“No” I said, barely a whisper. Then, with a firmer voice, I said, “you’re not that heartless”
He paused and looked at me. I can’t read his expression. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He sighed then cursed out loud and turned around, throwing the knife over the sink. He put his hands on his waist and faced me again.
“Wait here” he grimly said and walked out of the kitchen. When he came back, he directly went to the sink, opened a faucet and wet the white towel in his hand. He went to me and wiped my face quite roughly. I had the feeling he’s trying to erase my face. After that, he took a band-aid and out it on the wound in my cheek. He then took his share of the cake and consumed it with two swallows. I can’t help but smile.
“Err, haven’t you eaten a cake before?” I asked. He glanced at me sharply, glaring. “Just asking” I mumbled.
“Can you just finish your cake and leave?”
“You’re extremely rude” I pouted. “I can’t leave yet. You still have to open my present and try it on”
A breaking noise suddenly followed. I squealed and jumped. I looked for the source and saw that Jiyong broke the saucer he’s holding. His grip must’ve tightened on the poor thing.
“Your hand’s bleeding!” I said and was about to reach for his hand but he pulled away.
“Don’t touch me!” he hissed and went to the sink. He put his injured hand under the running water. Then, I watched him tend to his hand.
“I envy you” I confessed. “You seemed so. . . capable of yourself. I always tell my parents that I can take care of myself already, that I’m old enough to do things on my own but the truth is, I’m quite dependent”
“Some things are learned the hard way”
I looked at him, wondering. “It’s so hard to imagine someone going through a very harsh ordeal. You must have suffered greatly”
“Nonsense” he scoffed.
I made face then decided to let the topic go. “Anyway, open my present. C’mon let’s see if it looks good on you”
He didn’t move so I decided to open the present for him.
~JIYONG’S POV~
I watched her open the present enthusiastically. I can’t help but mentally laugh at how excited she looked. It’s as if she’s the one who just received a gift.
“Ta-da!” she exclaimed, holding out a white hoodie.
I just stared at her.
“C’mon, try it on!”
I didn’t move. She let out a growl of irritation and walked over to me. She grabbed the hem of my shirt and started pulling it up. But she stopped halfway and gasped. I pulled the shirt down, scowling.
“I can try it on without removing my shirt” I growled. I looked at her closely when she didn’t say anything. She was staring at me in horror and tear-glazed eyes. One hand was covering her mouth.
Great! Just great! She must’ve seen the scars. I should be happy that she’s now afraid of me. Who would-? My train of thoughts suddenly stopped as she threw herself to me.
“Oh my God!” she cried. “What did your father do to you?”
I stiffened, my arms all frozen at my side as she hugged me tight. I didn’t hug her back. I don’t want a hug. I don’t need pity and sympathy. I don’t need and want to be comforted. With a snort, I pushed her away. I stepped back and crossed my arms across my chest.
