03 | FIREBALL SHOOTER

Soobin

“How do you like it?”

I cover my mouth as I process Baekhyun’s unexpected question. How am I supposed to answer that? How would he like me to answer to that? How does a normal grown-up woman answer to that? Do I shy away like I always do? Or do I just get it over with like how I just did with telling him all of these things which, I admit, I might have been way too forward with

It’s just him. It’s just Baekhyun—that alone should make me feel less self-conscious about being true to myself. I shouldn’t feel like I have to mask or pretend to be the way people expect me to be. Like I always do. But the same reason contradicts my feelings. It is Baekhyun. It is the Byun Baekhyun whom I’ve always had a massive—not in an absurd way—crush on.

Besides, he must be so good at that any answer I give would make him think that I’m not normal at all. I do e. Approximately six times a week, usually at night time before I go to bed, typically quarter after ten just before I go to sleep. I give myself around five minutes to do it once. Once is enough because then if I do it more than once, it would take longer than five minutes. I still have to wash my hands after that before going to sleep.

I do know how I like it but there’s no way of answering it with words. I don’t know how to elucidate it in a way that would seem like a normal person's activity. I look into his eyes for a matter of seconds, hoping I could find the right answer. Maybe somewhere in those gorgeous brown eyes, I’d find the answer that he expects me to let out.

I am very good at reading people because that is the way I survive. I fit in that way. It’s exhausting but it’s almost better than being the “weirdo.”

But no, there’s nothing in those eyes that tells me anything. Oh my god, he’s actually waiting to hear me out. Me. My own answer.

So instead, I choose the safe way to respond. The way that I’ve always had.

I giggle and avoid his eyes. “What do you mean—I don’t know how to answer that, I’m too shy.” I let my giggles intensify until I feel nauseated by the sound I am creating.

“You just said the words tongue and in one full sentence twenty seconds ago and now you’re too shy,” Baekhyun asks me, or more like stating the fact.

His tone is apathetic but a hint of smile tickles the corners of his mouth. I’m screwing myself over. I was babbling earlier, I freaked out with joy and excitement when Baekhyun finally asked me about the break-up and so I couldn’t control myself just now. But I know I shouldn’t have been so straightforward like that. I know that that kind of behaviour usually makes people uncomfortable and I’ve accidentally presented that.

I start worrying that my eyes are wandering way too much at this point. I need to think of something. Choi Soobin, think! Just think of anything, please. It takes me five times in my head before I manage to say, “Is there any advice you could give me instead, that I could do for my next boyfriend if there’s ever gonna be a next one?”

“Here’s one piece of advice for you.” I feel his warmth come closer and I almost stumble when I try to take a step back. “Make sure your next boyfriend will actually care enough to ask you how you like it. Hopefully, by then, you wouldn’t be too shy to answer him.” He raises his eyebrows once at me before turning away to walk ahead.

I watch his back, his legs, his feet with every step until he finally disappears into a corner.  

How does that solve my dilemma here? He didn’t help me at all.

Why does it matter what I like? Regular premarital in dating and relationships is like a training period for when I am finally ready to procreate as a married woman. I don’t have to like it, do I? It doesn’t have to be fun, or does it?

There’s no need for it to be passionate as long as it works and creates another human being. But my boyfriend—although none at the moment—has to have fun so that he stays with me, that’s all I want to resolve.

Maybe I just need to watch more videos or even romance movies that I personally dislike then maybe I’ll find the answer. I also probably have to register for an online or even in-person acting class to make use of what I’ll learn from these informative videos. The idea sounds foolish even in my head so I’m going to get back on that later on.  

I arrive home to my parents already up. My mom is making breakfast while my dad sits at the dining table, reading the newspaper. “Good morning!” I greet with a high pitch, I made it so high that I even scared myself.

“Oh, sweet dear, where did you go? Went for a run?” My dad laughs at me as I come forward. His fatherly hands wrap around me when he pulls me close to him. I feel my whole body turn cold in discomfort because I don’t like being touched when I’m all sweaty like right about now but I chuckle in response.

I should probably return the favour and maybe throw my arm over his shoulders and ask him about the news. He would like that, right? I can’t just stand here and say nothing just because I have nothing to say. That would seem weird and widely disrespectful.

Swallowing hard a couple of times, I brace myself before twitching my arm around and over his head until the heel of my hand settles on his shoulder. “Any interesting news, Dad?” I grin as I look down at him.

“News, there is. Interesting news, I don’t know.” He updates me and laughs—I immediately echo his laugh while nodding.

As soon as I can, without seeming rude, I break away from the father-daughter chokehold. Okay, it wasn’t a chokehold but that’s how it felt like to me. I walk to my mother next and peeked at what she’s cooking. “Ooh, looks delicious,” I say before looking at her face to wait for her reaction to my comment.

She smiles and turns to me, still stirring the pot. “Oh my, you should take a shower. What time do you work today?” She asks me as she starts running her fingers through my sweaty hair. I wince but I stay at the same spot. Gulp. Take a deep breath. Aaaand smile.

I’m dying inside.

Too gentle! Mom, it’s too gentle, oh my god, stop it. Goosebumps. My chest tightens as she continues to brush my hair away from my face and I feel every muscle in my cheeks twitch. When I feel very gentle touches, it tickles my chest so much, but not in a good way.

I’m just very sensitive and ticklish.

I’d probably die in a tickle fight. Seriously.

Now that I think of it, it’s probably one more reason why I’m uncomfortable with . Men just … don’t know how to touch me the right way. Gosh, that sounds overly dramatic and demanding, even in my head.

“Oh, I bumped into Baekhyun earlier. He was running too.” I try to strike up a conversation as I ease my way into pushing her hand off from my face without being rude. “Running? Did he finally rob a bank?” My dad butts in and laughs.

“Oh jeez, Taeho, stop that.” My mom grunts but laughs along.

Why would Baekhyun rob a bank?

And why did my dad say finally like he’s been waiting for it to happen?

Baekhyun would never do that.

“I don’t think he did, Dad. He was just going for a run as well.” I reply seriously, still not getting the laugh cue from the statement. Should I just laugh too? Am I missing the point? He’s probably joking but which part was the joke? “Dear, we were joking obviously. But sometimes we wish he does. The poor boy needs the money.” My mother finally explains the joke to me.

And I still don’t find it funny even after processing it in my head.

How does that emit laughter from another human being?

“I know. I don’t know how he’s surviving with just a part-time bartending job. I ran into Rohee the other day and he was with Jaehyun, he was telling me about his dialysis and about this new medication Jaehyun was prescribed. He said it was more expensive than the last one but apparently, it’s better for the kid.” My dad folds the newspaper closed and sets it on the table. “You know, I just feel really bad but then what can you do, right? You’re just a bystander watching another family suffer because of their own choices. He didn’t take care of himself health-wise so now his eldest has to suffer the consequences. Like, why have two kids if you can’t support them properly?” He adds.

“I know. The poor boy probably will never get married. I’ve never seen him date since high school. He has too many responsibilities and it’s basically permanent. I still remember when he used to play