Results Of A Decade Attraction • Moon Taeil

3

Usually in the past, Dayeon would come once a week, but since Monday, she's been coming over with the same soju bottles all the time. Although I had already been used to the outcome moans and groans for years, I will always hate the sounds.

She came on Monday and they made noise.

She came the following day and they made noise.

The next day too, the same thing happened.

Thursday, not only her but two other flings came earlier.

Friday, they just drank and drank and kept being unnecessarily active around the house.

Today, 11pm, in the middle of highlighting points in the topic in the text book, I hear heavy footsteps from down the hall. At first, I except drunk Taeil coming out to get water. What I don't expect is to see a fuming Dayeon stomping her way to the door with her fists balled and her hair a mess.

For a moment she stares down at me, I shudder at the eye contact between us, slightly frightened by her.

"Is it you?" She asks lowly, her tone venomous as she glares me down. Little do I know that Taeil broke up with her and she assumes I'm the cause of it. The entire atmosphere falls and it intimidates me. She drops her heels that were in her hand as she comes closer to me. Grabbing me by my arms and pulling me up, she screams in my face. Her scream is so pitchy that I don't realise her throwing me to the floor, until I feel the side of my eye burn from the impact of hitting it at the edge of the table.

A whimper escapes my lips as I touch the side of my eye and see blood dripping from my fingers.

If I lie, then I'm a sinner for hearing Taeil's voice. Surprisingly its the least of my concerns when all I can think about is the open wound by my eye. Blood trickles down the side of my face and the wound aches, making me groan. I am so distracted by the pain that I don't notice Dayeon being pushed out of the house. I use my hands to press on the open wound, until I feel a firm grip helping me to a sitting position, at the same time his voice asking; what's wrong, reaches my ears. In denial that that could possibly be my Taeil, I force my eyes open, only to see his face in mine. He pulls down my hands to see if I'm injured, which I am, and when he sees it, he quickly gets up to his feet.

The wound falls to the back of my mind when I recall everything that happened a second ago before my eyes.

Taeil noticed me.

Taeil touched me.

Taeil asked me what was wrong. Me.

Taeil looked at my wound.

He looked worried and instantly dashed off. His scent lingers in the air for a moment until it's just a distant memory to my nostrils. The ghost of his hands on my skin hovers, reminding me of how they felt; cold and firm. It, by far most, needs to be marked in the history of Korea of how that was the best cold and firm grip. And his voice, goodness, he is just the one.

Dragging me back to reality, Taeil comes back with salt and some baby wipes. He kneels by my side, using the baby wipes to wipe of the blood that had stained my skin. He takes another wipe, but before using it he looks at me. My heart skips a beat but if that isn't enough my heart stops when he says, "Squeeze my hand. What I'm about to do is gonna hurt."

He says it half heartedly, but to me it comes out as a different and more affectionate feeling. Letting out his hand, I hesitate for a while but eventually take his hand in mine. Keeping my eyes on our hands, I feel tears well up by my eyes when I see him stretch out his fingers and hold my hand tighter. This is a moment to be marked in history, I thought.

First he uses the wipe, pressing it against my wound, then a sudden burning sensation hits me like a hurricane. I shut my eyes tightly as a groan escapes my lips, and even if I didn't want to hurt his hand, my fingers press hard on his skin. Like a recorder on repeat I cry, "Stop, stop it."

"Relax, it's just salt."

In disbelief, I open my eyes to look at him. He doesn't say anything but stares back at me. Averting my gaze and shutting my eyes I lay my head back on the couch. I refrain from squeezing his hand despite the stinging, instead I cherish this moment with our hands together.

"Sorry for what happened..." my eyes shoot open hearing his voice so sincere, "You shouldn't have been targeted." He keeps his eyes on me while slowly pulling his hand from mine.

I stay quiet as he pulls a bandage from his pocket and places it over the wound that stings all over again.

Pushing himself away from me and getting up, he shoves his hands in his pocket, saying "You should head home now, it's late."