Pricked

6

I force polite chatter, pretending not to notice the gaping hole of silence across from me. No one else seems to notice that whenever I ask something, Namjoon will go completely silent in response. Eventually I give up, toss my takeout box and wash the chopsticks, to keep until we buy real ones. I then retreat upstairs to unpack. I have some shelves now, but the closet doesn't have any racks, so I begin folding everything into piles, and stacking them on the floor of the small wall pocket. Once I finished I moved to the box, holding my book collection. I began to set up my miniature display of Jane Austin and Emily Bronte, when I hear my fathers voice call out "come say goodbye!"

At that, I rush down and hug him at full tilt. He smiles at me, hands on my shoulders and says "be brave my Mirella. I love you." Then he turns and leaves. I stand there staring at the door, until I hear the car start. I listen to it pull out of the driveway and then slowly turn, just intime to come face to face with Namjoon. Again.

"Where's your dad?" I ask. He stares at me, fighting to take even breaths.

"He left just before yours did."

"Oh."

"I'm going to do some school work, probably go to bed soon. Don't be loud."
"Yeah you have nothing to worry about. Why are you going to bed so early?"

"I wake up at four to workout." and with that he leaves. I wait to hear the click of his door, before I make my way upstairs. I go back to organizing my books. I don't have a proper bookshelf so I have to set them on the shelves above my bed. I step on the white mattress to get each book in its place, and each time I almost trip when the easy give of the mattress springs up when I hop off lightly. When I'm done I find the small blue box my mother gave me. I pinch the small lid, and lift it off. It's a pair of earrings. The small black gemstones would glime in some sunshine. I smile, and set the open box on the windowsill. I'll see it in its full glory tomorrow. I turn and find another box. Inside there's shampoo, bodywash, and a towel. Guess that's a sign that it's time to take a shower.

Slipping into the hall I creep into the bathroom. There isn't a toilet paper holder, or a bathmat but it must do. I let the towel fall to the floor as I balanced the bottle on the platform, stuck in the corner of the white shower tiles. It's not slippery yet so the plastic containers only mostly precariously teetering on the edge of the percaline. I doubt Namjoons sleeping at nine, but it's not impossible. Hell would break he was just about to fall asleep and the shampoo bottles caused a racket, so I move with caution. I pull off my clothes and leave them in a pile, and make sure to lock the bathroom door. I leave the towel hidden from potential spray, by keeping it under the pile. Without a shower curtain, I'm worried all the water will get on the bathroom floor so I stay close to the wall. I still manage to wash all my hair, and brush through the black seaweed a few times. I make a point to relax all my muscles before I get out. With each breath I take I unclench my jaw, drop my shoulders and force the string knotting up inside my stomach to untangle. The water burns a little, against my skin but I don't mind. That happened at home too. I washed my hair the same way, and whipped the water from my eyes like the person I was yesterday did. But it all feels different now. Now a man is in the bedroom I used to sleep in, and my father isn't just a staircase away.

I take a deep breath.

Unclench my jaw a little.

Lower my shoulders.

But the knots in my stomach only tighten the longer I think.

I decided it's time to go to bed.

When I reach for my towel I notice there are no pajamas present in this clump of fabric.

Shit.

I dry myself meticulously, and pad the moisture out of my hair, trying to take as much time as possible. Without a hairdryer, and the added air of silence, I was forced to sleep with wet hair. I sigh, then see this is the perfect opportunity. I try to ring all the moisture from my hair, and waste another 15 minutes in the process. I brush it out again, which proves incredibly difficult, due to the nature of towel drying long wavy hair. When I cannot put it off, I fashion a towel toga, and peer my head into the dark hallway. Namjoons door is shut, and the soundtrack of some show bleeds out from behind it. I steal my nerves and hurry down the hall to the safety of my room. I found an old t-shirt, and some shorts I cut from regular Pjs. Once I put them on and felt an odd tug on my heartstrings. This was Jks old shirt. He lent it to me when I had tripped onto the wet field behind school, ruining my white shirt. We laughed as he stood in the girls washroom with me. He had tossed me his shirt over the stall door and it was almost a slam dunk into the toilet. I laughed to myself as I looked down at it now. When the initial joy expired I felt a lump in my throat, that I couldn't swallow. I turn to my bed when I realize it's just a bare mattress. And all my bedding is exactly where we left it. On my floor, to bring with the rest of my clothes during our second trip. My towel's wet, and we don't have any extra blankets. It's too cold to go out with wet hair for the long walk, and definitely dangerous. With my luck I'd get lost in a second. It's only 10:30. Namjoon wouldn't be so loathed to drive me, right?

I pad across the cold wooden floor, and listen close to the door. Whatever show he was watching has turned off. Not a good sign. I lean on the door, and lightly twist the handle. I find him under a thick duvet, eyes closed, arms exposed. The light from my room stretches in from the crack in the door, like long fingers, showing his collarbones. I let out a soft gasp, then remember I am a woman on a mission.

I walk over and tap his shoulder. He barely stirs.

"Namjoon?" I whisper

A noncommittal grunt rises from the man.

"I don't have any bedsheets and it's cold."
An eye opens, and quickly narrows.

"It's too late, too far, and too cold to walk. Could you uh... could you drive me?"

I hear him sigh. I see the sheets rise and fall as he does. "Come closer" he mumbles and I bend over, hoping he'll tell me to get dressed.

Instead he wraps an arm around my waist and throws me onto the bed next to him. He then covers me with blankets, wraps his arm back around me, and quickly falls back to sleep.

I am not so lucky. 

I fight to get out of his grasp, and every so often I manage, but when I do, I find that the bed is cold, and I'm chilly without him, but when I give in he pulls me right to his skin. I feel him all round me, and I cannot feel anything but calm. The weight of his arm, and the odd lullaby of his deep even breathing puts me fast to sleep for intervals. Until I wake up resting on his chest, one hand sleepily in my hair. Mine rest on the sides of his back, as if he is a large, solid warm pillow. Then again typically the pillow is a stand-in for a situation exactly like this. I try to breathe to steady myself, but then I smell him, and whatever body wash he uses, and that doesn't help with the mixed feelings churning around in my stomach. Nothing seems to help with those. Not the sounds he makes in his sleep, and definitely not how his hand deftly runs over the small of my back.

                                                                                      Him

I don't really remember why, but she is here. I wake up with her in my arms, and the smell of her floating around my face, my bed, my sheets. I tried to escape but a small voice in me forced me to stop. I realize that after days of her being in my head every hour I remember, waking or not, he is finally here. I pull her closer.

I prop myself up on my elbow, and register that I feel her skin against my legs too. I have to look away, look out the window, look anywhere else to not think about how little she is wearing. Then I do. I look at her and see a small smile playing on her lips. She makes a small noise before moving backwards. Without even knowing, she reaches out for me. What does that mean? Between this and yesterday I'm so lost. Everything seemed to fall into place and then suddenly she stopped, and ran away. Did I scare her? Hurt her?

I brush some hair from her face and mumble "I wish I knew what was going on inside your head." Then I take all my resolve, every ounce of willpower I have, and get up. As I walk over to my dresser, getting clothes for the gym, I make peace with knowing I won't be able to wake up to her in my bed for a long time.

Not too long though. I'll make sure of that.