55

The cupboards under the sink smelled like flour, wood polish and the freshly washed clothes in the pit of my stomach.

My knees pierced into my chest, fingers tightly wrapped around them. My chin rested on the flat of my knees. I was one crack away from shifting my locked jaw. Of course. Of course, it was mother dearest. Of course, she had to barge in while I was about to fuck his son. This was the complete trainwreck set. One sound of her from the hallway, and I, like a chicken going through PTSD launched myself into hiding. My spot? The kitchen cupboard. Always the nearest and unsuspected place. Jungkook was thrown off—maybe judging me mentally—as he tried to tell me it was okay and he could tell his mother about me without having to fear. But no~. I had enough experience in this field. My romance trope would turn into family drama in the snap of a finger. Suddenly, I'd be the slut stealing his son away. I nearly cried when he caught my wrist refusing me to hide but he was shocked stupid when my voice cracked, as he let me go and hide. Good for him. At least, that would have taught him not to pressure me into anything.

And now, I was crammed into the wooden compartment like one of the condom wrappers in the bin. You know what? I might be the useless condom wrapper. Nothing but facilitating someone's dick and then being tossed away. In a way, this situation made me realise that I was like a shameful secret.

No way.

No way.

Are you fucking kidding me, Haerin? Where did the witch from depression land come from?

My chest heaved, and I gently checked if the door was ajar enough that I didn't choke and die here instead. That would be some heavy murder scene Jungkook would have to handle. Just imagine, he opens the door, finds me dead, then cries his eyes out as he calls emergency. And when I'm in the hospital everyone knows there was something between us. How would he even explain why the heck I was in his kitchen cupboard? He'd probably get jailed or something as a suspect who locked me inside to hide me from his mother. Fuck. The tables were about to turn on him.

I clenched my eyes shut. Gyarados's muffled talking was audible through the thick wood. Almost as if I was underwater. My chest rattled and a dry laugh slipped—except, I wasn't laughing. I was fucking freaked out.

It was getting harder to breathe. It was too dark—and I felt like a pussy in the metaphorical sense because I have a pussy and a fantastic one at that. Witness would be Jeon himself.

"Fuck..." I dragged another breath and placed the flat of my palm on the door, gently pushing it. I wanted to get out of there.

Why the hell did I even think this was a smart idea? His place was clean, and there was house cleaning and stuff, but man, if an insect found me, his mother would, too. And then what? She'd see him cramped up, wearing his son's t-shirt slipping off my shoulder. Then the look of shock mixed with disgust would arrive. I knew the play all too well. She'd call me some cheap synonyms for a night worker. Maybe even backhand me if I couldn't keep my mouth shut and take it quietly. I still had the extra pad in the back cover of my phone. I was ready for the icing. I could already hear it. I could already see her standing above me, disappointed.

I shifted my hipbone, trying to relax back when my spine pinched on the wood behind me. I couldn't feel my legs anymore. The space was too small for me. I must be a gymnast to have twisted myself inside like this. I wanted out. I wanted to get the hell out of there and breathe.

I rested my palm on the wooden surface in front of me, pretending that I could push it and extend it to increase the space.

I hoped she didn't plan to stay long. I was dying to get out. God, let not Jungkook forget about his cramped-up girlfriend. I wouldn't be able to take it if he forgot me so soon.

I trusted him. He did stand up to his mommy way better than I had ever seen a man do it. I trusted him with that. What I found was that things change once the girl fights back. So he might not be the same if I started talking back to this water-type Pokémon.

But what was worse was that this reminded me of Jong Suk. Once, his father had come over and I hid myself in the attic of his house. It was dark and quite uncomfortable there. He entertained his father, had a drink with him and completely forgot about me. Later, when I stepped out of there, sweaty and hair tangled, in a furious mess, I had almost grabbed him by the collar. And what did that fucker tell me? That I shouldn't have stayed there if it was taking so long. That I should have stepped out myself. He almost laughed because—I quote—I looked funny as if I had been on a roller coaster ride. Well, fuck him, because being with him was, in fact, a roller coaster ride where I had to die in the end.

What if...this bastard forgot me too...and just moved on? What would I do then? At least, that was an attic. This cupboard would kill me limb by limb if he didn't remember.

I squeezed my knees, my head pressed on them as I sighed. Fuck, this was exactly why I shouldn't date. He's going to forget—

"Haerin!" Jungkook's voice tore, raw and desperate.

He yanked the door. I was blinded by the sudden brightness. My head shot up, eyes blotchy. I quickly wiped my face with the back of my hand.

"Fuck—" he gasped, wedging his hand under me and pulling me towards his chest in a cradle. "You don't listen." He spat, his face contorted in a way I wouldn't have imagined seeing him with. "Why the fuck—"

"She's gone? Phew." I dramatically wiped my forehead and forced a boxy grin. "Relax, Magic Karp. I think I just found a studio apartment here. Can you rent it out to me?"

His grip pressed into me and he pulled me up and stood up.

He didn't smile. "Don't joke, Haerin. You're crying." His words tethered at the edges, as if just saying that was painful enough.

"Well, technically, no." I pointed my finger at him scholarly, "I was sweating. My eyes were sweating."

My joke didn't land. Again.

He tried to put me down gently but the moment he did, my knees buckled.

"Shit!" He scooped me up before the fall, picking me up again, eyes hovering over my legs and my face as if looking for visible signs of why I buckled. Stupid man, "Damn it. Are you hurt? You were cramped in there for so long."

Huh. What was this Looney Tunes love happening to me right now? Why the hell was he so worried? Not like I was about to die or anything. I just hid, right?

"It's fine, Jungkook," I stressed, squeezing his shoulder once. "I'm perfectly okay. My legs just went numb from sitting. And good news, you got here before I died. Five stars from, Haerin Incorporated!"

He pulled my head into his chest, "Stop. Stop, Haerin. You don't know what it looked like seeing you hiding like that. I don't like it. And don't ever do it again. If my mother comes, she's going to have to make peace with the fact that her son has a personal life too."

So...different.

So damn different from Jong Suk.

To be honest, it only went downhill with Jong Suk whenever his parents intervened. Whenever we were together otherwise, everything was just like a dream. Even so, now hearing Jungkook react differently made much more sense.

I gently patted his head like a dog, "There, there. It won't happen again. So let me out of this prison. I have to get to work."

He adjusted me in his arms and pressed a hand to my back, steadying me. "Alright… let’s get you somewhere you can actually breathe."

I nodded, still shaky, letting him carry me wherever he deemed fit. For once, I could just roll my head back and relax because he knew how to take care of me.

•••

A blue evening dress? Too safe.

I thrust it back in the wardrobe. I had been over this a million times already but now that the moment was here, I was fumbling through my choices again.

This was supposed to be our first official date as a couple and our first date in general. I couldn't believe we had done all sorts of other things to each other already. We even confessed our love and not even a single fucking date. Talk about upside down and it spells Haerin now.

White was too peaceful. I didn't want to look like I was there to marry him in a pure white gown—maybe after the day I've had an argument or something. I could try to look pure and innocent in white. Not today. Black was too common a colour for a first date. My hopeful choice was a red dress. I yanked the dress out, inspecting it, my fingers slightly trembling from a feeling I didn't know where to place. It was a satin body fit with a sheer mesh veil over the dress so that it offered a natural shimmer. I even had a matching lace ribbon with it to tie my hair in a soft ponytail behind my neck to produce that Lana Del Rey moment. Red lips, red shoes and all done. My mind wandered around all the possible faces I could see him make when he saw me in the dress. Would he be impressed? Give me a soldier's nod? Or maybe a smirk. That weird thing he did with his lips whenever he was speechless but amused. Maybe that? Honestly, I wanted him to roll in the mud and profess how beautiful I was and how privileged he was to have me. That's right. This was a lifetime opportunity for him.

Jungkook had rang me on the phone to know my status once. I had assured him a total of thirty minutes more, but I used up forty-five by the time I applied perfume and checked my handbag for all the necessary touch-up buddies. I couldn't help it. My mind was all over the place, trying to make sure I didn't mess up big time.  Every time I was halfway out the door, I remembered something else that I had forgotten to pick up. Making it an endless loop of careless Caroline.

I told my mom it was a date and she didn't even bat an eye when she told me it was about time I did that.

I mean, I love you too, Mom. That's all I could tell her.

I nearly tripped on the cobblestones outside, waving my phone that was already blinking with Jungkook's name as I scuttled towards his black SUV.

Usually, I'm so fucking proud of dressing up well but tonight I was beet red when I approached him. I clutched the bag tighter, grinning stupidly. He was leaning against the car, dressed like he wanted me dead.

Soft sunlight from the last of the evening tried to paint him golden but the man was a charmer in his black attire. Sophisticatedly monochromatic, in a sharp black suit jacket paired with a sleek black turtleneck sweater. The trousers were a matching black, creating a seamless and streamlined silhouette of him. It was the perfect dark romance trope boyfriend mode. I wanted to kiss his face and tell him that but I failed miserably at the communication part. All I did was drool.

"Hie." I breathed, the musky tone of his cologne hitting me like a football in the face. My mouth nearly ripped from how hard I was smiling.

Then, I looked away, shy like a motherfucking child hitting puberty. I mean, come on, bitch. He's fucked you like an animal! Can we not do this drill?

"Hie." He mimicked admirably. His boot clicked when he stepped closer. Gently, he reached for my free hand and warmed my fingertips with his hot breath.

I pressed my lips together, smiling like an idiot when he pressed a kiss right at the base of my ring finger. Where a ring should have been.

My fingers trembled.

Request for backup. This is not a drill. I repeat. This is not a fucking drill!

"Breathtaking." He smiled.

"My knuckles?" I scoffed, voice shaky from holding back ten thousand screams. "They can be, if I punch you just right."

There my gutter mouth went.

I regretted it and bit my lip, squeezing his fingers a bit from the anxiety.

Why did I say that? What did I want to accomplish with it?

He didn't take offence that I was practically talking about beating him up on a date. His mouth pulled upwards in a teasing grin, "Then I'd take the hit. If it's you, I don't mind."

What?

It was like someone blew a bulb off in my head. I blinked, mouth opening but nothing making it into a comeback. Heat crawled up my neck. This bastard! I yanked my fingers back and softly hit his arm. "Sounds like a pick-up line from your diary."

God, did I just indicate that he was writing love poems about me? I didn't know if I did but it sounded like that. Don't be a desperate dumbfuck, Haerin!

He chuckled. "I wouldn't mind doing that actually. Sounds very productive." His eyebrows rose thoughtfully. He placed his hand on the small of my back. "Come on now."

I just rolled my eyes, pretending like I didn't want to twit like a bird of happy songs. He gently tucked me in. I froze when he leaned in, reaching for the strap of the seatbelt. His cologne hit my senses—and god—I had flashes of how his broad shoulders looked when he was nailing me into the bed. Fuck, I felt like a pervert. The back of his hand brushed my collarbone, making me twitch embarrassingly. He glanced at me, indicating that he noticed it. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Once I was strapped in, he lingered there, watching me. Searching my face for clues like we were in an 007 movie.

"What?" I groaned, averting my eyes for a quick second to recharge.

His mouth twitched, "Just memorising your face. I'll need it if you keep looking away like that."

"Aww..." I deadpanned. "Really? That's your excuse?"

My fingers tightened around the strap on my chest. Heart hammered like it was about to kill me.

He laughed and I couldn't help but smile.

Once he got into the driver's seat and the car churned to life, I cleared my throat. He looked so attractive in the seat, holding the steering wheel. From beneath his jacket sleeve, peeped a golden wristwatch. My mind blanked out for a second when I caught the Versace on it. This fucker was Richie Rich's heir or something!

I gulped, looking at the window to concentrate on the moving trees outside. It didn't help.

Then, I cleared my throat.

"So," I began, "when did you start liking me?"

He was using the heel of his palm to steer the wheel now. Fuck me.

His throat bobbed, "You first."

"It was my question." I squinted, judgmental.

He scoffed, ears a soft pink when he tried to hide his nervous smile behind his hand.

"Okay, fine." I rolled my eyes. "I...I don't really recall when exactly it happened. But I think I softened towards you a bit in my head when you bandaged me up. When that thorn cut me."

There was a moment of silent realisation there.

I gulped. "Okay. Your turn."

"You're going to think I'm insane." He clenched his jaw. Eyes flickered nervously.

"Now I have to know." I squinted suspiciously, my voice commanding.

"It was—" he began, low and strained. "—when you breached the member data and I worked the weekend to clean it up. I saw your profile photo on Cirq—"

My head snapped at him. "What?"

His ears were pink from the embarrassment. He groaned uneasily. "Let me complete, Haerin." He begged.

I blinked and then folded my hands at my chest. "Go on."

"—and you just looked, stubborn. Like, you defied me on purpose. I must have clicked on your photo several times over that weekend."

"What?!" I cried. "You really—you liked me from my weird corporate headshot?"

He sighed in a shaky breath, "God—Haerin, you make it sound worse."

"Is it not?" I tilted my head challengingly. Then, I shook my head dramatically, "Wow. An actual stalker much."

"No—! God, no!" He fussed, blushing so hard that he had to cool the A/C in the car. "I'm not. I didn't actually like you then. I was just curious. You looked like a rebel who had invaded mt cybersecure space."

I flushed.

He drove a trembling hand through his hair, "Then, that day after I arranged your first training session on the third floor. You were in the elevator coming downstairs and you accidentally deselected the floor number. The lift stalled."

What the actual fuck.

What the ACTUAL—

"It was like—" he waited to gulp. "The photo had come alive. You were real. Right in front of me. And that's when I think I liked you..."

"Jungkook!—God, you sound like a total creep!" I slapped my hands on either side of my face, a real tomato. "You A-grade creep!"

His grin widened, dark amusement sparking in his eyes as if he could feel every second of my brain melting down. He leaned a little closer over the console, his voice low enough to crawl over my skin.

"A creep," he murmured, savouring each word, "that already has you spreading your legs for him."

My soul detonated. "WHOOOAAAAA!" I screeched, smacking his arm so hard the wheel jolted. "Violation! Red card! HOW do you even—"

He laughed then. Not loud, not mocking but worse. Quiet. Pleased. The sound of someone who knew exactly how deep he'd cut and was thrilled by the damage.

I threw my hands over my face, shaking my head, heat blasting through every pore. "You absolute grade-A menace! I can't—God, you're the worst!"

"Mm." He flicked the indicator on casually, like he hadn't just destroyed me. "And still your favourite."