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Date Roulette: Jiyong

Thursday

Intro Week Start

Seungri Week Start

Daesung Week Start

Taeyang Week Start

Seunghyun Week Start

Jiyong Week Start

=====

Talking with Zico had been nice. Though, “with” might have been a strong word. Talking at Zico might be a better description.

Waking up inside the tub had been a bit of a surprise but, as memories of the night before filtered through my mind, it made sense.

I stretched, my back and neck creaking and snapping as I did. Zico's words from last night hung in my mind.

“You need to remind them to be scared of you.”

I hadn't meant to tell him about everything, but once I had started talking, I hadn't been able to shut up. It didn't help that Zico was a great audience.

When I explained what Seungri had done, and what he had doubtlessly been trying to do, I had heard annoyed gasps and clicked tongues.

When I questioned whether Seunghyun and Jiyong were even friends at this point, he had scoffed and said that he wouldn't blame Seunghyun if they weren't.

When I mentioned that Seungyoon had texted me, and that it felt like he was being too familiar, he had sighed and said that Jinwoo was the one most likely to try to get closer.

“I think he'd do it specifically to bother Mino,” he explained. “What is with group members sabotaging each other? Are you and Kyung like that? Or is it just a YG thing?” “I certainly wouldn't do that to any of my members. I don't know. Maybe it's something from their trainee process.”

I even admitted to the extent of Daesung's and my relationship.

“Daesung?!” He spluttered for a moment, “Kang Daesung?!” “Well, yeah…” “Jesus christ…” he sighed heavily. Then, “Mino doesn't have a fucking chance in hell.” “Why do people say stuff like that?” I questioned. “Kang Daesung is famous for being the perfect boyfriend,” Zico started. “No one hates him. His exes all have nothing bad to say about him, except for the fact that they're no longer together.”

After the jokes died down though…

“You still haven't explained who we're damning tonight in particular.” I sighed, not sure how to explain. “If I had to guess, it's the pretty-boy with a savior complex.” I snorted a laugh, feeling a new appreciation for how Zico knew when to direct the conversation. “More like a god complex,” I muttered. “Control freak.” “What's that American meme? Pokayno…?” “Porque no los dos?” I offered. “Yeah! Why not both, right?” “Yeah, but,” I shook my head, “that's Spanish.” “So? I know that Americans speak Spanish.” “Not all of them. That's like if I said ‘in Korea we speak Japanese’ or something.” There was a beat of silence before Zico spoke up again. His voice was warmer somehow. Softer. He sounded like he was smiling. “You really like it here, don't you?” “I guess so,” I frowned, confused about why he was asking. “Most of the time. Why?” “You said ‘we’ about Korea,” he explained, “and used ‘them’ for America.” “Oh,” I thought it over. Had I really said that? “And that is why you need to remind them to be scared of you.” I was surprised by how hard Zico's voice got. All previous gentleness was gone. “Your worst case scenario is being forced to leave your home, theirs is jail.” The statement hung there for a moment. I let it twist in my mind before whispering. “I'm not sure which one of those is worse.” It was Zico's turn to pause. He was so quiet that I could hear the creak of his chair through the phone. “Tell me everything.” “I already did.” “Not that,” he sighed, “tell me everything.”

So, I had fallen asleep like that. Maybe even mid sentence. I talked and talked and by the time I woke up my phone battery was dead and my throat was sore.

I hauled my aching body out from the tub. I plugged my phone in. I downed four handfuls of water from the bathroom sink. I stretched out on the unused bed. Once my phone was charged enough, I shot off a quick combination apology and thank you text to Zico.

Then, I waited. My phone chimed and beeped, updating me on the missed alerts from throughout the night. There seemed to be more than usual, but I couldn't force myself to look at them yet.

I tried to predict what they'd be. Jiyong, definitely - probably apologizing, maybe scolding? I laughed to myself when the word ‘begging’ came to mind.

Who else…

Daesung and Seunghyun both seemed somewhat probable. Seunghyun - checking in made the top of the list. Daesung - probably something sweet and lightly flirtatious to start, then concerned when I didn't respond.

Mino? Maybe. That seemed like a 50/50 shot. I tried to remember if I had ever responded to him yesterday. I was fairly sure I had. Just a brief “You can always message me” text.

My predictions were cut off by my phone actively ringing.

Sighing, I rolled over and picked it up.

Taeyang Probably

A world where I predicted that did not exist.

“I'm actually impressed by just how much of a mess you've made Jiyong.”

“Fuck off,” I groaned.

“I'm not trying to scold you. I want pointers.”

I rolled my eyes, stretching before trying to get to the point.

“What's going on?” I asked, “why is it you calling me and not one of the others?”

“Seunghyun's with me,” Taeyang blithely answered. “Daesung as well. But somebody has been ignoring her favorites, so when we heard your phone going off we decided that I should be the one to call.”

“I'm not ignoring them,” I protested. “Not on purpose anyway. My phone died.”

“Ah,” his voice got the smallest bit quieter as he most likely turned away from the receiver, “her phone died. Rest assured you two haven't been exiled yet.”

His voice was back to a normal volume the next moment.

“Come out from your cave. Breakfast is ready.”

“Where's… um…”

“Jiyong is moping in his room,” Taeyang answered my half-asked question. “The criminal has been out of the house since yesterday. We assume that the less we know, the better for us.”

=====

“You're sassy this morning,” I said over my teacup at Taeyang.

“You try to deal with three grown men whining like children first thing in the morning.”

“We weren't whining,” Daesung protested.

“Jiyong was definitely whining,” Seunghyun corrected him. “You were complaining.”

“Then what were you doing?” Daesung challenged him.

“Troubleshooting out loud,” Seunghyun muttered, lifting his phone and scrolling aimlessly.

“That's why I've got an attitude this morning,” Taeyang gestured towards the other two with a spatula.

“Ah,” I nodded, “I get it now.”

“Baby,” Seunghyun placed his phone onto the countertop and leaned closer, his shoulder nearly bumping mine. “What happened?”

I glanced towards the hall where the stairs were.

“Mm,” Daesung, taking note of my hesitation over his coffee mug, checked the time, “he was listening to Haru Haru about twenty minutes ago so we still have…”

“At least half an hour before he leaves his room,” Seunghyun finished.

I blinked. Even I knew that song.

“He listens to his own music when he's sulking?”

Taeyang laughed, shrugging.

“He has a playlist,” Seunghyun said. “Point is, we have some time.”

“Fine,” I pushed my teacup across the counter and made a face at Daesung. He rolled his eyes, but took the cup and started the kettle. I leaned back, weighing how much time I had left against how much I wanted to say.

Glancing around, I made sure no one was holding anything before I spoke.

“Jiyong asked me to sleep with him last night.”

Taeyang tilted his head, eyes wandering as he processed the words.

Daesung lifted both hands to rub over his own face.

Seunghyun nodded, letting the hand closest to me fall beneath the counter to find my knee.

“And?” He prompted.

“I freaked out. He said ‘not like that’ but…”

That anxiety from last night pulsed through my body as I remembered the look on Jiyong's face.

“He was angry.”

I felt Seunghyun's hand twitch on my knee, flexing as his grip tightened and immediately loosened again.

“What did he say?” Daesung took over the questioning as he finally got back to refilling my tea.

“Nothing,” I shrugged, “I just left him on the porch and went to my room.”

None of them said anything to that. After a few minutes, Daesung placed my cup down in front of me.

I reached out and grabbed his hand.

“We've been having stressful mornings,” I squeezed his hand, “haven't we?”

“Don't worry about me,” he shook his head.

“You know,” Seunghyun shifted in his seat. Scooting to the edge, he draped a hand around the back of my chair.

“You would have a lot less to worry about if we just got married.”

I rolled my eyes, clicking my tongue against my teeth as I let go of Daesung's hand to lift my teacup.

“Don't start that again.”

Seunghyun started ticking off his fingers.

“Citizenship, apartment, work…”

“How does getting married to you get me a job?” I interrupted him.

“You won't need to work,” he shrugged.

I groaned, shaking my head.

“One day you're going to joke like that with someone who takes you too seriously and end up in a marriage you never wanted,” Taeyang said.

Seunghyun huffed, half a laugh, and wrapped his arm around the back of my chair before replying.

“Why do you all think I'm joking?”

=====

Jiyong didn't join us for nearly another hour. While I certainly had no complaints about that, it had been a little boring to wait around for the show to arrive.

Taeyang had excused himself for the day, and Daesung was busy with some laundry. Thus, when Jiyong finally joined the household, he found Seunghyun and I in the living room.

My knees were hooked over the armrest of the sofa, and my head was supported by Seunghyun's thigh. Every so often we showed each other our phones, getting opinions on apartments.

“That's too expensive,” I frowned at Seunghyun's phone. “It is nice though.”

“It's not that expensive,” he protested, “not for three bedrooms.”

“What would I even need that for?” I asked, handing the phone back to him.

“Art studio,” he explained simply.

“I can do art anywhere,” I pointed out. “And the third? It’s not like I need a guest room.”

I could see a joke coming from the way he refused to meet my eye. Something out of line in the way he smiled before speaking.

“The third one is for the baby.”

I pretended to vomit, covering my mouth with one hand and pushing Seunghyun's head away with the other. He laughed loudly, reaction successfully obtained.

It was in the middle of my protest that Jiyong joined us. Just in time to hear me say “Don't you lay that curse on me, Choi Seunghyun!”

“What's he cursing you with?”

Once again, I somehow felt like I had been caught doing something wrong. I scrambled to sit upright.

“I was just pointing out,” Seunghyun spoke placidly, indiscreetly pulling me closer to his side as soon as I was upright, “that she should look at larger apartments.”

“You were speaking true evil into the world,” I grumbled, scooching away from him.

“I was being practical,” he reproached me, once again leaning over to pull me closer by my waist. “If you ever decide to have children, you wouldn't have to move.”

Jiyong watched us, face frozen in an impeccably pleasant mask as he sat in one of the smaller loveseats.

“I very much doubt I'll ever want kids,” I said, poking my finger into Seunghyun's thigh in hopes of making him loosen his grip.

“Accidents happen,” Jiyong pointed out.

I shook my head, still struggling with Seunghyun's antics.

“Thanks to modern medical implants, I don't have to worry about that for at least two more years.”

“Ah!” Seunghyun groaned as I finally managed to jab one of his pressure points. His hold on me relented as he rubbed his leg. “What a secure life you lead.”

I just shrugged, “no point in taking risks.”

“But it can still fail sometimes,” Jiyong pointed out, “what then?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my palms into my eyes until I saw yellow and violet bursts.

“I'd rather not think about it.”

“Yo-”

“The third room is for Ttungbo,” Seunghyun cut off Jiyong. “Or storage.”

I blinked a few times, readjusting my vision. I saw Jiyong, lips pursed, nodding slightly. Glancing to my side, I noted the intense way that Seunghyun was staring down his group leader.

I resisted the urge to think about it. Besides, we had show to make.

“Speaking of Ttungbo…”

Jiyong’s eyes snapped to meet mine, face switching from that deep thoughts look to an agreeable smile.

“I don’t know if you have anything planned for today, but if we have time…?”

“Of course my love,” his smile widened.

It wasn’t a sound or physical sensation, but I could feel Seunghyun’s disdain at the words.

“Call the kennel,” Jiyong stood from his seat, body language clearly showing he would be ready to leave soon. “We’ll stop for tea on the way.”

=====

“I wanted to apologize for last night.”

Jiyong was leaning slightly away from me as he spoke, checking his side-view mirror as he backed out of the driveway.

“Oh, um… wel-”

“I’m not expecting you to say anything or accept it,” he clarified. Twisting in his seat, he placed one hand on my headrest as he double checked the road behind us.

“It was presumptuous.”

I nodded. He was right, and exhibiting a surprising amount of self-reflection. Maybe there was something to his playlist process.

“It was,” I agreed aloud.

His hand fell from my headrest, swinging down in an aborted arc that stopped short of my thigh. It floated awkwardly for a second before he placed it firmly on the gearshift instead.

“Did you want to go straight there? Or would you mind if I stopped for coffee first?”

=====

Ttungbo was somewhat wary of Jiyong when we arrived, but quickly put that aside as he attempted to climb into my, still standing, lap. Once I as fully seated, I was immediately flattened by the whining boxer.

“I know Ttungbo,” I babbled at him, “I know. I’ve been away for so long, right? And now Soo-ah isn’t here. I know. I’m such a bad mom to you, abandoning you in this hotel. Oh my sweet boy has been suffering, hasn’t he?”

Jiyong leaned against the wall opposite from Ttungbo and I, watching me with an expression that reminded me of when he had helped me get ready for that one particularly bad night with Seungri.

Somewhat fueled by a petty sense of poorly placed blame, I ignored him.

Eventually, Ttungbo got tired of trying to pin me in place and started going back and forth to show me the toys in the visitation room. I, of course, praised each one accordingly, enjoying the way that the pace of his wagging tail would speed up each time.

“A crinkly corn man? Very nice.”

“Oooh… that’s a deep squeaker. Very good for a walrus.”

“This is your favorite, isn’t it? You’re so sweet with Mr. Moose.”

=====

When we left, Jiyong stalled once we were inside his car.

“It’s not really my place to suggest but…” he sighed heavily, nervously tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“What is it?” I asked.

He licked his lips, biting them slightly as he chose his words.

“You got sick so quickly,” he started.

“I’m not really sick,” I said. “It’s just stress.”

“Right,” he nodded, agreeing but still pressing onwards, “right, it’s probably just that. But… I worry, you know? So I called my doctor, and he…”

“A doctor?” I asked, skepticism wrinkling my brow. “It was just a panic attack, and then, you know, a recovery time.”

Even I knew that wasn’t exactly true. I tuned out Jiyong slightly, trying to remember the last few days and what had been going on with me health-wise.

“... -uld clear some time…”

The panic attack had been first, right? That confessional style interview. Then… headaches. Headaches and tiredness and mood swings…

“... -n’t schedule any…”

Had I been having stomach issues as well? I couldn’t even remember. Add brain fog to the list I suppose.

“... but it’s up to you, obviously.”

I heaved a long sigh, using the length of it to piece together whatever Jiyong had been saying. Something about going to see a doctor, I was fairly certain.

“Okay,” I nodded, turning to look at him. “Might as well double check that I’m fine, right?”

His expression of concern turned to one of relief.

“Yeah,” he started the car, “yes. We’ll head there now.”

=====

Blood draw, urine test, a light shining in my eyes and down my throat. Reflexes tested, stomach palpated, and questions galore. I felt bad that somehow, without even a proper appointment, I was taking up so much of this doctor’s time.

It was clearly a private practice. Without a doubt, the doctor’s availability was a perk of fame and money. Though I hadn’t seen much of the building, I was sure that the examination room was in fact just a spare room in the doctor’s house.

“You don’t appear to have any sort of immediate health concerns. As you suggested, the stress of so many big changes happening at once is likely the culprit. Stress can suppress the body’s immune system after all. So for now…”

The doctor handed over a small collection of bottles. Too many for me to hold securely, so I started putting them into my pockets.

“These are just some vitamins and supplements. We’ll have a clearer idea of if there is anything more concerning once your labs come back, so for now we’ll just try to pump up your body’s natural defenses.”

“And how long will it be before we get the lab results?” Jiyong asked, offering a hand to accept some of the bottles from the doctor.

He had offered to wait outside, but my confidence with medical Korean was shaky enough that I had asked him to stay. It had turned out to be unnecessary, since the doctor was both semi-fluent in English and had a knack for simplifying his message without losing information.

Still, it had been nice to have him there to offer his own observations of my semi-declining health over the last little while.

“My lab assistant is doing some volunteer work today, but I’m sure we can get most, if not all, of them done tomorrow. You’ll hear from me in no time.”

=====

I felt more energized by the time we left the doctor. Maybe it was the endorphins from seeing Ttungbo, maybe it was the mix of Ringer's solution and B vitamins that the doctor had given me. Maybe there was something to the bitter tea that Jiyong had brought in a thermos for me. Whatever it was, I felt good as I reclined the passenger seat of Jiyong's car and let myself bask in the sunlight streaming through the windshield.

Jiyong had said he needed to swing by the company on the way back, and I had no protest for that. He was being normal, if a little overly attentive, and the sun was out.

I was in a nice thrumming headspace when my phone chimed. Peeking a single eye open, I lifted the phone to see what it was.

From: Zico This is a text to check in on you. How's that asshole acting today?

I failed to hold back a laugh. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jiyong glance at me before returning his attention back to the road.

“What's that?” He sounded nonchalant, but I doubted that was genuine.

“Are you going to get jealous?” I turned just slightly while I typed a reply. Just enough to keep Jiyong more firmly in my sight.

To: Zico Jiyong is being nice. Seems to be keeping a polite distance.

The topic of the text message glanced at me again. He bit his lip for a second before sighing.

I hit send before turning my full attention to him.

“Is it Song Minho?”

His neck was slightly red under his collar.

“Not this time,” I answered.

My phone chimed. I lifted it once again.

From: Zico So you reminded him to be scared of you?

“One of the members?” Jiyong guessed.

“No.”

To: Zico No. He seems to have learned shame on his own.

“Jagiya…”

I decided to cut him some slack.

“It's Zico. Just checking in on me.”

A small grumbly noise pushed its way out of his throat before he spoke again.

“What…” he paused, shaking his head as my phone sounded a third time.

“Why,” he started over, “are there so many people concerned over you?”

From: Zico Maybe I'm biased, but I don't trust it. He has a reputation for being manipulative.

“Am I not worth being concerned over?” I teased him.

“Of course you are, my love.” He cleared his throat as I typed another message.

To: Zico I am choosing to enjoy it. I can worry later.

“There's just so much competition.”

I tilted my head, looking more closely at Jiyong. He was pouting a little bit. It was cute, the childish nature of the expression.

I reached out and placed my hand on his forearm.

“Trust me,” I squeezed his arm, “Zico has specifically assured me that he is not interested in me for anything more than friendship.”

“Jagi…”

I knew that tone. It was gently reproachful. Paternal.

I decided to head off what I knew was coming next.

“Don't tell me I'm being naive.”

“I j-”

“And don't say that you worry about me,” I interrupted him. “We've talked about this - I'm an entire adult.”

He made a small annoyed noise as he shut his mouth.

I reclined the passenger seat slightly, stretching out a little while I watched Jiyong drive. That pout lingered around his lips, but he had the sense not to push the topic.

From: Zico You would know better than me I suppose. He's always rubbed me the wrong way, so I've never really tried to get close.

What a wonderful thing it is when men can admit that they might be wrong.

=====

“Just sit,” Jiyong insisted, ushering me away from the kitchen. “I'll take care of dinner, just relax.”

“But it's boring in here,” I complained, letting him direct me to the sofa. “Where is everyone?”

“I sent them out,” he admitted. “I wanted to spend time with you but not make it a whole production.”

Taking a seat, I pouted at him. I tried to make it obvious that I wasn't actually upset though. Hesitancy and concerns aside, it was obvious that Jiyong was really trying to go above and beyond and consciously considering my health and energy levels.

“Here,” he handed me the remote to the television. “I'll be right back.”

I sighed, shucking off my slippers and tugging the blanket that lived on the seat around my legs so I could fully bundle down on the sofa. Turning on the television, I didn't bother looking for a specific channel. It was only going to be background noise anyway.

True to millennial form, I pulled my phone out.

From: D-lite Hyung told us all to get out of the house tonight From: D-lite I said I would but I'm actually just working on some stuff in my room From: D-lite I'm not saying this as a warning BTW From: D-lite But if you want to hang out with someone you actually like…

I snorted a laugh.

To: D-lite I appreciate the anxiety warning 💚 From: D-lite A green heart?! From: D-lite I thought I deserved at least a 💜 or maybe 🩷 To: D-lite Green is my favorite color though From: D-lite It's perfect 💚💚💚 I love it 💚💚💚

After a few seconds, he messaged again.

From: D-lite Can I come visit? I know I said I was working but I keep thinking about you From: D-lite Or you can come visit me? To: D-lite I'm pretty sure Jiyong has a whole dinner planned From: D-lite ☹️ To: D-lite Doesn't your room have cameras and microphones anyway? From: D-lite Why would that be a problem? 🤔 From: D-lite Just wha~at are you thinking of? To: D-lite Shut up From: D-lite I just wanted to hang o~ut 😇 From: D-lite But my pet is being so dirty~~~ To: D-lite Nevermind I should be pretending to be interesting for the show From: D-lite “Pretend” she says From: D-lite Like she's not one of the main sources of gossip and speculation online right now To: D-lite Don't remind me 😖 I’ve been very intentionally avoiding all of that ever since I turned off my sns notifications From: D-lite Makes sense From: D-lite Congratulations on crossing 10 million on Instagram by the way

I resisted the urge to check. It was almost painfully difficult, but I did manage to resist.

To: D-lite Stop it! To: D-lite I'm going to vomit To: D-lite You're lying From: D-lite I would never lie to my pet

The message was accompanied by a screenshot of my own Instagram profile.

He was not lying.

I clicked my screen to blackness, staring at my too close reflection on the somewhat scuffed surface for a moment.

I noted the evidence of age that showed in a slight line across my forehead. My roots were beginning to show. I looked exhausted.

Dropping my phone, I pushed my palms against my cheekbones, fingers slipping under my glasses to cover my eyes as I groaned. Realistically, I couldn't just ignore everything, but by god was that the tempting option.

For a moment, I wondered where Chul was. Maybe I had become too dependent on him, but he was unusually good for advice.

“You okay?”

I jumped nearly out of my own skin. My own groaning had effectively drowned out any sound of Jiyong's approach.

I looked up at him, clocking the teacup in his hands immediately.

“Just stress.”

Somewhere in the rear of my mind, I remembered Chul mentioning he had been called for some meeting.

“Good timing then,” Jiyong held up the teacup to highlight it before placing it on the coffee table. “Let me know if it's too bitter.”

“More herbal medicine?” I scooted forward, taking the cup in my hands and allowing it to warm my hands.

“You know me so well,” Jiyong smiled. He reached out, gently brushing my hair out of my face s he spoke again. “Drink up, my love.”

I shot him a side-eye as I took a sip of the murky liquid.

My face contorted, chin retreating towards my neck as my lips twisted and eyes scrunched shut.

“I did say it would be bitter.”

I gave a strained noise, took a breath, and downed the entire cup as fast as I could.

Jiyong sat next to me, rubbing my back softly as I coughed through the awful aftertaste.

“Good girl. It's rough, I know,” he murmured, “you're doing so well though.”

“That isn't bitter,” I coughed again. “That tastes like industrial strength paint-stripper.”

“I'll get better at it,” Jiyong kept up his soothing hand motions on my back. “You did so good for me though. Here,” he stood up, taking the cup with him, “I'll get you something to get the taste out of your mouth.”

He briskly walked back to the kitchen, pausing for a moment to swirl some water through the cup and place it in the dishwasher.

I let myself tilt over, laying my head on the armrest of the sofa to watch Jiyong shuffle around the kitchen. He poked through the cabinets, tutting slightly as he shut the doors and moved on. Briefly, he placed his hands on his hips, surveying the countertops with pursed lips. Then, seemingly struck with inspiration, he determinedly opened the fridge and pulled out two oranges. He gathered up a plate and some small tool from a drawer before coming back into the living room.

“Here we go,” he set the plate down and took a seat next to me. Slipping the little gadget over one of his fingers, he set to work.

A hundred videos of couples arguing filled my mind.

“You're peeling me an orange?”

Jiyong looked up from his work, eyebrows arched upwards at the center of his brow. The effect was not quite unlike a scolded pet.

“Do you not like oranges?”

I blinked, just taking in this new facet of him before shaking my head.

“No, I like oranges.”

He stayed still for a moment, pouting slightly as he glanced from me to the orange in his hands a few times.

“I can get something different if yo-”

“I like oranges,” I said it more firmly, nudging his leg with my knee. “Peel one for me.”

He seemed to accept it then, returning to the task at hand.

=====

The acerbic nature of the tea was erased from my short-term memory by the time our dinner plates escorted us out to the deck. I made an offhand remark that I was going to gain weight if Jiyong insisted on taking me to restaurants and cooking for me like this.

“You've been sick,” he replied, pointedly placing more beef on my plate. “It's better to get nutrients from food than supplements anyway.”

“You make me sound like one of those gym obsessed forum guys,” I complained, pouting at him across the small glass table. The small glass of wine had hit me a little harder than I had expected. Or perhaps I was just enjoying being taken care of again. Either way, my skin felt a little electric, and I was flirting a bit harder than I may have done otherwise.

“No,” Jiyong smirked, eyes honed in on my mouth as I lifted my fork for another bite. “If you were one of those gym obsessed forum guys, you would know the importance of nutrition and rest for recovery and avoiding burnout.”

“You sound like you're about to confine me to my bed,” I couldn't stop myself, neither in the somewhat suggestive words nor the dip of my tongue to catch the stray remnants of flavor from the food on my lips.

God, was this how easy I was?

“If that's what it takes to get you to relax,” Jiyong's throat bobbed as he swallowed between his clauses. “Maybe I should do that.”

A home cooked meal, a hand peeled orange, a doctor's appointment that I didn't have to schedule?

“I don't think you have it in you,” I baited him.

Was that really all it took for me to be planting the ideas like this into the mind of Jiyong? Of all people?

“What makes you say that?”

Jiyong leaned forward in his seat, crossing one leg over the other and supporting his chin on his hand. The pose highlighted something about the angles of his body, and another reason for my behavior occurred to me.

He really was quite pretty.

“You don't come across as the direct action type.”

His smile was slow and cat-like. It occurred to the artist in my brain that he was apparently made entirely out of acute triangles.

“You would usually be right,” he leaned back, tilting his head to a curious angle, “but some things require a hands-on approach.”

Something had shifted. A string somewhere pulling tighter with each flirtatiously innocuous comment.

It was a feeling that I was well acquainted with. Typically, it was my cue to make a joke and redirect the conversation. Typically this was the point where I'd back off, loosen that winding cord.

Overly meticulous in the movement, I placed my fork down on my plate before scooting my chair an extra inch or so from the table. I downed the remaining liquid from the slightly over-sweetened tea that Jiyong had prepared for me before speaking.

“Just how ‘hands-on’ are you planning to get?”

That invisible cord stretched further, nearing an unknown limit.

I was just far away enough from him that I didn't really know that he held his breath, but it certainly seemed like he did. He was absolutely still for a moment before his head twitched.

“Would you like a demonstration?”

He gripped the armrests of his chair, knuckles going white. However, that was the full extent of his movement before he stilled again, waiting for an answer.

I decided to stress test that string.

“Go ahead.”

That did it. A piano wire pulled too taut, struck too many times, snapped.

=====

There wasn't much talk for a while. Nothing truly interesting anyway. Jiyong spouted a few sentences that were clearly designed to make good edits and draw nicely editable replies from me as he took my hand.

He drew me up out of my chair, primly directing me around the rest of the outdoor furniture and back into the house. He smoothly transitioned from holding my hand to laying a hand at my waist as he tugged open the sliding glass door, switching hands again as he closed it after us again.

My body was only out of contact with his hands for perhaps a second at a time as he led me through the house and towards my room. Still, each time his touch returned after those brief absences, a minor electric storm rushed through my skin.

Finally, we reached my bedroom door.

Jiyong opened it, then stood back to usher me forward. His hands fell from my body as I crossed the threshold.

I turned to look at him.

He stood, in that obviously practiced nonchalant way, leaning with one shoulder hooked on the doorframe.

“Is this where I leave you?”

I meant to say yes. It was the obvious thing to say. Clearly.

But all those angles caught my eye again.

So I didn't say anything. I just reached up, hooked a finger into his collar, and pulled him into the room.

#sr #icymi

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j-a-nuary · 5 days ago