About to Break (Holding You)

Part 7

February

On my 30th birthday, for the first time in ten years since I moved out from my parents, I wake up to the smell of seaweed soup. My half-empty bedroom with bare walls and dusty boxes in each of its corners seems completely different when I sit up in my bed, inhaling the familiar scent of childhood and warmth.

My bare feet make quiet tap tap tap noise on the floor as I stumble into the kitchen. And honestly, I'm not even surprised to see Ahn Hyejin making herself at home there. She's standing with her back to me, diligently stirring the contents of the pot, and the huge bun on her head is bobbing in time with her movements like... like... I don't know what exactly it looks like, but it looks so damn weird, and I feel the stupidest grin creeping up my face. Because barefoot Hyejin in her home T-shirt and shorts is standing in my kitchen and cooking seaweed soup for me. I can't see her face, but I don't need to do so to know that her forehead is frowning adorably with concentration, and her mouth is pouting.

"What the hell am I doing wrong?" She mutters under her breath confusedly, and I laugh softly, taking her by surprise. She whirls around, her giant bun tilting dangerously to one side. "Oho-ho-o, unnie! Happy birthday!"

Hyejin flashes me a mischievous grin, then approaches me and throws herself on my neck with a hug. She's in a good mood. In a year that has passed, I learned to notice her mood and wellbeing simply by watching her moving or talking or even just glancing at me a certain way. 

She is cheerful today. She's initiating physical contact, which can only mean that she's particularly happy today, and she doesn't talk slow or muted, which means she had the right amount of sleep, and her cheeks looks rosy and healthy, which means the end of exams and the visit from her parents for these past few days had finally made her eat something other than junk food and late-night snacks (read: period-of-exams-and-constant-pressure food).

It's so good to see her like this.

"What are you doing here?" I mutter into her hair, immediately hugging her back. She's soft and warm in my arms, and I breathe in the scent of her shampoo and laundry detergent with quiet adoration. I feel a pull somewhere in my chest from all this, from all of Hyejin, who presses against me and breathes steadily into my neck. "How did you get in?"

"Your sister gave me the code for the door," Hyejin replies, pulling away quickly. "And she asked me to apologize in her stead that she could not join the celebration this year."

"She's been apologizing for a week now," I shake my head with a smile. Yonghee was invited for a long-term internship at a major design company in the States, and she flew to New York yesterday. I'm happy for her, but still I can't help but feel sad at the prospect of not seeing my own sister for a whole year. "When did you meet?"

"Yonghee-unnie sometimes invites me for coffee," Hyejin chirps as she goes back to the soup, and I once again wonder at the now-familiar fleeting feeling of jealousy.

Not that I have any reason (or right) to do so, but sometimes I just get the feeling that Yonghee loves Hyejin more than me, our parents, and the rest of the population of the Earth combined. And Hyejin, on the other hand, loves the attention, and there is no one who spoils and compliments her more than Yonghee. It's a little annoying. Like a nasty itch that you can't reach.

I still don't know who exactly I'm jealous of.

"Mm, I see," I mumble, trudging to the fridge.

"Wheein and Byulyi-unnie said they'll be here around 3," Hyejin says as she stirs the soup. "Ggomo didn't feel well last night, so they went to the vet clinic in the morning, and Byulyi-unnie saw some cute dog there, and now they seem to be adopting another dog-"