#and so we went on a lot of long leisurely pointless car rides and we listed to a lot of

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: March 25

"Groovy Little Summer Song" by James Otto

[jackbabewang]

Chapter 2 — Bad habits

Word count ‧ 3,730

Chapter summary ‧ You must be out of your mind to think that he actually cared.

Masterlist

You finally got your eyes to cooperate to stay open and looked up to see a silhouette of a man in very close proximity with you. Your heart leaped to your throat, suddenly remembered that you were in Yoonoh’s room. 

“Jung… Yoonoh,” you said his name in a faltering and trembling voice. You dared not to move and stared dumbly at him. The touch of his hand on your bare skin sent streaks of fire racing up and down your body. 

He seemed to hear your voice then his movements came to a complete stop. You felt his breath warm on your neck, heard his heavy breathing in your ear. 

“Keep going, or not?” he asked, his voice deeper than before, huskier, and filled with unspoken desire. 

Your nervous system shut down, but quickly came to life in a rush of heat. Your knees trembled and your stomach clenched. Your breath was uneven when your lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. It was intense and then suddenly he pulled back and lifted the blanket and made his way to the bathroom in the darkness. 

You had no idea what time it was when you woke up last night, but it was an absolute certainty that your eyes were wide smack open till the next morning. And after Yoonoh went into the bathroom, he had been out of his room since. Where did he go?

You dilly-dallied, slipped out of bed, padded to the bathroom and damn—your head was swimming with dizziness along with pounding from the two or three hours of sleep. You stood before the mirror, you could see the stark evidence of the episode from the night before—that your pyjamas looked a bit crumpled. You had no idea how you were going to face him any later. 

It was still early in the morning, not quite seven, your parents had not gotten up yet. All your clothes were in that room and you were afraid that you could not get in there at the moment. You remembered you had clothes hung outside that you washed yesterday and so you went downstairs to get a fresh set of clothes. 

Chop, chop, chop. Slice, slice, slice. The sound of the knife cutting through and landing against the wooden board drew you into the doorway, onto the threshold of the kitchen. Assuming your mother had woken up rather early. You opened your mouth—to call out “mom”—but the word was suddenly stuck in your throat as soon as you came eyeball-to-eyeball with the last person you wanted to see just then. You jolted with the shock and spun on your heels preparing to sprint away. 

“Come here.” 

The second after you whirled, Yoonoh called out to you faintly. Did he not feel awkward at all? 

Right, it was him who took advantage of you, how could he possibly feel awkward about it.

Reluctantly you turned back around, somehow keeping your face perfectly calm. “My! You’re up early today.”

He brought some thinly sliced spring onion into a small bowl, without any expression on his face he echoed, “When was I never earlier than you?”

Pfft! Only very slight bit, what’s there to be hoity-toity about?

“Wash your hands.” He commanded. 

“What for?” 

He did not answer but turned around to continue what he had been doing without giving a damn on you. On instinct you rolled your eyes and padded to the sink. You ran the water and held your hands under the stream, rubbing palm to palm as an indication whatsoever before turning off the faucet. Yoonoh swiveled his head rather abruptly and stared at your hands, “Wash with soap.”

It’s not like you’re a kid anymore, so what’s with the soap? Killing bacteria? You grumbled internally but not wanting to waste time and energy bickering over petty things so you had it his way and washed your hands once again with an antibacterial soap. 

As you dried your hands with soft strokes of the towel, Yoonoh pointed to one, two, three and four eggs in the basket then said, “Peel the eggs.”

After all that fuss made about hygiene, was it his germophobia acting up then? Only just peeling eggs and you thought he wanted you to knead a dough instead.

You obliged without uttering a syllable and with every murky shell that peeled off you felt your cheeks grew warmer. 

That… bared in its all glory… last night you shared a bed with someone as equally au naturel, and… 

Stop, stop! 

You became even more flushed than a minute ago, with bright red spots appearing on your cheeks. Yet Yoonoh noticed every detail with his sharpness as Hawkeye’s, giving no quarter that he pointed out, “What’s with your face matching the colour of pig’s blood early in the morning?”

He could’ve gone further exaggerating the metaphoricity; it would not hurt any less either way. 

Noticing your silence, he seasoned his remark with malice, “Or, you’re shy about what happened last night?” 

“Hmph,” he smirked, without another word he spun around and poured a little olive oil in the pan. 

Pervert. 

You did not want him to see your face, your embarrassed reaction to his comment so you could only turn your back to him as well and not pick an argument with him.

After breakfast, your parents had to catch the return flight back to Ulsan and so Yoonoh drove them to the airport. In wishing you goodbye, your mother held onto your hands, and over and over she was only concerned about Yoonoh that you might not take good care of him, leaving him to starve or freeze or wither up at leisure.

You were certain the woman standing before you was, indeed, not your biological mother. 

Until your parents had settled in at the boarding gate then you returned home. As Yoonoh drove past a grocery store, you suddenly remembered that you were out of toothpaste so you made him stopped by. 

Afraid that he might get impatient with waiting, you headed straight to the sales assistant for the placement of the product, impulsively grabbing a box of toothpaste and checked out at the counter. 

Right after you walked out through the automatic doors labeled “Exit Only” you saw an oh-so-slim sylph sashaying towards the direction of Yoonoh’s car. The man got down, apparently completely clueless what he said to her that the very next moment she was in the passenger seat. 

A message came in, signaled by the slight vibration of the device in your hand, from Yoonoh: Something came up, had to leave first. Get yourself a ride home.

He drove away and you watched until his car was out of sight. Gingerly you moved your thumbs over the screen, typing out a reply: Ok.

In the center of your palm laid a dull silver coin of 500won of the amount of change. It was cool and, weirdly, heavy. 

Five years ago, 500won would have taken you through the main areas of downtown of Seoul. But now, 500won worth nothing to what seemed to be the cheapest transportation in the entire world. 

During your summer break from middle school, you and your little companions would walk miles to travel around the city and returned on foot evening just to reserve that 500won for snacks. The distance of those journeys was never concerned, surprisingly you did not feel tired at all be it three hours, or that was because you were snacking along the way. 

But, as you grew older, and supposed to be tougher, thirty minutes of walking already had you feeling tired and panting, the soles of your feet hurt. 

It took you a little over an hour to walk back home from the airport. When you finally reached the front door and opened it, you could have just sit in the foyer and would not move a finger for hours on end. The fact that you made it into the house with persistence was enough to say that you were absolutely soiled. 

A wave of utter exhaustion overtook you, and eventually you felt sleepy so you took a quick shower and went to bed. Till five thirty in the evening, you woke up. For so long you slept it was the reason that you had not sleep a wink last night. 

You got up and filled yourself a glass of water. You gently raised your head high enough so you could drink without choking. The water was cool and refreshing and you sipped a few mouthfuls. You had not realized how thirsty you were, then your stomach grumbled, or how hungry. And so you made yourself a bowl of noodles then washed the breakfast dishes. 

Yoonoh was not home yet, you had no idea what had he been doing or where was he with Sooyoung, or he might not return even… 

Tidying up the living room after, dishwashing, you made your way upstairs again. Had you been sleeping all the afternoon through, you did not feel signs of drowsiness. 

Flipping through pages, reading passages randomly, yet you could not commit to reading the book in its entirety, so you pulled out your phone. 

Ever since you graduated from college, you had lost contact with many of your friends except for your dear Jennie. And you called her for long, giggly, pointless chats about the minutiae of life, not knowing when or how the conversation led to Yoonoh. 

Jennie: Honestly, about your marriage to him, it’s kinda unbelievable, but bound to happen.

Y: What was bound to happen? 

Jennie: Even though I don’t know him well, he seemed to be a cold person to me, it’s the truth. I couldn’t deny that I wasn’t shaken when I found out in high school that we have a senior that’s smart and so good-looking. But every single time when I greeted him he just ignored me, and I’m like ‘forget about it’ and moved on. 

Jennie: But then again, I’m not the only shameless one. A lot of girls tried to talk to him and got ignored, except you. Every time you walked past him and need not to say anything, his eyes went to you instinctively. 

Jennie: And I’d also realized that you’re the only person he talked to, that’s the only time his poker face showed expressions, which is why we’d all thought that out of all the women in the world, he’d choose you. 

Frankly speaking, Jennie transferred to different school in 12th grade, she had no idea of the presence of another. 

Y: Was his face like this every time he saw me? 🙄 This kinda expression was it? 😒 

Jennie: Dang, those two. Accurate!

Y: … 

And how did they even perceive that as signs of interest?

Jennie descended from a family of scholars, her father an archeologist while her mother a college professor, eventually their thinking was old fashioned—positively feudal. Watching their daughter of nearing thirty and had no male relation of potential son-in-law, they were undeniably concerned. 

When Jennie was still in New Zealand, never had they ever brought up the topic in their phone calls. However merely returned for a few days, the poor girl had been getting her ear chewed off. 

She grumbled, “Had I known it’s gonna be like this, I wouldn’t come back.”

Gloating over her misery, you pricked the bubbles of truth, “I guess your parents were afraid that you’ll find yourself a kiwi husband so they never pressed you about it. Now that they’ve coaxed you to come back, of course they’re gonna seize the opportunity to settle you down with a domestic spouse.” 

She banged her head against the table, “That’s racist, racist! Why’s my life so miserable?”

You lifted the cup of fresh coffee to your lips, blowing on it prior to taking a sip, not even trying to console her at this point. 

Your supposed “hang out” for the day was because of her desperately crying for help earlier in the morning that her parents had arranged a blind date for her. 

She had never done anything like that, which was why she was extra nervous and dragged you out from your house to be that… third wheel. 

The more she talked about it the more she grew restless and finally she slumped motionless on the table as if her body was hollowed out. You intended to remind her of her hair getting into the coffee, but before you could even speak up, a hand came out of nowhere and brushed out her messy strands. 

Assuming that it was you, she lifted her head and grabbed ahold of the hand, then as if feeling an unusual sensation, aggressively surprised, “Who are you?”

The hand belonged to a remarkably handsome man with dark eyes and hair; well behaved, very courteous, very well-mannered, radiating all—Jennie’s designated partner for the blind date. 

Maybe he was equally unfamiliar with the social engagement which he had also brought along a company as emotional support. 

Therefore, what was supposed to be a blind date for two, appeared to be for a pair now. 

Jennie’s partner, Kim Doyoung, came from a family of scholars as well; his friend went by the name Qian Kun, whose parents ran a small business. 

You were struggling to manage a conversation with Kun and at the same time observing the other two, seemed like she already had the urge to run for her life, meanwhile the man was more of a gentleman that there was no way for the usually bold Jennie to lie her desire to escape. 

As for the impression that Doyoung gave you… it was a positive that he had taken an interest in her. 

No no no, but the way he looked at Jennie was definitely like… he was gazing upon his lover.

It gave an indication that they had known each other for a long time. 

Interesting. 

Kun was untalkative, but he was polite, the kind of person that would only answer questions, not offer more and kept silent when not. Though he lent a sense of comfort and harmony, but lacked existence at the same time. Thankfully he was born charming that even when he did not speak, people would almost stop and stare at him. 

More than a little while at the cafe, Doyoung offered to buy dinner for everyone. Jennie had wanted to reject however under the supervision of her mother with a text message querying about their progress, she gritted her teeth and made it happen in case she would be having her parents breathing down her neck.

Doyoung only ate a little and then stuffing Jennie with so much food that it was visibly to you that she had lost patience with the man. 

It was yet the end, that you proceeded to the next round at a karaoke bar. Somewhat dubious that Jennie had reached the limit of her tolerance, or she intended him to retreat. Who used to have a wonderful singing voice was intentionally going off pitch, and picked a trot song that she belted out from deep within her soul. 

It was to the point that you, being a tone-deaf, could not help but grew annoyed at her awful singing. 

She was rather ferocious that night that she bitterly suggested to compete Doyoung in drinking. Clearly she was a lightweight but insisted the attendant to serve bottles and bottles of soju. 

Your eyes bulged in surprise as you stared at the dozen of alcohol, you contemplated warning her but out of the blue you registered the changing gaze of Jennie on Doyoung. 

She cracked open a bottle of soju and slammed it on the table with a loud smack. She looked at him provocatively, speaking, “If you get through me tonight, I’ll try to date you for good, deal?”

Both you and Kun gaped at the pair in silence. There was a ghost of a smile crossed Doyoung’s face then he reached over to snatched the bottle from her grip, “You don’t have to drink, I’ll finish all of these, as long as you don’t go back on your word.”

Next thing you all witnessed him drowning bottle to bottle, ravenously. Till the third bottle, he was unable to swallow anymore, clear transparent liquor escaped from the corner of his mouth. Jennie roared, “Don’t let it drip!” 

He shot a glance at her then ushered Kun to bring him another bottle. 

Kun said nothing, and did not bother advising him, without a word he fetched another dozen of soju. You watched him as a small smirk crept onto your face, Doyoung was discreet in choosing friends, you thought. 

Specifically how many bottles he had downed, you had lost count of it. He was completely wasted and could not even sit steadily. 

You could not bear to watch another moment more and wanted to convince Jennie to make him stop, but in that sense, it meant that she would have to raise the white flag and date him for real. But acknowledging the cruel fact that she had not had even a slither of interest in him, you gave up instead after multiple failed attempts. 

In a way everything just came to an end, there was not an outcome between Jennie and Doyoung. However on the way back, you could sense the bad omen in your friend. 

You kept your voice calm and neutral, but there was clear teasing in your tone, “That was a difficult one, seems like you can’t get rid of him any way.” 

Jennie went silent for a moment while she switched gears mentally, “At first I thought he was familiar but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly who he was until I saw that he was left handed during dinner then I suddenly remembered that he’s that douchebag Kim Dongyoung.” 

“Dongyoung? That sounds familiar.” You heard somewhere but could not remember the sudden recollection. 

She said, “During high school, the asshole that I had a crush on!” 

Now, hearing that from her own lips, you came to the sudden realization and a blurry silhouette of a guy popped inside your head. For quite a while that Jennie dated him in high school, later it was because the counterpart was tangled with another girl that they broke up after. Then Jennie went overseas, and the guy called Dongyoung vanished into thin air, nowhere to be found. 

“But why is he called Doyoung now?”

“It was some superstitious belief I guess. His family is weird.” 

“Seems like he was hoping to rekindle the past romantic flames. Do you still have feelings for him?” you asked. 

She answered disdainfully, “We were immature back then, I’d already lost whatever I had for him.” 

“To me it’s like he couldn’t forget about you though.” Honestly you could tell that she had not moved on entirely from him, otherwise how could she recognized him as the Dongyoung back then? 

“That’s his problem. I don’t dwell on the past, especially one that’s tainted.” When she spoke of the word ‘tainted’, she muttered between clenched teeth, which did not sound nice at all. 

You became silent then, not wanting to jog her through bad memories. However you could not help but be reminded of the diminishing figure of Yoonoh and Sooyoung that day as the distance between them increased by a yard per mile. Suddenly you could feel the morose mood within. 

Jennie drove you back home then buzzed off with a simple “goodnight”. You knew that she was definitely going for speeding down the road to get her mind off. 

From afar you had already noticed that the lights were on, for sure Yoonoh was home. When you made your entrance and changed your shoes, there you saw him on the couch. 

You were still sulky and resentful and bitchy so you decided to ignore him at the moment. You changed into your fluffy slippers and went straight for the stairs and up them. 

“Where have you been, why do you smell like alcohol all over?” He sat on the couch, suddenly threw a question with obvious ill judgement. 

Subconsciously you took a whiff of your own self, and retorted, “I didn’t drink.”

“What’s with the strong odor if you didn’t?”

“Probably when helping Doyoung…” you paused, previously you had made a mental note to ignore him at all costs, yet you were explaining yourself to him?

He sure knew how to pick up important points, “Who is Doyoung?”

You pursed your lips, had you wanted to explain to him, but questioned back instead, “Why do you care?”

His face went dark immediately, “You’ve been with that guy this whole day?”

“So what if I was?”

“It’s fine, but I have to remind you now that you’re labelled as me, Jung Yoonoh’s wife, you better not try something that puts me in shame,” he said, coldly. 

Oh, so that’s it?

What were you exactly wishing for? Doing this deliberately, intentionally to get him misunderstood. You sure were out of your mind. 

“Alright.” You were too tired to fight with him, mentally tired, honestly you had began to get tired of this lifestyle as well. Two people who lived under the same roof and seeing the same face every morning, day in and day out, yet always fighting and hurting each other every time when mouths opened that you basically did not speak the same language. It was indeed tiring. 

As if he never thought that you would be easily compromised this time that he was stunned for a second, and just continued what he had been doing with nothing said. You did not stay any longer and went upstairs. 

In fact, all these years you both had cared too much about pride which caused this constant tension and friction in between. 

When one attacked another, there would be horrible and awful words as defensive comeback. 

Those hurtful words would end up hurting yourselves anyway. If you did not went all out your way to maliciously hurt others, how would it lead to harsh and cruel retaliation in the other part? 

As long as one first backed down and admitted defeat, eventually the other would stop before going too far. 

Both adults knew that, yet no one had the courage to let go of their pride and ego.