“Monkey, do we have blue ribbon?” came a muffled question, from the direction of our closet.

I was still waking up from a secret nap, so I had no clue what Daesung was talking about.  Ribbon?  If I didn’t want to get caught, I was going to have to wing it.

“Uh… maybe some from two Christmases ago?  Remember?  You wanted to wrap everyone’s presents in blue and silver because the album was coming out,” I yell back.  I pause for a moment, shaking my head.  So sentimental.

No reply.  What is he up to?

As I stand up, I twist my neck and back to release some of the tiredness.  It has been an exhausting several weeks but the end is in sight.  I better pretend to be with it so he doesn’t catch on, otherwise I won’t hear the end of it.

I walk into our bedroom, where I spot him rifling through my side of the closet, like a man on a mission.

“What are you looking for now?” I ask, sitting down on the foot of the bed.

“Your green vest.  Don’t you think it’ll be perfect?”

F.  Generic, keep it generic.

“Yeah, definitely.  Makes… sense, Coconut,” I stutter out my reply, far more hesitantly than I want.

“Found it!  All the way in the back of course,” Daesung comes out of the closet with the biggest smile of triumph on his face.  It never ceases to make me go a little weak in the knees, even after all these years.  It’s been nearly ten years since we met and he still lets his inner self shine through, far more often than most people.

“Now all I need is a red feather, and we’re all set.”

I was so lost meditating on my boyfriend’s face that I almost missed that last part.

What?

“You WERE asleep, weren’t you?” Daesung sharply turns around, with his eyebrows knitted.

F.  Must have said that last part out loud.  I know I look guilty, so I decide to minimize the damage and say nothing.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Hyung?  Don’t take naps after dinner right now!  Especially not today, you’re going to be tired now tomorrow at the premiere.  You can’t fall asleep at the afterparty either,” he switches from a whine to a warning, exasperated at me.

“It’s your fault, Daesung.  You can’t make gochujang jiggae and not expect me to fall into food coma afterwards.  You know it’s my favorite, I ate way more than I should have, I’m gonna be all bloated tomorrow,” I actually whined, hoping to deflect the lecture.

“I know it’s your favorite, that’s why I made it.  You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks, and I know you’re really tired, so I wanted to treat you before tomorrow.  Sorry, Monkey, I didn’t even think about the salt,” he replied, soft voice even softer.

F.  No lecture, but now he feels bad.