Chapter 36: 29-1

"Who the hell are you?" By the slurring of his words, it's clear he came home drunk. His suit is messed up—a wine stain on the lapel, a rip in his sleeve, and spots of blood. His hair is dark and wet with sweat, his skin glistening as well as he stares at me with a hazy gaze. "J-J—" my words have a hard time forming as his piercing eyes stare at me intensely. From past him, I notice his wife sat on the floor by the kitchen table, seemingly unhurt but very overwhelmed as she mumbles to herself. "Where's—" I try to speak again, but he is clearly growing annoyed now as he runs a hand down his sweaty face. "Jae—" Before his name can leave my mouth, he appears behind his father. The similarities are alarming, but the contrast in the demeanour of their gazes is like night and day. While his father's eyes are cold and hollow, Jaewook's immediately make me feel a bit better. His sweet eyes round when he sees me. "What are you doing here?" He moves past his father and he stumbles back. Then he starts to shout at his son again. His dad grabs his wrist harshly. Still in a daze, my hand moves into my pocket to take out my phone. The only thing my brain can comprehend is the need to call for help. The blood on Jaewook and the fear in his mother's eyes are enough for me to do it. But Jaewook pulls out of his grasp, pushes against me out the door and closes it. "You can't!" He yells frantically. "Whu—why?" I sound so small as I stare at him with crossed eyebrows and blurry eyes. I feel broken, and like I've shrunken in size. "Because!" His shrill tone causes me to wince. He's never yelled at me in this way before. "Destiny," his tone softens as he grabs my hand and enters my own house, looking back as if to make sure his father doesn't follow. Once we're inside, he lightly pushes me against the wall and embraces me. My head is smothered against his sweaty neck as incoherent noises I didn't realize were coming from me fill the room. "Shh," his hand is behind my head as he holds me. I can smell the lingering liquor of his father and the slight metallic scent of blood. "Jaewook," my voice is childlike as I whimper his name, clutching his shirt now as I cry against him. "Jaewook, why?" His hands move to grasp onto my thighs. "Up," he mutters as he tries to pull me off my feet. I wrap my arms around his neck and jump up so he can hold me. He somehow navigates through the dim kitchen and heads to my bedroom. My face is still cradled into the curve of his neck as I try my best to stop crying. Before dating him, I don't remember the last time I cried. Now look at me. The light is still on in my room as he makes his way to the bed. He turns around and sits on the edge, me still held against him on his lap now. I don't want to look at him, I don't want to see the damage or for him to see how much it affects me. "Sweetie," his hand is petting my hair as he urges me to retreat from the safety of his neck. "Look at me baby." I whine and shake my head against him. "I need to see your face right now." Dammit, don't say that. You know I'd do anything for you at this point. I reluctantly pull away and quickly wipe the snot and tears on my face before he sees it. When I see his damaged face my eyebrows knot again in agony. "Why won't you let me help you?" His eyes divert my gaze and instead watch his fingers as they play with my hair. "My dad owns this family. My mom hasn't made one dollar for herself and neither have I. She has no money saved up. My father doesn't want a divorce and if we leave, we have nothing, and trying to prove domestic violence is a lot trickier in this damn country than it should be. We have nowhere to go, no one to turn to since my grandparents are gone." I know this. I know it all. But I just wish that my willing for it to not be this way would be enough. I lean into him a bit so that my nose lays against his, my hands holding his face. "I don't like this," I simply whisper. "I know. I just need to wait a bit more. Just a bit more time and I'll find a way." His eyes look up into mine. At this close proximity, I can see each stroke of black on his irises, each spec of brown as they swirl together to create him—undeniably my favourite part of him. The glass spheres that so clearly show the emotions beyond them, that open up to everything he is composed of, that seem to give me a glimpse of the very entity of his soul. And while I've never been one to feel such powerful emotions from something as simple as a pair of eyes, I've forgotten what it's like to not feel so much, too much, when I'm with him. "I love you," I barely get out through my obscured vocal chords. "I love you too," he confidently responds, his vocal tone heaps stronger than mine despite him being the one injured. Despite not wanting to look away from his eyes, because they are the only part of his face that isn't somewhat hurt, I force my gaze away. I get up off his lap and grab onto his hand. Leading him up and to the bathroom, he silently follows me.