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The doorbell rings and Jiyong doesn’t have the mental capacity to go and open it. She turns her head so it isn’t buried in her pillow and yells a barely comprehensible come in before rolling over. By the time Seunghyun finds his way to her room, she’s already buried her face back in the pillow, tiny body drowning in the mounds of bedcovers.
Seunghyun stays silent as he shuffles around her room, shucking off his shoes and his ratty school t-shirt. Jiyong starts the conversation, “I feel shitty.”
Seunghyun offers one of those half smirks that kind of make her insides churn - which right now is not a good thing - and then crawls into her rickety twin bed with her.
“You always feel shitty.”
“That’s because of lack of sleep, right now I’m feeling extra shitty because God hates womankind.”
Seunghyun chuckles, rolling onto his stomach and resting his head on his arms. “God can’t hate you though, because he gave you me.”
The overwhelming cheesiness of his sentence makes Jiyong try to roll her eyes out of their sockets, and it’s great because for a second the pain becomes bearable. “You’re a fucking sap, Choi,” she smiles despite herself.
“Some girls find that romantic, you know.”
Jiyong hmms and shifts uncomfortably against the bed. She plants her face in her pillow and lets out a long, whispered stream of expletives, her knees coming up to her chest.
“What day is it?” Seunghyun asks, unmoving. This isn’t his first rodeo.
Jiyong doesn’t move, and croaks out two with her face still buried in the pillow. Seunghyun cringes internally. The second day is always the worst.
They stay quiet like that until that cramp ends, evident when Jiyong falls to the side, arms unwrapping themselves from her torso. Seunghyun pulls her in so that her back is flush against his chest, his heat radiating through her body. She’s sleepy, he can tell. Her eyes have closed, and her mouth is doing the little chewing motion that happens when she’s tired. “Babe, go ahead and sleep, you’ve got nowhere to be.”
Jiyong doesn’t bother opening her eyes. “How do you know that?” she trails off with a yawn.
“You would’ve told me.”
She yawns again. “You got me. I’ll sleep so you can leave now.”
She smiles when she senses her boyfriend’s indignance. “I will not leave! That was one time!”
“When you picked Coach over me,” she pouts, eyelashes fluttering.
“You know as well as I do that he would have fucked me up the ass royally if I didn’t show up for practice. Would you like me to retain my ability to walk?”
“Sure, Mr. Quarterback.”
Seunghyun huffs and pulls her closer, tossing his leg over her for good measure.
Jiyong doesn’t respond to the motion, but her heart swells as if she’s still her middle-school self and the incomparable Troy Bolton just strode into her room. It’s strange that Seunghyun can still elicit this from the depths of her psyche - they’ve been together since they were bumbling sophomores who still thought vocabulary like “lame” and “dope” were cool, and they were best friends long before that. Seunghyun knows all of her ins and outs, and Jiyong knows exactly what makes him tick. They’re open books, there’s nothing more to surprise them - and yet there’s nothing Jiyong would rather do than hang out with him.
Sleep tantalizingly creeping up on her, Jiyong’s thoughts take a turn. For some reason she starts to think about the future - how they’re graduating in a couple months, how she’s staying here to look after the family business while he goes off on a football scholarship. How he’s going to meet real city girls, the kind that don’t dress in school sweatshirts and leggings, the kind that go out to parties and wear bright lipstick and fake lashes. How all of those girls are going to look better next to him, in their high heels and sparkly miniskirts, and how eventually he’s going to end up with a pretty thing on his arm, Jiyong completely forgotten.
Seunghyun’s almost fallen asleep too when Jiyong flips around and crushes herself to his chest, her cheek smushed completely against his shoulder. His voice is rough with sleep when he asks, “Babe? You good?”
She lets out a stuttered breath but keeps her eyes shut, because crying about this is completely her period’s fault and way too cliché. Unfortunately, Seunghyun knows better than to just give it up.
Despite Jiyong’s tightest grip, he wiggles out and hoists himself above her, his elbows on either side of her head. He balances on one arm when he uses his hand to poke her cheek. “Give it up, Ji. I know you better than this.”
Jiyong opens her eyes, and thanks God when no tears slip out.
“What gives, huh?” Seunghyun asks softly, twirling a strand of her hair in his hand.
“Fucking period emotions, that’s what.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Okay.”
They stay like that a bit longer, Seunghyun’s body a heavy and comforting warmth on Jiyong, his hands gently fiddling with her bedhead. She’s drifting off, a lot more peacefully this time, when Seunghyun’s hand rests on her cheek.
He leans down to whisper in her ear. “Do you want to change before you fall asleep?”
Jiyong hates that he’s right, that she can feel that sloshy gloop accumulating between her legs. She groans as she pushes him off to go to the bathroom, eyes barely half-opened. “God, how are you so good at that?”
Seunghyun’s smile lights up the room. “Cause I love you.”
When she comes back, clean down there but horribly emotional up here, she does little more than nuzzle her face into his shoulder and fall asleep.
…
Jiyong wakes up a lot later, cocooned by something wonderfully cozy. She belatedly chuckles, thinking that this is a lot more comfortable than Seunghyun and his tendency to get all sweaty from cuddling. Her eyes pop open when she realizes that it’s not Seunghyun wrapped around her, but her favorite blanket. She stirs, and it takes a couple seconds before she also realizes that she’s on the couch in her living room, with her head on the soft side of her mom’s scratchy decorative pillow and the light of that old lamp illuminating her feet.
Jiyong sits up and rubs at her eyes. It’s dark outside, and the big clock in the kitchen says it’s eight o’clock. A text buzzes on her phone - it’s her dad saying they’ll be home late, impromptu date night, followed by a couple of emojis that he doesn’t know how to use but are endearing all the same. She quickly fires back that she’ll order some pizza and chill, and for them to have fun.
Not going to lie, it does sting that Seunghyun left. She had just been joking about being offended earlier, but periods make people sensitive, and if there’s anytime that she really needs her boyfriend to be with her, it’s now.
The pain hasn’t quite subsided yet, now receding to a dull, constant ache deep inside Jiyong’s stomach. She trudges back upstairs, the blanket pooling around her feet, still drowsy despite her egregiously long nap. She probably won’t order the pizza, she’s just read her book until she drifts off again.
Jiyong can’t describe the shock she gets when she pushes the door open and finds Seunghyun there, stuffing a pillow into its case. Jiyong’s too period-stricken to compute properly.
“Hey, you’re up! Feeling better?” her boyfriend continues to furiously attempt to stuff the pillowcase.
“I thought you left,” Jiyong blurts out, still clutching at the blanket draped around her shoulders.
Seunghyun’s face flashes a smirk before switching to something more serious, a look of comprehension that furrows his brow and smooths out his smile. He walks around the bed and hugs her, pushing her head onto his shoulder. “Oh, Ji,” he sighs into her hair.
He holds her by the shoulders, pushing her back so that their eyes can meet. Jiyong’s not sure what her face is doing, but she doesn’t like the face that Seunghyun is making back. “I didn’t leave. I’ve been here the whole time.”
“Then why was I downstairs?” Jiyong’s surprised at the crack in her voice. She’s close to crying, but she doesn’t know why. Emotions are creeping up on her, and she doesn’t understand where they’re coming from.
“You slept a long time,” Seunghyun’s face here makes Jiyong’s heart literally hurt, “and when I woke up it was just really sweaty and gross so I decided to change the sheets…” he trails off, cheeks red.
Jiyong looks down, eyes landing on a freshly made bed. She then registers that there was a blanket underneath her on the couch, and that she hasn’t changed her pad for a very long time. Her fucking perfect, hunky, quarterback boyfriend changed her sheets because he didn’t want her to lay in her own period stain.
Jiyong blushes furiously.
It’s a few awkward moments of them standing about a foot apart, cheeks burning as they try to not seem as uncomfortable as they really are. From where she’s standing, Jiyong can see the bathtub in her room. Her sheets are floating in what looks to be murky water, and the big jar of salt that normally sits on the kitchen counter is on the floor.
“I’m sorry if I went too far, I,” Seunghyun stutters, his hand fiddling with the hairs at the back of his head. His eyes are glued to the floor. “I just wanted you to be comfortable.”
His smile, laden with insecurity, and the way he can’t quite make eye contact makes it impossible for Jiyong to stop as she throws her arms around him. “You’re the fucking best.”
“Believe me, so are you.”
…
It’s early that morning, when Jiyong’s parents have come home and fallen asleep (and after Seunghyun has hidden in the closet as if her parents don’t know he’s still here), that the two find themselves tangled together, staring at the ceiling.
Jiyong feels a pressure in her chest, a gurgling sensation that swells until she feels like she can’t breathe. She doesn’t like it, this holding-stuff-back business. There’s only so long she can blame her period for all of it. “What’s gonna happen after graduation?”
Seunghyun can feel how her muscles tighten, can hear how her breath hitches ever so slightly at the end of the sentence. He pulls her closer, pulling her so that she lies on her side, facing him. “Probably a drunk Chaerin.” His stupid one-sided smile tugs at his cheek.
“You know what I mean, fucker,” it has no bite, but Jiyong’s whisper has so much power.
Seunghyun just pulls her closer. “Probably a lot of Facetime.”
“Facetime has literally never worked on either of our phones, Seunghyun.”
“Skype then?”
“Kinda outdated, don’t you think? I mean, you’re not an emo from MySpace trying to catfish me…”
Seunghyun chuckles. “What then?”
“I don’t know, what about Google Hangout?” she yawns.
Seunghyun barks out a laugh, only to have a tiny hand clamped furiously over his mouth. He laughs once more under his breath, “You’re such a millennial, Ji.”
“Guilty as charged.”
He noses her cheek, a smile still on both of their faces.
“So nothing’ll change?”
Seunghyun opens his eyes to confront Jiyong’s huge, black ones right there in front of him. He hopes they can convey more than his fumbling words ever can. “Nothing’ll change,” he assures.
Jiyong sleeps the night wrapped in so much more than just Seunghyun’s arms, and he won’t let her forget it.
(They’re then awoken by the tutting of Jiyong’s father as he and his wife lean against the doorframe of their daughter’s room, watching with raised eyebrows and knowing smiles at how Seunghyun sleeps sprawled out on the bed, with Jiyong sprawled out on top of him, her body rising and falling with each breath he takes.)