Work Text:
“Yoosung?”
Shin Yoosung looked up from what she was doing. “Ahjussi?”
“I need your help.”
“In what?” she asked in a puzzled tone while quirking her eyebrows upwards.
I contemplate heavily whether or not I should be honest to the girl in front of me. Swallowing my pride, I decided to let her in on the plan. “I want to learn how to cook.”
After realizing that a certain Yoo Joonghyuk was dedicating his entire time to cooking delicious food for me for days on end I could not help but feel guilty at my freeloading. Normally I wouldn’t do anything and just accept the kindness, but after more than twenty thousand years of doing nothing, I felt as if I needed to do something. Anything.
Shin Yoosung looks at me as if she were deciphering an unknown text. “Why? You’ve got Joonghyuk Oppa cooking for us all.”
She’s annoyingly perceptive and even placed a trap in her question. I really wonder who taught her that.
“I want to try some of the black magic Joonghyuk-ah does in the kitchen,” I say confidently.
“Meaning you want to cook for him?”
“…”
“Silence means yes, Ahjussi.”
“Fine, yes. I want to cook for him.”
Shin Yoosung giggles and looks at me with bright eyes. “Well, in that case, we have to decide what you want to cook first.”
What do I want to cook? “Anything simple,” I reply.
“Simple means many things. Fried rice, stew, noodles, fried eggs, a salad. Which one?”
But those are all complicated, though???????
“Let’s go with stew,” I said to hide my insecurity in the culinary arts.
Shin Yoosung places her hand on her chin. “Stew might require a few ingredients, though, and we are nearing the end of the week…”
“Which means?”
She looks at me with eyes radiating disappointment. “Which means we need to get the groceries.”
“Groceries?”
To be completely honest, staying in a state of stasis for twenty thousand years and longer made me slowly forget the normalcy of human livelihood. It started with the complex politics of the nations outside Korea until I forgot what nations were at all. Then came other things like Korea’s history and ancient culture. Then things like modern-day technology such as computers, vending machines, and air conditioning began to fade into nothing. Even when reading through Yoo Joonghyuk’s long life, I began to forget everyday things even a toddler would know.
What is a school? It’s a place where children gather, but what do they do there? Do they teach swordsmanship? Do they gather resources there? Is it a library?
What is a library? It’s a collection of books, but what are the criteria? What is a genre?
In the first place, what is a book? A simple assimilation of pages and cover with words on it? What makes something a book? If you compile paper and bind it, does that make it into a book?
Day by day, week by week, year by year, century by century I slowly forget what it is that made me me.
Until the only thing I could remember was that I left people behind to serve a brutal, righteous punishment.
The first time I opened my eyes in a place called a ‘hospital’ I was surrounded by unknown things that continuously beeped away. It was terrifying, at first. However, the people there slowly helped me remember who I was and who they were.
They had to teach me the most basic things that I had forgotten. It did take a while and there were many unhappy moments, but eventually, we have reached an understanding.
“Ah, groceries is when people go out to buy supplies they lack at stores that sell them.”
“Like a restocking?”
“Yes, like a restocking,” Shin Yoosung affirmed.
“What are the stores?”
Shin Yoosung paused. “Do you want to go, Ahjussi?”
It would be better to see the ingredients for myself. I nodded my head. “I would like to.”
Nodding happily, Shin Yoosung typed something on her phone. “You should get dressed, Ahjussi.”
I tilt my head towards her. “Why?”
“It’s because the stores have people. Other customers that are also going to get groceries.”
“Customer?”
“That’s what we refer to people who want to buy things.”
I still didn’t understand the concept, but I nodded my head anyway.
I returned to my room to get changed while Shin Yoosung typed away.
It really wasn’t my room, but I shared it with Yoo Joonghyuk. It didn’t feel right to leave it anyways. After changing into a warmer outfit and I exit the room to head to the entrance of the house. There, Shin Yoosung was waiting with me with Yoo Joonghyuk was had his arms crossed.
“Go with him, okay?” she said to me. While noticing my discomfort, she added, “Don’t worry. I didn’t say anything.”
“Which is?” Yoo Joonghyuk cut in.
“Nothing important,” I hastily said.
Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow at me but quickly let the topic drop as he brought me to his car.
“Stay safe!” Shin Yoosung shouted from the door and I gave her a nod.
There was snow slightly falling from the sky as the white clouds above shed some of its bitter cold to the land below. The thin layer of snow crunched under my shoes as I walked behind Yoo Joonghyuk to his car. On the road, Yoo Joonghyuk drove silently and I accepted the silence with open arms.
The landscape was slightly battered and there were many dark areas, but the road was relatively stable and the ride went with ease.
“Joonghyuk-ah, what is that?” I point towards a tall pole that stood next to the street.
“Which one?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked. “Describe it to me.”
“Well, it’s made out of metal and it’s a really tall pole. It has this thing on top that has glass as well. We passed by these things a lot while driving. I think there’s some down the street too.”
“Oh, those?” Yoo Joonghyuk said. “Those are streetlamps. They light up the road when it gets dark.”
“They light up?”
“Yes. Most of the new street lamps are bright and white, but the older ones give off a more orange light.”
“Oh… I see…”
“Do you want to see one when it’s almost dark? Our street doesn’t have them.”
Damn Protagonist and his mind-reading capabilities. “N-No! It’s fine, really.”
Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow at me but chuckled to himself as he continued driving.
We finally arrive at the grocery store… and…
“It’s huge.”
“Stick close.”
I naturally agreed. Seeing a huge crowd of people milling their way around the store made my stomach lurch for some reason. I followed Yoo Joonghyuk around the grocery store like a child following mom. Yoo Joonghyuk held a long list of items that contained various products that sparked some memories into my deep past. However, there was one thing on that list that made me protest in instinct.
“No.”
“Don’t be picky.”
“The Ancient Europeans said it was poisonous!”
“That’s because it drew in lead from the plates they were using.”
“Still, no!”
I fought against Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand, preventing him from placing the plump, red fruit onto the cart.
“Do you even know what these are?” Yoo Joonghyuk challenges.
“I don’t need to know the name to know red poison!”
“Dokja.”
“Get another one! Not that one!”
Sighing, Yoo Joonghyuk placed the red poison back on the shelf. We went around for a moment and Yoo Joonghyuk gave me control of the cart after he was put under my intense bickering. In victory, I moved the cart around, always relishing in the squeak the left wheel gave every now and then. We continued down the aisle and something caught my eye on one of the shelves.
It was a yellow packet that shined brightly in the light. It had the words “Star Streamed: Circles n’ Squares” and was decorated with ambiguous shapes. What got me most intrigued, however, was that Yoo Joonghyuk’s face was plastered on it. I pressed on his face, and the bag made a crushing noise. I immediately retracted my hand, still feeling the strange texture of the bag itself. I turn to Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Hey, Joonghyuk-ah, why is your face here?”
“Yoo Joonghyuk’s here?!” a woman asked excitedly. I flinched instinctively and took a step back.
Her gaze was fierce and she looked as if she were observing something intently. Suddenly, she pulls back and her mouth drops open in astonishment. “Aren’t you the Demon King of Salvation?!”
The lady’s enthusiastic voice brought the attention of the other customers and they began to mill about happily around me, pelting me with questions that I did not know the answer to. The area suddenly grew louder in volume and I became hyperaware of my surroundings. I can feel a chill creeping upwards from the base of my spine as my breathing grew choppy. The countless gazes that were thrown my way had an invisible weight that pulled down on my head, forcing me to look down on the ground. The skin under my left wrist suddenly felt an intense itch and I scratched it quickly.
Distraction. Right now, I needed a distraction. Anything to take my mind off the rising panic boiling in my stomach and the cold chill that bit into my bones. Mindlessly, I rock the cart back and forth in a beat, paying attention to the squeak it made.
Squeak.
I began to concentrate deeply on the squeaks of the wheel while answering as many questions as I could.
Squeak.
Each word thrown at me shoved away my own thoughts and forced me to focus on them completely. It was suffocating. I listen to the squeaking of the wheel.
Squeak.
The ringing in my ears grows louder as the people’s voices begin to fade into the background. Each word comes out like tossed jargon. The gibberish flooding the air filled my senses.
Squeak.
Then I felt a palm on my shoulder.
Squeak.
“Dokja.”
I heard a voice that pierced through the crowd.
I turned to my left and saw Yoo Joonghyuk who was looking at me with visible concern.
Immediately, the mist cleared and my nerves calmed. “Sorry, but I’m currently doing something now,” I said to the crowd.
The woman who began the mess looked at me apologetically and bowed while muttering, “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head and push through the crowd with Yoo Joonghyuk leading the way.
We arrived back home soon after that and Shin Yoosung met us at the door.
“Welcome back!” she stepped out and helped us with the groceries and Lee Gilyoung made his way, albeit reluctantly, to help us as well. We hauled the bags of food onto the shelf and something caught my eye.
“Hey, Joonghyuk-ah?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s that?” I point at a green, round fruit. There was a pack of them, but one of the green fruits had a streak of red across it.
“That? It’s a green fruit.”
“I know that much, but what is it called.”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked me straight in the eye without stuttering, “Carrots.”
“You idiot, I know what carrots are!”
Yoo Joonghyuk clicked his tongue.
“These ones, Ahjussi?” Shin Yoosung asked as she pointed at the green gremlins in the bag. “These are tomatoes.”
Tomatoes. Ah, right, tomatoes. I hated tomatoes. Wait, aren’t tomatoes red?
“You’re joking,” I said to her while chuckling. “Come on, tell me the truth.”
“Those are tomatoes, Hyung,” Lee Gilyoung said.
“Not you too—”
“I said they were carrots,” Yoo Joonghyuk insisted.
“And I said I knew what they were!” I reached into the bag and pulled out a big, yellow carrot that had multiple knobs on it. “This! This is a carrot!”
All three of them were quiet.
“What?”
“Dokja, that isn’t a carrot.”
“Ahjussi, carrots don’t look like that.”
“Hyung, that’s not a carrot.”
All three of them said with the same intensity of sadness in their tone.
Later, after dinner, did I finally discover that the food with yellow knobs was actually called ‘corn.’
Han Sooyoung, that bitch, burst out in laughter when she saw me calling it a carrot in dinner.
After cleaning up, Shin Yoosung and I reconvened in the kitchen to launch our plan.
“Okay, Ahjussi, this one’s a simple one.”
“Got it.”
“First, you cut the onions. Make them into rings, okay?”
“Make them into rings…” I repeated as I stared at the onion below.
I grabbed the knife carefully and cut the onion in half.
“No, wait, Ahjussi! You’re supposed to peel the skin!”
I looked at Shin Yoosung with confusion at first but then looked back at the onion. Remembering how Yoo Joonghyuk fed me apples by peeling the skin with a knife, I picked up one of the halves and started peeling the top of the onion.
“Ahjussi, what are you doing?!” Shin Yoosung asked with a voice nearing a shout.
“Peeling the skin.”
She looked at me with eyes wide in amazement. She then turned around to breathe in a deep breath. When she turned back to face me, I saw wavering calm etched on her face and that’s when I knew the next hour was going to be hell.
“Ahjussi?”
“Yes, Shin Yoosung-nim?”
“What are you staring at?”
I took an inquisitive glance at a knob on what they call a ‘stove.’
“I’m looking at the stove.”
“Why aren’t you opening the stove? Don’t tell me, you don’t know how?”
I give her a smile. “I know how to operate a stove just fine, don’t worry.”
I press the knob, but nothing happens. “Oh, I forgot that you need fire.”
I lit a match and placed the flame near the stove. Nothing happened.
“Yoosung-ah?”
“Yes, Ahjussi?”
“…help…”
“Just ask next time,” she sighs as she turned the knob and pressed a button. The stove came to life and I immediately wrote what she did on a notepad.
For a first try, it wasn’t that bad.
“This is pretty delicious, Ahjussi!”
“Hmm…” I replied.
Truly, it was delicious.
However.
“This isn’t enough,” I said.
The soup was bland and the onions were slightly raw. The meat was overcooked as well.
“Well, we always have time, anyways.”
I scratch my wrist in dissatisfaction. “I guess so.”
The next day I woke up early to see Yoo Joonghyuk cooking in the kitchen. The scent of fried eggs and toasting broad was enough to make my mouth water. I entered the kitchen to the sight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s messy hair.
“Why are you here?” he asked in a deep tone.
Refusing to admit to his true intentions, I came up with something instead. “I wasn’t able to sleep.”
At the response, Yoo Joonghyuk frowned. He returned to what he was doing at the stove and I stood there, watching him and how he skillfully cooked the food. I noted the motions he did and even took note of the posture. Feeling slightly thoughtful, I helped Yoo Joonghyuk set the table for breakfast.
That simple act had turned into a routine that Yoo Joonghyuk and I had been continuously repeating for a week now. He would wake up shortly after Yoo Joonghyuk, watch him intensely, and set the table. We would never share words and I was okay with that.
After watching him, I would always try to cook and copy his techniques. It always looked easier to watch than do.
“Shit!”
Some of the boiling hot soup splattered onto my hand as I added the ingredients into it too quickly. The soup in the pot roared ominously before settling into a quiet simmer. I quickly went to the sink to wash my hand with cold water, scratching my wrist while I’m at it.
It turned into a strange habit that I wouldn’t particularly take note of. At random intervals, mostly when I’m cooking, I would find my wrists to be quite itchy. While my left wrist was mostly fine, my right wrist sometimes shone a bright red from all the scratching. I needed to restrain myself sometimes, but I didn’t find it too alarming.
“Just how does that idiot do it?” I mutter to myself.
Recently, I have been feeling quite down if I’m being honest. Never in my life would I have thought that making stew would make me so emotionally stressed, but it seems that food truly is a menace to society. It’s a simple thing that everyone partakes in and yet not everyone truly understands the sheer difficulty of simply preparing it. It makes me quite guilty just eating Yoo Joonghyuk’s meals happily. If cooking is truly this hard, then I wonder how hard it is on him?
“I’ve got to try harder…”
Another week passes and still, the soup does not get better. The meat is cooked relatively well and the onions are finally not crispy raw.
I continue persevering with the ever-growing itch on my wrists. Without needing the constant watch of Shin Yoosung, I can try my hand at cooking whenever I simply can. However, recently, it seems that I’m losing quite a bit of weight. Not like that’s an issue, though, I did feel as if I’m a little too fat for my liking. Besides, I eat some of the food I make so weight truly isn’t an issue here.
Alas, Christmas is tomorrow and I decided that maybe tonight was the night I would cook dinner for everyone without their knowledge. The thought alone makes me nervous, but with my ‘practicing’ I’m sure that it will go well.
Before dinner, I sneak my way into the kitchen just before Yoo Joonghyuk can even prepare. I quickly cut the onions and the meat and prepare the soup. I mix soy sauce with a generous amount of water and put it in a pot to boil. To offset some of the saltiness, I gave it a sprinkle of sugar.
When the soup boils, I place the onions along with a spoonful of garlic. I don’t know why, but Shin Yoosung says it would taste good. While waiting for the onions to cook properly in their boiling prison, I season the meat with pepper.
When the boiling was enough, I place the meat in, waited for a few minutes, and mixed some egg into the soup.
I breathed in the steam emanating from the stew and it was absolutely divine. I grew excited as I waited for the food to finish cooking. When the time was right, I turn off the heat and waited for a few minutes to let the thing cool down. I began to lose patience, and when I did, I quickly grabbed a spoon and dipped it into the soup to taste it.
“!!!”
I dropped the spoon onto the floor and felt my tongue burn from the intense heat. I run straight for the fridge and opened it in a hurry to chug down cold water to soothe my burnt tongue.
I wasn’t just washing away the heat.
The soup was a disaster. It was absolutely horrible. It was too salty while at the same time being way too sweet. An itch flares on my wrists as I quickly went to relieve it.
It was a mess.
It was horrible.
It was a failure.
And
I must not let anyone else see it.
I quickly grabbed the pot and brought it to the sink, biting my lips as some of the soup burnt the tip of my fingers as it sloshed around. I poured it down the drain, and immediately grimaced when I saw it clogging the sink. I turn on the faucet and douse my hands with cold water before shoving my hands into the hot mess and unclogging the sink.
“Fuck!”
Thump.
The soup wasn’t hot anymore. It was hot enough to cause discomfort, but it wasn’t enough to burn me. The pain came from the skin on my wrists which burst open from the excessive scratching. The heat along with the salt burned into my nerves and my brain screamed at me to pull my hands out.
But I didn’t.
Thump.
As I felt the pain screaming through my system, I felt a sense of satisfaction. Maybe it was a sense of judgment for wasting food. Maybe it was a sense of divine retribution after being useless in the kitchen. Maybe it was a sense of punishment for failing.
Thump.
But above that, I know why I wouldn’t pull my hands away from the pain.
It’s because no one won’t give me proper punishment for my mistakes. No one would punish me properly for wasting food. No one would get angry at my uselessness in the kitchen. No one would be frustrated at my failures.
Thump.
The kindness that the others shined at me was a kindness I took for granted. Because while they shielded me from the outside, there was one major thing they might have forgotten.
That the only person that hates me so passionately is myself.
Thump.
If no one was going to hang me responsible for my misgivings, then I’d gladly do it myself.
Thump.
“Dokja?”
Thump.
A voice poured from the kitchen’s entranceway.
Thump.
“What are you doing?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks.
Thump.
At that moment was when I realized I was loudly kicking on the cabinet below the sink in a steady beat.
He walked over and immediately saw the food in the sink. His eyes immediately soured and an angry scowl formed on his face.
“Why are you wasting food?” he asks in a demanding tone laced with anger.
Maybe this is what I deserved. After all, my kindness always leads to people’s sorrow, no matter what I do.
I wasn’t able to answer his angry voice which seemed to provoke him further. He yanked my hand out of the murky water and that’s when he stopped. His eyes were trained on my hand, so out of curiosity, I took a glance.
They were bleeding.
The pale skin on my arms turned into pinkish flesh that has been peeled away into red dots on my wrists. It wasn’t painful at all, yet it looked horrible.
Yoo Joonghyuk quickly ran the open wounds on my wrists under the faucet and pressed tissue on them.
“What were you doing?” he asked in a tone gentler than the ferocity displayed earlier.
“I was cooking,” I replied languidly.
“Why?”
Why was I cooking? No, why was I even trying? Why did I try so hard when I knew from the get-go it would all fail anyway? What was there to even work towards? I don’t even know why I tried so hard to please the man who is staring at me with care.
“I wanted to repay you…” was the phrase that spilled from my lips.
“Repay?”
“You keep on making food for us, so I thought that it would be nice if I made something for you.” That was truly what I thought. However, when the words came out, I realized the lie in them.
I didn’t want to cook for him.
I wanted to cook for myself.
For my own self-gratification.
“But you don’t need to worry about that. It was a bust, so I guess we will be relying more on your food, Joonghyuk-ah!” I said quickly while conjuring my brightest tone.
Using someone like Yoo Joonghyuk for my self-gratification?
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
I’m a person who was privileged enough to even be here, why should I ask for more? Instead, why do I have this much? I should have less.
I don’t deserve their kindness whatsoever, I abandoned them all and created this world of Apocalypse.
I don’t deserve the house above my head when there are those who have lost their lives because of me.
I don’t deserve the people around me when all I do is freeload off them.
I’m stealing the happiness of other people and pocketing it as my own. Is that fair? Is what I’m doing fair? Yet, here I am, thinking that I deserve some more happiness than I usually have at the expense of wasting their food and money.
It truly is pathetic.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks at me deeply. “Wait here,” he says as he leaves the room and quickly returns with a first aid kit.
He skillfully wraps my wrists with a long bandage which is reminiscent of Han Sooyoung’s. he types something onto his phone and tugs me out of the house.
“Come with me.”
I follow.
He brings me to his car silently and he drives off to a place I don’t know.
The scenery passes by silently and the atmosphere in the car is peaceful, but my mind is ravaged with countless thoughts that I’m unable to even enjoy the view.
We arrive at the grocery store and Yoo Joonghyuk brings me inside. I follow him wordlessly as he brings me around.
“Here, hold these,” he grabs two small bottles of deodorant and walks forward. Sighing to myself and my feelings of negativity, I decided to distract my thoughts by reading what’s on the bottle.
It said many things, really. The brand and what ingredients were on it. I examined the color and how it feels in my hand. The bottle was slightly cold and made out of glass. It had a slight weight to it, but it was easy to carry. There was a word I didn’t recognize, so I looked up to call for Yoo Joonghyuk.
But before I even open my mouth, I saw it already.
He wasn’t there.
He wasn’t anywhere.
I bit off my rising panic with rationality.
Of course, he left me here. It was punishment for wasting so much food. Maybe this was his way of abandoning me. It stings, but it would be nice if he told me sooner. I would’ve left on my own.
The surroundings grew louder as my senses become sensitive. I reach for my wrist, but it is covered in bandages. I can’t scratch it.
Above the negativity in my mind, there was a small part of me that clung to hope.
That maybe this was me just overreacting.
That maybe it was an accident.
That maybe he was looking for me.
The chances are slim and even I wouldn’t look for myself if I were lost. However, that hopeful part of my mind screamed out.
Deciding to give it a try, I opened my mouth, but I remembered what happened last time I said the man’s name.
The thought itself gave me anxiety and I dared not to try it.
I looked at the two bottles of deodorant in my hand.
Clack.
I paused.
Clack.
I did again, and I paused.
Then silently, I roamed around the store while clacking the two bottles of deodorant together in a beat.
Clack.
He isn’t here.
Clack.
He isn’t here either.
Clack.
He isn’t at the place where people pay.
Clack.
Joonghyuk-ah.
Clack.
Where are you?
Clack.
Don’t leave me.
Clack.
I’m sorry.
Clack.
I’ll do better next time.
Clack.
Please, don’t go.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
“Dokja.”
I turn around saw Yoo Joonghyuk looking at me with slight anxiety in his eyes. He lets out a sigh of relief.
“Found you.”
The drive back was quiet and the sun had already dipped below the horizon. We were driving back from the grocery store and there were poles that were emitting light outside.
“Joonghyuk-ah, what are those things?” I pointed to the bright thing.
“Those are streetlamps. They turn on at night.”
I nod in understanding. “I see. They are quite convenient, aren’t they?”
Yoo Joonghyuk nods.
“Why don’t we have them near home?”
“I didn’t like them,” was his flat reply.
“Huh? Why not?” I could not understand why the sunfish himself would deny convenience.
“The darker the night, the brighter the stars.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Braum said it in League of Legends.”
I still could not wrap my head around why the sunfish was suddenly being so damn philosophical.
“Okay… so?”
Yoo Joonghyuk smiled. “You’ll see.”
The white lights faded to yellow which eventually faded into nothing. This was a more ruined area in Seoul where no lights shone. The industrial complex could be seen from afar, but even that light could not reach all the way here. Yoo Joonghyuk slowed down.
“Why are you stopping?” I asked.
“Just wait.”
After coming to a full stop, he turned off the headlights. The area was pitch black and so was the sky too, save for a handful of stars. Yoo Joonghyuk points towards one of them in particular.
It’s a lonely star that was far from any of its neighbors. It dominated its part of the sky, though, with a light brighter and more ethereal than any other.
“Do you see that one?”
“That bright one over there?”
“Yeah, that one.”
It was a star even I was not familiar with.
“That’s my favorite star in the night sky. When I can’t sleep, I look at it until it dips below the horizon.”
I didn’t know that even he had a sentimental side and I found it immensely endearing.
“What’s that called?” I asked him out of curiosity.
I hear him chuckle in the darkness with a voice so soft that it made my ears melt.
“That’s you.”
Oh.
Oh.
OH.
THE SMOOTH ASS MOTHER FUCKER.
My ears flush red when I heard his response. I suddenly felt a little shy knowing that the man I was pining for literally watched me just to go to sleep.
“I’ll always find you,” he said with a deep voice that rumbled my eardrums.
Just hearing him speak washed away the worries that plagued my brain. It was comforting being by his side.
He turns on the headlights and resumed driving.
I really am struck by him.
We arrive home and Yoo Joonghyuk leads me into the kitchen.
“When’s dinner ready I’m starving~~~,” Han Sooyoung said when she peeked her head from the entranceway.
“In a bit,” was Yoo Joonghyuk’s curt response.
“Hey, Supreme King, I’m dying here. I’m on my knees begging, please, when is dinner?”
“Shut up, and dinner will come faster.”
“Hurry it up then.”
“Leave.”
“Roger dodger.”
When Han Sooyoung left, I made my way to leave as well, but Yoo Joonghyuk stopped me from leaving.
“You’re helping me.”
“What?”
“You’re helping me prepare dinner.”
“Why? You saw what happened earlier!” I protested. “I’m going to fail again!”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s grip grew firmer. “You won’t. I’ll be here.”
I bit my lower lip. “Okay.”
He led me to the counter.
“First, cut the onions, okay?”
I nodded and he left me to cut up the onions. When I was done, I showed it to him and he nodded in approval.
“Okay, then look at this.” He showed me three bottles.
“This is soy sauce. We will use this for flavor. This one is lemon juice so it can balance out with the soy sauce. Then lastly, this is water so that it won’t be too strong.”
I nodded.
“You pour the soy sauce until the second marker right here.” He hands me a big measuring cup and I slowly poured it until the second line.
“Good.” He handed me the water. “Now fill it until the final line.”
I did as he told and received some more praise from him. “Now add a slight amount of lemon juice.”
I tilted my head to the side. “How much is enough?”
“I’ll tell you.”
Trusting his words, I poured the lemon juice slowly into the mixture. It dropped silently into the black abyss and I began to grow nervous. He then grabbed my hand gingerly.
“Okay, that’s enough.” He handed me a teaspoon. “Mix them properly, okay?”
I nodded and mixed them. Meanwhile, Yoo Joonghyuk did his magic on the cutting board. I silently opened the fire and placed a pot over it. When Yoo Joonghyuk saw what I did, he nodded and I was delighted by his attention.
“Okay pour the liquid in first and we are going to wait for it to boil before placing the onions, garlic, and ginger.”
I did as I was told and soon enough all the ingredients found their way into the boiling pot.
Looking at the mix, I asked him a question. “Are we going to put in eggs?’
He thought for a moment. “No, we won’t. The eggs will suck in the salt and make strong, salty lumps in the stew.”
I recalled my mistake earlier in the day. Maybe that’s where it went wrong.
It feels great to cook amazing food, but at the same time I felt disheartened that I needed someone to help me every time I made a mistake. It made me feel horrible. Yoo Joonghyuk probably noticed my thoughts because he looked at me with a worried gaze. I shook my head trying to reassure him, but it seemed that it didn’t work. Then his left eyebrow twitched and I wondered just what he decided to do.
‘Woah, what the hell, you two made this?” Han Sooyoung asked at dinnertime.
“It’s good!”
“’Tsrlyg’d,hyng!”
“Swallow before speaking, Gilyoung,” Yoo Sangah said.
The table was enjoying the food with happiness and joy. There were jokes thrown around and it seemed that everyone liked it.
I picked at my food slightly. Yoo Joonghyuk noticed this and leaned in to whisper quietly in my ear.
“You made this. Eat it.”
I was about to protest, but he was right. Yoo Joonghyuk never touched the pot. This wasn’t his cooking.
It was mine.
I was making everyone happy at dinner.
I was able to do something for everyone.
I was able to cook dinner for Yoo Joonghyuk.
I felt happy.
I began to stuff a little more food into my mouth.
I woke up early again this morning out of habit. While I didn’t need to cook anymore, it felt weird not watching Yoo Joonghyuk cook in the morning.
I silently made my way to the kitchen where a lone Yoo Joonghyuk was standing in front of the stove.
“Good morning,” I muttered while letting out a yawn.
“Morning,” was his reply.
I walked forward just to see what he was cooking.
“Help me,” Yoo Joonghyuk suddenly said.
“Huh?” was all I managed to get out.
“Help me make breakfast,” he repeated.
“You usually don’t need help, though?”
He kept silent at first. Then he replied in a voice quieter than usual. “I want to cook with you…”
I was shocked, really.
Then I laughed a bit.
“Sure.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression immediately brightened and his movements had a small swing in them.
It was cute. No, it was very cute to see the big, scary man in the kitchen move so animatedly in the morning.
It made my heart feel warm.
Above that, it felt great to be relied on.
And above that, it felt great to spend time with Yoo Joonghyuk.
While helping him toast the bread, I suddenly remembered something.
“Oh right, today’s Christmas, right?”
“Do you know what that is?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked.
“No, I don’t quite remember.”
“Christmas is a time where people spend time with other people they care with the most. They have family gatherings, they cook food together, they eat food together, and open presents and the like.”
“So it’s kind of like what we are doing?”
Yoo Joonghyuk paused. A smile formed on his lips.
“Yes, kind of what we are doing.”
Truthfully, I knew what Christmas was already. Shin Yoosung told me about it weeks ago.
But Yoo Joonghyuk looks so happy when he explains things to me, that I couldn’t help but ask the most random things. It’s got to the point where I even pretend that I don’t know what some things are because he looks so cute and endearing while explaining it.
It makes me feel happy when he is happy.
It makes me even happier that I’m receiving it on Christmas day.
If I’m receiving happiness from someone else on Christmas, that means it’s a ‘Christmas present,’ right? Even if it’s not, the sight of the man happily explaining the history of Christmas in front of me is truly enough.
It makes me very happy.
I smile at him.
“Merry Christmas, Joonghyuk-ah.”
He smiles back at me.
“Merry Christmas, Dokja.”