All My Words for You | TXT Huening Kai

Chapter 8

Huening Kai brings me to his team's apartment at least a few times a week. Each time, I'm met with little to no resistance from my parents. Perhaps they see what I see in this boy, an abundance of daylight mixed with innocence and some playfulness they deem healthy for me. The first visit, I watch as the members gather in the kitchen and make chaos of an attempt at a beef stew recipe. After cringing for a few minutes too long, I offer to help. Thanks to my father's training in the kitchen, I cook up a meal that makes the team groan in pleasure after the first couple bites.

After this visit, Huening Kai gives me his Kakao Talk ID, and I add him immediately when I get home. I have a million messages ready in my head, but I decide to wait before sending him anything. I feel like text messages are my true chance at a first impression with someone. What should my first words be for Huening Kai? Hello? No, it's much too simple and boring—like my life before meeting him. I loved spending time with you last night! No, it rings of the same tone, and it holds no substance to all the pretty words he showers me with every time we're together.

I sleep, and my phone flies into my hands the next day, a magnetic force guiding it. I type without thinking.

When can I hold your hand next?

I look at the words I've typed in the message box, laughing at the idea of sending it. I... can't say I'm totally oblivious to what happened last night. As he wanted to hold my hand, and that certainly has to mean something. Unless I'm missing something between the cultural barriers? Anyway, it would certainly be inappropriate to send this. He hasn't even had time to change his mind on me. After all, I never hold anyone's attention for long.

In the haze of dawn, the sleepiness carries me back into an in-between state. As my lids turn heavy, I drop my phone on my chest. I gasp at the knock against my sternum. Turning my phone over, I see that my message has been sent.

Covering my head with a pillow, I let out a wail reserved for my most embarrassing moments. Like when I tried to film myself in a flower shop and was promptly chased away by the owner. I had no way to explain myself—that I was trying to film for YouTube, not to spy on her latest floral designs.

I'm close to throwing my phone into the closet when it rings upon reply.

Immediately, anxiety like thick syrup fills my chest. It feels as if my home has been intruded by a thousand listening strangers. I'm no longer in my safe bubble, and my whole state of being can be rocked just by a few single words on the screen.

With trembling hands, I turn the screen over—reading quickly as if to rip off a bandaid.

What are you talking about, silly? :P You don't have to make an appointment. Hold my hand anytime you want to!