The cold hilt of the knife chilled the palm of your hand. You tightened your grip, pressing the blade down with a clumsy determination. You could hear the sharp tear of the layers of onion as  the knife met bluntly with the cutting board. Tears streamed down your cheeks, the pungent acid colliding with your eyes. You dropped the knife upon the counter and buried your face between your fists, sniffling. A soft sob escaped your lips. Perhaps it was better to let it out.

"." you mumbled, as you heard slow, hesitant steps resonating through the hall. You wiped your tears quickly and turned towards the window, hoping the breeze would dry out your eyes.

The steps grew closer and closer, each tap upon the floor like a pounding in your head. You steadied your breath. The footsteps came to a stop just a few feet away. You kept your back to the entrance. There was no need to turn. You knew he would be there. You could see him clearly in your mind; He would be resting against the door frame, his lean shoulders slumping against the wood, his hands tucked away into his pockets shamefully. His tousled black curls would be falling over his temples in a state of disarray, their inky tone complimenting his translucent skin. His large dark eyes would be staring up at you, like that of a puppy looking for acknowledgement from its master. He took a breath. Your skin trembled.

"Can you say something?"

You felt your heart throb as the melodic sound of his voice carried its way to your ear. You clenched your eyelids shut, attempting to stop the new rush of tears from escaping.

"No." you mumbled.

He remained silent. You bowed your head, your back still turned away from the boy. You felt him shift behind you.

”________-ah.”

You straightened up, wiping your tears with one swift of the arm. You turned around, grabbing the cold knife in your clammy hand. Without looking up at the boy, you continued to dice the onions. Another moment of silence ensued before the boy spoke out.

"Do you need help with that?"

You shook your head furiously. “It’s fine” you declared, your voice now much more composed. “I can do it by myself.”

He walked steadily closer, a distinct hesitance in his gait. He kept his eyes glued to the floor. You took the opportunity to glance his way, immediately regretting the decision as your chest ached at the sight of him. You felt your eyes burn, whether from the oncoming  tears or the acid of the onions, you couldn’t be sure.

”______-ah, please.” he said, taking a position a couple feet away from you. He removed his hands from his pockets and rested them upon the edge of the counter. “I didn’t know till yesterday.”

Your throat tightened at the painful  tone of his voice. You mumbled, “It’s college, Kyungsoo. You knew. It’s not like you just decided to move to China overnight.”

He furrowed his brows in frustration. “I was going to tell you. I just needed to… figure out how to say it.”

You grit your teeth, chopping more furiously. “You’re leaving tomorrow. When exactly were you going to tell me?”

You swallowed your anger waiting for a response. Kyungsoo took a long breath. You kept your eyes fixed on the cutting board.

"I’m sorry." he pleaded, his voice barely louder than whisper.

You scoffed, blinking away your tears. You hammered the knife against the cutting board, the vegetables practically turned to powder. Before you could stop yourself, the knife slashed down upon your finger. You dropped the knife, crying out in pain, the sound barely recognizable beneath your sobs. Kyungsoo called your name and immediately took your hand in his, holding it gently.

"Shhh," he hushed, bringing your hand to the sink. He let the water fall for a moment, testing it before leading your finger beneath the cool stream.

"It’s just a cut," he mumbled, searching the drawers till he found a bandage. "It’ll be fine."

You took rapid, shallow breaths, attempting to compose yourself. Kyungsoo returned to your side, a napkin in hand. You let him take your finger and dry the wound. With a steady hand, he wrapped the bandage around your finger, gently pressing it sealed. His hand lingered upon your own, his fingers grazing the soft pink skin of your palm, sending a shiver through your veins. You pulled away stubbornly, mumbling a hollow thank you. Kyungsoo kept his gaze on you, the desire to speak itching at his lips, yet unable to surface.

You turned to resume your cooking. A warm hand took your arm. “I’ll do it.”

Before you could protest, Kyungsoo took a hold of one of the knives and began chopping the various vegetables sprawled across the counter. He glanced at you.

"Just sit down." he muttered, more as a request than a command. You looked at the barstool, half wanting to oblige.

"I’m fine." you asserted. 

With that, you took out a wide pan, heating it on the stove. You filled a bowl with the chopped onions and kimchi, pouring them into the pan. A fiery smoke filled the atmosphere. Kyungsoo, still chopping, turned to get a glimpse of your work.

"You have to put the oil in first, _____-ah." he said sheepishly.

You glared at him, grabbing the olive oil and pouring it over the sizzling food. The smoke dissipated, replaced by the rich scent of fried kimchi. As the vegetables cooked, you set up a pot of noodles, boiling it on a high flame. You could hear Kyungsoo set down the knife and shift to face you. He moved to your side, watching as you mixed the onions. You noticed him lower the heat of the noodles.

You grimaced, a note of irritation in your voice as you addressed him, “I can take care of it myself, Kyungsoo.”

"Just let me help, ______."

You didn’t reply. He leaned against the counter, watching the pan, occasionally glancing up at you. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “You’re letting the onions burn.”

You shot him a distasteful glance, turning to retrieve the remaining vegetables. As you poured them in the thick glass bowl, you took notice of how finely and proportionately they had been cut, just large enough to color the meal, yet small enough to melt into the food. You scoffed silently, not allowing yourself to admit you were impressed. Cooking had never been your forte. Kyungsoo had always been the better chef between the two of you. When there was nothing better to do, you’d often visit him, finding him in the kitchen, putting together some sort of new dish or snack. He liked to have you around when he cooked, you remembered. It made it worth it, he would say, to see someone enjoy his effort as heartily as you did. Of course, it couldn’t be said that you did not care to try yourself. His words often inspired you to attempt a dinner or lunch of some kind. You’d  wanted to learn, wanted to be able to present a meal to someone and see the joy in their face as they tasted the rich flavor of your hard work and care. And, for a time, you did try to learn. Yet, despite years of lessons with your mother and hours of drooling over the Food Channel, you’d never quite figured how to turn a bowl of rice and a few ounces of meat into a digestable meal. Eventually you’d accepted the fact, satisfied with watching him, simply handing the boy a few fruits and spices every now and then.


Yet there you were, in all your lack of talent, cooking. You looked over at Kyungsoo as you poured the vegetables into the pan, watching him observe, making sure you didn’t slip up. You felt a pang in your chest. What was the point of this anymore? The meal, all the cooking, all the hard work and care, it had only been for one person, and now, it was spoiled. Spoiled by your tears. Spoiled by his news. Spoiled since the moment you’d heard him say he was leaving.

”_______-ah?” Kyungsoo called gently. “You’re going to burn your arms.”

You blinked, not noticing you’d been mixing the vegetables. Your arm tinged with pain as the crackling oil of the pan sparked outward like an eruption. Kyungsoo gingerly took the spoon from your hand.  You looked up at him, slightly dazed.

"Here," he said, courting you away from the threat of the sizzling oil, "I’ll finish the rest. Could you hand me the tomato sauce, please?"

You slid the jar across the counter before stumbling over to one of the barstools. You brought your legs up to the highest leg rest of the stool and rested your arms upon the marble counter. You stared at Kyungsoo’s back as he finished adding the kimchi sauce into the noodles. His tousled curls shook here and there as he leaned forward to mix the sauce, his broad shoulders hunched over the pot. When had the noodles even been drained? Had you really just been stirring the kimchi for so long? You felt a deep, childish disappointment settle in your stomach as you watched him complete the meal himself.

You stood up and searched the cupboards for a pair of plates. As you placed them upon the counter, Kyungsoo carried over the pot of kimchi spaghetti, pouring a spoonful in each deep dish. You set a pair of chopsticks by each plate and returned to your stool. Kyungsoo set the pot back on the stove, leaving the heat on simmer to keep it warm, before sitting down beside you. Kyungsoo took up his chopstick and rolled himself a mouthful of the reddened noodles. You watched as he slipped the food into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"It’s good." he said, a small smile on his ruddy lips.

You knit your brows, fiddling with the fraying edge of your bandage. “I was making it for you.” you mumbled.

He remained quiet, watching your fingers intently. “Why?”

"It was a gift." You lifted your shoulders lamely in a shrug. "Doesn’t matter anymore. You ended up making most of it anyways."

Kyungsoo slid around on his stool to face you. “Thank you, _____-ah. I really liked it.”

He waited for your response. When you remained quiet, he added, “It means a lot.”

You felt your swollen eyes stinging. You lifted your gaze, looking up at the ceiling, attempting to fight the salty liquid from overwhelming your lids. How was it he could still speak so kindly to you, even after the way you’d been ignoring him while cooking? A lump caught in your throat. You spoke in a broken tone, “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving for college, Kyungsoo?”

The boy avoided your gaze, unable to speak at the sight of your tears. You fought back a cry. “If you leave, what will I do?”

He swallowed nervously. A sob escaped your lips, shaking your shoulders. You balled your hands into fists, rubbing at your tears. Your heart ached at the thought he would no longer be here. No longer a short walk away. No longer able to come over to cook you dinner when there was no food. No longer able to come over and eat your own burnt kimchi spaghetti. You’d always assumed Kyungsoo would be with you, whether it be college, or work, or living in a retirement home. It had never occurred to your that perhaps the boy would pursue a different life, that the boy even had a life apart from the one he shared with you. Your eyes burned with tears as you imagined a day without his company. You muttered beneath your breath, “You’re the only friend I have.”

Kyungsoo took ahold of one of your hands, taking it away from your eye to cup within his own warm palm. “I’m sorry.”

He bit his lip in worry. “I didn’t want to tell you, ______. Not till I knew how.”

You let out another restrained sob, your body concaving at the shoulders as if to cage your heart. Kyungsoo’s broken voice called over your shaking breath, “Don’t cry.”

You complied, quieting your cries, your body still shuddering as you swallowed each sob.

"I’ll visit you. I promise, ______." He attempted your meet your gaze. "I’ll call, everyday. I’ll write letters, if you want. I’ll even send you food."

You let out a pathetic laugh. Kyungsoo’s features softened as he caught your gaze. He tightened his hold on your hand, rubbing his thumb against the silky surface of your skin. With his free hand, he wiped the tears from your cheek. His brows furrowed as he looked at your red rimmed eyes, guilt filling his own.

"I’m sorry, _______."  he said quietly. He bowed his head shamefully, his soft curls falling over his forehead.

You attempted to steady your erratic breathing as you wiped away a few stray tears from your lashes. Kyungsoo took hold of your other hand, lacing them both between his own. He gazed at your thin fingers, like long ivory petals between his own.

He mumbled beneath his breath, “I wanted to ask you…. to wait for me.”

You looked at him, confused. “What?”

He shrugged shyly, looking up at you from beneath the fringe of his lashes. “Doesn’t matter.”

You pressed gently into his hands, urging him to speak. Kyungsoo returned the gesture, removing one of his hands to move a stray hair out of your face. He leaned in closer, his eyes focused on your lips, still pink and pouting from your tears. His eyes flickered to your own. You stared, mesmerized by his deep russet irises as he whispered, “This is enough, for now.”

You felt the soft cushion of his lips caressing your own, lingering just upon the surface for an instant, before pressing tenderly deeper. Kyungsoo brought his hand up to your neck, lacing his firm fingers between the rich strands of your hair, just barely pulling your lips closer to his. He kissed with an earnesty, a deep, yearnful desire, yet his lips moved in a manner as gentle as if you’d been kissing air. For a moment, you felt as if you’d been electrocuted. Sharp fire seemed to tingle the skin your body, causing the hairs on your neck to rise. Once he pulled away, you shuddered a breath.

Kyungsoo observed you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes, something you’d hoped with all your heart he had found. With a final glance, he pulled away, his hand falling from your neck, tickling the skin it grazed. Kyungsoo looked at the plates of spaghetti on the counter, now cold and stiffening. “Thank you, _______, for everything.”

You nodded absentmindedly, never taking your eyes off the boy. He stood up, slumping his shoulders, his hand in his pockets as he turned towards the door. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Again, you nodded, simply watching him as he walked away. You felt within you a realization of the long absence you were to experience upon his walking through the door. You tried to imagine what the next day could be like. You tried to imagine graduating, entering University,  living without him by your side. You’d known Kyungsoo for years. He’d always been a part of your life. There was nothing you cherished more than the feeling of him by your side. Could you really be the only one who’d felt this hollowness in your heart, knowing you wouldn’t see him tomorrow? You longed to stop him and suddenly, you’d realized what he’d meant, what he’d tried to ask since he’d arrived.

Kyungsoo reached the entrance and lingered, hesitantly. You called out, “Kyungsoo-ah.”

The boy turned halfway, meeting your gaze. You lowered your voice, unsure of how to say what you wanted. You began to fidget with the bandage on your finger, avoiding his gaze as you muttered, “Don’t forget to visit.”

Instinctively, you looked up at the boy. His luminous skin glowed a pale yellow under the setting sun. His disheveled charcoal curls rested softly upon his brow. His cocoa eyes remained focused on you, smouldering with a desire your own eyes seemed to mirror. “I’ll be waiting.”