"I'm eighteen years old and haven't done anything with my life... I don't have someone who I can make happy every day,"
"Jay-ah, you don't need to worry about that stuff yet," Heeseung comforted. He threw an arm over my shoulder with a reassuring sm...
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"𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬,"
~🌙~
I dropped my backpack on the floor as soon as I'd reached my bedroom and threw myself onto the bed. The cotton cushioned my tired body and hugged it softly. My limbs began to ache and my hand especially stung with bruises. I was never getting into a fight again. I may have only hit once, but it took so much energy.
"Park Jongseong!" Eomma called from downstairs, "I have prepared some food for you."
I sighed with annoyance at the thought of getting up. I had found a perfectly good spot on my bed as well. Waiting a few moments, I finally pushed myself to lift my body off the bed. I groaned as the pain coursed through my arms. I must have pulled something, because the pain was not normal.
I came downstairs to see a fully cooked meal and an icepack laid out by my kitchen chair. I eyed it and wondered what it could possibly be for. The smell of freshly fried chicken distracted my thoughts and I was drawn towards it.
"I hope this is enough for you. You must be hungry," my mother counselled as she set a plate in front of me. Oh, yes - we didn't eat. We were too busy getting attacked to even look at our lunch today. I laughed at the thought and dug into my food right away.
My mouth ached at the taste: crispy, light and fresh. My mother's cooking was pristine after studying culinary arts besides her business degree. She knew all the secrets to home cooking, whilst also being a master at gourmet and restaurant quality dishes. Today, her famous fried chicken was enough to put any fast food franchise out of business. She would never take that into action, however, it was the Park's family secret.
"Do you like it? I added a little extra something in there for you~," she placed a glass of water in front of me before taking the seat next to me.
"It's great, Eomma,"
I ate graciously, savouring every mouthful. My mother watched as I ate, smiling and babying me as if I was a child. It didn't bother me; I loved having her around. I did find it rather odd, though. Was there something she wanted? Was she playing good cop before raining down on me with punishment for my suspension?
"Oh good, you're done. Here, take this ice pack for your bruise," she handed me a blue gel icepack that was wrapped in a towel.
"What bruise?" I tried to cover up.
"The one on your hand? I'm a mother, Jongseong. I notice these things."
"I guess you're right,"
She took the ice pack and placed it over the knuckles on my right hand. The contact stung like a burn, but the cool temperature soothed the surface of my skin. I took slow breaths as the pain began to fade and the ice numbed my skin.
