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There’s this thing that Chaeryeong’s grandmother used to say. A lot goes into kimchi . Washing the cabbage, soaking in saltwater, preparing the seasoning paste, rinsing the salt off, lathering the cabbage with the paste and making sure each and every leaf is covered, and leaving it to naturally ferment. A lot of hard work goes into that tiny plate of kimchi that we eat with our meal everyday, and a whole lot of patience.
It’s just like people’s relationship , she would say. You need to put in a lot of effort to nurture a relationship, only then it would grow .
Chaeryeong’s never been that good at maintaining relationships. There’s only a handful of people from school that she still keeps in contact with, even though she didn’t have that many friends to begin with (in contrast to her sister, who is the life of every party she walks into). Chaeryeong’s never made any kind of kimchi in her life, either, though she doesn’t know if it’s related at all.
She’s thinking about this while Ryujin contemplates getting the kkakdugi instead of regular kimchi. Lately Ryujin has been talking about making seolleongtang at home, and “Doesn’t kkakdugi sound perfect with seolleongtang? , she pondered aloud while looking up the recipe some days ago, “but it takes too much effort!”
“You know,” Ryujin starts all of a sudden, hands on her knees as she leans forward to take a closer look at the kimchi-filled containers. “Na Jaemin asked me out last night.”
Looking up from her tiny notebook that she always keeps in her bag, where she’s written down the list of groceries they need to buy, Chaeryeong meets Ryujin’s gaze. “Oh,” she says, not knowing what’s exactly the right way to react. It’s not like Ryujin and Jaemin don’t get along, but for some reason Chaeryeong has never given the idea of them together any thoughts. “That’s great.”
“Is that okay with you?” Ryujin raises her brows. Her short hair that she trimmed just yesterday is tucked behind her ears. Chaeryeong remembers that Jaemin was there sitting at the other end of the L-shaped sofa working on something on his laptop while she watched a movie with Jisu on Kunhang’s laptop when Ryujin came home with her new haircut, but she can’t recall now if Jaemin said anything about it.
“Why would it not be?” Chaeryeong asks.
“You like him,” she replies, so matter-of-fact it actually startles Chaeryeong.
She presses her lips together and clicks her pen to cross kimchi off of her list, even though Ryujin still hasn’t decided which one she should go with. “That doesn’t mean anything,” she shrugs.
It’s not every morning, but Chaeryeong and Jaemin frequently overlap at breakfast.
Chaeryeong is an early riser out of habit — “That’s what staying with your grandparents growing up does to you,” she said to the other members when she just moved in, laughing. Jaemin is not, but usually he’s already up by the time the sun peeks out to go for a run.
“Coffee?” Jaemin offers, in lieu of a greeting, when Chaeryeong walks into the kitchen.
She nods. “Thanks,” she says with a smile.
It’s not every morning, but when they do overlap, it’s always like this: Chaeryeong sitting on the first chair from the kitchen side facing the sliding doors eating her favourite chocolate pillow cereals, and Jaemin two chairs to the right across from her with his coffee.
“What do you even talk about with Jaemin?” Jisu asked her after watching the episode that showed a scene of her having breakfast with Jaemin, two weeks ago.
Chaeryeong tilted her head to the side, mouth pressed into a line as she rewinded her memories. “Nothing really,” she’d said after a pause, tugging the sleeves of her knit sweater. Even when she tried to think hard about it, there’s really nothing much. Perhaps the fact that their breakfast scene was never included again after that episode already says it all.
“Do you like him?” Jisu’d asked afterwards. She was hugging one of many pillows in the playroom while leaning back on the oversized couch. The TV, which was playing the preview of some American movie after the episode ended, casted a somewhat nostalgic glow on her face.
Chaeryeong bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”
The thing is, despite all the late night talks about the boys in the girls’ bedroom that they used to have when Jisu wasn’t busy with her exhibition just yet, Chaeryeong hadn’t known how she felt about Jaemin—at least not until Ryujin pointed it out that day at the mart.
And it’s like, everything sort of started to make sense once she did. That also explains the knot in her stomach the first time she walked into the kitchen in the morning and saw Jaemin there, scooping ground coffee into his coffee maker.
“Let me know when you find out,” Jisu replied, smiling at her like she knew a secret Chaeryeong didn’t know. Hadn’t known.
It’s particularly quiet in the house on Christmas morning. Kunhang and Ryujin are still dozing off after drinking a little too much last night, Donghyuck went home right after the party to spend Christmas with his family, and Yuna, who’d moved in after Jisu graduated from the house last week, left early to catch a train to see her friends.
“Is that breakfast?” Jaemin asks in lieu of a greeting when he walks into the kitchen that morning, raising his brows at the leftover strawberry shortcake from last night’s party, and startling Chaeryeong. She didn’t expect him to be up so early, considering that he has the day off. “What happened to your chocolate pillows?”
“I ran out of them,” she replies as he reaches for the transparent container where they keep ground coffee. The temperature has dropped so much in the past weeks, that even Jaemin who’s usually good with the cold weather has started to wear extra layers. “I assume you wouldn’t want a slice?”
It’s an incident that was never discussed again in the house, but Jaemin accidentally made Jisu cry once because he wouldn’t even take a sip of the strawberry smoothie she made for everyone. It happened just shortly after Jisu and Donghyuck’s date that ended with him telling her he had no feelings for her, so Jisu was still a little too sensitive. It was only days later that Jaemin told Chaeryeong over breakfast that he hates anything dairy and strawberry, and he especially hates the combination of both. But you’re still at fault too , she remembered telling him then. You could’ve said it nicely.
He laughs at the sight of the cake, as if the same memory just crossed his mind as well. “Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “Coffee?” he asks, although he’s already taken out two mugs.
She nods.
It starts snowing then. Chaeryeong’s sitting at her usual corner seat facing the glass doors, and she glances at Jaemin, hands wrapped her mug. It snowed on the day he moved in as well—the first snow of this winter. And even though she’s a hopeless romantic at heart, it’s not like she’d fallen for him at first sight, with snow dusts caught in his hair and all.
Yet, somehow—
“Jaemin?”
He looks up from his phone. Chaeryeong can see the steam rising from his coffee. She didn’t tell Jisu this when she asked before, but these things she likes about breakfast: the sound of his mug clinking every time he puts it back on the table after taking a sip, her spoon scraping the bowl, the low humming of the refrigerator, their quiet breathing.
“Yeah?”
Chaeryeong holds her breath, then lets it go.
“I think I like you.”
They’re all gathered on the rooftop the night before the new year to light up all the firecrackers that Donghyuck and Kunhang brought home that evening. Chaeryeong is bundled up in layers of clothes, watching as the fireworks that they set off vanish just as fast as they appear while holding back tears.
Ryujin moves out of the house the next day, along with Donghyuck.
As it turned out, Ryujin never did go on that date with Jaemin. “It’s not you, it’s me,” she’d said to Chaeryeong with a small laugh, which did nothing to ease the frown on Chaeryeong’s face.
Chaeryeong hugged her knees and watched as Ryujin slowly packed her belongings to fit into a medium sized luggage. Earlier that week, Ryujin’d already sent a cardboard box filled with her padded jackets and some books back home. Chaeryeong didn’t offer to help, because in her childish mind she thought that the longer Ryujin took to pack, the longer the time they’d still have together.
“I’m not saying this because of you, but I’m just not interested in anyone at this moment,” Ryujin had added. “And I didn’t want to give him false hopes.”
And truthfully, Chaeryeong has always admired the way Ryujin is always so resolute, and how she never wavered once even with all the comments on her Instagram posts. The first time the panel members made an offhand remark about her RBF tendency, she became so self-conscious that she started checking out her reflection on her phone screen every ten seconds and monitoring her expressions in every episode.
And if she was half as resolute as Ryujin is, she wouldn’t have faltered when Yeji, the tall new girl who moved in after Ryujin, asks her one afternoon when they’re out to grab a late lunch, “Do you still like Jaemin?”
Chaeryeong nearly drops the fork she’s holding. “Why are you asking?” she raises her brows, trying to not give anything away.
“Just wondering,” Yeji answers. Her long brown hair is pulled back in a half ponytail, and under the sun it looks a little golden and a bit too dazzling. Chaeryeong’s staring at a spot over her shoulder when she goes on. “Because I’m thinking of asking him out.”
Chaeryeong presses her lips together, and lets go of her fork to tuck her hair behind her ear.
That Christmas morning after Jaemin turned her down, Chaeryeong had cried in the car when her sister picked her up for lunch, away from the cameras. And ever since that day, in his attempt not to turn things awkward, Jaemin has been nicer to her than he’s ever been, not realizing that the gesture hurts even more than the rejection itself.
“I don’t,” she says. She doesn’t glance at the screen of her phone on the table or excuse herself to the toilet to check her expression in the mirror, because she knows the only thing she would see is the face of a terrible liar.
Yuna’s floorball team makes it to the final round of the regional tournaments, and wins.
“You know what this means? A party,” Kunhang declares.
They prepare a barbecue party to celebrate her since she mentioned before that she’s always wanted to have one, even though the weather is still too chilly to be outdoors. The grill has been sitting unused for a long while, anyway, and no one really has the heart to say no when Yuna is so excited about it that she can’t stop grinning.
Chaeryeong is watching Yuna as she helps Sungchan who’s delegated to bringing out the plates and cutleries while arguing about mint flavour, when Kunhang calls her over. “I just realized we’re out of drinks. Do you mind making a quick run to the convenience store?”
“Sure, don’t worry about it,” she tells him, and while she’s putting away the kimchi she just sliced, Jaemin suddenly appears back in the kitchen.
“I’ll go with you,” he says. “There’s only one type of beer that I can drink, anyway, so I should get them myself.” His forehead is covered with sweat and there’s a charcoal stain on the side of his neck. He’s put in charge of getting the fire started, and has been at it since over an hour ago. When she glances over at the grill outside, it's all ready and Sungchan has taken over his spot to start putting the meat on.
“That’s probably better,” Kunhang answers for her, and pushes her lightly from behind.
The convenience store is a 15-minute walk from the house, but there’s a shortcut through a little hill that she only learned about from Sungchan a week ago. She doesn’t know if Jaemin is aware of it, but she doesn’t bring it up when he takes the normal route.
Walking in silence, all she can hear is the rustling of dried leaves and cars whooshing by every now and then. A dog is barking somewhere in the distance. The snow that piled up just last weekend has all melted, and it hasn’t snowed at all ever since. Chaeryeong sticks her hands in the pockets of her coat and exhales slowly. “How was your date?” she asks carefully, her breath creating clouds.
Yeji and Jaemin made plans to go hiking together, but it unexpectedly started raining that morning and didn’t let up until late afternoon. She found an indoor bouldering gym 20 minutes drive away as an alternative, and went for lunch afterwards.
“He’s more talkative than I thought,” Yeji replied when Yuna asked her how the date went that night in the girls’ bedroom. Chaeryeong listened while hugging a pillow. “I mean, I saw his previous date, and I saw how he’s like around the other boys, but I didn’t expect that he’d be chatty.”
That’s news to Chaeryeong. Jaemin has always been quiet around her, and she’d never really visualized him any other way. “Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked.
Yeji tilted her head to one side, shrugging. “I guess it is, but I’m not sure,” she said. “It felt like he was trying hard.”
“It was nice,” Jaemin answers simply. It’s a little too dark for Chaeryeong to make out his expressions now, and she doesn’t want to stare. His tone doesn’t give anything away, either. “I haven’t seen you at breakfast lately,” he suddenly says, catching her off guard.
“Yeah, I’ve been sleeping in,” she returns once she’s managed to recover. Although she would never admit it to anyone, she’s been doing that on purpose to avoid running into him. The truth is, she’s been lying awake in her bed staring at the ceiling, unable to either go back to sleep even if she forces herself to, or to will herself to go downstairs and face him like it’s nothing. Not when she’s still not done piecing her heart back.
They turn the corner and the convenience store comes into view. “Oh, I thought—” he pauses mid-sentence and stops just when he’s about to reach for the glass door.
Standing under these bright neon lights, Chaeryeong finally can see his face properly. Mouth pressed into a thin line, the tip of his nose is bitten red and his eyes behind those long lashes seem a lot gentler than she expected. “You thought?”
Jaemin blinks, and the corners of his mouth curl just slightly. Not enough to call it a smile, but enough to stir something inside of her. “Nah,” he says, then pulls the door open.
Kunhang leaves the house without a prior notice.
Chaeryeong finds his farewell message chalked on the blackboard on her way to the kitchen that morning. She’s hit by a sudden pang of loneliness, staring at the board the same way she’d stare into the dark when she wakes up from a dream in the middle of the night.
“It’s just like him to do this,” Jaemin comments, voice piercing through the thick silence and startling her as he reads the message over her shoulder. “I thought it was quiet last night without his snores,” he adds.
“He didn’t say anything to you?” Jaemin and Kunhang have been pretty close—as in: Kunhang has a sense of humour that’s more like hit or miss—you either get it or you don’t—and Jaemin is the only one who would genuinely laugh every time (“I think Jaemin’s pretty weird himself,” Donghyuck pointed out once), and they go out for drinks almost every other night even though Jaemin doesn’t really drink—so Chaeryeong thought Kunhang at least would have told Jaemin.
Jaemin shakes his head. “He’s surprisingly secretive like that,” he says, walking away towards the kitchen.
For a moment, she pauses where she’s standing in front of the blackboard, and watches as Jaemin takes out the drip bags he received as a present last Christmas, tears two off, and sets them on the mugs while waiting for the water to boil. She’s started joining him at breakfast again, although it hasn’t been easy just yet. One careful step at a time.
Eventually, Chaeryeong moves to the fridge and studies the content. There’s really not much other than the leftover fried rice from dinner two nights ago, a nearly empty container of kimchi, milk, and a couple of eggs. It’s been a while since her last grocery run. The fridge beeps while she’s still deciding, signalling the time that’s passed.
When she’s about to reach for the fried rice, Jaemin walks over and opens the second top cabinet from right. “I stopped by Costco yesterday,” he says.
She turns to look inside it, following his gaze, and right away she sees them—her favourite chocolate pillow cereals. “You didn’t have to,” she says, looking at him.
“I needed to buy some things, anyway,” he shrugs. The water boils just in time.
It’s gotten a lot warmer recently. They’re on the cusp of spring now, and the breeze carries with it a subtle and sweet scent of cherry blossoms and other spring blooms. The yard is covered in the greenest of grass, making the freezing winter feel almost like a lie.
“You know,” Jaemin suddenly starts speaking, hands wrapped around his mug. He’s sitting right across from her today at the dining table instead of his usual seat. “I’m really bad at sustaining relationships.”
It’s so unlike him to initiate a conversation. Chaeryeong realized this over the time they spent in the house. It’s unlike him to even participate, sometimes. “Jaemin hyung, the more quiet he is,” Sungchan said to her a few weeks back as they lounged in the playroom rewatching older episodes, “the more comfortable he feels around you” .
“I mean, there’s only a handful of friends that I still see regularly because I hardly keep in touch. I’m really bad at it,” Jaemin continues. “And honestly, I’m not sure if a year from now I’m still going to be in touch with the people from this house.”
And thinking back, she’s always felt comforted with the silence.
“But I realized that I want to keep this,” he finishes.
“What do you mean?”
His eyes flicker up at her under his lashes, and he gives her a small smile. “ This ,” he repeats, as though that explains it all. Yet somehow, she still understands what he means.
“Jaemin hyung’s a bit weird like that,” Sungchan had laughed then.
And like a lie, it starts snowing outside, even though it’s supposed to be sunny today. Even though spring is already here. And even though she’s a hopeless romantic at heart, she’s holding her breath, and she can’t stop doubting if all of this is simply a dream.
There is a long, pregnant moment of silence, where time seems to have stopped. The back of her tongue dries up, and Chaeryeong opens her mouth to say something, but she can’t. Her heart is pounding in her chest. She can’t stop looking at him.
“Chaeryeong,” he calls softly.
She finally exhales. She presses her lips together, and slowly a smile blooms.
“Let’s have breakfast together every morning.”