Make a Wish
Chapter 5
“Cannot sleep,” an agitated toss of an arm, a frustrated kick of a leg, the flinging of the bed cover lead to Nana bolting upright on the bed. She looks at the small black digital clock sitting on the nightstand: 2:04AM. A disgruntled groan escapes her lips. Dinner, if it can be called that, continued in silence and ended with awkwardness. Jaejun left the dishes to Nana after she made a fuss about not wanting to owe him anything. Usually Jaejun would have fought harder, never is the one to make his guest do chores, but truth to be told, he wanted to escape the awkward atmosphere. He cleared up that he didn’t kill anyone, and he was only joking.
“He didn’t explain anything afterwards either. What if he really is a killer, and I’m about to be a victim?” Nana hits herself on the forehead, punishing her for the ridiculous idea. If he were to kill you, he would have done it already. He could have poisoned your food or stabbed you while you were washing the dishes, but he didn’t. Great, now I’m going to start talking to myself again. Nana gets off the bed to head to the restroom. On the way, a stream of light coming from one of the rooms catches her attention. Is he still awake? Feeling curious, yet nervous at the same time, Nana gently presses against the door. She hears nothing from the other side. She knocks softly, but to her disappointment no there is no response. She thinks if Jaejun is also up maybe they can talk a bit, distract her, because she doesn’t want to think too much about certain things...someone.
“Did he fall asleep with the light on?” Nana questions aloud, feeling her heart race. She feels her hand tightening around the doorknob. As rude as it seems, Nana can’t help herself but to carefully turn it. With the door slightly cracked ajar, she peaks in; the bed is empty and made. Even more curious, Nana opens the door wider; a dim bubble of light pours into the hallway. She shields her eyes, unadjusted to the any source of light. She steps into the room, but leaves the door open. Closing the door would appear just too weird. She catches Jaejun slumped over the desk, his shoulder rising and falling steadily. Indeed, he has fallen asleep. Nana tiptoes over and peeks at his sleeping face: a crease furrows between his brows, and his lips set in a frozen frown. Even in his sleep, he cannot run away from the guilt and stress of being responsible for the troubles he has caused many families. Gently placing her index finger between his eyebrows, she massages the area in slow circles, smoothing out the crease.
“You would look ugly if you get wrinkles now,” her breath flutters a few strands of his hair. Maybe she is leaning in too close. He looks so vulnerable and fragile, but intuitively, she also knows he’s not. She smiles when he moves his lips to an inaudible word, and his lips fall into a relaxed state. Ah, stop that! Nana draws back forcefully, breathing hard. She puts a hand against her pounding heart, afraid its beating will wake up the sleeping man. She then notices the visible goosebumps dotting his arms.
“Geez, you’re gonna catch a cold if you sleep like this. Jaejun...go sleep on the bed,” she shakes him cautiously. Jaejun grunts in response and shifts from resting on the right side of face to his left, but nevertheless in deep slumber. With a sigh, Nana retreats to the bed and grabs the blanket to drape over his body. She tucks the ends around his neck securely since he has just recovered from a fever this morning. Bored, Nana walks from one wall to another, but honestly, there aren’t much to see-- a bed, a study desk, a book shelf, a couch, and a ceiling fan. The bedroom pales significantly in comparison to the living room.
She dumps herself onto the bed with a sudden wave of sleepiness. The bed feels so soft and soothing. Is the bed sheet velvet? Or maybe it’s silk? Either way, she likes the texture against her bare skin. Not caring if there is no cover (it’s around Jaejun), she rolls over to her side and pulls up her knees and falls into sleep.
***
Fingers twitch into wakefulness, a handful of bed sheet; a palm drags sluggishly across the expanse of silky blanket. Bed sheet? Blanket? The same lethargic hand slaps itself onto Nana’s face, wiping away her fantastical dream of candy cane forest and beautiful princes. She yawns obnoxiously, her tongue sticking out to let out the final words of a dying cat. Her vision is covered by a gossamer of sleep-- hazy, unreal, surreal. Wait, blanket? Nana tucks the cream blanket farther under her chin, and the blanket seems familiar. With a sudden jolt, she tosses the blanket aside when she realizes that is the same blanket she draped over Jaejun last night. Speaking of which, Jaejun is nowhere in sight. The desk light off, a sea of loose paper and documents, and a dead laptop: Everything stay the same except the pretty man is not there. He’s not that pretty. He’s just easy on the eyes. Nana walks out of the room, irked that her irrational thoughts still lingered from last night, and she is greeted by Mochi, who rubs her fluffy tail around Nana’s ankle, begging for attention. Annoyance and thoughts of Jaejun dissipate immediately the moment Nana cradles the kitty in her arms. She strokes its head to earn a trill of satisfied purrs. Carrying Mochi, Nana goes into the kitchen only to find the familiar scene of Jaejun (wearing a shirt this time) cooking-- eggs crack, chopsticks clang against ceramic bowls in rapid swirls, green onions and diced sausage dive into the yellowness, yellowness waterfalls into the hot pan and sizzles.
“Smells nice,” Nana remarks and bites back a laugh when Jaejun flinches and spills some of the omelet mixture onto the counter.
“Oh, you scared me,” laughing, Jaejun waves the spatula, “Good morning! Thank you for covering me up last night. I must have fallen asleep while looking over some documents.”
Nana feels warmness spreading across her cheeks, “Ah, don’t worry about it,” the awkwardness in her voice prominent.
“By the way, were you looking for something? I mean, I wasn’t prepared to find you sleeping on my bed,” Jaejun has resumed to cut the egg omelets into perfect squares.
“Oh, well, I couldn’t sleep. So...I, walked around. And saw your light was on,” Nana stutters to find a coherent answer, one that will not make her sound like a creeper sneaking up on someone during the night, “And you know, you looked cold, and sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on your bed!”
Pink blush, frantically blinking eyes, and two front teeth worrying the bottom lip, Nana plays with her fingers, and Jaejun finds himself mesmerized as he turns to bring two plates of breakfast to the kitchen island.
“Here you go, egg omelet and toast. Do you want some orange juice?” Jaejun drops the topic of last night, mentally wanting to slap himself for almost thinking inappropriate thoughts.
Nana notices the change in subject, but is rather relieved by it. She nods shyly, and he walks back to the kitchen without a word. He’s only a stranger. A stranger whom you followed and slept over. Well, he hasn’t raped me yet.
When Jaejun returns with two glass filled with orange juice, he chuckles at the conflicting expression Nana sports. “What are you thinking of so intensely?”
“Well, you haven’t raped me yet,” the words slip out before Nana can comprehend the meaning of them.
“What?” Jaejun stares at her incredulously, not understanding the origin of such statement. He doesn’t appear like a rapist does he? Or some molester? He grew up hearing he looks handsome and beautiful.
“W-what? Uh no! I meant, I just slept over at a stranger’s house, and I was just thinking that you’re not a bad guy since I wasn’t raped even though I sorta stumbled into your room,” Nana wishes the ground will swallow her up. I really need to get a filter for my mouth.
“Of course, have you ever seen such a handsome rapist?” Jaejun thinks Nana is quite adorable when she’s being shy.
“Egoist,” Nana mumbles under her breath before taking a bite out of her omelet. Once again, his food tastes heavenly. “Did you ever go to a culinary school?”
“Nah, I guess I always had an affinity towards cooking. My mom loves to cook as well, or at least when she had time. I remember when I was little, I would always follow her around in the kitchen,” he laughs fondly at the memory, right hand going up to cover his mouth, “Ever since, I decided that I would cook everything I eat. Or at least I would try to. Last night was the first time I’ve cooked in months.”
“Well, I think you should try to cook more often. You’re a really good cook,” Nana gulps down a sip of orange juice before continuing to deliver more yummy goodness to her stomach.
Jaejun smiles, but doesn’t reply. Taking the silence as a hint to not delve farther into Jaejun’s private life, Nana smiles back with a sheepish giggle. With a perpetual rigid smile, Jaejun nibbles on a piece of toast, nibbling on the same spot until his teeth gnashed against each other. His face looks beyond unnatural, but Nana doesn’t comment and continues to eat. With each bite, she takes swift glances at him, yet, bite after bite, Jaejun stays stolid with the same piece of omelet stuck between the chopsticks. Is there anything going on in that brain? His eyes are devoid of any expression, no emotions, almost empty if not for the closing distance of his brows. A loud clink of wood against metal brings Jaejun back into reality; he jerkingly stuffs the omelet into his mouth, “Huh?”
“Huh?” Nana mimics his startled tone, her eyes hard and unyielding as they bore into Jaejun’s. “What’s going on? You’ve been sitting there like a statue for the past ten minutes.”
He recovers enough to notice Nana’s empty plate, but his has stayed the same when he first set it on the table, “Oh sorry.”
She’s not mad, though annoyed, and a bit, tiny, tiny bit worried. A person can be stressed or deep in thought, but such a look of lifelessness as if one is standing at the edge of the world and knowing there is nowhere else to go but down. And this is why she’s annoyed. He lives in a luxurious home, a place many people can barely dream of, and there he is, looking as if he has given up on life. Nana takes a drink from her cup before slowly asking, drawing out her words, “Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” Jaejun smiles and eats another piece of omelet. He stares into her eyes as he chews, challenging her to question his answer. She accepts.
“Of course you’re ok. Cause you know, people who are “ok” looks as they want to jump off a cliff. So yes, you’re definitely ok.” She doesn’t believe for a second that he is even close to being fine. Maybe she is being too nosy, a busybody; whatever that is going on in his life has nothing to do with her. She can’t help it. Something draws her to him, makes her want to help him. As cliche as it is, maybe, just maybe, he is someone important to her life.
Her tone undulates between concern and frustration, and Jaejun fears to hear the tone of judgement if he did tell her. She seems sincere. After the pregnant silence from Jaejun, Nana returns to eating breakfast, feeling a bit embarrassed. Jaejun clutches his fork tighter, the knuckles turning white, as he contemplates whether he should confide in Nana. They’ve known each other barely over a day, yet she has somewhat saved his life, he has dragged her to his place and spent the night, that means something right?
“Well,” he starts but stops after hearing the quiver in his voice. Is he that scared?
Nana pretends not to hear him instead she focuses on Mochi’s quiet paddle against the kitchen tile and the metallic clink of the fork pecking the plate. She can feel her heart beat rising in anticipation and nervousness. Is this where she finds out who Jaejun really is? An accidental chuckle slips through causing Jaejun to glance up in confusion. His opened mouth forms an unspoken question.
“Sorry, I just feel silly, trying to pry into your life,” Nana laughs tersely, “You don’t have to tell me anything really. I guess, I just want to feel I’m at least useful.” As she speaks, her eyes remain downcast. Such a sad pathetic smile drapes across her face.
“Don’t we all?” His question hangs above them. Neither wishes to disturb the delicate balance within themselves, to unravel what has been tightly coiled and secured by the urge to impress another with self-declared wisdom. What is left unsaid sometimes speaks more of wisdom.
Breakfast precedes and ends in silence, with the occasional mewls from Mochi demanding attention. Jaejun left Nana to do the dishes after a firm, “I will clean up” from her. He understands that is her way of thanking him, and honestly, he doesn’t really like doing dishes anyway. Up in his study, he sighs heavily. A wonderful cluster of crap stares at him, taunting him with its ugly coffee stains, bent corners, and its mass existence. A soft knock, Jaejun turns his head to see Nana standing there, dressed in her own clothes again, though he has to admit, she looked cute wearing his shirt.
“I have to go back. I have classes tomorrow,” she explains quietly.
“Oh,” is his only reply.
She looks at him questioningly. Is that all?
“How old are you?”
“Don’t you know not to ask a lady her age?” She face remains stoic except for a trickle of amusement tugging at her lips.
“Hardly a lady. I just want to know the age of a poor drenched cat I picked up under the bus stop,” he teases; he feels like he is back in elementary school where being mean was the only way to show his interest.
“Too bad cats don’t like you,” Nana makes a face, but he knows she isn’t truly mad. Her breath hitches when he suddenly smiles at her. She shouldn’t be feeling this; she definitely should not be feeling this. But, reality is cruel. Her boyfriend is having the time of his life, why can’t she have a little fun too? “I’ll tell you if you take me back to my school.” She returns his smile in equal watts and ignores the pinch in her conscience.
“Cannot sleep,” an agitated toss of an arm, a frustrated kick of a leg, the flinging of the bed cover lead to Nana bolting upright on the bed. She looks at the small black digital clock sitting on the nightstand: 2:04AM. A disgruntled groan escapes her lips. Dinner, if it can be called that, continued in silence and ended with awkwardness. Jaejun left the dishes to Nana after she made a fuss about not wanting to owe him anything. Usually Jaejun would have fought harder, never is the one to make his guest do chores, but truth to be told, he wanted to escape the awkward atmosphere. He cleared up that he didn’t kill anyone, and he was only joking.
“He didn’t explain anything afterwards either. What if he really is a killer, and I’m about to be a victim?” Nana hits herself on the forehead, punishing her for the ridiculous idea. If he were to kill you, he would have done it already. He could have poisoned your food or stabbed you while you were washing the dishes, but he didn’t. Great, now I’m going to start talking to myself again. Nana gets off the bed to head to the restroom. On the way, a stream of light coming from one of the rooms catches her attention. Is he still awake? Feeling curious, yet nervous at the same time, Nana gently presses against the door. She hears nothing from the other side. She knocks softly, but to her disappointment no there is no response. She thinks if Jaejun is also up maybe they can talk a bit, distract her, because she doesn’t want to think too much about certain things...someone.
“Did he fall asleep with the light on?” Nana questions aloud, feeling her heart race. She feels her hand tightening around the doorknob. As rude as it seems, Nana can’t help herself but to carefully turn it. With the door slightly cracked ajar, she peaks in; the bed is empty and made. Even more curious, Nana opens the door wider; a dim bubble of light pours into the hallway. She shields her eyes, unadjusted to the any source of light. She steps into the room, but leaves the door open. Closing the door would appear just too weird. She catches Jaejun slumped over the desk, his shoulder rising and falling steadily. Indeed, he has fallen asleep. Nana tiptoes over and peeks at his sleeping face: a crease furrows between his brows, and his lips set in a frozen frown. Even in his sleep, he cannot run away from the guilt and stress of being responsible for the troubles he has caused many families. Gently placing her index finger between his eyebrows, she massages the area in slow circles, smoothing out the crease.
“You would look ugly if you get wrinkles now,” her breath flutters a few strands of his hair. Maybe she is leaning in too close. He looks so vulnerable and fragile, but intuitively, she also knows he’s not. She smiles when he moves his lips to an inaudible word, and his lips fall into a relaxed state. Ah, stop that! Nana draws back forcefully, breathing hard. She puts a hand against her pounding heart, afraid its beating will wake up the sleeping man. She then notices the visible goosebumps dotting his arms.
“Geez, you’re gonna catch a cold if you sleep like this. Jaejun...go sleep on the bed,” she shakes him cautiously. Jaejun grunts in response and shifts from resting on the right side of face to his left, but nevertheless in deep slumber. With a sigh, Nana retreats to the bed and grabs the blanket to drape over his body. She tucks the ends around his neck securely since he has just recovered from a fever this morning. Bored, Nana walks from one wall to another, but honestly, there aren’t much to see-- a bed, a study desk, a book shelf, a couch, and a ceiling fan. The bedroom pales significantly in comparison to the living room.
She dumps herself onto the bed with a sudden wave of sleepiness. The bed feels so soft and soothing. Is the bed sheet velvet? Or maybe it’s silk? Either way, she likes the texture against her bare skin. Not caring if there is no cover (it’s around Jaejun), she rolls over to her side and pulls up her knees and falls into sleep.
***
Fingers twitch into wakefulness, a handful of bed sheet; a palm drags sluggishly across the expanse of silky blanket. Bed sheet? Blanket? The same lethargic hand slaps itself onto Nana’s face, wiping away her fantastical dream of candy cane forest and beautiful princes. She yawns obnoxiously, her tongue sticking out to let out the final words of a dying cat. Her vision is covered by a gossamer of sleep-- hazy, unreal, surreal. Wait, blanket? Nana tucks the cream blanket farther under her chin, and the blanket seems familiar. With a sudden jolt, she tosses the blanket aside when she realizes that is the same blanket she draped over Jaejun last night. Speaking of which, Jaejun is nowhere in sight. The desk light off, a sea of loose paper and documents, and a dead laptop: Everything stay the same except the pretty man is not there. He’s not that pretty. He’s just easy on the eyes. Nana walks out of the room, irked that her irrational thoughts still lingered from last night, and she is greeted by Mochi, who rubs her fluffy tail around Nana’s ankle, begging for attention. Annoyance and thoughts of Jaejun dissipate immediately the moment Nana cradles the kitty in her arms. She strokes its head to earn a trill of satisfied purrs. Carrying Mochi, Nana goes into the kitchen only to find the familiar scene of Jaejun (wearing a shirt this time) cooking-- eggs crack, chopsticks clang against ceramic bowls in rapid swirls, green onions and diced sausage dive into the yellowness, yellowness waterfalls into the hot pan and sizzles.
“Smells nice,” Nana remarks and bites back a laugh when Jaejun flinches and spills some of the omelet mixture onto the counter.
“Oh, you scared me,” laughing, Jaejun waves the spatula, “Good morning! Thank you for covering me up last night. I must have fallen asleep while looking over some documents.”
Nana feels warmness spreading across her cheeks, “Ah, don’t worry about it,” the awkwardness in her voice prominent.
“By the way, were you looking for something? I mean, I wasn’t prepared to find you sleeping on my bed,” Jaejun has resumed to cut the egg omelets into perfect squares.
“Oh, well, I couldn’t sleep. So...I, walked around. And saw your light was on,” Nana stutters to find a coherent answer, one that will not make her sound like a creeper sneaking up on someone during the night, “And you know, you looked cold, and sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on your bed!”
Pink blush, frantically blinking eyes, and two front teeth worrying the bottom lip, Nana plays with her fingers, and Jaejun finds himself mesmerized as he turns to bring two plates of breakfast to the kitchen island.
“Here you go, egg omelet and toast. Do you want some orange juice?” Jaejun drops the topic of last night, mentally wanting to slap himself for almost thinking inappropriate thoughts.
Nana notices the change in subject, but is rather relieved by it. She nods shyly, and he walks back to the kitchen without a word. He’s only a stranger. A stranger whom you followed and slept over. Well, he hasn’t raped me yet.
When Jaejun returns with two glass filled with orange juice, he chuckles at the conflicting expression Nana sports. “What are you thinking of so intensely?”
“Well, you haven’t raped me yet,” the words slip out before Nana can comprehend the meaning of them.
“What?” Jaejun stares at her incredulously, not understanding the origin of such statement. He doesn’t appear like a rapist does he? Or some molester? He grew up hearing he looks handsome and beautiful.
“W-what? Uh no! I meant, I just slept over at a stranger’s house, and I was just thinking that you’re not a bad guy since I wasn’t raped even though I sorta stumbled into your room,” Nana wishes the ground will swallow her up. I really need to get a filter for my mouth.
“Of course, have you ever seen such a handsome rapist?” Jaejun thinks Nana is quite adorable when she’s being shy.
“Egoist,” Nana mumbles under her breath before taking a bite out of her omelet. Once again, his food tastes heavenly. “Did you ever go to a culinary school?”
“Nah, I guess I always had an affinity towards cooking. My mom loves to cook as well, or at least when she had time. I remember when I was little, I would always follow her around in the kitchen,” he laughs fondly at the memory, right hand going up to cover his mouth, “Ever since, I decided that I would cook everything I eat. Or at least I would try to. Last night was the first time I’ve cooked in months.”
“Well, I think you should try to cook more often. You’re a really good cook,” Nana gulps down a sip of orange juice before continuing to deliver more yummy goodness to her stomach.
Jaejun smiles, but doesn’t reply. Taking the silence as a hint to not delve farther into Jaejun’s private life, Nana smiles back with a sheepish giggle. With a perpetual rigid smile, Jaejun nibbles on a piece of toast, nibbling on the same spot until his teeth gnashed against each other. His face looks beyond unnatural, but Nana doesn’t comment and continues to eat. With each bite, she takes swift glances at him, yet, bite after bite, Jaejun stays stolid with the same piece of omelet stuck between the chopsticks. Is there anything going on in that brain? His eyes are devoid of any expression, no emotions, almost empty if not for the closing distance of his brows. A loud clink of wood against metal brings Jaejun back into reality; he jerkingly stuffs the omelet into his mouth, “Huh?”
“Huh?” Nana mimics his startled tone, her eyes hard and unyielding as they bore into Jaejun’s. “What’s going on? You’ve been sitting there like a statue for the past ten minutes.”
He recovers enough to notice Nana’s empty plate, but his has stayed the same when he first set it on the table, “Oh sorry.”
She’s not mad, though annoyed, and a bit, tiny, tiny bit worried. A person can be stressed or deep in thought, but such a look of lifelessness as if one is standing at the edge of the world and knowing there is nowhere else to go but down. And this is why she’s annoyed. He lives in a luxurious home, a place many people can barely dream of, and there he is, looking as if he has given up on life. Nana takes a drink from her cup before slowly asking, drawing out her words, “Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” Jaejun smiles and eats another piece of omelet. He stares into her eyes as he chews, challenging her to question his answer. She accepts.
“Of course you’re ok. Cause you know, people who are “ok” looks as they want to jump off a cliff. So yes, you’re definitely ok.” She doesn’t believe for a second that he is even close to being fine. Maybe she is being too nosy, a busybody; whatever that is going on in his life has nothing to do with her. She can’t help it. Something draws her to him, makes her want to help him. As cliche as it is, maybe, just maybe, he is someone important to her life.
Her tone undulates between concern and frustration, and Jaejun fears to hear the tone of judgement if he did tell her. She seems sincere. After the pregnant silence from Jaejun, Nana returns to eating breakfast, feeling a bit embarrassed. Jaejun clutches his fork tighter, the knuckles turning white, as he contemplates whether he should confide in Nana. They’ve known each other barely over a day, yet she has somewhat saved his life, he has dragged her to his place and spent the night, that means something right?
“Well,” he starts but stops after hearing the quiver in his voice. Is he that scared?
Nana pretends not to hear him instead she focuses on Mochi’s quiet paddle against the kitchen tile and the metallic clink of the fork pecking the plate. She can feel her heart beat rising in anticipation and nervousness. Is this where she finds out who Jaejun really is? An accidental chuckle slips through causing Jaejun to glance up in confusion. His opened mouth forms an unspoken question.
“Sorry, I just feel silly, trying to pry into your life,” Nana laughs tersely, “You don’t have to tell me anything really. I guess, I just want to feel I’m at least useful.” As she speaks, her eyes remain downcast. Such a sad pathetic smile drapes across her face.
“Don’t we all?” His question hangs above them. Neither wishes to disturb the delicate balance within themselves, to unravel what has been tightly coiled and secured by the urge to impress another with self-declared wisdom. What is left unsaid sometimes speaks more of wisdom.
Breakfast precedes and ends in silence, with the occasional mewls from Mochi demanding attention. Jaejun left Nana to do the dishes after a firm, “I will clean up” from her. He understands that is her way of thanking him, and honestly, he doesn’t really like doing dishes anyway. Up in his study, he sighs heavily. A wonderful cluster of crap stares at him, taunting him with its ugly coffee stains, bent corners, and its mass existence. A soft knock, Jaejun turns his head to see Nana standing there, dressed in her own clothes again, though he has to admit, she looked cute wearing his shirt.
“I have to go back. I have classes tomorrow,” she explains quietly.
“Oh,” is his only reply.
She looks at him questioningly. Is that all?
“How old are you?”
“Don’t you know not to ask a lady her age?” She face remains stoic except for a trickle of amusement tugging at her lips.
“Hardly a lady. I just want to know the age of a poor drenched cat I picked up under the bus stop,” he teases; he feels like he is back in elementary school where being mean was the only way to show his interest.
“Too bad cats don’t like you,” Nana makes a face, but he knows she isn’t truly mad. Her breath hitches when he suddenly smiles at her. She shouldn’t be feeling this; she definitely should not be feeling this. But, reality is cruel. Her boyfriend is having the time of his life, why can’t she have a little fun too? “I’ll tell you if you take me back to my school.” She returns his smile in equal watts and ignores the pinch in her conscience.