Chapter Forty Eight

Some nights, I would find myself sleeping soundly.

While some nights, I would find myself wide awake. It was that feeling when your body itself was telling that you needed to rest. In fact, you could. I could. It was just that I didn't want to. Because my heart thumping restlessly was commanding me not to. 

And this night was one of those nights when I found it hard to fall asleep.

I realized I had been asking myself too many absurd questions as I stared at the painted concrete ceiling above me. Is he asleep yet? Is he in his dreamland yet? Or perhaps, is he still counting to his dreamland? But it was already an hour past midnight. There was nothing but the distinct lack of sound that otherwise inhabited our abode during daytime. Everyone else was asleep, with the area downstairs completely vacated after the other guests left more than an hour ago. 

Darkness and coldness were swallowing me wholly and rawly as I lied at the futon mattress settled on the carpeted floor. My older sister's room was comparatively different from mine, with the arrangement and the ambience. Hers was reflective of her very own personality. The walls were coated with a light pastel pink color while the ceiling a plain white in color. However, with the lack or, perhaps, the absence of sufficient lighting inside this room, they appeared neutrally pigmented.

With the lack of sleep these recent nights, I knew I should be easily dozing off. However, I could still feel that restless entity continuously making me uneasy. I knew that I already got my pajamas that I was even wearing them at the moment after taking a warm shower. I could also remember warning him that he should not touch my things inside my room, because I could recall every inch of space they were located so he should not intend to do so in any way possible. I think I also told him that if ever he needed something…he shouldn't bother me, because I would be falling asleep anyway the moment I  closed my eyes. I then walked fast out of my bedroom after the 'reminders', not giving him an opportunity to respond. Because I was still awkward.

I lied flat on my side, hugging the pillows beside me, or make that, surrounding me, feeling the fragrant, smooth and slightly cold fabric against my left cheek.

Why are there so many pillows in Myunhwa's room anyway-

Now I knew why it seemed that something was bothering me…I forgot to give him some pillows. 

Myunhwa might have been using mine while I was staying at the dorm. 

He might be having some stiff neck now lying his head flat on the mattress. 

Or maybe, I should just let him suffer. He made me sleep on the freezing patio and ate half of the breakfast anyway. Now that was more brutal.

But nope. The Seo Myunjae suite should be of better service and more accommodating than the crude Kim Joonmyeon suite.

I sat up on the futon mattress and gathered a couple of pillows in my hands, hugging the pillows on my either side. Careful not to wake Myunhwa up, and though it was a world-proclaimed fact that she was a heavy sleeper, I took light and careful strides towards the door, just like how burglars did it in the movies. I shut the door gently, squeezing the pillow on my right side using my upper arm against the side of my chest. It was colder outside the room, but this pillow-giving thingy would not take that long either. I would just drop it on his face then I would shoot out of the room.

I cautiously turned the knob of my bedroom door, pushing the door in a slightly ajar manner and taking a small glimpse of my room first. It's mine anyway, who am I taking a guard against? From my hunched posture in a stealth manner, I took a straight stance like a boss before pushing the door halfway. With the relatively much warmer atmosphere inside the room, I closed the door once more so as to preserve warmth coming from the floor heating of the room.

My room was unusually dark, probably much darker than Myunhwa's room, because of the blinds on the windows blocking the path of the moonlight of this winter night. Whenever I slept in my room, I would always light a small bedside lampshade, because Myunhwa would often tell scary stories when we were younger. I guessed it just became a habit for me to do such, though boogeyman and monsters would not frighten me because yours truly was a big girl now. I could even sleep alone and 'lightless' inside my dorm room now. However, at this moment, no lights were . I guess Joonmyeon doesn't like sleeping with the lights on.

The only kind of lighting present in the room, which was comprised of wheat-colored walls and white ceiling, was the linearly periodic array of lighting passing through the slits of the blinds, scattering on a certain area of the floor and the bed on the right.

The bed where Kim Joonmyeon was sleeping.

As I approached the bed, with my bare feet fluidly carrying themselves against the warm wooden floor, my gaze softened though I was still maintaining a stern facade. Joonmyeon had his eyes closed, lying still on his back. Though with the out-phased arrays of lighting hitting his face and his upper body, I could see he had a calm yet firm expression plastered on his face. The effect of the illumination only accentuated the defined and manly features of his face, ones that I would never get tired of seeing. He was wearing a set of clothing he brought with him; a black long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, and light gray trackpants. His dark brown hair was partially disheveled, being dried as it is in its natural state, mysteriously imparting shadow upon his closed eyes, in addition to the shadow shed by the blinds, streaking occasionally on his face.

Realizing that he had already dozed fully, I decided to place the pillows on the empty spot on his right, near the wall, opposite of the side I was standing on. Joonmyeon might have been deeply asleep without any movement from his position. He had his right forearm supporting his head on the mattress as a pillow, head facing the ceiling above him. 

With still a serious expression, I continually observed Kim Joonmyeon. I sat down on the floor beside the bed, and placed my right forearm on the edge, in front of me. I rested my head on my forearm, with my eyes growing sleepier with the mere view of this figure so calming to watch. With my current position, I wondered...was this what it felt like to do such thing, just like what Joonmyeon did as he watched me sleep during those moments?

I then felt my left hand moving on its own, that I soon found my palm and fingers gently grazing the top of his soft, dark brown hair.

I smiled to myself as I watched him so warm and tranquil on a night like this.

Good night, Joonmyeon.

I carefully pushed myself up against the mattress, standing on two bare feet once again. I took a final glance down at Joonmyeon before turning on my heels.

I lightly walked towards the door once again, with the seamless quietness of everything else. As I reached halfway for the knob, I heard a soft sound in the midst of the vast silence.

"Can you watch the night sky with me for a while?"

And just like the night, everything else blended in between two distinct colors.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. But a thousand words can also be worth a picture. A picture telling a story. 

Stories.

Some stories are filled with colors, like the ones beginning to appear at the onset of spring, ones staying in the midst of summer and ones almost vanishing at the end of autumn. On the other hand, some of the stories simply lacked colors. However, even the saddest story had a color, even if it was just a basic blue. 

Or probably, it was because the color of the story mainly depended on the one telling the story. 

There were stories that were two-dimensional, like portraits on a wall. Some stories were three-dimensional, like live objects occupying a certain volume in the spatial region. Three dimensional in a manner that too many aspects were involved. Too many relationships involved. Particularly, relationships that needed to be restored and refilled. Like that of a dream and a dreamer, an older brother and a younger one, and that of a father and a son. A story with a foreground of two people, a background of one person, and making it three dimensional, something connecting the background and the foreground, however, broken. 

Painted was a portrait, or perhaps, molded was an object in three dimensions. However, it was lacking in color. 

Like a dull black and white. 

The colors were so distinct from one another. So distinct that choosing between the two implied siding with an extreme. There would be a point in time where one could stay in between. At the "gray" area. However, one could not stay in that area for too long for it might become a trap of being confused and being lost.

Not too long.

One had to choose.

In due time.

The entire time Joonmyeon was telling his story, I gazed at the ceiling in the middle of this dark room, my bedroom. My eyes were plastered on the glowing stars gracing the ceiling of this enclosure, in comparison to the plain white ceiling of the room I was in earlier. I thought that the view above me would be one percent more colorful than the image being constructed in my mind with his words. 

For a short moment, I heard him pause as he laid still on my right, back against the slightly warm floor beneath us. I turned to look at him, with both of my hands clasped on my stomach. He continually gazed at the ceiling above us, and with the shadows of the room still feasted on his features, I could observe that he was pondering about something, lost in his own thoughts, with a serious expression on his face as he clenched his jaw. He had his right arm cushioning his head from the floor, and his left hand settled on his stomach.  

"Can I ask you something, Myunjae?"

I focused my gaze silently on him, with my head still facing him.

"Which would you choose between the two?" 

He unyieldingly proceeded staring at the explosion of stars above us. Seemingly after a couple of seconds, he glanced at me straightly in the eyes, as if waiting for me to give a response.

I knew that Joonmyeon meant the question in so many different ways. However, at this moment, underneath the serious expression he was batting toward me, I knew  that he was looking for an answer. One answer. 

"Can I tell you a secret, Joonmyeon?" I muttered softly, almost in a whisper.

I saw his jaw clench, as if mentally bolting up to focus on what I had to say. However, he stayed rooted in his position, still looking at me firmly and unbreakingly. Stern yet tired. Expecting yet unprepared. 

"You know, a guy named Kim Joonmyeon had these so many sides in him. Two contrasting sides actually." I searched his eyes for a second before resuming. He still did not move an inch, watching me.

"But here's the real secret." I gave him a small, closed smile before proceeding. "Hulck and Joonmyeon both annoy me in a certain manner. But it won't matter, because either way…"

"…I see only one guy who bugs me in a manner I only know. In a fluttering way I only know."

A gentle smile cascaded his lips as his slightly tired gaze remained on mine. 

"And for the question which…" I slowly reached for his left hand with my right hand beside me. Just like what he usually did.

"…Just the guy. Just the guy who has always had intertwined his fingers with mine every while we had the chance."

Joonmyeon shifted his gaze towards the ceiling above us once again, sighing, with a faint smile still sketched on his lips, then faltering after a moment.

For a number of seconds, we stared at the few stars in sight above us once again. With no words being spoken, I listened to the familiar sound lingering around us. His and my heartbeat. And everything else, silent.

I redirected my gaze toward him when I realized he was watching me on my lateral view. He was glancing at me steadily, onto my every facial feature. 

I then gave him a reassuring smile, speaking in a hush manner as I still faced him. "Either way, no matter which you choose..."

"…you will do fine, Kim Joonmyeon. I know. You will do just fine."

He flashed a closed smile at me as his gaze softened. 

Silence engulfed these two figures lying on the floor.  I gave his hand a slight squeeze before releasing it from my grasp, as I was starting to feel that my sleepiness was dominating me. Even before I could sit up in position, Joonmyeon sat up ahead of me, and stood in front of me. He then gestured a hand down at me firmly as if to support me up. Smiling with my pursed lips, I held onto his hand as I took a stance on the ground once more.

With the close proximity that Joonmyeon and I were in, he gazed down at me sternly with his dark brown eyes, still partially obscured by the shadow of his hair. 

With his gentle yet slightly deep voice, he mumbled. "Thank you, Myunjae."

I responded once again with a small smile as I stared up at him. 

And as if on impulse, I slowly secured my arms around the neck of the relatively taller figure in front of me. 

Joonmyeon did not respond with a word nor any movement at a short moment, as if  surprised of the gesture. However, after a number of seconds, I felt his arms slowly encircling my waist in return. He stepped forward, eliminating even the tiniest gap between us as he tightened his hold around me. 

He leaned his head forward to my shoulder, nuzzling his nose to my hair at the left side of my neck. And it may had been a while. 

One while.

Another while.

For what  seemed like a short duration of time, I slowly inched my head away from him, glancing up at him, with our enveloping holds still around one another. 

"You will do fine….you will do great, Joonmyeon."

I gave him a small encouraging smile as I took a step back from him. I loosened my arms around his neck as I looked at the floor beside me. After a second, Joonmyeon gradually disentangled his arms around me. 

Joonmyeon watched me unmovingly from his spot as I spun around on my heels. I started heading towards the door and held onto the knob, twisting it and rendering the door partially open-

"Seo Myunjae."

The next thing I felt was an arm latching onto the right of my waist, with his left palm landing flat against my back, making me turn on my position. I felt his lips landing on my pursed ones as I heard the door carefully closing behind me when Joonmyeon pushed it with his free hand close, hovering that arm on my left shoulder. His right palm then settled at the area of the upper part of my neck and the left of my jaw while his left arm held me tighter against his own frame.

His warm lips remained motionless on my own one. He slowly parted his lips from mine as he opened his eyes, gazing at me softly yet unyieldingly.

He then lifted up his head.

I felt his lips settle on my forehead lightly.

He redirected his shadow-casted dark brown eyes to mine in the midst of this dark room as he mumbled, his soft yet stern voice filled up my auditory senses.

Good night, Myunjae…

Good night.

It seemed like it had only been seconds ago, that I was still hearing his voice playing on repeat in my head. Or perhaps, in my dreams. Particularly in that figment of time in between being awake and being asleep. Something not abstract but not tangible either. Something between dream and reality. 

And it was in this area where you could suddenly feel your body jolting out of sleep. 

Because of the sudden movement as I sat up, a pounding headache suddenly surged through my head. Crap. It looks like I still haven't gotten enough sleep. 

I also felt like I was always kept awake these past few days.

Good night, Myunjae. Good night. 

I completely rose up from my bed, or futon mattress in this case, settled on the floor of Myunhwa's room. I had a hard time stabilizing myself on two feet and I had a noisy police siren resounding from me. You know what that means. Breakfast.

Going to the bathroom at the far end of the floor, I walked past my bedroom and was suddenly reminded of a certain someone. Maybe, he's already driving his way back.

Without another letting another thought to be processed inside my head, I carefully turned the knob, slowly pushing the door open. However, the speed of opening increased after realizing that no figure was settled on the bed, which had its lower part initially seen in reference to the bedroom doorway.

I walked further into my own bedroom. Only to find the cleared up bed and folded sheets and pillows on top of the bed.

Without any black duffle bag in sight.

Good night, Myunjae. Good night.

It was almost lunch time already. 

Maybe he had gone off early in the morning.

After washing up, I realized my 'sleep hang-over' was starting to subside. I decided to take a shower, dried my hair because I don't want it to freeze into ice exaggeratingly and wore casual winter clothing. And without any further ado, stomach, off we shall proceed to the kitchen.

Even if I was just striding down the stairs, I felt like a giddy cowgirl after realizing the certain smell coming from the kitchen. Yes. This is the moment I've been waiting for since yesterday. 

And of course, my guess could not go wrong. Lasagna. The second best lasagna in the world. Yep. It was because the Italian restaurant near the school still had the best. But I didn't know if it was me or winter that was disrupting my sense of smell, the aroma was different. I think mom is trying to do different ways of making lasagna. 

"Good morning, world," I greeted nonchalantly as I sat down on a chair at the dining table, with Dad reading the Sunday morning newspapers at the head of the table. Unbelievably silent. Growing old, indeed. But nope, since it was Sunday, he told us not to disrupt his quiet time, away from his weekdays of 'talking ginseng fanatics'. 

And no, we don't do the Sound of Music morning-greeting thingies in the morning. We're not the Brady Bunch either. 

But I think this lasagna is served in a bunch. Wow. That's a shirtload.

Well, I could be happy with that, as long as Mom's experimentation skills resulted in something more 'palatable'. After scooping a serving to my plate, I breathed deeply. Okay, it's judgment day.

"Mooooooom," I spoke, elongating the syllable, after chewing and swallowing the forkful. "What did you do?"

I resumed. "Is it me or your lasagna tastes different today?"

"Is it better?" Mom replied as she stood by the sink, transferring the clean, dry dishes from the rack to the compartment at the far right of the sink. 

"I think so," I nodded, taking another forkful. "Actually, yes. It's good-"

"Looks like your friend makes some good lasagna."

I stopped chewing that I almost bit my tongue literally. 

He cooked this?

"H