People fall in love all the time, of course that was the reality of the world. Most times nothing went without a little bit of fluttering romance, even most horror or action films included the element of love when it very much didn’t need so. That was one thing that annoyed Kim Namjoo.

Ok, sure, human beings were emotional. It made sense that that feeling we all call love be the center of what we revolve around, but it didn’t have to be for everything. Sometimes romance was so overwhelming in everyday life that Namjoo felt the urge to puke. It made her uncomfortable…in so many ways she couldn’t quite explain.

Since her college years she had been surrounded by her siblings and their significant others. The one benefit she got from it was food. Now they were all married and she was finally free from her parents’ grasps.

Namjoo had long wanted to be alone, promising that she would keep up with doctor appointments and taking her medicine. She even brought her meter around with her everywhere in case she needed to prick her finger to test her sugar level. Namjoo tried making it into a habit but wasn’t quite there yet. Surely one day she would get there, she was certain of it.

She had grown from a tiny sickly, thin girl and worked hard to put some weight on. No longer would there be days she was shamed for her tiny weight or how pale she was. Sometimes she became petty over how she wasn’t that 99% that struggled to lose weight instead of gaining – no one understood the difficult of gaining weight. And no one still understood. Namjoo had always been most determined to shed off those remarks, some of which she still received when she went someone with her parents and met old relatives, for old geezers never knew how to shut their traps.

The second worst thing next to that was she was still single and hounded by the girls about when she would introduce to them her boyfriend. In her future she couldn’t see herself being married or being a mother at that. A friend studying to become a doctor had told her it was too dangerous for a diabetic woman to get pregnant nonetheless give birth.

Namjoo shivered at that thought, giving birth. She couldn’t imagine the painful process. She too, felt no desire to have children. She could only stand her noisy niece and nephews for a few hours before feeling like she was on the verge of going crazy with a knife. Why would she want to torture herself by having a child? Alongside that, why would she want a husband who wanted children? Men were annoying up to a par and she could only understand them so much. Games, beer, and what else did they do besides that?

Not like any man had come after her…ever. In comparison to her sisters they had flocked toward those females instead. Namjoo would admit there were years when she wanted someone to come after her, where she’d hoped for some kind of heart fluttering relationship. You know, the type where one’s heart races and she felt like she was going to hyperventilate because she was so content, overwhelmed, and happy that butterflies were exploding inside the stomach?

There were times, a lot of times she’d hoped for someone to have the guts to come up to her and ask for her number, maybe even for a date. Only it never happened and she got sick of expecting, feeling disappointment, unwanted. Who would like someone tiny and was sickly anyway? All boys wanted the healthy, plump, vivacious girls who…she didn’t know, was healthy enough to have babies?

No romance was fine. Namjoo didn’t need her heart to flutter for anyone, but only for her favorite actors on screen. God, they were perfect – masculine, hunky, lean and tall – and like all women complained: too bad none of them existed in real life. Reality never lived up to anyone’s expectations.   

But no one understood the way she thought. She just didn’t want anyone anymore. Sure, she was still capable of having feelings and being attracted to a certain someone but that never lasted long. Her attractions held no commitment or seriousness nor could she ever imagine dedicating herself to anyone any longer. Because who knew when her health would drop and she would die? Although the doctor assured that she could live long, but she had no desire to live that long.

Controlling her sugar levels was even more difficult than making sure her life didn’t swing off track. Who knew when she would turn blind or even have a heart attack – though she knew she was far from having a heart attack. Yet it wasn’t like she’d never been to the ER either.

Her life was just so troublesome she didn’t want to share it with anyone else. There were bills, work, food to be put on the table, doctor appointments, medication to be paid for, and the list could go on all the way down to the ocean.

There was no knock on the door and she could hear the doorknob turning. “You awake?”

Oh Sehun grew up with her in her neighborhood before he moved away to the other side of town. Anyhow they’d grown up together, the only real factor that mattered here. Her parents being so against her living alone had persuaded him into sharing a space with her…until who knows when. Very obviously she’d been against it at first then after a few hours of thinking, gave in.

“Alright, lets live together,” she had declared, “we’re only housemates, nothing more.”

“Duh,” he rolled his eyes.

Ignoring him she had went on, “I expect you to know that I own those house and you should know your boundaries.”

“Sure, you’re the boss here,” he spoke half-assedly with a grin before walking by with his luggage.

She wasn’t worried about her parents wanting to play matchmaking, because in her dictionary Oh Sehun did not exist there. So whatever her parents had asked of him, she wouldn’t bother with it.

Just…if she got sicker in the future she would need someone around. Someone she didn’t love who wouldn’t mind taking care of her. Someone who wouldn’t create romantic ties with her.

Oh Sehun seemed just like that person.

///

Namjoo groaned, curled up under her blanket. Her entire body was soaked in sweat, but she could barely move or utter a scolding at him for walking in without knocking on her door. It was that time of month again and her uterus was ripping itself apart. Her entire abdomen was warped with war-like pain.

“I got you some medicine,” Sehun told from behind her, “some food, and some warm water. You should have something before taking the medicine.”

“Just leave it there,” she angrily muttered without turning around, irritated with his mere presence for particularly no real reason. Even after she said it she could still feel him standing behind her.

Somehow drawing up a surge of strength she sat up and twisted around abruptly, glaring up at him, “What do you want?!”

His blank face suddenly turned smug with a smile, “I brought you food. I’ll leave now.”

Namjoo’s eyes followed him to the door before her face contorted into pain. with hand pressed against her abdomen she turned to stare at the tray of the food he’d promised. After forcing herself to down the warm porridge she took the medicine and snoozed the cramps off.

When she came to the tray was gone as well as the death threatening cramps. Throwing the covers aside she stepped out and heard the TV on quiet volume, Sehun slumped against the couch with eyes glued to the screen – his very usual depiction of himself. Pressing a hand to her forehead she walked into the kitchen and began going through the fridge.

Outside the window the sun was still up, which meant she’d slept in a little until after noon. The kitchen was tiny and a little dull with the light gray toned walls, but the yellow tiles on the floor helped brighten up the mood she thought.

This small space was supposed to be entirely hers until two months ago when Sehun arrived on her doorstep after a phone call from her parents. Everything she presumably possessed flew right out the window.

Well, there was no use with complaining at this point. What had happened had happened and she wouldn’t drone about it, she had promised herself but here she was again, going on about how her private space had become two people’s space.

Namjoo wondered if she was pms-ing when she pulled out the cutting board along with a knife. Suddenly the quieted TV volume became the only thing she could hear in the midst of the silence. The annoyance swam up her veins in a blur. Hand tightened its grip on the knife and she turned to glare into the living room, the screen shooting a ray of bright blue light her way. Namjoo could feel the hot blood rushing up to her head and without order of the mind; her hand swung the knife down.

A sting immediately resonated through her finger and she screamed, “!”

Blood seethed through the cut in her finger. Her mind swirled at the sight, half of her struggling to figure out what to do in a haze while the other half panicked because it hurt so much. In the end, she idiotically stood there clutching onto her hand. Through her ears she could hear Sehun bolting up from the couch, his heavy footsteps bringing him closer.

“What’d you do?!” he scolded snatching her hand, pulled it toward him to observe it better. “You should have been more careful! It’s dangerous if you injure your hands or your feet!”

Tugging some napkins out of its plastic wrap he hurriedly pressed down on the cut. Namjoo winced and complained, “It hurts, be careful.”

“Don’t you be careful me,” he warned her with a furrowed brow, “look at you. See, the blood won’t stop. How deep did you cut it? All the way down to the bone?”

Namjoo snorted, “Am I that stupid?”

He only shot her a glance before pulling her toward the sink at the other side of the room before turning on the water, even checking the temperature of the water. The thought of running water over the cut made her body tingle in disturbance.

“You know you have to wash it so it doesn’t get infected,” Sehun told trying to pull her closer toward the sink.

“Alright, I…I know,” Namjoo muttered and watched him set aside the bloody napkins. With a hand firmly around hers he guided the injured finger toward the faucet. The smooth sensation made Namjoo turn away and clench her eyes shut.

Namjoo only opened her eyes again when Sehun swirled her around and pulled her toward the cabinet in search of a bandaid and antiseptic cream. She watched him spread the cream over her cut carefully, as if her fragile finger might break if he did it too roughly.

“It’s just a cut. Don’t concentrate too hard,” Namjoo sarcastically remarked, wondering why he was taking the cut so seriously and watched him lift his head up to look at her. Her nerves instantly flashed and she felt unexplainably uncomfortable for a second, maybe even a little shy. Clearing she continued coolly, “Wow, you know first-aid.”

“Didn’t look like you knew it,” Sehun remarked as he turned away to put the cream and box of bandaids back.

Namjoo frowned at him with narrowed eyes and was ready to retort, but Sehun was quicker to interject , “What are you making?” His eyes swerved over to the cutting board and the knife, surprisingly clear of blood.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, “soup.”

A few minutes later after watching Sehun prep the ingredients up from behind him throwing comments like, “Your knife skills aren’t bad.” “I’ve never seen you in the kitchen. Do you secretly cook?” “No, cut it smaller, do you want to choke on it when you eat it?” “Are you sure you washed that?” “Well, I guess at this rate you can cook tomorrow’s breakfast and dinner.”

A few minutes later she was at the table watching him throw ingredients, salt, and seasoning into the boiling water. “I could’ve done just as much,” she suddenly said and glanced at her wounded finger, “not like I hurt my head or anything.” Then turning to stare at his back, “Why are you cooking?”

“I just didn’t think I could pass another day eating your food again,” Sehun replied and walked toward her with some broth in a spoon, his hand hovering below it in case the liquid dripped. “See how good of a chef I am, almost comparable to you I think. Maybe better.”

Namjoo scoffed before leaning forward to take a sip of it. Her lids fluttered a few times as she processed the taste through her mind then glanced up at him with raised brows. “You cheated.”

He snorted and grinned, “Told you I’m good. You won’t find a guy who can cook like me anywhere.” He hit his chest proudly and he walked away.

They had a nice quiet meal with the kind of silence that sounded like music to the ears. No longer annoyed she glanced at the bandaid carefully wrapped around her finger. Then glancing up, peered at Sehun who seemed immersed with their lunch. Lightheartedness and amusement eased through her as she stared.

In younger years, she recalled, he had been embarrassed about the acne on his face. She had lent him her skin cream formulas in exchange of letting her copy his homework. Sehun had always been a timid, quiet person who talked when talked to most of the time. Namjoo wasn’t a pro at socializing herself, but in comparison to him she at least talked, laughed, and hung out with others. It all but made her feel outgoing.

But the frail boy had grown handsomely.

“What?” Sehun perked up, staring back at her.

Embarrassed at being caught Namjoo shifted in her seat. “Nothing.”

He shot her a stare that said he didn’t quite believe her and thankfully, said no more. Glancing down at his finished bowl he said, “Don’t forget to take your med. I know you skip it sometimes.”

“I don’t,” she denied then thought how did he know? She had been utterly careful about it, sure that he wasn’t around when she was too lazy to swallow the pills.

“Have you been checking your sugar levels?”

“Are you my mom?”

“Will be in five minutes,” he quickly replied. Pointing toward her plate he urged, “Finish your food, take your med, and go check your sugar level. I’ll wash the dishes.”

Irate, Namjoo frowned and fought not to roll her eyes. Muttering something incomprehensible underneath her breath she stabbed the rice on her plate with her spoon.

Leaving the dishes to Sehun she walked into her room and stared at the meter sitting on her night table. Though it was always there, she just never touched it. Pricking her needle every day was tiresome and the thought of it was kind of disturbing. Losing a little bit of blood every day made her shudder.

Sighing she sat down and stuck a strip into the meter before cleaning her hand with an alcohol swab sheet. A second later the number 267 flashed on the screen and she groaned. Obviously it would be high, she’d just eaten. She didn’t know why she’d listened to Sehun and checked it then when she should have waited a few hours after the meal to check it.

Namjoo stomped out of the bedroom making way toward the kitchen and paused at the entryway spotting Sehun digging through the fridge. Having heard her he straightened up and turned around to look at her.

“What?” he wondered.

Namjoo opened to yell at him, suddenly irritated again but she realized as well that she forgot what she wanted to say. In the end she only stared at him before asking, “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have any fruits in the fridge.” He said.

“So?” she shrugged.

“You should.”

Namjoo stared back at him with flatly, wondering if he was serious. Sometimes he seemed like a caretaker, other times a friend, and other times like a person who lounged in her house.

“Maintaining your health is important, you know,” he said, “plus, eating a variety will help you gain some weight.”

“Do I look like I want to live long?” Namjoo questioned.

“You should want to,” he said.

Something with the way his eyes grew soft and gentle made her feel like biting her tongue for saying what she had. She hadn’t implied it negatively or wanted to make herself sound like she hated everything.

“I want you to.”

\\\

It was simple. Living alone, being unburdened because you were alone. No one worried about you and there was no one for you to worry about, no one to have an effect on and no one to affect you.

It would have been simple if Sehun hadn’t moved in.

The lights were out, it was dark, but Namjoo was wide awake. In her head she replayed the way Sehun had rushed to her when she sliced her finger and looked at her when she spoke. The way his eyes held hers was as if she was the only one that existed. He had taken over dinner preparation and washed dishes, and something about it mattered to her.

Shifting, she clutched a bundle of the blanket up against her beating chest. Sehun was so tall now and she hated to admit, striking. But she didn’t want him there in her dictionary. Though he was annoying sometimes she didn’t particularly negate his presence.

Namjoo thought about how on some mornings he’d wake up super early to blend some fresh vegetable juice for her and make her drink it before going to work. He even made sure she didn’t purposely forget to go to doctor appointments.

“Ugh,” she groaned to herself and flipped onto her back, “stop thinking about him.”

And she spent the whole night tossing and turning while her thoughts frolicked about Sehun.

After returning from work the next day and walking out of the shower Namjoo expected to find the slippers she’d forgotten in her bedroom, only they weren’t there. Her eyes slithered over the carpet sure that she’d left it by the foot of her bed. Slipping into sweats and a t-shirt she walked out to find Sehun slumped back in the couch as usual.

“Hey,” she called, “did you see my slippers?”

“They’re there,” he pointed to the recliner. Following his stretched out arm she spotted a new pair of blue slippers sitting on the recliner.

“No, those aren’t mine,” Namjoo turned back to him and slightly inched back, startled when she saw that he was standing right in front of her. Her sub-consciousness immediately took measure of their height difference and she firmly pressed her lips together.

“They’re yours now,” Sehun said, easing her backward and grabbed the slippers before pushing her down onto the seat. A whoosh of surprise swayed against her as she dropped back flimsily and she speechlessly watched him squat down to slide her feet into the soft slippers.

The act momentarily stunned her and Namjoo immediately grew flustered when he looked up at her.

“Your other slippers were wearing out, so I got you new ones.” He explained slipping into the seat adjacent to her.

“I was going to replace them,” she quickly lied. “They weren’t in such poor condition.”

Sehun scoffed, “If you took better care of yourself, maybe I wouldn’t have to.”

“You’re just bored,” Namjoo told, unable to believe that he was willing to do something for her. She felt so uneasy she didn’t know what she was really thinking. Her thoughts felt like a warbled mess. She suddenly felt weird, fuzzily warm. Her heart abnormally pulse and she gulped quietly.

Suddenly feeling drawn to him her eyes shot up to steal a quick glance of him to catch him looking at her. They turned away in unison. Her heartbeats felt like heavy drums pounding in her chest, vibrating into her ears. The room was suddenly warmer and surely, the heat had never been yanked on.

Namjoo cleared , ready to get up and return to her room to relax for the evening but Sehun beat her to breaking the silence.

“You’re hungry, right? A new restaurant just opened up, I think they do delivery. Let me go see what they have,” he said and walked away. As his footsteps faded from earshot Namjoo let out the exasperated breaths she’d been holding in. Bending forward in her seat she covered her face, wary of the fact that she was undeniably attracted to someone she didn’t want to be attracted to.

That night she lay in bed sleepless. Her mind, without her sole permission, replayed every second of how she’d turned around to find Sehun standing behind her. Had she barely knocked into him? Or had her head brushed against his shoulder? Namjoo couldn’t recall.

And it was so vivid; how he’d eased her back into the chair and crouched down to draw the slippers over her feet. Just the other day he had held her hand, cleansed her cut, and put the bandaid on; cooked; and washed dishes.

Namjoo groaned to herself, disturbed with how her mind was trying to dissect every moment Sehun was there. Smothering her face into the pillow she let out a muffled scream and kicked her legs around.

This was terrible. Just terrible.

\\\

What would it be like to finally have a relationship again? Maybe it would be nice, Namjoo decided, if it wasn’t a totally serious one but a relationship where they could hold hands, kiss, and flirt – none of that serious stuff she needed. Things like future fantasies, marriage talk, or child naming for fun.

She wanted none of that. Namjoo didn’t want to raise expectations for herself or for the other party. It was troublesome and disappointing, because there were many things she wouldn’t be able to fulfill. Who really knew how long she would live.

This chronic illness was already a stab to the heart. She didn’t think she needed another stab to the heart.

Nostalgia swayed her as she sat out back on the porch railing with the sixth can of beer in her hand. Lights from inside the house glowed behind her but it wasn’t strong enough to shine out the stars flying around the moon, disappearing and coming back to life.

“How pretty,” she breathed with a sigh.

The cold night breeze flew against her, causing her baggy sweater to flutter against it. Autumn was chasing summer off. In soon time the world would be getting ready to rest, shedding the old and laying it to rest before being reborn again after winter. If she could shed her body and start anew, what kind of different things would she do? Exercise to make sure she was healthy? Watch her meals and stray from sweets?

She wasn’t sure. She felt so limited in this body, had felt so limited for so long she didn’t know what to do to even make herself feel satisfied. She was such a difficult case. All the more reason why it was better for her to be alone. Not have to deal with anyone and no one would have to deal with her.

Namjoo reached a hand up to scratch an itchy spot on her head and turned when the back door opened.

“What are you doing back here?” Sehun questioned, having just come back from work. His eyes drifted toward the can in her hand and Namjoo predicted he would scold her first before stealing it.

“Told you not to drink,” he muttered walking over and jumped up onto the railing to sit beside her. As expected he took it out of her hand after settling right next to her, their shoulders touching and arms mashed together.

“It wasn’t even much,” Namjoo weakly defended.

“I saw a bunch of empty cans inside,” Sehun stated, “it’s no use lying to me.”

She watched him take a sip of the can and turned away. He was utterly warm and befriending. The touch of his arm made her insides flutter, made her shy. The things in her head felt like they were swirling in water. Part of her wanted to admit what she was feeling, the other half remained asleep.

“It’s cold, why are you out here?” Sehun asked, shivering.

But she wasn’t cold. She was extremely warm because of him. All she could pay attention to, was how close he was next to her and how much she liked it when she didn’t want to like it.

“Because,” she spoke without thinking it, because the better half of her had gone to sleep, “maybe if I get cold enough, I won’t think about unnecessary things.”

“Things? What things?”

Namjoo’s eyes hung on the moon, her heart washing over many regrets. “Like not getting married, not being a hindrance.”

“What are you talking about?” he turned to look at her, slightly lost.

Playing with her nails she glanced down, suddenly solemn. “You know, I never really thought about getting married or having children. I thought about it, and they’re nice things to have. Maybe that’s why people want to get married and have children, to have a sense of fulfillment, because they’re happiness that can be seen.”

“But you know,” she went on, “when I was 18 – that was when I first diagnosed. The doctor said it would all be ok. I tried believing. A few years later down the road, I realize I still hate it. I’ll be sick forever. I can’t do what others can do. If I have an accident I can lose a hand or my foot. Someday, I’ll be bedridden earlier than others. Maybe have a heart attack.”

Namjoo laughed half in spite and half bitterly. “And getting married – I just can’t. Why would I want to share my expenses with someone else? I don’t want to be a burden. Money is already hard enough to come by. And having children? I can’t.”

“Why do you think that’s all that matters?”

“Because it is!” she raised her voice, even slammed her thighs with her hands.

“Don’t you think,” he said, “that if someone wanted to be with you, he’d be willing to take on all that? That maybe, having children isn’t as important as having you at his side? That maybe that is all that matters? If you think like that, don’t you think he would feel a little sad? Even if you feel that way, I feel like he would still come to you. I don’t think anyone is meant to be alone.”

In all that moment her mind fazed out and all she could hear was the short lengths of her thumping heart, tripping and rolling.

“Maybe you’re the happiness he sees.”

An intense feeling of growing fervor heightened in her and she almost felt like crying from who knows what. Namjoo turned to look at him without noticing that he’d set the can aside. Her insides gushed with overflowing warmth as their eyes locked. The unseen silence twinkled overhead, the atmosphere becoming spellbound with something she couldn’t explain.

She was so buzzed and drawn into him she could barely think straight. In the very next moment her eyes lingered downwards toward his lips. Sehun’s nose very light brushed against her face as his lips hovered over hers, as if trying to appreciate the moment of romantic tension then finally gave her an open mouth kiss.

His lips were her infatuation, moist, and dreamy. Her body oozed delight with every touch of his lips. Very slowly something built up inside her before exploding and the part of her that had been asleep, woke up.

With an abrupt gasp she pulled away and clumsily fell back, landing on the ground. Quickly regaining herself she glanced up at the alarmed Sehun and with heated cheeks, pulled herself up and ran into the house. A second later she was safely inside her room with the door locked, her back pressed against the wall, and her heart racing wildly while her consciousness panicked.

Namjoo gulped in disbelief with herself. How embarrassed she was. How shameless she was!

Holding back a scream, wishing she could turn back time she knocked her head back into the door. Goodness, how was she going to face him in the morning? What the hell had she been thinking? Spurting nonsensical stuff like that?

Clamping hands around her head she groaned and jumped onto the bed, trying her best to bury herself into the blankets, hoping that daylight wouldn’t come.

When morning did come, Namjoo found herself staring up at the ceiling with red eyes. She’d barely slept again, had tossed and turned, only  managing two and a half hours of good sleep before waking. The kiss haunted her, assaulted her. She couldn’t stand herself, completely mortified. Namjoo hated it even more, because she could still hear his very voice in her ears.

If it weren’t for the fact that she was hungry and her cramps were slowly coming back to life, she’d lock herself inside her room the entire day. Namjoo prayed that Sehun wasn’t slumped on the couch when she walked out.

Quietly unlocking the door, trying to keep as quiet as a mouse she poked her head out.

Clear.

No one in the living room or the kitchen. She couldn’t even hear a damn thing.

Carefully creeping out sub-consciously on tiptoes she paused four steps into the living room and paused, feeling like a squirrel out on the street, being overly and stupidly cautious.

Clear.

Sehun was nowhere, thank God.

Namjoo intended to head into the kitchen, grab something from the fridge along with some pain killers and run back to her room. Only the second she began shuffling forward, the front door opened and Sehun stepped in. She turned, taken by surprise and felt her eyes – without her order – run over his lean and tall body, up his broad shoulders to that unbearably handsome face of his.

“You’re up?” he asked as normally as ever.

What the hell was with him? When she was all flustered, nervous, and anxious – all feelings unfairly bombarding her at once.

Pressing her lips together she quietly gulped and watched him close the door before walking inside. As he came nearer toward her Namjoo found herself falling back three steps then noticed the mail in his hand.

Heat overwhelmed her body neck down. Namjoo began sweating uncontrollably and bit her tongue. My God, she didn’t know what to do or say. All she could think of was running away.

“Namjoo…” he reached a hand out toward her.

Even more flustered, she heavily breathed and stepped back some more.

“Wa…wait,” Namjoo said.

Her pulse was racing, her blood rushing maddeningly, and her body sweating like a cooking chicken. She couldn’t think, she didn’t know… Sehun didn’t exist in her dictionary…he wasn’t supposed to. But he’d somehow made his way in and her parents were winning at playing house with her, because Sehun was here with her, living under her roof. Maybe he was her caretaker – the one with no romantic ties involved – someone who wouldn’t mind taking care of her.

Except, that didn’t seem to be in the making.

Her hands were sweating.

Would she be able to love him?  

***Un-edited, excuse me if there are mistakes. Everything, I feel, is very simply written :\ Oh well...maybe part 2??