my one week boyfriend 『 a jihoon ff. 』

Chapter 11

It's been half an hour since I woke up, and yet, here I am laying stiffly on my sofa with a sore neck, while Jihoon is making pancakes.

Truthfully, it hasn't been long since he practically peeled my leg off of his waist, which I decided not to move immediately after I realized it was there in a failed attempt to avoid waking him, and stood up. With one eye open, I had watched Jihoon walk casually around my apartment room to the kitchen, as if this was routine for him. Blatantly, he rummaged through all of the cabinets, until he came across a box of pancake mix and set it on the counter. It seemed like this was exactly what he was looking for, since he nodded to himself upon finding it. Then, he initiated another scavenger hunt- except this time through the inside of my refrigerator. The apartment that I was staying in was quite nice due to how the place was rented out for exchange students, specifically, and offered a variety of cooking tools that were ready for use. Not to mention, the previous students who stayed in the apartment room had been attentive enough to keep the tools in mint condition. I hoped that Jihoon would have the same decency to clean up after himself, while noticing how awkward and unnatural he looked in a kitchen setting. 'Please don't burn my money- I mean, apartment down.'  The thought crossed my mind, as someone who opted to prepare herself for the worse case scenario at all times.

Even so, I had decided to shut my eyes, forcing myself to fall back into a deep sleep. The past few minutes had felt like hours spent trying to doze off. I'm immune to counting sheep and lying on the sofa, as still as a log, did nothing except leave me to be victimized by my own thoughts. Thoughts about my relationship with Jihoon and my feelings toward it surfaced. 

I wondered what was going to happen when our one week time limit as a couple was over. Would the two of us really just end things and pretend like we're complete strangers? I know I had wanted that more than anything- had, as in past tense. My trip to Korea was supposed to be a meaningful part of my life that I refused to forget, being the first time I was able to travel completely alone. But, the bulk of my trip has been Jihoon-filled. It's not like I can go back home and act as if Jihoon is some out of reach idol, who my sister believes him to be. If I wanted to, I could walk up to him right now and start a conversation; he's just as reachable as any normal person would be. Going back home and watching Jihoon on Korean variety shows or performing onstage in front of a sea of people who adore him, played back on YouTube through the small screen of my laptop, would just leave me perplexed that the same Jihoon is cursing at himself as he flips pancakes, just a few meters away.

From the kitchen, I hear repeated groaning and mumbling of the words: "Damn, I messed up." The consistency of noises and how in utter distress he sounds almost breaks my solid position, tempting me to laugh out loud to tease him. I'm already certain that I'm incapable of falling back asleep, so I might as well surrender to the sweet smell of batter that wafts around my apartment and under my nose, which is in need of a good scratch.

"Lyra! Wake up!"

I twitch. A few minutes of silence settles into the room, before Jihoon calls my name once again.

"Lyra! You're going to be late for school, if you don't get up!"

His morning voice sounds slightly deeper and hoarse. Weirdly enough, I kind of prefer it this way. Wait. Did he just say that I'm going to be late for school?

My heart beat quickens. 'Crap.'

In approximately five seconds, I spring up off of the couch and race to the bathroom. My body is functioning in full speed, but my brain can't seem to keep up; only after I've locked myself inside the washroom and begin brushing my teeth furiously do I realize that I nearly kicked Jihoon, who I had no idea was sitting on the edge of the couch, in the eye. Tap water splashes everywhere, as I graze my face with it, but I could care less. In the mirror above the sink, I'm startled by my appearance. The dark circles underneath my eyes are extra visible today, my skin looks so dull that it's almost grey in colour, and random pieces of my naturally pin-straight hair are wavy. I groan in frustration, and find myself alarmed when boisterous laughter resonates from behind my bathroom door. Unconsciously, I unlock the door and peek outside.