The moment after he took a bite the question shot out of my mouth. “How is it?”

Sungmin chewed for a bit before swallowing then shrugged his shoulders. “It's alright,” he said. Exasperated, I stared at him in silence. He nonchalantly put another spoonful in his mouth.

I'd had it with him. “What the is wrong with you, Lee Sungmin? You think everything I cook for you .” I stood up from my seat and slammed my palms on the dining room table, causing his eyes to widen up at me. “Even all of your annoying little friends love my cooking, so why the hell do you hate all of it?” By then I was yelling, “Is it too spicy? Too sweet? Too salty? You never tell me, just leave me hanging with 'it's alright' every goddamn time!” I grabbed the bowl still full of curry and flung it at the wall where it shattered and left a mess on both the wall and floor. Sungmin appeared speechless as his mouth was still, only hanging slightly open. My breath was heavy as I stormed out of the room, making sure to stomp my feet loudly. I slammed and locked the door to my bedroom before punching the wall as hard as I could. Pain pulsed through my fist that I now held in my other hand. “,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “Why am I so ing stupid!?” I collapsed onto the bed face down.

Though it felt like hours, checking the clock beside my bed it was only five minutes until I heard a knock on my door. “What?” I barked out, still pissed and suffering from pain in my hand.

“We need to talk,” Sungmin called through the door.

“What if,” I paused in my speech because of the overwhelming pain, “I don't want to talk to such a ing picky person like you?”

“You have no choice,” he said back. I grimaced. Since when did he wear the pants in this relationship? “Open the door.”

I didn't respond. He didn't feel worth the effort right now and the pain in my hand was a to deal with.

“Open the door. Now.” There was an edge in his voice that I could not recall hearing before. Decidedly, I pulled my self up on my feet and dragged myself to the door. Using my left hand to fiddle with the lock because of the agony in my right, I opened the door to Sungmin's angry face.

I spoke first, asking, “What are you mad at me for?” though the answer was already obvious.

He arched an eyebrow before pushing me back on the bed. I instinctively reached my right hand behind me to stop me from falling back. When I felt the resulting immense pain I cried out, “!” I cradled my sore hand in the other and noticed the dark shade of purple my thumb had become.

“So this is the consequence of your little fight with the wall earlier,” Sungmin said.

“Shut the hell up,” I spat out, surprised that he had heard my previous outburst.

Sungmin sighed, then quickly yanked me up from the bed and out the door. “Our talk will have to wait. We need to get you to the hospital.”

---

After filling out forms, a prolonged stay in the waiting room, and a cast, Sungmin took me back home. My pride still wouldn't allow me to talk to him. I supposed he was used to my attitude by now anyway.

In the midst of silence, Sungmin suddenly spoke up, “If you're waiting for my apology, you'll never hear it.” I stayed quiet and looked at the road ahead of us as he took a right and to my street. “Listen,” he started, “I know you have a temper—a really bad one—but I'm sick of always being the one in the wrong. It's not right that you pass the blame on me for every bump in our relationship.” I swallowed loudly while absorbing his words. He parked the car in front of my apartment complex before speaking again, “Everyone sees me as the type to be pushed around and I'm tired of it. We're supposed to make each another happy, but lately it seems all we do is fight.”

I'd always felt insecure in our relationship, like it could be over in a fleeting moment. Why would someone as sweet, amazing, and widely adored as Sungmin want to be with a needy like me. Now that he said he wasn't even happy being around me, I realized the pointlessness of us. Unable to look anywhere but my lap, I said back, “So you're saying we should break up.”

“No!” Sungmin said immediately and placed a hand on my knee, lightly massaging it. “I can't believe you would think that's what I meant... I just think we should start treating one another better. We should learn to respect each other more.”

I glanced over at his hand on my knee where his thumb still rubbed gentle circles. “You're right.” I swallowed again, refusing to look him in the eyes.

Sungmin started to open the car door, but I interrupted him, “Wait!” He froze, looking at me expectantly. “Why don't you like my cooking?” I asked seriously.

Annoyed with me, he sighed and looked away. “Are we really talking about this again?”

My eyes darted to him. “Yes! You still haven't told me, and I'll keep asking until I get an answer,” I said, crossing my arms.

“You're so stubborn. What happened to treating each other better?”

“I'm not being mean, I just want an answer.”

Sungmin bit his lip before replying, “Does it really matter? I don't—”

I cut him off, “Yes, it does matter if you like a girl who cooks!”

“Aw, baby, are you worried that your cooking bothers me?” He brushed a strand of hair from my face.

“Stop treating me like a child!” I snapped at him.

“Fine.” Sungmin took of his cap and ran his hand through his hair before putting it back on his head, tilted enough to the side that I could see the Yankees symbol clearly though he was facing forward. “I don't really hate your cooking. I just act that way to get back at you.” He looked out his side window.

“What?” I said in disbelief.

“You just make me so mad sometimes...” He gripped the steering wheel tightly then laid his head on it so I could not see his expression.

My lips turned up into an evil smile. “So the cute baby-face isn't as nice as he seems.” I laughed like an idiot and Sungmin turned to me, head still resting on the steering wheel. “You're such a twisted bastard, Lee Sungmin. You took the one thing I prided myself in and transformed it into an insecurity.” I looked at him with that ironic grin still on my face. He appeared almost ashamed of himself—like he should be. “I can't believe you. You made me out to be the bad guy, too, saying I treated you wrong and acting all innocent like you never did a damn thing... I can still see that grimace on your face as you ate the things I cooked for you. You had know idea how bad I really felt inside, did you? When all the guys talked about how their girlfriends are such good cooks, you just stayed silent...”

“Okay,” Sungmin mumbled.

I kept on, “Even when they mentioned me, said I was even better than their girlfriends and wives.”

Having heard enough, he shot up in his seat and shouted “I'm sorry, okay!” Sungmin lowered his voice back to normal, “This is just what I was talking about. You're blowing this way out of proportion.”

“Am I?” I said sarcastically.

“Yes,” he replied, “you are. If you really want us to start respecting each other more, now would be a good time to begin.”

I pursed my lips, thinking. Finally, I spoke. “Again... you're right.”

Sungmin nodded once. “You forgive me?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said honestly.

“And you're sorry for being so mean to me all the time?”

Through gritted teeth I responded, “Don't push it.” Sungmin pouted, and when I didn't cave in he whined. Weak to the sound, I said, “Fine, sure whatever.”

---

I set the plate in front of him. “Eat,” I said. Sungmin picked up his spoon, scooped up a bite, and placed the food in his mouth. After chewing for a moment, he swallowed.

Plainly, he said, “It's alright.” I blankly stared at him, unable to find a single word to say. Suddenly, he laughed and told me, “I'm just joking! It's delicious.”

“I hate you so freaking much right now.” I walked over to the sink to wash the dishes I had just used.

“It was a joke!” he said again.

While washing a measuring cup, I replied bitterly, “I don't like your sense of humor Lee Sungmin.”