Every Year, It's Not That Year

ＢＥＤＴＩＭＥ ＳＴＯＲＹ-•

2019

Stephanie felt the strain in her neck. She slowly crept her eyes open to find the television in front her. She slowly stretch her body, lifting her hands up and yawns. She felt something warm on her legs.

As she scans the environment, her legs are on Park's body. They fell asleep on the same sofa in fetal position, no wonder her body felt stiff as hell. She lifted one of her leg and began to kick Park's ass.

He jerked his eyes open. Park's hair is disheveled , a classic bed head. 'What time is it?' He mentioned with dry croaky voice.

'10.' Stephanie replied.

'10,' he repeats, 'shit!' He woke up instantly despite the stiff muscle. Though he felt the tension in his joints, he managed to get up by holding to the coffee table for supporting his wobbly feet.

Stephanie almost die laughing, her throat is dry yet, she can't contained her laughter.

'What?' With the classic stoic face, Park looks at her with suspicious glance.

'It's only seven,' she continues her chortling. 'Did you see your face earlier?' Her eyes were filled with reflex tears, she loves to prank him every morning when he had a sleepover.

And she is always successful in the pranking.

There's a Chinese saying about the mute eating bitter gourd, and that's what happened to Park. He fall back to the same sofa, blank face with those wide eyes penetrating at Stephanie.

At last, Park made his revenge by throwing a pillow on her face.

'Ouch!' She never expected that, but it doesn't do much damage to her since she is still continuing with her giggling like she has pathological laughing disorder.

Stephanie actually prepares breakfast for him. A real nutritionist approved breakfast, a mushroom omelette with cheese and a cup of instant Cafe latte. She didn't have a coffee machine that makes those ridiculously expensive coffee, and they would usually have their morning caffeine shot at the hospital by professional barista.

Park dressed up in his formal attire, wearing a white shirt matched with a navy tie. Stephanie was right, he love white, white everything, like what she quoted.

He walks out to the living area and the whiff of freshly made omelette sliced through the air. It feel homey, again. He crane his neck to see the plates, the yellows of the eggs made the dishes simply palatable. 'Delivery arrived?'

As Stephanie heard those offensive remarks, she turn around with hate speech building inside, only to realized Park look different today. Her chest ripples and those hate speech suddenly vanish.

'Which cafe did you order from? They looks good.' Park sat down, placing his grey suit on the other chair.

'I made those, you idiot.' Stephanie calms herself down and sit in front of him with unsettled heartbeat. He made an effort to comb his hair into a magazine cover look. His tie, especially that navy tie with white stripes, it holds a bittersweet memories. She has, never for once, forgot the significance of that particular tie.

'Really? You have eggs in your fridge?' Park look amused.

'By the way, is that the only tie you have?' Stephanie is curious.