sunshine • myg + jhs

33

i ache more than normal when i wake.
throwing up really took a lot out of me.
my fingers and wrists and arms and ribs and pelvis and legs, they all hurt.
and my lungs bring on a kind of agony that's barely bearable.
i turn to see hoseok isn't next to me.
"hoseok?"
no answer, indicating he's in a spot far away enough to block out my voice.
"hoseok!" my voice is strained.
the blood and acid mixture i'd expelled last night left flames burning in my throat.
i cough to try and help the pain.
but thick liquid travels up my trachea and all splatters all over my pale skin.
as i stare at the blood on the hand that i'd used to cover my mouth, and contemplate telling hoseok and worrying him, or cleaning up and introducing him to my mother.
i go with option two.
he says he'll stay as long as the sun is burning and longer.
but hoseok is a bit irrational.
he doesn't really see the bad in situations.
i fear he'll leave if he's forced to.
so i wash my hands, put on a shirt, and head downstairs.
my mother is already awake, and speaking with hoseok.
"i know, i just wish i would've been there more. i miss the kid. he's grown into such a good guy."
"being good isn't something you grow into noona. he's always been good, and i say this with utmost respect, you just didn't care about him enough to see that."
my mother scoffs.
"i know that kid. you don't have to tiptoe around the fact. i regret it. you can call me a weak bitch 'cause i was. but i changed. and i didn't even mean to see him, but now that i did, it's my chance to prove that i'm a new woman."
"he gets the memory from you, doesn't he?"
"what do you mean he gets the memory from me? what memory ?"
"he calls everyone by a name that's not rightfully theirs if he can't remember yours. he called me kid at first, his best friend tiny, he continues to call this other boy whatshisface. he got his poor memory from you?"
it's quiet for a few seconds.
"baby, he got that from not being able to trust no one."
her satoori is too strong.
i bet he can barely understand her.
"he don't call you by your name because that gets him attached. he's all scared of being that way. if he calls you by your name, you're a lucky bastard because you got his trust. he don't trust just anyone. he's a complicated kid."
i stay hidden for a little longer to hear hoseoks response.
he really thought it was because of bad memory?
"i know he's complicated, trust me. you haven't the right to tell me that. i know he's got trust issues that really mess with all of his relationships. but i didn't know he was that iffy about everyone. thank you for that bit of information, but trust me i know the rest way better than you ever will."
"you're real shameless aren't you, kid. i like that. don't just respect what i say because i'm older. if i'm wrong tell me. i kinda like you."
i butt in there, saying, "well thats good. i kinda like him too."
my voice is strained and i sound like i'd smoked 300 packs a day for 300 years.
i mean yes, i smoked a lot, but my voice has never been this bad.
hoseok smiles brightly at me.
"good morning, my handsome fiancé."
he comes to me, spatula in hand, and kisses me sweetly.
"good morning, sunshine." i smile back.
"Paejeon today. your lovely mother helped me to make them."
my mom comes to my side and hugs me.
"oh don't let him bullshit ya. i talked his ear off while he was cooking. he's a sweet kid, yoongi bear, i like him."
i look at hoseok.
"you bullshittin' me?" i ask in satoori.
"no, of course not. the talking really helped me to not think about everything going on. i appreciate it noona." he replies.
"how can you understand our dialect? i mean, hers is so strong, i don't even pick up on it sometimes."
he plates my food and sits it in front of an empty chair.
i assume he wants me to sit, so i do.
"have you ever heard taehyung speak? it's so strong when he's not thinking, that i had to learn how to translate it on my own because he couldn't. poor thing. he's so pure."
he stands, me and my mother taking up the two seats that the kitchen had.
it's two story.
but a small house.
downstairs consists of the kitchen, den, and moms room.
upstairs is my room and a bathroom.
me and geom jae used to share a room, but now it's redone and all of his things have been burned.
i hate him.
i hate what he did and that he was even worse than dad.
"yoongi,"
i look up.
"why do you never wear your glasses anymore?"
i flush red.
thanks mom.
i'll be called kitten more than normal now because to him that's going to be so incredibly-
"adorable!"
i look up at him.
the morning sun hits him as my mom begins to carry on with her sight rant about my sight, but i don't listen.
i watch him as he does.
golden skin against brown locks and large, innocent pools of honey for eyes.
a smile that's shaped like love and the delicacy of an angel.
he is an angel.
there is no other explanation for his purity.
his gorgeousness, his kindness, his uniqueness; when i look at him, it makes me stop and think that there has to be a god.
because nothing so intricately perfect could be created if there wasn't.