WHEN THE SEA IS ROUGH (ill hearts 2)

10

Eunbi

By the end of the torturous Hong Kong week (I called it like that considering the damage it had done to my head), with zero contact with Jungkook, and no idea what happened there, he was coming back home. I wanted nothing else but for him to walk through the door, kiss me like he always used to, and for us to talk about this damned argument. But at the same time, I didn't want this conversation. There was always a possibility that mentioning the old argument would strike a new one, and my mental stability wasn't at the point to survive another round of yelling at each other.

The door creaked at seven in the evening, making Jungkook be on time for dinner for the first time in two weeks. Maybe three. I stopped counting when I realized waiting for him was pointless. He dragged his bag to the living room, steps slow and quiet, before floating into the kitchen.

"Hi," he said after a moment of silence. I didn't turn around, acting like chopping parsley was really that demanding.

"Hey," I answered. My body itched to feel him wrap his arms around me, even if we still paddled in the dark uncertainty.

He didn't. Instead, he walked to the sink to wash his hands. "Do you need help?" he asked.

"I'm almost done. You're... right on time if you want dinner." I knew he was coming back, and I made more food on purpose. In the deepest corners of myself, I hoped we could finally be a normal couple, even if it would have to be an act.

"I can... we can eat together."

I nodded. The lack of our voices among the plates clinking against the wood was heavy, but not tense. The old argument darkened the room, but there was no new fight pending. We both acted like the last one never happened. We knew it did, and that was probably why he didn't even touch me, but we spoke like it didn't.

Pretending that everything glittered and bloomed was well-practiced skill for both of us.

I could barely taste the flavor of a single vegetable in the salad, or my all time favorite honey sesame chicken, constantly zoning out to get stuck in my head. His presence that day was the least familiar thing in the house. On the other hand, I kept reminding myself how it was before this whole thing began, and holding onto those memories while we ate in silence was both painful and calming.

"You have a tattoo appointment tomorrow. Are you still going?" I asked, unable to push food down my throat when no one was saying anything.

"Oh, yeah. Sure," he said, giving me a glance that made me shiver for a second. He set this appointment six months earlier, claiming how 'around that time he'd be less busy'. Neither of us knew things would be in shambles.

He was a regular at my place, and my place only. After five years, both of his arms and palms were tattooed, two pieces on his left thigh, three or four on his chest.

"Do you have a design? Or should I draw something for you?" I asked, acting my part in a 'normal relationship' play we were acting out.

"You have this one sketch up in our bedroom. It's an old one, but I wanted to get it. The two snakes."

Two tangled snakes was a couple tattoo I designed when I was bored, having nothing but me and Jungkook in mind. He was unaware, I never really talked about it. It laid around our bedroom most of the time when I was working on it, usually before bed, and then I left it there without much thought.

"Where?"

"My back? I think that's the only spot it will still fit," he said, giving it a small, hesitant chuckle.

"It will take around three hours so make time for that if you want to." Three hours of silence and a buzz of the pen, how fun. And totally not stressful. Not at all. Three hours of discomfort around my own boyfriend, yay.