Cookie monster Pt. I .14.

I had no idea this would happen.

In fact, if I knew any better that we’d be sitting on a table across the world’s most perceptive forest squirrel, I probably would have continued giving Suga the cold shoulder up until now.

I probably wouldn’t have stopped myself last night when we got into that little fight on the sidewalk; probably would have mentioned the taboo word for Suga and gotten him to verbally destroy me in return. 'Ell, I probably would have never even let myself acknowledge the ridiculously illegal way he made my body react this morning.

Because quite frankly, any of the above probabilities were most likely a better option if it saved me from the nerve-racking situation I was currently in.

‘Was this really such a big secret…?’ the squirrel’s eyes stared into my soul with merciless aegyo.

‘Why didn’t you tell us this any earlier?’

… OK. Let’s go back a few hours ago.

Clink clink clink.

I cracked a single eye open and glanced at the clock… 7.00 AM. It was terribly cold the night before and I remembered occupying the couch for the night, but the moment sleep left my eyes, I couldn’t help but regret ever passing out in the living room. The curtains were open; allowing for the bright sunshine to flood in mercilessly; and my back ached horribly, but I think my face felt worse.

My nose pulsed with grotesque pain. The throbs came in intervals that were seemingly in perfect sync with my heartbeat, and as I touched the affected area tentatively, a hot, sharp pain cut through the skin.

I groaned, leaning back again as I allowed myself to sink into the couch and began recollecting what happened the night before… ah yes. The door slammed in my face. I remembered the accident and the pain that followed with gruesome vividness; how the sharp wooden edge hit me square in the face, and from behind the door, Suga appeared looking as casual as a suntanned beach bum. I scoffed at the thought but quickly cringed again when the action seemingly shifted my nose a good few inches from my face.

Well, what happened after the door-in-my-face thing?

I remembered running like a maniac with Suga to the apartment – steak in hand like an almighty weapon – and having the daylights slapped out of me by the said accomplice, later on screaming my top off at him when he took on his high school bimbo with a broken nail look, and, and, and… eating peaches and watching late night TV shows together when we got back as if nothing had ever happened.

Clink clink clink.

I pressed my hands into my eyes – being careful not to touch my nose – and stared into the black shadows of my palms. If ever there was a night in history where I went through almost every emotion I could possibly count on my fingers, it was probably last night. Never before had I imagined I was even capable of being as riled up as I was, but Suga honestly did an awful lot of foreign things to me… not to mention those God awful ba-bump’s! My heart didn’t cease that ridiculous activity even after we returned to the apartment and cut open the peaches. They were sour, but with a little sprinkling of sugar (which Suga suggested, punnily) they tasted as good as ripe.

Clink clink clink—

I turned around, frowning deeply into the box kitchen that the sunlight seemingly illuminated like one of those squeaky clean rinse aid ads. After a long moment of blinking rapidly into the bright light, the first thing that came to me was the smell of fresh coffee. I dwelled on this for a moment in complete stupor.

Coffee was never something that quite appealed to me, but the smell that invaded the living room was something so sensuous that I actually craved a taste of it. Clink clink clink.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Suga paced the kitchen up and down; the sound of house slippers splish-sploshing dryly against the black tiles of the box kitchen that was fixed into the left corner from the entrance. He handled the coffee machine expertly, sliding the large glass jug under the drip contraption, and then lowered the exposed top. He switched on the mechanism and reached overhead for the 4 mugs displayed at the top; 2 dangling in his fingers as he brought them to the counter.

I watched him soundlessly as he did these things; the coffee smell now a little more potent as the hot water dripped into the grains, filtering it into the jug. He had on a large, black, hooded pullover where the sleeves slipped over his hands, and the black tights he had on from the night before. His hair was a cringing mess and the urge to bring down a brush into the thick, knotted brown mass was incredible, but that quickly subsided when I noticed him concentrating fiercely into something on the counter.

Beside the mugs was a regular-sized notepad, and he had a pencil in his dominant hand. He drummed the back against the sheet a few times, and pressing his thumb against his lip; elbows propped on the counters in a manly manner; he began to scribble something down. His lips moving every now and again as he stared into what he wrote.

Scritch. Drip. Scratch. Drip.

‘Good morning,’ Suga voiced crisply without even looking up from his paper, and I felt my heart do the thing it did last night again.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. In shameless succession, it continued. ‘G-good morning…’

So it wasn’t a morning where I woke up to a classy black and white bedroom. There was no giant portrait of the glorious me on the wall; no superhero penciled sketch or large, fancy name on the ceiling that stole the morning sunshine. Geez, I didn’t even have on pajamas to think they looked good crinkled. I didn’t even have enough hair to honestly look in my mind’s mirror and see if it looked fabulous.

Instead, I woke up still in Suga’s body. I woke up in the living room, suffering from a bad backache and an even worse pain in my face, and I probably looked like someone who’d gotten banged up last night after taking some dope. I fell asleep in a blue men’s dress shirt on a couch and felt some acid reflux coming on because of that, and my ears hurt from being squashed all night with piercings still in them. All in all, I felt horrible…

But the image I’d dreamt of for the longest time was there. All components included, except for the lover part. And drinking in the reality of my situation despite the crazy train I boarded to get here, I felt my face heat up incredibly. My heart pounded despite how much I scolded and threatened it, and I only then realized my ears hurt not because of the piercings, but because of how hot they’d become watching Suga pour the unbelievably aromatic coffee into the two mugs.

You can’t feel like this you can’t feel like this I will NOT let you feel like this dangit! That’s not even him there, it’s you IT’S YOU! Goodness gracious, it was me alright. I was practically looking at myself going through some morning routine in a place a lot prettier than that crummy old apartment I lost last night, but it certainly didn’t feel that way.

There were a few more clink’s in the kitchen, and then Suga walked into the living room; one mug in each hand. I took the cup from him quietly and he leaned against the opposing window; his back arched gracefully as he took a quick sip from his cup—oh my God, why was I staring at him? I mean, wasn’t this really normal?

Yes, be ashamed of yourself Momo—‘wow, you look horrible…’

I stared at him like he was a piece of moldy bread. I couldn’t believe for a second that I actually thought I kind of liked the chap… perhaps he was decent only when he had his mouth closed. Like the good old theatre days.

‘Uh—yeah—thanks,’ I smiled sarcastically, but quickly cringed when the expression led to another stinging blow to the face. ‘Ow, ow, ow…’

I touched my face tentatively with one hand and brought the cup to my lips with the other. The coffee – unlike its tantalizing aroma – was incredibly strong and bitter. I scowled at how awful it tasted, but continued taking a few more sips for only God knows why. Why am I even drinking this?

‘You look like you just got knocked by a train,’ Suga said in what I had a hard time believing was bewilderment as he scrutinized me like I was some creature straight out of Osborne Corporation. ‘No, no, this won’t do.’

I waved away his hand as he prodded my nose gently with one finger, and managed to gulp half the mug down at this point. ‘Yes, well, news flash, Yoongi: you’re the one who did this to your precious face, in case you’ve for…’

I stared at him for a long moment thereafter, and noting how relaxed he looked in that oversized sweater, casual tights, and house slippers, glanced at the time again. 7.22 AM.

‘Wait a minute, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for work?’

An incredibly bored look immediately replaced his earlier one of fascination, and he stared at me as if I said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. The high school bimbo flashed across my eyes for a brief second.

‘Work? You should be grateful. I took the day off for you.’

I almost spat out my drink at his response. ‘What!?? Why would you…’

Suga threw one hand in my face and I stared at the gold card he flashed me, followed by a bright smile on his face. ‘We’re going shopping for new clothes.’

On any other occasion, I most likely would have jumped for joy at the declaration. I mean—a total hottie whose clothes you slept in the night prior, waking up to give you coffee, and on top of that, taking a day off work to take you shopping, at his own expense? I fawned over this delusion at some stage. The dream was so sweet that much like the morning coffee experience, I pined for the scenario in ways only a young woman like myself could understand.

And yet now that I was presented the opportunity – low and behold, even with a golden credit card that sang angelic cash balances to me sweetly – I couldn’t have been more wrong about the ‘dream date’ I once conjured.

‘This one, this one… what do you think of this one? Yes? No? OK, this one too.’

‘OH, the pain of being a man!’ I could almost hear Genji singing powerfully in my ears on the verge of weeping as Suga tossed the 47th article of clothing into my arms.

You know, how rich was this guy anyway? I suddenly regretted being as conservative with his wallet as I was. I had no idea why I didn’t go on a psycho spending spree with his cash, but now that the thought crossed my mind, I was certain to do so in future simply out of spite.

‘Uh—yeah—we’ll take these,’ I awkwardly tossed the pile of clothes onto the tiny assistant in the store when I noticed Suga stare in wonderment at the accessories corner.

I rolled my eyes at another two hours he’d take picking at accessories there like a crow, and pulled out my phone that