Nobody Like You

Too Young For Me

Yeju

It has been a while since I get the night to myself before I sleep.

It's quiet, unnervingly so. I've always had someone to fill the silence, whether it was Yuna and her constant chatters or Karina and her loud moans. Now, I have a conscientious apartment mate who goes to sleep early.

Stifling a yawn, I climb into my bed and lean against the headboard. My hair is still wet, so I dry it with a towel that's draped over my shoulders.

Even without working in the lab today, I am exhausted. I guess I did tire myself out with other work: answering emails, reading through the recently published research articles, teaching Lia...

The chores were tiring too. After dinner, Lia started cleaning up the kitchen, so I followed her lead. Usually, I'd let the dishes soak for a few days before doing anything, but I figured I owe it to Lia to clean with her. And since I did ruin all her towels on purpose this morning, we did laundry as well.

I've lived with people my whole life, but this is the first time I did chores together with someone. And I have to admit that it was... nice. It made the chores feel less of a, well, chore.

My eyes drift to the wall in front of me. The plain, white wall behind my work desk and monitor that separates my bedroom from Lia's.

I didn't expect her to read through the papers I gave her so thoroughly. I didn't expect her to scrub all my pans clean and to do laundry with me even though I offered to do them myself—it was my fault, after all. And I didn't expect how easy it was to talk to her.

I've never met anyone so resilient and kind, who puts so much effort into everything. She is a ball of energy. Yuna is, too, but not like this. Yuna's energy is fiery and passionate, and it burns everything it touches. Lia's is contained and insulated; it is nice, warm, and safe.

She is an angel, and I ruined things between us before I even got to know her.

I slide down on my bed, letting my half-dry hair down on the pillow. Why am I like this? If Lia was anybody else, she would've left long ago, both the apartment and the project. But Lia is... Lia.

My phone rings. I pick it up, ready to cancel the call if it's Karina—she has been texting me nonstop all day and I do not have the headspace to reply—but it's Mom. Heaving a small sigh of relief, I accept the call.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hey, Ju-Zi," my mom mumbles out her nickname for me.

I frown at her unusually slurred voice. "You're drunk."

A soft hiccup. "Yeah."

"It's Tuesday, Mom."

"Oh, every day is the same. The days of the week are a social construct."

I hear the sounds of pouring wine, and I groan. Mom is three hours ahead of me, so that means it is past midnight. Way too late to be drinking alone at home.

"You should sleep, Mom."

"You should sleep."

"It's only ten o'clock for me."

"You know, time is also a social construct. It doesn't matter when we sleep as long as we do."

"Mom, what the hell..." I rub a hand over my face. Is this my fault? Mom calls me every other day, but I had to cancel my call with her yesterday because Karina was coming over. "How are you holding up?"

"Same as usual." She pauses to take a sip of her drink. "Working my ass off for retirement, and then coming home to an empty house. But the good news is, I have had no mental breakdowns yet this week."