” I hummed again. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” I said and hung up. Baekhyun wheeled the cart over. I informed him of my mother’s short-notice visit. He didn’t say anything as he began to unlid the trays, so I helped by setting out the utensils. Then I remembered something.

“Are you really never going to tell me about your childhood?” I asked. He smiled.

I was presented with two options: continue watching the show we had been earlier or listen to “the most absurd of his childhood memories.” An eye-roll accompanied the choice I made.

“You were a surprisingly wild child.” Giggles were still seeping out of my system minutes after I was shown the photo of toddler Baekhyun’s features crinkled to a sob. He sat in a crumpled heap on the floor next to a potty. The picture, although visibly set in the nineties, captured the jejune of his despair in a way only a camera of its time—of Baekhyun's nursery days—could.

“‘Surprisingly’?” adult Baekhyun asked.

“I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before. This is probably the closest I’ll get,” I remarked. “Maybe I should make you cry on purpose. I can do what you did, with the movie tropes, except as an antagonist.” I said this with a beam, like it'd been an epiphany that hit me.

He scoffed. “Unfortunately, sweetheart, I don’t think I‘d believe you if you told me that you’re only dating me because of a dare.”

“That was too specific. And are we dating?” I looked at him. He looked back at me. Realization flashed on his countenance.

“Soon?” he suggested sheepishly.

Teasing, I eluded, “Maybe.”

Baekhyun drove me back to my school on the same day for safety measures. He’d also gotten a call from my mother. To understate, it was rather difficult to listen to him pretend I was not right next to him as they arranged a time and date to “tell me the truth.” This wasn't information that my eyes hadn't been open to already by now, but he was a talented actor. The lying abilities I used to pride myself for paled in comparison. I suggested taking on a career as a performer if his fashion brand did not set flight as projected. In response, he gave me a smack on the lips (at a red light, because safe driving) to “quiet me so I don't jinx him.” It only tempted me to speak more.

“But you're not okay with being rewarded?” Baekhyun half-seriously bemoaned after ten minutes of my insufferable teasing.

“Your rewards are a lot wetter.” I grimaced.