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I looked around. We were in a small apartment, less 
than half the size of my house, with one room and a lonely 
TV on the far corner. It was two stories up, perhaps, and 
the only source of light was a ray of sunshine coming from 
the cracks in a wooden board that covered what seemed to 
have been a window a long time ago.

I gazed over at Jaejoong, whose back was turned 
towards me. He had changed out of his school uniform and 
was now wearing a t-shirt with sweat pants, and a cap 
tossed lazily above his head. I hated to admit that he 
looked nice. His skin was just the right color, and the 
angles of his body seemed to run down his figure in perfect 
synchrony. He could have been a god, and I wouldn’t have 
been surprised.

I never quite understood how it was that some 
people were just so damn well made, in that they had the 
looks, the charm, you know, everything. But I guess it’s 
true that if you’re good looking you’re bound to be cold at 
heart. I’d just seen two versions of that today, and wasn’t 
about to trust any other good-looking guys any time soon.

“Let me see your knee,” Jaejoong said, gently 
pushing me over.

He had insisted that I follow him home to his 
apartment so he could ‘fix me up.’ I wasn’t sure what kind 
of a psycho plan he had formed in his head, but was in no 
state of mind to rebel. But as I saw him walk over with a 
normal looking bandaid, I had the most peculiar sense that 
he did, indeed, invite me over simply to cure my wounds.

“Here,” I said.

He dipped a cotton ball in some kind of solution 
and brought it to my knees. I winced.

“This is going to hurt,” he said, and slipped his 
vacant fingers into my own, tightly gripped hand. “Here. 
Hold my hand.”

I’m not going to lie. It did hurt. But what amazed 
me was how gentle it was, the way the cotton dabbed my 
wounds, cleaning up every ounce of blood existing around my 
knee cap. I hadn’t expected there to be such a soft side to 
Jaejoong, especially after what I’d just witnessed with the 
couple of guys who’d been after Yunho.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, wrapping my knee with a 
sheet of white cloth.

“No,” I lied.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I didn’t really know what to say so I kept my mouth 
shut. I was more than a little surprised that Jaejoong had 
uttered those words, whether or not he meant them. I still 
wasn’t sure if he remembered the deal that we’d made (or at 
least the full details to it) but I was beginning to think 
that, maybe, he wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

“Sorry I was late. And sorry that I screamed at 
you.” He put his first-aid kit away. “Do you think you’re 
all good now?”

“Yeah,” I said, patting my knee. It still hurt like 
.

Jaejoong smiled and ruffled my hair.

And just like that. Just as I was about to believe that, 
maybe, he had some good intentions in him, he said, “well, 
good. Now you can work.”

“I can what?”

“Remember the deal we made?”

“Yeah…”

“Since I’m your boyfriend, you’re my slave.”

“Yes but…”

“So I need you to clean my house.”

Oh. My. God.

I looked at him in disbelief. Was this actually the 
same guy who had just dressed my wounds, and made sure I 
was safe? Was he really asking me to clean his house?

“Come on. I need it cleaned by today. Get to work.”

I kept looking at him, trying to spot any hint of 
amusement. He didn’t seem to be joking at all. He got up, 
stuck his head in the closet, and threw me an old rag and a 
bucket.

Oh, great. I was going to have to clean with water 
and soap in a bucket, the traditional way.

“I’ll be in my room,” he said, “sleeping. Wake me 
up when you’re done.”

And with that, he gave me a wink and retreated into 
his own room.

***

I’m an only child, so I was never a fan of 
cleaning. In fact, my mother never even let me go near a 
washing machine, let alone an old rag. So when I was 
finally done cleaning the house from one end to the other, 
I was rather proud of myself. I had even considered making 
the bastard dinner when I realized that he was, indeed, a 
bastard.

I emptied out the bucket and knocked on the bedroom 
door, hoping that he’d realize my efforts and congratulate 
me. I had almost forgotten about the fact that he’d broke 
his end of the deal, which was to introduce himself to the 
Rose Club as my boyfriend, thus validating my membership. 
But instead what had happened was that the Rose Club no 
longer wished me to be anywhere near them, and I wasn’t 
even sure if I could deal with seeing them in school 
without them trying to murder me.

“Hello?” I said, after knocking a few times without 
hearing any reply.

I pushed the door open, and it made a creaking 
noise. I set the bucket by the entrance and tiptoed towards 
Jaejoong, sprawled on the floor sleeping.

I couldn’t help but admire him for a bit. He really 
was beautiful, with his jet black hair (so different from 
Yunho’s light, blonde hair) and angular chin. He was in a 
curled up position, like a vulnerable baby, and I had the 
strongest urge to curl up in him. Yes, inside him.

I poked him in the cheek. He seemed to be dead 
asleep, but I could never be sure. I brought in the dirty 
rag and put it on his forehead.

“There, we’re even now,” I said, giggling. He 
looked funny with a dirty rag on his head, although not 
half as bad.

I lay next to him and stared for a bit. His 
eyelashes seemed to flutter, just a little bit, and the 
corners of his lips curled up into a half-smile. He must 
have been dreaming about something good.

And then I felt it coming; sleep began to crush me 
as I felt my own eyelids fluttering and coming to a stop. 
My breath equalized and soon I was next to Jaejoong, my 
face directly pointed towards his, falling asleep.

I can’t say I wasn’t going to regret waking up next 
to Jaejoong, but it sure did feel nice sleeping in that 
cozy room.

And I think some point during the middle of the 
night I felt an arm pull me into a warm chest.