On Thin Air

Good Steps

Embarrassed, Namjoo wanted to edge back out. Gathering her courage, she stepped inside his room, for the first time, of her own accord. Sinking into the spot on his left. Arms brushing just lightly.

"It's the first time," Namjoo confessed, "that anyone has stood up for me." A plethora of bashfulness wallowed through her. Forcing the word out at last, "Thank you."

Sincere surprise flickered across his irises. Hearing her say that for the first time.

"My mother died when I was eight," Namjoo told. "I thought I had my father, but he got married a year later and Hea came along. It's a pathetic excuse for always being angry, but the past is stained in me. I'm sorry that I'm not always easy to deal with."

"It's not," he said, "pathetic."

He turned to look at her. The honesty in his eyes were like the clouds constantly keeping the sun company. So visibly there, loud and clear. Namjoo's heart made a loud thud, and she couldn't look away. It was he who first shifted, lowering his head to look at the pair of hands hanging between his legs.

"I've never hit Sangki before," Sehun said.

Namjoo's gaze shifted toward the ground. Should she feel guilty?

"From now on," he continued, "don't fight with him. I don't always know what he'll do."

"Ok." She promised.

Again, he looked at her with surprise as if he hadn't expected her to agree.

"I'll be nicer," Namjoo stood. Facing him she held her hand out, "So, lets try to get along. Promise."

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

Promise.

He hadn't exactly sworn out loud, but he had taken her hand upon it. Namjoo's touch still lingered even after they'd turned in for the night. Laying in bed he held his hand up. Twisting and turning it as if she'd left some mark behind.

He had recognized Sangki's car as he drove up. Walking in in time to witness what still made his blood boil. Sangki touching Namjoo in a way he hadn't imagined yet. The bewildered rage that controlled him in that moment was something he'd never experienced before.

Curling his fingers inwards his hand turned into a rock-hard fist. He had really wanted to hurt his brother.

He knew Namjoo was fearless. Doing whatever she pleased as she liked as if she owned the world, but against a person like Sangki she wouldn't win. So...so that scared him.

If he hadn't come in time, what could have happened?

Sehun didn't want to think about it.

Lowering his hand, he turned to face his empty bedside.

"It's the first time that anyone has stood up for me."

He could see it. The truth in her words. The anger that at the world's injustice spreading through her veins. Creating the woman she was today. Out to hurt others to protect the soft shell of her heart. The ache that roared across mountains unheard.

Perversely, Sehun smiled anyway. They were improving. Telling him something was a step forward. A small step but a good step.

The following morning Namjoo beat him to the breakfast table. For once. Seated properly like a student arriving early for class. The aroma of food was overpowering from the kitchen. If his stomach wasn't already growling hers was.

"What is it?" he asked when she slid a sheet of paper over.

"I ordered some things for the third floor," she explained. She had printed a copy of the receipt. The rest half of the paper was a blank. "Do you want anything particular up there?"