𝖏𝖆𝖊𝖍𝖞𝖚𝖓

𝖋𝖚𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖗

 

 

 

Blenders whirling, fires roaring, aromatic sauces bubbling, and double doors bursting open.

 

When 0 < x < n/4, how do I prove the integral cosine t from 0 to x is greater than twice the integral of sine t from 0 to x? I know that each side is a definite integral that gives me the area of the region underneath the curve given inside the integral. Since x is the independent variable of the entire expression, t is the independent variable of the function inside the integral. The antiderivative of cos t is sin t, and likewise, the antiderivative of sin t is cos t—

 

“I need two grilled cheese & tomato soup combos, five veggie burgers to go, a greek omelette with biscuits and gravy, three meatloaves and mash, and seven peanut butter milkshakes!” The aproned, hard boiled chef reads off the receipts from the ticket machine, emphasizing each order with a wave of his oily frying spatula. “Don’t fall behind on the hot dogs and chili cheese fries! Let’s get those cakes outta the oven and slice them pies! Yah — did someone check on the spaghetti?”

 

If I plot f(x) over that interval, I can see that it’s always greater than 1—

 

“Who the hell drinks seven peanut butter milkshakes!?” Jungwoo — Jaehyun’s dorm mate and work buddy — groans as he bulldozes in from the walk-in freezer with an armful of colorful produce.

 

The grey-haired elder deadpans. “A group of freakin’ high schoolers, kid.”

 

Jungwoo slowly nods in dawning understanding. He frantically hops around like the platinum snow bunny that he is: a cavity-inducing, spunky sweetheart quick to call out Jaehyun on his flirtatious antics but also be there in times of need. They shared the same classes since freshmen year, and chase similar interests in collecting BE@RBRICK figurines, limited-edition sneakers, cheap beer and billiards, and stylish sportscars. He’s also no stranger to the long, winding train of stellar women Jaehyun’s bought back to their dorm throughout the years. Let’s just say he’s seen way more than he wanted. Jungwoo aims to be a simple math teacher in grade school who plays golf in his free time. He prefers living a fable rather than the extravagant fairytail Jaehyun’s wanderlusting after.

 

To prove that if point q exists, I can use mean value and intermediate value theorems. There’s probably two distinct points where the slope of the line tangent to the curve at the given point is 0—

 

“Yah,” Jungwoo’s hand claps down on a startled Jaehyun’s shoulder, causing the knife in the brunette’s hand to clatter to the cutting board. “Crap! Stop daydreaming, it’s rush hour!”

 

Jaehyun nods hesitantly, surveying the other bustling chefs plating hearty lunches and stirring broth in the kitchen. His brow ticks slightly.

 

“What’s with you?” Jungwoo starts on peeling cucumbers lightning fast. “Girl troubles?” A minute goes, he looks up to catch Jaehyun spacing out again, gauzy midnight eyes glossing over. “Bro??”

 

Suddenly, a hint of a smile graces Jaehyun’s lips. “I’m too busy learning the value of a dollar. When do I have time to worry about women?”

 

An involuntary shiver races down Jungwoo’s spine as Jaehyun unaffectedly resumes chopping peppers.

 

Jungwoo wonders how Jaehyun breaks up with his girlfriends. If he does it cordially with a smile on his face. Or if he’s ruthless— with a smile on his face.  

 

 

NEO consists of leader and guitar player Taeyong, Osaka native Yuta on the drums, bassist and commercial model Johnny from Chicago, and incandescent Doyoung who croons love letters held to a flame. Nayeon, Momo, and Jaehyun gather in support for their latest gig in some hole-in-the-wall pub full of weary customers seeking therapy in pony-necked honey lagers after a hard day of work. Nayeon loves it the most when the band includes Malice Mizer songs in their setlist. Jaehyun can tell, he notices how much more quieter she becomes as if the volume turns down in the world around her. She’s already pretty chill, but she seems almost peaceful. Serene. When he first met her, he noticed that sense of uneasiness about her that she wore like an invisible jacket. She had passively stared at him as if looking through the gutters and he was Van Gogh’s stars spilled across the night canvas. Now, his eyes that says she’s lovable no matter what she does orbits around her flitting frame as she fetches more beers and gets dragged around by Momo to play as her uninterested wingman.

 

Lately, she acts distant towards me, Jaehyun’s aware of the hurt he caused her, even now in the back of his mind is Sana and her honey-soft sweetness. I wonder if she’s unconsciously pushing me away, or maybe she’s thinking things over and moving at her own pace. There’s a cheesy grin on his lips as she tiredly slips across from him in the shabby, well-loved booth. She’s a sailor’s worst nightmare, — a femme fatale siren — both gorgeous and annihilating. She’s a cutting beauty who brings all the wrath. And the rare smiles she shows him gives him an idea of how the moon would look if it smiled as well.

 

“Took you long enough,” He offers her a sip from his half-empty San Miguel and watches in a trance how her pillowy lips wrap around the bottle. “I was getting all lonely here by myself.”

 

With vocal powerhouse Kim Doyoung spilling his soul out over Gardenia as their background music, Jaehyun envisions his hazy future with Nayeon; late night drives and conversations under the sheets and convenience store dates at 2AM and stolen kisses after accidental eye contact. He thinks she’s smoke: barely all the way there, hard to grasp, and yet impossible to get out of his blackened lungs.

 

“Very funny,” She falls into herself, like pale white petals folding over the heart of a potently perfumed flower. It both intrigues and frightens him, how much he craves learning the language of her flower. How he wants to memorize all Malice Mizer lyrics, fill the flaws and imperfections she sees in herself with gold dust and daily affirmations. If only he could take away all her bad days and insecure thoughts, if only he could be the tangled knots in her hair and earl grey she drinks to calm down. Ah, I might be judged for putting an angel like you through the worst infernos.

 

ă‚ŹăƒŒăƒ‡ăƒ‹ă‚ą 搛たあどけăȘい瞳 æ„›ă—ă„ そぼ慹ど

èČŽć„łă‚’é€Łă‚ŒćŽ»ă‚Š ă“ăźăŸăŸć„Șしく æŠ±ăă—ă‚ăŸă„

ă‚ŹăƒŒăƒ‡ăƒ‹ă‚ą ć›ăšæ±šă‚ŒăȘăèŠ±ăź ç”˜ă„éŠ™ă‚Šă«ćŒ…ăŸă‚ŒăŠ

èČŽć„łă‚’é€Łă‚ŒćŽ»ă‚Š ă“ăźăŸăŸć„Șしく æŠ±ăă—ă‚ăŠ 雱さăȘă„ă‚ˆă†ă«

(— Gardenia
 I love all of you, and your cherub eyes.

I want to steal you away, and hold you gently.

Gardenia... I’ll wrap you up in the sweet scent of sinless flowers.

Enfolded in my arms so gently. . . I’ll never let you go.)

 

“I hate this song,” Nayeon plainly declares much to his surprise.

 

“Why?” Jaehyun omits an incredulous laugh.

 

Nayeon’s soft gaze skims over his dimly lit face. “It doesn’t include the perspective of the person he’s singing to. What if she doesn’t believe in forevers? What if being in his arms is an endless punishment?”

 

“Punishment?” Jaehyun echoes. “Love isn’t punishment.”

 

“It is if that person doesn’t want to receive it,” Nayeon tosses back in that chic, jolie-laide manner. “It’s just a double-edged sword — you can hate a person you love just like how you can love a person you hate. Am I wrong?”

 

Her words are a witch-hunt igniting trails of fiery hysteria across his brain’s groves. If he seeks refuge in her, he might find caved in colosseums, abandoned cottages, and grotesque sentiments. Looking into the window of her satiny eyes, pinpoints of scorpion venom tingles his nerves. “I don’t know. . . Have you ever felt that way about someone?”

 

“Don’t talk to me like you’re a stranger to this,” She laughs at him. Aphrodite laughs at him.

 

“You’re speaking so well today that I don’t know how to respond,” His sheepish grin liquifies down to some sleazy quarterback jock out of a 90s chick flick. Being a prisoner in his story, choking on fairytales — it’s a satire he dallies. He raised his garden, but he’ll trample on the flower beds if needed be. A tailor of war and peace, Jaehyun admits he’s a blasĂ© paradox just like his women.

 

Alas, the song comes to an end and the crowd applauds.

 

“Jaehyun,” Nayeon’s fluid, velveteen voice blindfolds him lecherously. “Do you think you can—”

 

“Yah, Nayeonie you heartless witch!” Momo’s nonsensical babbles invokes flinches from both their engaged frames as she slams a draft beer on the table. “How could you ditch me in the middle of that creep hitting on me?”

 

“I was minding my business,” Nayeon’s lax syllables pirouettes like musky incense smoke dancing diaphanously in the air. She coolly smiles. “Just like how you’re not doing now.”

 

“You got jokes, huh?” Momo frowns and sits next to her as Jaehyun erupts in boombox cackles.

 

“Yah, Jaehyun!” Taeyong appears at their table in sweaty limbs, all spiky hair and torn clothing. An ear monitor dangles loosely around his neck and he pauses short to steal a swig of frothy beer from a protesting Momo’s glass. “Doyoung has a family emergency and needs to leave — you know BUCK-TICK songs, right?”

 

“Omo!” A gasp hitches in Momo’s throat. “Is that twit okay—”

 

“You want me to sing?” Comes Jaehyun’s delayed disbelief.

 

“It’s our last song of the night and we won’t get a full commission unless we finish our set,” Taeyong insists urgently, the increasingly loud jeers and disgruntled crowd-goers a blatant making of his case. Jaehyun and Nayeon exchange dumbfounded stares.

 

. . . Cue a preppy varsity sweater clad Jaehyun on stage with NEO disheveled in safety pins, studs, chains, and leather. Spidery guitar riffs, wine and blood stained butterflies, and sparkling obsidian nights flickers through Nayeon. Jaehyun stands before the black rose corsage mic stand while casually smoking his sweet cigarette. There’s a tinge of vulgarity contrasting his timid aura. A charisma that leaks through his bland and expressionless look so uncanny Nayeon feels like she’s seeing her reflection in the mirror. Fleeting flowers bloom suspiciously from his open mouth:

 

ă‚ă”ă‚Œă‚‹çžłé–‰ă˜ăŸăŸăŸ ć†·ăŸăæżĄă‚ŒăŸć”‡ă« Kiss me good-bye ă“ă‚Œă§ç”‚ă‚ă‚Šăš Make me cry.

(— As flooded eyes close with the cold touch of wet lips, kiss me goodbye. If this is the end it’ll make me cry.)

 

Each carefully poetic lyric is a shooting star streaking through the blackest skies, piercing Nayeon in her nightmare-umbrellaed heart as Jaehyun stares directly into her unreadable gaze.

 

æ‚Čしいäșˆ\æ„ŸçŸ„ă‚ŠăȘがら ç™œăæ”źă‹ă‚“ă éŠ–ç­‹ă« Kiss me good-bye 戇ăȘăæŠ±ă„ăŠ Make me cry.

(— While I had the sad feeling this would happen, the white nape of your neck comes to mind. Kiss me goodbye with a painful embrace that’ll make me cry.)

 

She debates if he’s singing for her. To her. Her body tingles with sensual embers and spiraling lust as the maelstrom of drunken cheers surrounds her in a crescendo. Every wild chant sparks in her eardrums like firecrackers. His emotional singing full of turmoiled passion is an intimate tribute to her only. Again, she feels herself being dragged in the starry depths of his abyss eyes, held hostage to the sapphire encrusted dagger of his seduction.

 

ă‚­ăƒŁăƒłăƒ‰ăƒ«ăŒæ¶ˆăˆă‚‹ăŸă§ æ¶™ăŒă‹ă‚Œă‚‹ăŸă§ ă„ă€ă§ă‚‚ć‚ă«ă„ăŠ èŠ‹ă€ă‚ăŠă»ă—ă„. ćŽ©ă‚ŒăŠă—ăŸă†ă»ă© ćŁŠă‚ŒăŠă—ăŸă†ă»ă© い぀でもここにいお èŠ‹ă€ă‚ăŠă„ăŸă„.

(— Until the candle goes out, until the tears run dry, I’ll always be by your side; wishing you would see me. The more I completely fall to pieces, the more I am completely broken, I’ll always be here wanting to gaze at you.)

 

Why the hell did they have to play a ballad? Irrationally, her heartstrings snag on the red-hot romance of his baritone howls. She wants him to capture her on his wine-stained wings and fly deep into the dark night. And yet. . . A resentful smile crosses her berry lips. . . This meaningless, cruel dedication feels like a farewell. But you know how to do that well, Jaehyun — kiss me good-bye? Don’t sing so sincerely a song with that depressing message to me. You cold-hearted jerk. If you love me, you should quickly tell me instead of selfishly thinking it alone. If I hear you say it. . If I hear it straight from your mouth I might be alright.

 

 

“Jaehyunie, there’s a strange rumor going around that you have a girlfriend,” His bubblegum-snapping trigonometry’s TA — cratered in cosmetic procedures and territorial issues— sits across from him on the picnic bench in Yonsei’s snow-powdered evergreen courtyard.

 

“Really?” Abandoning equation-riddled paragraphs and mechanical Muji pencils, he meets her misplaced disapproval with nefarious nectar overflowing in his café au lait eyes. “Where did you hear that?”

 

“That’s not the point!” She pops a bubble, haughtily twirling a ringlet of dyed hair around her finger. “It’s not true, is it?”

 

Before he can answer, another girl plops down beside him like a descending cherry blossom. “Jae, I have a favor to ask you! The model for our painting class this afternoon ditched last minute, can you be his replacement? Pretty please?”

 

“Yah, don’t you see we’re in the middle of a conversation?” The elder woman glares at the senior student venomously.

 

“So scary,” Jaehyun chuckles lightheartedly as his tongue swipes across the heart-shaped lollipop in his hand, both girls instantly hypnotized at the minuscule motion. “Noona, if you act like that everyone will be too afraid to approach me.”

 

“As they should,” She retorts selfishly.

 

“Sunbae, does Jaehyun belong only to you?” The classmate sitting next to him snaps. “He’s his own person, he can interact with whoever he wants!”

 

The senior growls, lioness glory & gore. “Yah—”

 

“Oppa!” An oblivious, muddy Converse-sporting freshman resembling a bright golden retriever wagging its tail, sits on the other side of him and nods towards his red confection. “What flavor is that?”

 

Both girls watch enviously as he feeds the lolly into her accepting mouth.

 

“Delicious?” Exhilarated irises pools confectioner’s glaze, dastardly and salaciously. Forbidden instincts, libido, even sour cherry laced fantasies kneels before him.

 

 

“Stri~ke!” The TV overhead announces as cartoonish images displays. Jaehyun’s dimpled grin deepens at the knocked over red-striped pins, while Jungwoo leaps up from his plastic seat in a victorious celebration of fist pumping and animated expletives. Their groaning and complaining college friends look like grunge candy dreams out of FRUiTS magazine in their kitschy multicolored Heaven by Marc Jacobs outfits, electric gel eyeliner, and tooth gems. The bowling alley buzzes in old-timers and newcomers rolling tie-dye spheres down lacquered lanes, beeping neon arcade machines, German grapefruit beer pyramids, squeaking bowling shoes and incessant chatter.

 

“Sorry, ladies,” Jungwoo guffaws, aggressively embracing his best friend in an affectionate headlock. “My awesome pal here won this time. You lost, now buy our next round of drinks.”

 

One of the girls — a freckled, Devon Aoki lookalike — glues herself to the brunette’s side. “Awe, Jaehyunie, you should’ve went easier on us—”

 

“Schöfferhofer for him, and I’ll have another Monster Energy!” Interjecting, Jungwoo goofily sticks his tongue out at the dirty look she menacingly shoots him.

 

“You’re not drinking, puppy?” Jaehyun asks with an infectious smile as he tickles under his friend’s chin.

 

Jungwoo yelps gleefully, moving away. “I’m driving, remember?”

 

The lanky doppelgĂ€nger rolls her agate marble eyes and throws her arms around her two other friends. “Fine! We’re going to the bathroom first.”

 

“Ya’ll gonna powder your noses?” Jungwoo mocks teasingly as Jaehyun snickers in the background.

 

“No, we’re going for girl talk.”

 

“Can I join?” Jaehyun wiggles his brows suggestively.

 

“Nice try,” She jokingly flips him off as her clique struts off. One of them — Tzuyu who has bleached skunk stripes in her cocoa beige hair — tells her friends to hold on a sec as she swiftly trots back to pull a camouflage-patterned shopping bag from under her seat.

 

“Jaehyun-oppa,” She approaches him all pin-up doll demure, shy eyes, and dimples. “This is for tutoring my younger sister, she ranked first on her academy’s mock exam thanks to you.”

 

He barely has a chance to refuse before she’s embarrassingly running back to her impressed friends who interrogate her all the way to the ladies room.

 

“Hul. I knew she liked you, but it seems she likes likes you,” Jungwoo remarks as they both take their seat.

 

“Daebak~ look, it’s A Bathing Ape,” Jaehyun wolf-whistles as he slips the shoebox out of the plastic shopping bag.

 

“New kicks?” Jungwoo watches in awe as Jaehyun uncovers the lid to reveal icy Swarovski crystal FS-001 Bapesta sneakers.

 

“Should I be a good oppa and take Tzuyu to see Top Gun?” Regret and affection co-exists across the brunette’s chiseled features. “I already have a pretty flower garden, but she’s giving so much effort to win me over.”

 

Scoffing, Jungwoo socks Jaehyun lightly in the arm. “You’re a bad guy!”

 

“I’m a bad guy,” Jaehyun agrees willingly, lips curling in a self-berating smile.

 

“And a rotten jerk!”

 

“And a rotten jerk.”

 

“And a low-life, trifling player!”

 

“And all the above.”

 

“What are you doing with two women anyways?” Jungwoo narrows his suspecting eyes.

 

“Waiting for either one of them to abandon me,” Jaehyun readily answers but Jungwoo’s positive he’s not telling the truth.

 

“What if they start seeing other men?”

 

“I don’t date women who have other guys.”

 

“But it’s okay for you to do it?”

 

Jaehyun hums pensively. “It’s okay with them, so it’s okay with me.”

 

“Geez,” Jungwoo wonders out loud, pondering if his friend desires women in order to destroy them. Like an architect demolishing their dream house. “Why do they put up with you?”

 

“Right,” Jaehyun laments, rubbing his thumb over the crystallized shoes. “I’m also curious about that.”

 

“I’m convinced you’re crazy, Jaehyun,” Jungwoo picks up a shiny, navy blue bowling ball and polishes it.

 

“Doggie, is it clichĂ© to say that I feel like Jekyll and Hyde lately?” Jaehyun’s sudden perkiness triggers an alarmed Jungwoo into accidentally dropping said ball. “I actually might be crazy.”

 

The platinum blonde grumbles. “Are you starting to feel guilty about something?”

 

“I’m battling against myself. I thought even if I get married, my priority would always be me first,” Jaehyun mourns over his dwindling city boy mindset. “Well, I guess I’m losing my touch.”

 

Images of Nayeon and Sana project in Jungwoo’s mental cinema. “There’s nothing wrong with falling in love and wanting to be good to the person you wish to protect.”

 

“I already stood in the rain,” Jaehyun’s smirk quirks to one side. “Now, I’m patiently waiting at the end of the rainbow for my pot of gold.”

 

“It’s settled: you’re crazy,” Jungwoo concludes, unfazed.

 

Later, nearing the end of the festive night when all the beers are drunken and pins knocked down, a nervously fidgeting Tzuyu pulls Jungwoo aside for some tips.

 

“Don’t bother,” Jungwoo waves her off dismissively, “It’s not worth pursuing him. He’ll tell you the same thing, he kinda briefs women before he dates them — it’s like reading the terms and conditions but most of his admirers tend to skip over it.”

 

Tzuyu frowns, high hopes dashed. “Why? I know he’s not a long-term type of boyfriend. . . So what’s the harm?”

 

When do I have time to worry about women?

 

“Long-term, huh?” Jungwoo grimaces into his energy drink. “He tests the women in his life. Whether he loves them or not, whether they love him or not. It’s all A or B to him.”

 

 

Once every couple of months, Jaehyun visits his childhood home to make sure his single father is still breathing. It’s an old, lofty warehouse in some industrial complex just outside of Seoul that formerly used to be a chocolate factory. Jaehyun always finds it ironic how as a child he used to live in such a place that provided other kids manufactured nirvana in praline nougats and assorted bonbons, when growing up was nothing like a box of chocolates. Of course, this doesn’t bother him now. However, as an antsy little boy, he was always waiting for a golden ticket in a candy bar to take him away from his grim environment. 

 

This January is too wintry and unforgivingly chilly. As he unlocks the front door of the warehouse, he takes in the familiar exposed brick walls and rustic wooden beams that seamlessly melds with the original factory fixtures. The pungent stench of paint fumes and booze overwhelms him right away. Surprised? No. Irritated? Well. . .

 

“J-Jaehyun? Is that you?” The wheezy, bagpipe sound comes from the living room area where an easel holds a Jackson Pollock-esque chicken scratch painting and tin buckets of paint buckets cover the hardwood floor. His father’s hunched spine weakly straightens as he turns to greet him.

 

This disgusting house that’s a memento mori to me . . . I hate coming here more than seeing this slob’s pitiful face.

 

“What is it this time?” Jaehyun’s disdain grates like nails on a chalkboard as he takes in his strung-out father’s sunken cheeks and hazy eyes. “Molly? Ecstasy? Fentanyl?”

 

“I’m clean—”

 

“Cut the crap. Rehab is your vacation, isn’t it? You go once a year like it’s something to look forward to.”

 

“Addiction isn’t that easy,” The posies of faded needle marks in the emaciated artist’s pallid arm is a testament to this. Plus the remnants of angel dust on the glass coffee table cluttered with uneven stacks of old art magazines, spilled wine glasses, orange prescription bottles, and styrofoam cups of stale espresso.

 

Jaehyun withholds a smirk. “You’re right, it’s funny. You’re just a Picasso wannabe junkie who sits and paints in his house all day. Appa, when are you gonna start building some income? At least save up to buy me a wedding gift. I wanna settle down in my thirties and marry a woman who’ll live her life for me.” He actually starts laughing as if he took some crazy drug himself. “I’m narcissistic so a selfish woman will only make me lonely and bored.”

 

“There you go again with that money talk,” The feeble elder mixes primary colors on his palette frustratedly.

 

“That’s right, I’m gonna make a lot of money enough for me to live the rest of my life comfortably,” Jaehyun’s ringed finger traces a coat of dust on the picture frame of his middle school graduation. In the dull photograph, his adolescent face isn’t smiling.

 

“Impudent prick, you think happy endings comes from money!?” His father snarls, dumping his paint brush in a bucket of forest green.

 

“Who said anything about happily ever after? Can I survive off glorified hobbies and childish dreams?” But Jaehyun’s smiling now as his foot lightly kicks at the rickety heater that cranks. . . well, no heat. Old geezer might actually catch pneumonia this time. “I’m freezing. In this country that has the tenth-largest economy in the world, why should I know what being cold feels like?”

 

His old man winces. “Cash isn’t everything—”

 

“Tell that to your wife who left you for a chaebol, and my missing umma who wires me a check every month in place of her presence.”

 

His father scowls. “Yah! How can you talk to me that way!?”

 

“Remove me from the family registry if you want,” Jaehyun suggests airily, pocketing his Marlboro Ice Bursts and crushing a refreshing capsulated menthol between his pearly molars. “I don’t intend on changing careers, so throw away your petty grudge against me and get a decent paying job. Thanks to my scholarship, tuition wasn’t a problem and I was able to swim with the big sharks. Even though you consider me a sellout for not inheriting your failed gallery, I’m doing pretty well on my own. I didn’t come here to check on you —but to brag. Brag about how your impudent prick son put himself together and became a professional bastard.”

 

The elder pauses at his child’s crooked smile. As an absent parent, he never knew his son could make those kinds of faces. He somberly stares at the disregarded state of their home; unwashed dishes in the sink, filthy laundry discarded haphazardously, and fragmented floors. He manages to speak through the onslaught of heartache attacking his chest. “Son. . . Was your childhood really that bad?”

 

“It didn’t bother me that you couldn’t afford to buy me the latest sneakers or new toys. I didn’t care that we couldn’t eat out for family dinners often,” Nicotine kissing his mind, Jaehyun chuckles sweet spearmint-flavored smoke as he sinks in the dirty sofa cushion. In a way, he’s infatuated with his youthful suffering. Glamorizes it even. Under the immense pressure he didn’t break, instead, he became beautifully shining diamonds. He’s enjoying spiting his father, reveling in the bald man’s destroyed facial expression and slumped posture. It’s a catharsis not even his cigarettes can gift him. “It wasn’t that bad — I just simply want to be rich as an adult since I was poor as a child.”

 

Right, as a child I didn’t need to play. I have all the toys I want now.

 

 

“Housemaid-sama,” Nayeon’s glacial fingertips sneak under Jaehyun’s collegiate sweatshirt. “Take off your shirt. I want to cuddle.”

 

“Aigoo, your hands are cold!” Jaehyun almost jumps out of his skin, the ladle in his hand domesticating him into the part-time wife position he unexpectedly fills. His shock sizzles down to a gooey, buttery warmth at the human honeysuckle back-hugging him. “You surprised me — I almost ruined the dakjuk. Seriously, I leave you alone for a few days and you go and get sick. Go take some cold medicine, brat.”

 

“I got none. We’re so poor we don’t even have tea to offer guests when they come over.”

 

Sana’s definitely starting to rub off on her. “Now you’re just being overdramatic. What time is Sana coming home anyways?”

 

Nayeon sniffs, burying her face deeper into his broad back. “She won’t be here until after midnight, she’s so Hollywood.”

 

Jaehyun smiles mischeviously. “Really? That gives us time to—”

 

“Not even a chance. Get out.”

 

“Not until I seen that you eaten,” Jaehyun huffs with faux dejection as he lowers the heat on the stove. 

 

Nayeon blames the gears shifting in her iron-laminated ribcage on her delirious cold. He turns around in her hold and presses a chaste kiss to her pulse delicately.

 

“Your forehead is burning hot but your hands are so cold,” He mumbles as if it makes his heart aches.

 

“My hands are cold but my heart is warm,” She insists impassively.

 

“No — wait — isn’t the saying warm hands but cold-hearted?”

 

“Stop talking nonsense, cook my food and leave already.” She can’t help but repress her fond smile in his chest.

 

“You’re lucky to have me,” Jaehyun kisses the crown of her head and sways the both of them back and forth like slow dancing in their own prom. “As a kid, I didn’t have anyone to cook me soup or anything when I was sick.”

 

Eyebrows creasing, Nayeon frowns up at him. “Why not?” In a way, she hates that she can relate to him. Gosh, she even had to microwave her own instant seaweed soup for her birthdays. It’s also the first time he revealed something about himself or his childhood to her. Are we slowly getting closer? Little by little?

 

Just like stars exploding in a luminous supernova, she watches how the colliding comets in Jaehyun’s glistening gaze bursts into kaleidoscopic anguish. “Who knows — adult matters? Priorities?”

 

“Priorities?” Nayeon cups her hands around his face, thumb over his jaw down the silhouette of his neck.

 

“Hmmm,” Jaehyun leans into her touch almost immediately, his love language is undeniably physical touch, isn’t it? “I guess the lack of priority reduces situations to be ambiguous. It’s hard to know what to expect.”

 

Nayeon’s unsure if it’s a long winter or short-lived spring in his eyes sadder than hers. Well make me your priority then. “Are you referring to yourself?”

 

“. . . Labels and names are too short,” Nayeon fights the urge to evaporate as he returns to stirring the rice porridge, the gentle tenderness weaving his voice coils a rope of homesickness around her immobile skeleton. “There are so many meanings and emotions that can’t be contained in a word — then they get lost in translation, just like how humans hurt each other through miscommunication.”

 

“Is it really that complicated?”

 

“I’m easily influenced during the fall season when sunlight streams through tree leaves.”

 

The rustling of orange and red foliage hastens Nayeon’s heart. “What. .?”

 

“Depression,” Jaehyun states, the word cuts sharply like sea-glass under her feet. “Or if we put it in lighter terms — sentimentality.”

 

“What a flashy way of romanticizing it.”

 

“Poetic, huh? There’s also iktsuarpok, which sums up the anticipation that leads someone to keep looking outside to see if anyone is coming. How can such impatience and uneasiness be translated in our language? A single word that paints a mental image in our mind of someone staring at the window or checking the door — it’s both profound and sorrowful.”

 

The ocean within herself that she immensely drowns in daily hurls forward in Hokusai waves. Sometimes she gets so sad she can’t even cry. All her life she felt like the mark left on a table by a cold glass. An annoying water ring. And still, the only person who understands her and can tidily wrap up her vague grief enables her to deliberately want and not want more all at the same time. This love is deceiving her, maybe it’s making a fool out of her — reducing her to a coward unable to take a step forward. Or a step back. Nayeon hates being persuaded like this, influenced by the autumn sunbeams of Jaehyun’s reasoning. Hates that when he’s not around, it’s like a missing jigsaw piece in a puzzle. Loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things, yet loving him is as natural as how butterflies spread their wings. A mixed feeling of envy and lust? Hatred and love as allies? Is there a word to describe the fear of falling apart at the end of each day? Jaehyun seems to know them all.

 

Him and I are inseperable — like an illness. Like an infected wound never treated, he just continues to fester within me until I can barely recognize myself. Lately, Jaehyun’s more myself than I am, could it be possible our souls are the same? Even when I can’t tolerate my own crap, he accepts me all the same without complaints. I can’t lose him or throw him away, if it’s not him. . . It’s no one.

 

“Nayeon-ah, can you check my phone for me? I think I got a reception-email.”

 

“Don’t you mean a text message alert?” And the Disney magic is gone as Nayeon’s muttering under her breath about him being such an ahjussi while begrudgingly trudging to the kitchen table. “I didn’t even hear the notification ring—”

 

unknown: oppa ♱♥‿♥♰ i had a gr8 time last nite.

unknown: p.s u left ur jacket @ my dorm. i'll bring it 2 class when i c u °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

 

“Alright!” Jaehyun spins around with a proud smile. “I finished! Come grab a bowl, I’ll head out and buy you some meds while you eat—”

 

“I’m funny, aren’t I?” Nayeon spits out, eerily unflinching features and earth-shattering fury. 

 

Jaehyun cracks a saturated sunshine grin. “Of course! You’re funny, smart, pretty—”

 

“Quit the crap,” She seethes, holding up the digital screen for him to read. “Who the hell is this?”

 

Bone-crushing, agonizing seconds ticks by before Jaehyun tuts sardonically and coos. “Are you jealous over someone so insignificant I didn’t even bother to save her number? It was give-and-take, Nayeon-ah. Give and take.”

 

Nayeon, you stupid idiot! You good-for-nothing, foolish, spineless, stupid idiot! Again. .? He’s putting me through this insufferable hell again?? How deep are you going to fall for this sick and twisted psycho? I wouldn’t put it pass him if he led me on to see those texts on purpose either. Why me? Why now when moments ago. . . Don’t show it. Like hell I’ll cry. I’m not even sad, I’m pissed.

 

“You rotten lunatic. You really got another girl?” Chagrined by his brazen demeanor, Nayeon’s coffin nail pokes harshly into his ribs. “How long do you think I’ll tolerate you and your trashy ways? Are you just the community boyfriend for every girl??”

 

A feral glint twinkles in Jaehyun’s silver-veiled eyes as he pointedly dunks his Sony Ericsson Premini in a glass of seltzer. “Ah, your reaction is different now — why? Before you were pretending to be cool about it. Did I go too far this time?”

 

“Jung Jaehyun!” She violently shoves him into the wall as he does nothing but grin manically. “You think you can talk down on me? After you condescendingly preached to me about love this and love that? About stupid autumn leaves!?”

 

“Don’t overreact,” Smirking, his veiny hands catches both her fighting wrists mid-air. “I only have you and our lovely Sana, I told you a third woman is too much trouble.”

 

She aggressively pushes him off. “Exactly! I’m so sick of this abnormal situation—”

 

“Nayeonie, of course it’s abnormal. Love and relationships are all abnormal.”

 

“You don’t love me!” She reiterates brokenly, catching Jaehyun off guard. I’m losing myself over some pretentious flirt. Why am I acting so clingy? I’m tired. This is such a drag, enough’s enough.

 

“Nayeon—”

 

“You don’t love me,” She repeats hoarsely, heated shame bruising her crimson cheeks. He can’t even show her where her armor ends and skin begins. And he wonders why she bulletproofs her heart around him. “All of this is a game to you. I must be player one, and Sana is player two, and you’re controlling us as you please. Is it seriously that fun?”

 

“I love you,” The calm before the storm weathers in Jaehyun’s lowered tone as his stealthy hand yanks on her belted choker necklace. A half-suffocated gasp escapes her tightened throat as Jaehyun’s disappointed pupils dart all over her asphyxiating expression. “Why can’t you endure it? I see you still haven’t shed your chrysalis. That’s not right, Nayeon-ah. You have to come out.”

 

Come out and fly into my arms, his shadowy eyes soothingly encourages. Perish in my warm embrace.

 

All she sees is a starless night in her blurry vision.

 

“C-C-Can’t. . . breathe!!” Nayeon nearly blacks out as she angrily claws her sheer mauve nails into his arms, almost collapsing once he loosens the collar if not for his steady grasp on her. Bending over, she haggardly coughs a couple of times before shooting him a steely, gunmetal glare.

 

“What the hell was that!?” She elicits a hiss out of Jaehyun by slapping him square across the face, acrylic tips scratching strawberry moon crescents along his porcelain skin in the process.

 

Bemused, he spits a wad of dark blood to the floor and tongues his cheek. “A marriage contract, I’m impossible without you.”

 

“Leave me alone, just get out!” Nayeon’s drowning in the tears she doesn’t cry; it’s been a hit-and-run, tire skid marks left on her flattened heart, and titanium bones shattered. Her whole body is still vibrating tremors, knees giving out only for Jaehyun to catch her again and pin her to the wall. She tries jerking out of his invasive touch but it’s too late — his mouth is covering hers and arms securing her closely to his body. Their teeth clash in an uncoordinated kiss of elbows jabbing sensitive spots and hair pulled between clenched fists. The Chrome Hearts pendant hanging from his neck swings like a patronizing pendulum between their angel winged collarbones. Her lungs permeate deeply with the bittersweet chocolatey cherrissimo cologne rolling off his aphrodisiac skin; a triumvirate of white whine, rum, and amaretto. Arousal drowsily smooches her mind as their heavy breathes mingle and lavender haze intoxicates her senses because his incessant lips deprive her of all oxygen. All of her hatred for him embroiders with scalding lust, she can’t even remember logic as doting insanity shines in his diamond irises like crystals glittering in the candlelight.

 

“You cute brat,” He an adorable beauty spot beneath her earlobe, sugared adrenaline lining each of his actions as he mouths down . “My good girl. My stubborn Nayeonie, you handle me so well.”

 

Acting like I’m over him, that’s done.

 

“You’re insatiable. I hate you,” She’s doomed, too far gone to notice that the metallic taste of blood in isn’t hers. Nayeon wishes she could kill him so he’ll always belong to her. Sure, he’s not perfect but nobody is. When she’s apart from him she’s unstable, a part of her believes it’s how he feels towards her as well. I’m not addicted to what I can’t possess, we make each other feel alive, even if it hurts now it’s fine. Her heart throbs.

 

“You want me?” And vast galaxies dip in his coal-flecked irises — he is starlight dancing —, taking her breath away once more. Jaehyun’s rough fingers lift the back of her thighs and her legs automatically fold around him. Moments ago, their arguing sounded like smashing windows and richocheting bullets. Now, all Nayeon wants is apologies in hickeys. He bites, she bleeds. They stumble into a frenzy of heightened tension, a series of fireworks goes off behind her hazel eyes fluttering shut. Articles of clothing discards to the floor as he carries Nayeon to her bedroom, they make love as if exchanging blows and punches. His hand on her waist is no different from a hatchet burying in her flesh, and her hand on his neck is a noose he doesn’t want to run away from. 

 

I want you. She shivers under the predatory smile flashing across his endeared face before pulling him back in, crashing their swollen lips into each other and tugging the offensive sweater off his shoulders. Jaehyun continues to kiss her feverishly,  his velvety tongue greedily into her open mouth. Rendering her into a damaged home of docile whimpers and mindless submissiveness as he cages her down into the mattress. Their love was never candid poses in photo booths, 80s sitcom marathons and extra cheddar cheese popcorn, or ferris wheel rides after strolling the boardwalk. It’s little Red Riding Hood begging the wolf to hunt her down — an endless, thrilling hide-and-seek game that ends in blood, masochistic pleasure, and half-eaten limbs. Jaehyun guides Nayeon to look at him. 

 

“Don’t leave me hanging,” His raspy whisper disarrays her thoughts like a spell. “Say those three little words I wanna hear.”

 

Summertime rain fills her eyes. “I love you.”

 

Even if it’s fake love, it’s enough for me.

 

Jaehyun, you scumbag.

 

You’re enough.

 

 

 


 

 


𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: Hello àŒ‰â€§â‚ŠËšđŸ•ŻïžđŸ–€â€àŒ‰â€§â‚ŠËš. Our story’s Jaehyun has a lot of memorable one-liners that I’m proud to have written.  I really wanted to focus on Jaehyun’s dialogue this chapter and the manner in which he speaks. It’s colorful and full of images, right? It’s unexpected of a math major who I think would have a way less flowery speech, but I think maybe it’s also because he grew up around a lot of culture and art. A lot of things seem to not faze him upfront, and he’s rather laid back and easygoing even in moments of utter chaos. It’s as if he always has the upper-hand and breezes through at his own pace. However, it’s implied that he can be unpredictable. . . I also thought it would be interesting if he was into streetstyle art — (ex. like KAWS and Takahashi Murakami) — rather than like oil paintings or any renaissance artist. The closing gif is actually a chain of Bape’s founder Nigo, all the images used to cut/break scenes are by Hajime Sorayama I found through Tumblr. I wanted to use them more as how we approach picture books — we like the pretty pictures, but are we really deciphering & reading between the lines? What do you guys think about this? How do you feel about Jaehyun’s character? Feel free to debate this as well! Please do comment! I could never know what you guys are thinking unless you say it:(. . . I truly appreciate ya’ll for subscribing, I will see you guys next time ★

 


 

 

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bunnyparfait
{💿} not a double-update in one day! i'm working hard on the next chapters while longingly waiting for comments & feedback. even a short comment would ease the worries of this anxious writer:)
fun note: jaehyun's cologne is different from when he first met nayeon & sana. did you guys notice? 😆

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snsdshortkeki
#1
Chapter 2: I like the y2k vibe of this fic, it reminds me of shoujo anime from early 2000s
chichus
#2
wow, the intro got met HOOKED and sana + jaehyun as well as nayeon? hell yes, sign me up!