47-1

Once I come to, I'm in his arms again. At first, I feel déjà vu, thinking that I'm back to what happened just after Jaewook knocked his father out. But then I feel myself get placed softly on something comfortable. I have no sense of direction, of time or place—I just feel like I'm floating through life, like my conscious has separated from my body. Still having trouble breathing, I finally gain the strength to open my eyes. Jaewook is watching me with a frantic look on his face. His hands are shaking immensely, his mouth open as he breathes heavily. "Noona, it's okay now," he says but it sounds like a question, like he's not quite sure if what he's saying is true. All I can do is look back at him with slowly blinking eyes as I try to make sense of what has happened. My throat hurts too much to speak. His eyes wander to my neck, and he winces when he lightly touches my skin. I can imagine it's red, maybe even turning purple already. He hangs his head down and falls on his knees beside the unknown bed. He pulls at his hair. "I'm so so sorry, I'm so sorry," he repeats over and over again, like a broken toy. "Jaewoo—" my word falls away from me when I try to say it. He looks at me again, eyes still wide and incredibly round in worry. My arm trembles as I lift it, fingers searching for his face. I make contact with it, tears pouring from my eyes soundlessly as I run my fingertips along the swollen and bloody skin. "Go to sleep, hm? Just go to sleep for now," he whispers to me as his own tears break through. He tries to wipe them away hastily, like he's upset that he's not being tough. I smile softly and pull his arm, asking him to sleep too. So he climbs on the bed, moving over to the other side of me. He lightly holds me in his arms as I close my eyes and try to sleep. Somehow I do, but it's probably only because my brain is still in shock. . . . When my eyes open later, I notice that Jaewook is staring at the ceiling. He must have never slept. The blood on his face is getting hard now. I tug on his shirt and he turns to look at me in surprise. "Wash up—" I try to say. "Don't talk, Okay?" He softly says as he strokes my cheek. He gets off the bed and reaches his hand out for me. "Can you stand?" He asks. I nod and slowly get up. Following him through this foreign room, we make it to a bathroom. It's then that my brain finally processes the information around me. This bathroom is familiar. It's Hansoo's house. I sit on the closed toilet, catching my breath which is already winded, as he turns on the shower. He undresses and motions for me to stand. I do my best to slip my clothes off, but he has to help me. And for the first time in this relationship, there is nothing sexual about what's happening. Instead, all we feel is broken. Two broken people who need all the help they can get from one another, who cannot rely on anyone but each other, not even themselves. And this broken, helpless feeling carries into the shower. At first, I just stand under the warm water, wishing for it to get rid of all the anguish I feel. Eventually, as I drown myself in the rain of water, Jaewook puts something on my hair and begins to massage my head. He shampoos my hair silently as I continue to stand like a statue. My hands shake as they move up to feel my neck, and I wince from the pain that the soft touch brings. I gasp as I search for air again. The pain is so severe that it makes me wonder, will I ever be able the breathe normally again? This leads my thoughts to spiral. Is his father knocked out? How long has it been? Did his mother find somewhere safe to stay? What do I tell Zen when I see him next? Shouldn't we call the police just in case his father isn't awake yet? What if I'm in danger? What if I suffered brain damage and just have no idea? "Shh," Jaewook hushes me from behind as my breathing grows way too loud and sporadic. His hands move to hold onto my waist, his head lying on my shoulder as he hushes me, but it just seems to make it worse. I just cry more, except the sobbing feels like I'm being shot from the inside out as it pushes through my damaged throat. "Shh, baby, it's over now. I promise." When my breathing finally settles as best as it can, he slowly pushes me so that the water can wash the suds off my hair. His hands move through it slowly, nails raking through my hair in a heavenly way. If it was any other night I would probably moan and fall victim to him, begging for him. But today is so different, like we've fallen into a whole new dimension. Even as he repeats with conditioner, all I can do is lean back into him as I grow exhausted. Once he rinses the conditioner out, fingers running through my now soft hair one more time, he hugs me, and lips coming to lightly kiss the side of my face. His pecks move from my cheek to the back of my head and down my back. With one last hug he whispers, "I love you," and these words pierce through my skin. As much as I wish I never met him so that I could live my normal boring life, I know I also love him too much to turn back. Slowly I turn around, needing to see his soft face again. My hands come to hold his face as I look at his wounds. I move behind him and push him under the water. Then I grab his face again as the clear water rushes through his hair, cascading down his features. All the while he just watches me with sad eyes. I softly touch a cut above his eyebrow, pausing when he flinches. I carry on after to try and clean the dry blood from it. Then I do the same with the blood on his right cheek, and finally his lip, which is swollen and shaping into a permanent pout. This one clearly hurts the most as he hisses from my cleaning. Then I wash his hair as he did for me. His eyes close after awhile, his head hanging over my shoulder as he wavers from tiredness. I take some body soap and lather it on my hands before cleaning his chest. It's already littered in purple spots. His muscles twitch slightly as I clean the sore skin. I seem to drift off into another dimension as my hands continue to run along his smooth skin; over his shoulders, his abdominals, his arms. All the while he just watches me with eyelids heavy. Eventually, he takes soap into his own hands and does the same to me, starting with my arms. My own hands stop their movements as his hands work magic over my skin. Gliding over my chest and around my waist, he suddenly pulls me close to him so that our skin makes contact. His hands hold onto my waist as he leans his head down to kiss my lips. More supple touches of his lips on mine before he leans his forehead onto mine. "I'm going to fix this, I promise." His protective persona continues to show as he blow dries my hair for me, lips coming in contact with my bare back and neck at times. And despite telling him I'm fine, he insists on lifting me up and carrying me back to bed. He crawls under the foreign sheets with me, eyes not leaving my face for a second as he strokes my hair. "Baby," I painfully whisper out. "Shh," he softly shushes. "I love you," I say before closing my eyes and falling asleep again. . . .