Don'ts Of An Arranged Marriage

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Her tattoos, he dreamt of them vastly. In them she would bracket the silky brunette strands behind her ear, revealing the nape – the inked letters elegantly stark by her pale skin, Lee would always be torn between perceiving her details or her charms. Panic would engulf him when she would look at him- some times they would sit by the meadows watching the sunset, in others, it was by the coastal island listening to the songs composed by the waves. All they did was sit, with her fierce gaze on the nature ahead while he had his on her.

He hates it when she looks at him, even in the dreams he was aware of its end. He wakes up with a jolt because it is where it stops, when he gets seen by her. As if it was forbidden or sinful for him to be there with her while she was supposed to be alone.

He slept in strips, calling it a nightmare he would start his day by dragging himself out of bed- leaving it unkept. Periodically he would step on the messy entities that lay around- staining or denting the epoxy flooring of his penthouse in Las Vegas. He would cuss at himself but seldom bothered to clean his lavish pigsty up.

Sometimes he would walk straight to the closet and shove his washed clothes in, while in another scene he would pick one less greasy shirt from the ground and buttons it up by his half-naked body. But not on Tuesdays. He can't risk the wrath of a certain young boy who never misses the date to get him to-

Lee groans when Han Hwan walks in, his collage backpack slung lazily and his disappointment appropriately valid.

"I shouldn't have told you my passcode" Lee muses glumly walking to the washroom. The boy follows him with his patience visibly compressing. He might explode if wasn't given what was needed. And he needed an explanation for so many things that he had lost count. But the start was-

"Where are your fresh clothes that I got it done for you last week?" Hwan throws a murderous look at Lee- he had been doing what he can while he balanced college and this degenerating man from the past two years only for him to confess-

"I think I used it to clean the kitchen yesterday" the onset of guilt that panged by Lee's stomach was overpowered by his pride. So he squeezed a good amount of paste by and began brushing his teeth. Hwan stood by the entrance not a bit surprised. Lee was aging backwards mentally while his face did the opposite. His once styled and trimmed hair was now overgrown mane that curled by his ears. His roguing beard could help him pass off as a member of a drug cartel, or even worse, a homeless man if it wasn't for the logos from the brands he wore.

Of course it's Hwan who forces him into ordering them.

Though stained and dirty, he still had the delightful laugh and quirky smile when he turned to acknowledge a pissed off Hwan.

"I am just kidding, I kept it safe so that I can wear them to the hell hole you drag me to every Tuesday" he adds a wink and proceeds to spit out the salty taste of foam. Hwan sighs in relief, if not a step ahead at least he had the decency to save them.

"You know how expensive these therapies are? If you manage to open up a little- your tic tac sized brain might realize that It's not a forensic interrogation and it's perhaps something that could help you"

Splashing the cold water on his face Lee felt his drowsy infers waking to a memory.

"Expensive? Of course, you can own a black card and still want to save money, it's what she did as well"

Hwan had no response to that. He has seen this man hurting like no one else, when Hwan had his family to help each other, Lee had his self-loathing that took him to the bottom of what none could have foreseen.

"I can live here if you let me. I always wanted to move in. Pent houses are my scene" Hwan sniffs, crossing his arms and leaning by the frame. Lee frowns in horror.