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“____________, here, let me--!” Zen hobbles into his galley kitchen behind you, long white coat forgotten on the couch. His black t-shirt and fitted skinny jeans make him look even leaner than he already is, and his booted foot thumps pathetically on the ground as he stops, grimacing, gripping his crutches hard.
“Zen, I got it! I do know how to make tea, y’know. Which cabinet is it in?”
“The one beside the fridge,” he mumbles.
You open the appropriate cabinet and find…only two boxes of tea, and a couple of packs of instant ramen. Were this a cartoon, little flies would have wafted out, and spiders in intricate cobwebs would have waved at you—or maybe hissed at the disturbance of their home.
“I-I can explain!” Zen panics. “I was about to go shopping today but last night when I hurt my foot, of course I couldn’t, the doctor told me to rest…!”
You whip your head around, lifting a curious eyebrow. “Somehow I get the feeling that this isn’t an unusual sight.”
Zen’s blushing face and wide, slightly terrified eyes are the only answer you need. You yank out the honey-pear tea and fill the electric kettle that’s on the counter, pushing the power button.
While it heats up, you dramatically fling open every other cabinet in the actor’s tiny kitchen, and are met with…mostly nothing. A few dishcloths; a couple of old, scratched pots; two of each bowl, plate, and mug (not to mention the chips in some of the dishware!); three spoons, three pairs of chopsticks, two forks and knives; a glass measuring cup with the number markers half-gone; a bag of rice. The fridge isn’t any better: a couple of bottles of water, a lot of beer, a half-dozen eggs, a tray of sushi that’s past its prime.
“Zen.”
“Don’t—I’m embarrassed enough,” he sighs, hanging his head. “My home is no place for a lady.”
“We’re going shopping.”
Zen’s head snaps up. “Huh?”
“I’m taking you to the convenient store for some food, and then to Daiso for some necessities.” Eyeing the empty paper towel bar above the sink; “Yeah. My mind’s made up. So let’s go.”
“No way. I can’t let a pretty girl like you spoil me like this! It’s supposed to be the other way around! I’m supposed to…”
While you and Zen haven’t explicitly agreed to be in a relationship, you know that there is deep mutual attraction between the two of you…and you’re not above using that to your advantage. You step, heavy-footed and deliberate, up to Zen, placing both of your hands on his slender, chiseled face. Pink spreads across his cheeks like paper absorbing watercolor—you smirk, lowering his face down to meet yours. He’s got six inches on you, easily, and it’s quite rewarding to bring him to your level.
“Zen,” you say again, gentle yet firm, staring into his deep, crimson eyes. “Let me buy you what you need. I want to.”
“But…”
“No buts,” you counter. Grinning wickedly, you tilt your head to the side and place a soft kiss on his cheek—his sharp inhale and cut-off grunt let you know that you have him wrapped around your finger. Pulling back, you release his face, allowing him to draw back up to full height, cheeks still a deep shade of pink.
Zen mumbles “Don’t release the beast,” to himself, and then counts to ten; holding in laughter aches like a bitch, but you manage, letting him calm down in peace. His eyes flutter open, and he sighs, resigned. “I am so helpless around you.”
“Great! So let’s get going. I have a big list.”
Zen sucks air through his teeth. “I know Daiso is cheap but I’m still strapped for cash…”
“Who said anything about you paying?” you ask, walking into the living room, towards the door. Leaning on it, you pull your ankle boots back on, adjusting your sweater and skirt. “Seven is compensating me for the RFA work. It’s more than enough to get you what you need.”
Zen opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, like a fish. “Seven’s paying you?”
“As much as I wanna help you guys, you all kiiiiiind of pulled me from my regular life, you know. Luckily my parents are understanding and agreed to check in on my apartment for me, and you’re double-lucky I don’t have any pets to take care of; and you’re triple-lucky I had paid time off my actual job to stay in that old apartment and do the charity work.”
Zen bristles, no doubt thinking of Jumin’s cat; he stares, wide-eyed, as he shrugs on his signature white coat. “I guess I never really thought about how much we inconvenienced you, once you were tricked into our chatroom.”
“So, yeah. Naturally I asked Seven to help me out. Since he can afford all those cars and all.”
Zen laughs as he buckles his coat, nodding in agreement. You grab one of his shoes and bend, helping to slide it on his good foot. Rising, you grab his hand and squeeze. “Let’s go.”
_________
“Oooooh, these are pretty dishes,” you coo, bending to look at some floral plates and bowls on the bottom shelf. Z—Hyun,” you correct yourself, wanting to keep this trip low-key for Zen, so you’ve tried to consciously use his real name instead of his more well-known stage name.
“Hm?” Zen asks, turning from a rack of coffee mugs. He hobbles over, bending down as you lift up the pattern in question. “Oh, I…I do like those.”
“Sweet.” You start to stack the plates in your hands—four dinner plates, four dessert plates, four bowls, a salt and a pepper shaker to match.
Zen watches helplessly as you carefully load the dishes into the rapidly-filling cart—it’s already full of a new laundry basket, storage containers (Think of how organized your fan mail will be, and your bathroom necessities, and the snacks in your cabinets…!), cleaning supplies, several new pairs of chopsticks, snacks, personal care items, and more silverware. You arrange all the new dishes carefully so they won’t slide around.
“You really don’t have to do all of this,” Zen murmurs, blushing again.
You press yourself close to his front, checking for prying eyes—but luckily the store is mostly empty, and the few little old ladies who’ve decided to visit are on the other side of the store.
Zen inhales sharply as you hug him, sighing against his chest as his warmth bleeds into you. “Please let me,” you ask softly. “I really like you, y’know? And I want to help. Your home just needs a woman’s touch, is all.” You pull away, looking up into his half-lidded gaze framed by tears. “Oh, Hyun…”
“Damn,” he sniffs, shaking his head. “I didn’t think I’d get so emotional, but…you helping me like this…not even buying me stuff I need, but coming to see me when I’m feeling so shitty and hurting so badly…it means more than you know, __________.” Zen clears his throat. “I—I really like you too!”
You smile, reaching to thumb away the hot tears that have started to fall. “Come on—you still need a proper broom and dustpan, and garbage bags.” Turning on your heel, you grab the shopping cart and lead Zen around the corner to the next aisle.
“H-hey, wait!” Zen grips his crutches and follows—he’s still kind of crying, but his heart feels lighter now than it ever has before, now that he has someone who truly cares about him.