Chapter 13:

It was one of those phone calls that only lasts a few minutes yet you remain thinking the whole night, pondering over the few sentences exchanged and if you could have worded things better.

My parents seemed to be bitter over something and they continuously hinted at an unknown issue. It retained an essence of something I didn’t understand.

A few cryptic words, unfamiliar sentence structures and unrecognizably inscrutable tones made up the responses from my parents that night.

It had been a month since I last called them and the conversation started off relatively normal. My parents started with explaining how much the missed me.

And then I introduced Jongin. I felt that the character of him made my parents uneasy. They thought that I was making an unstable choice when it came to my friends. However, I never necessarily informed them that Jongin was my friend.

I didn’t even explain his situation to them. All I said was that he started off as my enemy but not we were much closer.

It was definitely something my parents weren’t comfortable with.

“Kyungsoo, we trusted that you could live in Korea by yourself. Don’t disappoint us by making bad choices when it comes to the people you hang around,” my mom hissed through the phone. “This seems like a bad influence. Now, we’d like you to think this over. We have to go.”

Click.

It was especially unlike them to hang up on me without saying a proper goodbye. I was particularly frustrated because they appeared to be losing their trust with me. I knew what I was doing. I’d been living alone long enough. How dare they question my choices without even know Jongin?

That night I lay in bed until the morning hours.

Baekhyun was the first to notice that something was wrong.

“Yo, you okay?”

I was surprised he diverted his attention from his twitching boyfriend to notice me on this predominantly cold, nippy morning.

“I’m fine,” I instinctively answered, regretting it.

“Normally you can lie,” Baekhyun informed me. “But you’re at it now.”

“No,” I admitted, walking down the sidewalk to the school entrance. “I’m not fine.”

I almost fell asleep on the bus and now I was tripping over my feet.

My backpack was slung so carelessly over my shoulders, I felt it would slip at any moment, but I made no move to adjust. I was too tired to even move unnecessarily in any way.

Chanyeol’s head peered around my left shoulder, becoming parallel with the blade, his back arched over in order to be eyelevel with me.

“You look like a zombie,” he deadpanned, bluntly.

“I feel like one too,” I remarked honestly, attempting to adjust the strap of my backpack finally, and failing miserably.

Chanyeol caught it with one, fell swoop.

“I got this,” he said, swinging it around onto his back, over his other bag.

“You look stupid,” I laughed, pointing to his double backpack, but thankful he took the load.

Homework had also been a factor to my sleepless night.

Baekhyun slung a bony arm around me, pulling my body close as Chanyeol hovered nearer. He tilted his head towards mine.

“Whatever it is,” he said. “It’s all okay, Do Kyungsoo! In the end, it’s all okay!”

They knew me so well already. I didn’t really like to talk about things so they would give me some futuristic words of encouragement, which I normally approved of and anticipated with forwardness. Now though, I felt a slight emptiness in my stomach.

Once Chanyeol dropped my backpack off at my locker, he and Baekhyun meandered away to chat with Tao and an unwilling Kris, who was unimpressed by the two lovers interrupting him and his Wushu boyfriend.

I unpacked all of my things lethargically, remembering that I had work after this, and inwardly groaned. With unfathomable force, I slammed the door of my locker shut, giving of a slight ring to our surroundings.

Then I proceeded to amble over to the empty bathrooms. Once I made sure of their vacancy, I strolled to the sink and dipped my head low, then raised it upwards to look at myself in the mirror.

The image I was greeted with didn’t satisfy me. Sometimes dark circles worked for people. Not me. They hung under my eyes like a plague. My skin appeared oily and my hair was a mess. It’d been long since I’d had a proper haircut. Not to mention my chapped lips, looking like icy chunks on reddish flesh.

Furiously, I turned the knob of the sink and splashed water in my face, drenching the top half of my uniform in the process.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“You’re okay?”

The familiar voice caused me to jerk in realization, switching off the sink and snapping around just as Jongin’s firm hand clasped onto my shoulder.

We stood like that for quite some time. Seconds that felt like hours immersed us into a deep stare.

“What’s wrong?” Jongin murmured under his breath, low and steady but full of more emotion than I’d ever normally get out of him.

“W-Wrong?” I stammered, feeling scrutinized under his intense stare yet I knew he wasn’t judging me,

“Because you don’t look okay,” Jongin replied. “But you say you are okay. Liar.”

“Well I didn’t sleep well,” I answered, fumbling to wipe my dripping hands on my pants, whilst retaining eye contact.

“Yeah, I know that . Please stop avoiding the question,” Jongin forwardly demanded with a quiet tone. “Stop lying.”

“My parents,” I remarked, not missing a heartbeat. “I had an uncomfortable phone call with them. They doubt that I can live alone.”

“So they want to send you back to America?” Jongin wondered, his expression blank as normal but his voice laced with emotion.

I bit my bottom lip in frustration at the thought. It had crossed my mind many times the night before but I refused to think it was valid.

“M-Maybe,” I responded, the heaviness of the situation weighing down on me even more.

Jongin dropped his book bag on the ground and hunched over to unlatch the flap. He dug through it, eyes trained elsewhere. From it he retrieved his Boston Red Sox cap.

I almost stepped back when he advanced towards me, intimidated by his height.

Suddenly the hat was stuffed onto my head and I stared up at the tan boy who just as easily stared back at me.

Jongin’s fingertips finally left the brim of the cap, still keeping eye contact with me.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” He commented with a raise of his eyebrows before exited the bathroom, leaving me speechless and baffled.

I played a game at work with Maggie Ann that afternoon. I had no idea what was going on either. It was something called M.A.S.H. I never ended up understanding it at the end. The only thing I knew about the game was that it was commonly played in America.

What I drew was that she had me married to Jongin and we lived in a “bad house” as she tried (and mostly failed) to describe in Korean.

I didn’t know why but the idea of Jongin and me married caused my stomach to lurch, not necessarily in a bad way but I was uneasy over the fact that I seemed okay with it.

And while she attempted to translate the remaining results into Korean, I lost myself in a daydream of myself and Jongin living under the same roof, eating dinner together, sitting on the couch laughing over a movie, and calmly sleeping together at night.

“Dammit,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head.

I wasn’t gay, was I? I didn’t care. Boys, girls, what was the difference? You loved who you loved. But Jongin? I questioningly thought about him again and felt my toes tingle, curling.

“Nope,” I said. “Stop thinking, Kyungsoo.”

“Hmm?” Maggie Ann wondered, sipping her coffee.

I waved my hand dismissively.

“No you’re doing well,” I assured her.

It was when she gave me a confused look that I realized I spoke in all Korean.

“Good,” I repeated, slowly in Korean. I knew the word in English but I wanted to help Maggie Ann learn Korean.

“A-Ahh! Thanks!” She responded, formally thanking me.

I chuckled because it was kind of cute how oblivious she was. But hell, she was a foreigner. She deserved an award if she wasn’t confused.

Chanyeol watched us with cheery amusement.

I was in the middle of engulfing a delightful spinach salad that included blue cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers and balsamic vinegar and olive oil dressing when my phone buzzed.

Instinctively, I frowned. I wasn’t in the mood to answer another call from my parents again.

I reached out and clutched the phone with apprehension.

When I noticed the caller ID though, my eyes widened in surprise.

Incoming call: Kim Jongin (Egotistical of the century)

I think that I flipped the phone open too quickly, said hello a little too hastily and barely managed to catch my breath in anticipation.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin spoke.

“Yeah,” I continued.

“Are you…doing okay?”

I switched my gaze over to his hat, resting on my bed next to mine and couldn’t help but allow a small smile to cross my lips, uninvited.

“Yes,” I responded. “I’m okay now.”

“Kyung,” he spoke seriously. “You’ll tell me if there’s anything wrong, right? You will ing tell me.”

“Yeah,” I found myself unquestioningly answering. “I will.”

And I knew that I would.

“Okay,” Jongin concluded. “Then…bye.”

Click.

It was one of those phone calls that kept me up only half of the night, replaying the dialogue and admiring its perfection, and falling asleep with an irresistible grin plastered to my face.

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A/N: I will not lie. This is short. However, I couldn’t update on the weekend because I was on a road trip to see my bro in college. So, I gave this tiny chapter to try to make up. Sorry it’s short. The next one will be better because we have MEA break :D I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. I shall edit later. So anyway, comment, review, whatever you call it. Subscribe if you like :)