A text alert jolts you awake. You spring halfway up to sitting and your head spins at the sudden movement. Your skull is pounding and heavy. Early evening light pours in through a slit in your blinds making everything a thousand times worse. You drank far too much last night. The contents of your stomach slosh around in protest.
With great effort you picked up your phone from where it's charging beside you. The text is from Henry reading: "I'm here." Your eyes, barely open before snap alert. You had a date.
In the quickest text of your life, you reply: "Shit! I overslept! I'm so sick."
Henry replies within seconds. "Let me in."
You can think of worse times he could see you, but all of them involve you being dead. Reluctantly you pull off your blankets toss your phone down and walk toward the front door. You're wearing last night's clothes rumpled from tossing and turning everywhere. They stick to you in uncomfortable ways. You don't bother to check your hair at all the mirror. You don't deserve to be seen even by yourself.
When you open the door Henry is already standing there. Through your brain fog you manage to notice he's bare-faced and wearing mostly black. Looking far more handsome and put-together than of which you feel worthy. Nothing new. His expression is either concern or very in shock. The latter seems more likely. Henry's first action on your non-date is to look just above you and reach up to smooth your hair. You should have checked the mirror.
"I'm sorry," you say as you step aside. "The party ended really late. My friends kept giving me drinks."
Henry takes off his shoes by the door. As he does he then just stares at you in silent judgment. Henry asks after a few seconds "Do you have stuff for haejangguk?"
It's hard to remember but you are very sure you didn't eat everything in your fridge last night. Pretty sure. "Yeah, I should."
"Okay" he responds heading toward the kitchen. "Go take a shower and I'll make it."
You grumble "At least I'm not face-down on the floor dressed like a reindeer" loud enough for him to hear. You trudge to your room for a change of clothes. Henry calls something after you just before you close the door.
After your shower you still feel gross. However it's more gross on the inside than out. You were supposed to have a fun date today. A fun date with a new boyfriend and absolutely no unplanned sickness. Instead he's in your kitchen making you hangover soup like you're his drunk uncle. You didn't even have time to make yourself a pretty drunk uncle. What a fucking great impression.
Convinced you've already shown him the worst side of you changing into your favorite pajamas and going bare-faced doesn't seem so bad. When you approach Henry still at the stove he doesn't seem to mind.
"You look cute" Henry says as he's stirring the soup with a large spoon.
"Don't lie," you scold looking up at him.
Henry stops stirring and scoops up some broth holding it up for you to taste. "I don't lie well."
You slurp up the entire spoonful. Whatever Henry did it's better than when you made it for yourself. You give him your seal of approval and he smiles.
The two of you eat together and afterward end up on the couch. Henry sits upright while you lie down on your side with your head in his lap. Your eyes are closed. Henry is watching something on TV but the volume is so low you can't quite make it out. You said he could turn it up but he didn't want to make your headache worse. With one hand he massages the base of your skull and around your temple. After a few minutes he pauses to run his fingers through your still slightly damp hair
"I'm sorry I ruined everything," you say during what you think is a commercial.
Henry's hand the. pauses but soon is massaging again. "You didn't ruin it. We can go next time."
"You weren't supposed to see me like this." Your reply comes more matter of fact less whiny than it sounded in your head.
"Like what? You told me you were going there last night."
You do remember that. Henry told you to text him when you got home. You think you did but it probably wasn't coherent. "All ugly and sick. No one wants to see that when they first start dating someone."
Henry applies a bit more pressure with his fingertips. Those piano fingers feel good. "If it had been me instead would you be mad?"
"A little. You would have known we had plans today." Your headache begins to melt wherever he touches. It doesn't disappear but you don't notice the pain as much.
"Okay but would you break up with me because of it? Because I wouldn't look like I were going to a schedule? I don't even look like that now."
Without thinking you shake your head. Instantly you regret it. "No."
Henry exhales and pauses to rest his hand. "I don't like you only because you're pretty. You are but there are more important things. Like how you treat your family and friends and how forgiving you are how well we understand each other and how supportive you are. The way I feel when I'm around you. Neither of us will look like this forever."
"So, how do you feel now?"
There's a long pause. You assume because Henry was working up the courage. He's already said more than usual at once. Henry starts massaging again. "Happy Comfortable." Another pause. In your mind you see him biting his lip. You're probably not wrong. "How do you feel?"
You repeat his words and add " Definitely Less ashamed of myself."
"You do it again and you should be ashamed," he says half-joking. Henry stops the massage just long enough to softly chop your neck.
"Don't worry," you reply with a feeble laugh. You bring your hand up to squeeze his knee next to your face. "I won't."