daybreak || minsung

Chapter 16

I woke up well before the crack of dawn, and growled at the ceiling. The earlier I woke, the more morning I had to suffer through without Jisung. I got up and immediately stubbed my toe. I supposed it was one of those days.

I flew through my routine, muttering and grumbling. I decided on a reddish-brown shirt and jeans. My hair looked like something had died on my head, so I showered and towelled it dry. I used some of Charlie's sleazy hair gel, trying to keep it from sprawling every which way. I showered again, regretting all my life choices.

I stalked downstairs to find the house empty. It was already ingrained in me that Jisung would be waiting for me once Charlie was gone. I peered out the window, watching the empty road like I could think him into existence. I sighed and gave up.

I ate a bagel, taking my time, laying upside down on the couch. (Charlie would have grunted at me for that if he was home, but he wasn't, so.) I felt myself slowly slide off the sofa, and I ended up slumped on the floor. I didn't bother to get up.

I brushed my teeth (again), made my way downstairs, and sat on the couch. I shook a militia of Tic Tacs into the front of my shirt and tossed them into my mouth like a demon devouring villagers.

I heard a knock on the door.

I sprinted into the kitchen, washed out my mouth (too many Tic Tacs), ran back to the hallway, attacked the dead lock. In my haste to get the goddamn door goddamn open, I lost my balance and teetered a little.

"You okay?" Jisung laughed, hands held out.

"Yeah," I answered blankly, breathless, staring. He was wearing a white shirt and a green-and-blue flannel unbuttoned overtop of it. His hair was swept back and ruffled slightly. He had small diamond studs in his helixes. His eyes were bright, calm, a vibrant gold. I was so happy to see him, all I could do was mumble, "Hi."

"Hi," he said, hopping up on his toes. "Are you ready?"

"Um, yes." I joined him on the porch — turned back and locked the door — and followed him onto the lawn. I climbed into my truck and reached over the seat, unlocking the passenger door.

I started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. I was excited and nervous — Jisung had always been the driver. I found myself checking the mirror every five seconds, my hands at nine and three, applying more diligence than ever.

"Where should I go?" I asked.

"Take the one-oh-one north," he said. "And please put your seatbelt on. You're freaking me out."

I sighed — took the strap, yanked it across my chest, clicked it in — feeling like an oaf.

"I like your shirt," he said then, tugging on my sleeve.

"Thank you. I'm pretty sure I found it in a free box. I like your shirt, too."

"Thanks. I sewed it myself, actually, in seventy-one."

"Oh." Sometimes I forgot he was immortal. "Well, it really makes your" — I gestured vaguely — "look pretty."

He smiled, happily accepting the compliment. "Thank you. Your hair looks nice today."

"Woo!" I threw my arm in the air triumphantly.

He laughed at my reaction. "Was it being difficult?"

"Mm. Most of my morning was washing it and drying it and washing it and— What are you doing?"

He was leaning toward me, his head tilted to the side.

"Your breath smells like mint," he observed, his eyebrows lowered suspiciously.

"I had a Tic Tac," I explained.