Autumn, 2010

Our first fight came late in our relationship, just a few days shy of Christmas. Our anniversary (and I’ll tell you about that in the next chapter) had come and gone, and I hadn’t seen him since then. It had been a good ten months, the longest that he’d disappeared for. I’d received an old handphone, a hand-me-down from the older kids, and I texted him constantly. He replied at first, telling me that he was busy, but soon he stopped entertaining me, and I got the sense to stop.

The weather had started to turn cold, and the leaves hanging from trees along the sidewalk were beginning to turn the beautiful russet colours of Autumn. Summer vacation had come and gone, and school was beginning to pick up pace. I’d been practising on the school piano until late at night that day, and it was dark by the time I packed up to walk home.

The Home was noisy as I climbed the few steps up to the front door, and I shucked off my shoes and entered, only to find Jinnie racing across the ground floor, looking over his shoulder and cackling with delight. I took a moment to find my bearings before walking in, but stopped when I saw Jongin racing after Jinnie, a wide grin on his face.

I felt tiny, then. All of a sudden. Like I wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep for a year or two. Jongin had given me small smiles, but he never smiled at me like that before. He hadn’t even told me that he would be visiting today. It had been ten months.

He caught sight of me then, standing in the doorway and spacing out.

“Rin,” he greeted, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be playing catch with Jinnie.

My fingers itched to pull him into a hug, to bury my face in his chest and inhale that woody scent that seemed to cling onto his clothes. But I resisted, gulping as I greeted him.

“Where have you been?” I asked when we were finally relatively alone. The kids had been settled down for bed. It was late at night, but Jongin didn’t make any move to go home.

“Busy,” he replied. I sat at the kitchen counter, biting unconsciously at my lip. Jongin was rearranging the cutlery, back towards me. I had the feeling that he didn’t want to turn around.

“For ten months?” I asked. There was nothing accusatory in my tone; I was genuinely curious. He’d grown taller again. Leaner, too. I supposed that if I reached out to grab his arm I would feel nothing but muscle.

“Yes,” came his curt reply.

“Okay,” I said. This behaviour was galaxies different from how he had acted when I’d visited his school in February— a memory that I’ll divulge soon. It was beginning to scare me. “I-“ I fidgeted in my seat. “I just thought that you would have come back sooner. I missed you.”

Jongin’s hands froze, a fork held in mid-air. Slowly he placed it down, shut the cutlery drawer, turned around to face me. He looked like he hadn’t had much sleep in the ten months since I saw him. His eyes were hard.

“You’re not the only thing I have to think about.”

The statement shocked me into speechlessness. Jongin was usually apathetic when it came to me. But this sentence was laced with a thread of venom.

“I’m not expecting that!” My eyed widened as I scrambled to clarify myself. “I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

Jongin had lowered his head. He was leaning against the counter, fingers tightly gripping the edge. His beautiful hair fell around his face, and once again I couldn’t see his eyes.

He drew in a slow breath, choosing to remain silent, and I wasn’t sure why I wanted to shoot myself in the foot, but a tiny, bitter, fed-up part of my brain made me blurt out, “But since when have you ever thought about me?”

There was more to that accusatory claim—never calling back, disappearing for months on end, refusing to tell me what went on in his life, always, always, seeing the kids first when he came to the Home— for I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop myself from going on.

There was deadly silence after that, and the tears that had threatened to erupt, all the sudden ugly emotions that my body had wanted to let lose, were replaced by shame. I couldn’t possibly know of the hardship Jongin was going through, I shouldn’t have been so quick to anger. It was insensitive and selfish of me, only caring about myself and my petty grievances.

When Jongin did look up—I don’t know how long the silence had gone on for—I was already tripping out of my seat, hot, guilty tears making my vision swim.

“Oh, Jongin,” I choked, stumbling over and wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I pressed my cheek to his chest and tried not to let my tears stain his shirt. “I’m so, so sorry.” He stayed dead still, like a carving of a Greek god, fingers never loosening their grip from the edge of the counter.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled again. “I shouldn’t have been so selfish. I- I didn’t mean a thing I said.” I pulled back, tried to read his eyes. “Please forgive me.”

He let me hug him for a while, and my grip around him tightened. I listened to his slow, calm heartbeat, trying to match my erratic one with his. But then he gripped my arms, detaching me gently from his torso. The tears were flowing down my cheeks now, and I bit my lip until it bled trying to rein them in. I didn’t think Jongin liked crying, and I didn’t want to make him even angrier than he already must have been. He wiped away the tears with the pad of his thumb, and I sniffled, hoping that all was forgiven. But his next words were void of any emotion.

“It’s late. I should go home.”

I stared at him, at him charcoal eyes and fluffy hair and slightly hollow cheeks, trying desperately to read him. But I didn’t want to make him any angrier. So I wiped away my tears hastily and said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you out.”

I followed him to the door and waited as he put his shoes on. Jongin turned and went down the steps without even a backward glance at me, and that image of his back, of him walking away from me, made me gasp out his name and run out of the Home barefoot, ignoring the stabs of pain that the uneven concrete shot through my legs.

He half-turned upon hearing his name, and I crashed my lips to his forcefully. He grunted and we stumbled slightly, but he managed to catch me. My eyes were squeezed shut as I kissed him with bruising preassure, not wanting to see his reaction. I was unsure of where this bravery was coming from, but the thumping in my ears made me realise that I wasn’t being brave at all. I had been scared into action.

I had never had much practise with kissing, but I did what I thought I was supposed to do, letting my tongue trace the line of his lips as I tried to elicit some sort of response from him. I didn’t want to let go, but panic began to lace into my veins when all he did was stand still. My arms s around his neck, bringing us closer, and finally, finally, Jongin returned the favour.

He opened his mouth, giving me entrance, and my tongue wasted no time, immediately tracing the curve of his teeth and lightly caressing his own. I was leading, and he didn’t bother fighting for dominance, but I didn’t care. I wanted to kiss him for as long as I could. Hold him for ever. I didn’t want to see the image of his back retreating from me. Never again. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter as a tear trickled down my cheek, and kissed him harder.

The wind was cold but our actions were heated enough to keep us warm. We parted when we both ran out of air. His hair was messy from me threading my fingers through them, and his hands were on my waist. I was crying silently, and he placed his lips softly on my cheeks, kissing up the trial of tears. I couldn’t look at him, but I didn’t want to let him go.

“I should head home,” he whispered, forehead pressed against mine. He kissed me again, on my bottom lip tenderly before walking away. I turned, not wanting to see his diminishing back. But I was always never able to take my eyes away from Jongin, and I lifted my head and watched in silence as he slowly retreated from my view.

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Hello lovelies! Something bittersweet for you. The next chapter will contain more fluff, please anticipate ^^