"I'm about 10 seconds away from having a breakdown and making it everyone's problem."
I sighed, not even looking up from the cucumbers I was crushing. "What's wrong this time, Minho?"
"Life."
He let out a genuinely terrifying laugh, sounding like he was insane as I stopped chopping and looked to my side, adjusting the clear mask on my face. Minho stared with wide, blank eyes at the example plate on the table in front of us, the very reason why he was slowly loosing it.
A consummé.
Consummés are generally hard to make. The soup itself is clear, which is what makes it so difficult, as most the time when you boil down meats their fat makes the liquid cloudy. So, in other words, it was already awful. When our professor placed the dish down in front of us, we were already preparing to be working for a long time.
And then she said to be creative.
Which translates to 'if you use something easy, I'm counting off half of your points'.
The 'awful' turned to 'I literally want to throw myself out of that window'.
Especially when you add the fact that Minho and I are try-hards, and decided to create a consummé that reflected the Korean culture by using kimchi.
That was the part Minho was struggling with.
"It's not freaking clear!" Minho put a lid over the pot, letting out a sound of frustration as he made himself turn away. He stopped as he looked at his glove. "Wow. I broke my glove. Fantastic. I'm going to throw myself into an air fryer."
"Calm down, it's not that bad," I said, trying to talk him down.
Minho aggressively took off his gloves and threw them in the trash can, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
My eyes flitted over to the professor across the room helping another group and I sighed again, putting down my knife. I rolled my eyes at the brunet, walking over to look at his pot of kimchi consummé.
"You're such a child," I muttered, lifting the lid up so I could see. "It literally looks fine. It's not even foggy."
Minho leaned over my shoulder. "Can you not see the cloudiness there?"
"I swear that's your shadow."
"Are you blind?"
I placed the lid back down, walking back over to my counter space and picking up the knife. "Minho, we already made a pork cutlet and I'm working on the smashed cucumbers. All we have left is the consummé."
"It's not clear. I'm not serving it."
I actually wanted to scream. The last time Minho got in one of these 'moods', he swore to never make the dish again. It's been almost three years since he banned crème brûlée.
Looks like consummé is next.
And I need my grade.
So I could not care less what he wants. He is finishing our presentation.
"We have to serve something, Minho," I started, sprinkling salt over the cucumbers. "What are you serving then?"
Minho snapped on a new glove. "These hands."
That's it.
We're going to fail.
I wasn't paying attention well enough to the knife in my hands, my only worry just the grade I might get. The blade sliced through the area of my palm that met my thumb and I hissed, placing the knife down on the counter as I moved my hand away from the food. Minho immediately was at my side as he carefully removed the glove and pressed a towel against my palm. The cut itself wasn't very big, but it was deep enough to draw blood so I couldn't continue my work until it was properly bandaged.
"Well dang, Min Haewon. I didn't mean literally," Minho said, still pressing on the towel.
I winced, the cut stinging. "I couldn't help myself."
"Go get some bandages from the storage room," Minho said. "And keep pressure on this while you're at it."
I rolled my eyes but turned around anyways, heading toward the storage closet connected to the room.
Minho had other plans.
He yanked me back by my wrist.
"What is wrong with you?" I hissed, glancing over at the teacher who still wasn't paying attention.
He narrowed his eyes. "Go to the other storage room," he stated.
I took my wrist out of his hold and crossed my arms. "Why would I do that?"
"Because I said so."
"That's just giving me another reason not to."
Minho sighed, then glanced at the door to the small storage room. "That one's out of bandages."
"It's never out of bandages," I huffed. "Try again."
"Today it is," Minho waved off my words. "Go to the one down the hall."
I furrowed my eyebrows together, staring at the brunet as I tried to puzzle out what exactly he was trying to do. He stared right back at me, unblinking, as the two of us started a silent staring contest.
This is stupid. Why would he want me to go out of my way to a storage closet at the opposite end of the hall? Sure, it was much bigger, but the whole thing is unnecessary when there's first aid stuff right here. Is he trying to get rid of me? Does he want to throw away the consummé as soon as I leave and start over?? Absolutely not! I'm not staying for more hours than I have to because he's pitching a tantrum! I won't lose this.
Minho clapped.
I blinked.
Minho's lips broke into a smirk as I cursed at myself and him. "You're such a cheater!"
"I won," Minho announced. "Now go to the storage room down the hall and fix yourself."
I grabbed my phone from its place on the counter. "You're so dramatic, you know that?"
Pointing at him, I added, "Finish my cucumbers while I'm gone, and don't you dare throw away the consummé!"
Minho rolled his eyes as he pulled out his phone again. "Fine, fine. Now go."
I muttered under my breath as I left the classroom. His mood today is pissing me off. To be fair, I haven't been in a good mood all day either, feeling off and on sickness that hasn't seemed to stop. Even Minho's nausea pills didn't seem to work, though I didn't tell him that. I wasn't able to keep down my lunch and I haven't been hungry since.
I can only run to the bathroom so many times in a day before people start to realize I'm sick.
At least the toilet can get rid of all the petals.
I reached for the handle of the storage room, pulling it open with a scowl. Why does he even want me to go this far anyways? I literally saw bandages in the other storage room when I grabbed a pot earlier. It makes no sense! He's such a liar. He's a cheater and a liar.
I'm telling the cats.
I squinted as light from the big window hit my eyes, walking over to a sink attached to the wall. By this point, blood had started to seep through the towel Minho handed me and was running slowly down the side of my hand.
My mind suddenly went to a white hospital bed, covered in pink and blue petals of every shape and size that were lying in a pool of blood that just kept getting bigger and bigger....
I quickly turned on the sink, sticking my hand under the water to drown out the red.
Now is not the time to think about that.
With one hand under the faucet, I took the cap that was holding my hair off and placed it on the counter, the water turning pink as I watched. I feel like that's the only color I see nowadays, that and red. I ruffled my hair with my free hand, trying not to let my mind go back to that thought.
I turned off the faucet, tired of holding my arm there. Already the blood was coming back, but I forced myself not to look at it as I turned to the row of shelves on the wall and took off my mask.
"Now where are they?" I muttered, eyes scanning up and down the shelves.
I needed to cover it up if I wanted to go back to the class, and Minho was probably making chaos while I was gone. What a brat. If he threw away any of the food I am genuinely going to fight him, and what was with him checking his phone every five seconds? I know it wasn't a girl, no one's that crazy.
My thoughts were broken by the buzz of my phone.
I reached into my pocket, holding my injured hand up so I wouldn't get blood on my apron, or worse, my clothes. Laundry machines aren't cheap, and blood is hard to get out. I already have enough problems.
On my phone was a text from Chan.
Channie
Look out the window
The window?
Why would I need to look out the—?
Minho.
That little freak.
He did not—
My phone dinged again.
Channie
Haewonieeee
I can see that you read it
Just look
I smiled to myself. "So needy," I whispered, but I walked toward the window regardless.
The second our eyes met, Chan's lips broke out into a smile.
He was standing in the courtyard grass below the window, leaning against the trunk of a big tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair was messy, like he'd been swimming and had just let it dry however it wanted to. He was wearing a fuzzy light purple sweater that was slightly oversized over a pair of ripped jeans. I've never seen that sweater before. I know what I'm stealing from his closet next.
From a floor below, Chan mimed for me to open the window. I rolled my eyes like his dimples hadn't already convinced me before he even asked.
A wince made its way through my body as I tried to use both hands to push the window up, the cut stinging with every movement. Finally the glass slid and the sudden breeze from outside threw strands of my hair in front of my eyes.
I leaned partially out the window, pushing my hair back with one hand. "I would ask why you're here," I said. "But I have a feeling that I don't want to know."
"Actually, I think you do," Chan grinned.
A smile fixed itself on my lips. "Yea? And why would that be?"
"Come down here and find out."
I laughed. "Yea sure, let me just...launch myself out the window!"
Even laughing, I could see the boy below me roll his eyes and shake his head.
"Don't tell me you're serious," I said.
"Just go out onto the little roof outside the window and use the tree," Chan responded.
"Oh no, you are serious."
I stared with wide eyes as I looked at the path he wanted me to do. No, absolutely not! There are way to many options for death there. I won't.
"It's either that or get caught again by your overbearing teacher in the hallway," Chan said. "Come on, I'll catch you if you fall."
I bit my lip, trying to think. If I tried to go through the hallway to meet up with Chan, my culinary teacher would definitely catch me. She may not pay attention to Minho and I in class, but as soon as one of us tries to ditch or something, I swear she grows eyes in the back of her head. It's like she enjoys making us do extra tasks. It's not like Minho and I meant for her to overhear us making fun of her mispronouncing a word. What a grudge-holder.
And, if I went with Chan, he could notice I was sick.
I needed to get out of it.
What do I do? If I hadn't cut my hand, I would be in this situa—
My hand.
I'm a genius.
Without hesitation, I lifted my arm so Chan could see my palm, blood running slowly down my wrist. Please let this work. Please.
"I can't climb," I said.
I saw Chan's eyes widen. "What happened??" He said, concern filling his voice.
"I tried to stab Minho," I lied.
"Really?"
"No."
"Okay, well, stay right there," Chan said. "I'm coming up."
I turned toward the shelves on the wall. "Really, Chan there's no need. There should be some—" I turned to look out the window "—right here—Chan get out of the tree!"
"Why would I do that?" He said, using another branch to pull himself up. I could hear a smirk in his voice.
I looked around the empty courtyard. "Because it's not that serious!"
"Not going to stop me."
"Use the door like a normal person!"
"You know my card doesn't swipe into this building."
I let out a sound of frustration. What is wrong with him?? "I could've just given you mine!" I said, feeling around my pockets.
Chan paused as his sweater got caught on a branch, looking up at me and the way I was checking the same pocket five times. "You left your keycard at home, remember? You told me this morning because you wanted something from the vending machine."
Crap. I forgot.
He literally brought me those chips because I left my card. Not that it mattered that much because I threw it up ten minutes later.
I looked down without responding, patting the sides of my jeans like the card would magically appear. "Just get out of the tree!"
"Okay."
I paused.
That voice was much closer than it should have been.
I raised my head to see Chan standing on the ledge outside the window, leaning forward on the windowsill with a smug smile on his face.
"I'm out of the tree," he said.
I shook my head. "You freaking idiot."
He took my hand as I helped him through the window, brushing a few leaves off his sweater. I quickly reached up and removed one from his hair before slapping the back of his head.
"What was that for??" He said, putting his hand there.
I crossed my arms over my chest, careful not to get blood on myself. "Take a wild guess."
Chan's pout turned to a grin, his eyes forming crescents as his dimples came out. "Aww, don't tell me you were worried for me."
"Actually, I was worried for me," I defended. "You could've gotten me in trouble."
"Everything's fine," he calmly said. "Now, let me see your hand."
"No."
Chan raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to bleed out?"
It's a cut. "Yes."
"Fine."
Chan reached for my hand and I swung it away. I could do it myself. I didn't need him to climb a stupid tree and embarrass me so my hand could be fixed.
"Won~ Give me your hand please," Chan said, a teasing lilt in his voice.
I backed up. "No."
"Wonnie."
"No."
"Haewon."
"I said no!" I moved away as he reached for me again. "Do you want to hear it in your native language? Naur naur naur naur naur!"
Chan was smiling as I stared him down. He was enjoying this! Well, too bad! I can do it myself, and I wasn't backing down!
He dramatically sighed, folding his arms over his fuzzy purple sweater that I was going to steal. "Fine, Min Haewon. You leave me no choice."
"What the frick are you—"
Everything happened so fast.
I expected him to reach for my hand again, and I made myself turn so that arm was the furthest away.
What I didn't expect was his hand wrapping around my waist.
His arm pulled me into him, and I was so frozen with shock that I didn't realize how close we were until my nose almost brushed his jaw. He was so close that one wrong move and I might kiss him, not that I would mind.
"Got you," Chan whispered.
You sure did.
I felt his hand gently close over the wrist of my injured hand, pulling it closer and putting space between the two of us. I took a shaky breath, fighting to regain the self-control I almost lost.
"It's not....awful," Chan said, examining the cut on my palm.
"That's what I thought too," I carefully said, trying to sound normal and not like I've just had five mini heart attacks. "But it won't seem to stop bleeding."
"That's because there's a major artery in the wrist," he explained. "The best thing we can do is bandage it. You're lucky you don't need stitches."
"You're lucky you don't need stitches."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
He set my hand over the sink, away from the rest of my body. I guess he was just breaking all of my expectations today, because suddenly his hands were back on my waist. He easily lifted me onto the counter as I stared at him shocked. As soon as I was on the counter, Chan let go, placing his hand on either side of me as he leaned forward slightly. He was grinning, his dimples set deep into his cheeks as he looked at me.
"Let me go find those bandages for you," he said.
As soon as he left it felt like I could breathe again.
I could feel the petals moving around in my chest, swirling as I watched him view the line of shelves. At least, I thought they were petals, but now I'm getting confused. I slapped my cheek lightly, trying to get myself under control. This was a bad situation for me. I was falling, and I couldn't tell if I wanted to be caught.
The sound of running water woke me up from my thoughts. Chan was moving my hand gently under the faucet, trying to get as much blood off as he could. He ran his thumb along the cut, frowning slightly to himself before moving to stand closer to me.
Stop.
I can't handle this.
I was going to lose it, and all because Chan was now standing in the space between my legs.
Control yourself, Haewon. You're better than this.
But he's so....
Djkdnsbdbskslsmdmdm.
I need help.
Don't kiss him don't kiss him don't kiss him don't kiss him—
Chan leaned forward slightly, eyes focused on my injured hand. "Sorry," he murmured, wincing as I flinched from the sting of the medicine on the cut. He carefully wrapped a bandage around it as I stared at the familiar way his brow furrowed when he thought, the small flecks of color in his eyes as the light overhead glimmered off his irises.
I felt something hard filled my stomach, cold but churning with unshed petals. I knew what this was, even though I tried to push it so deep inside of me that I could convince myself of something different. I was angry. I was bitter.
I was jealous.
Because no matter what happens next, I can't keep this moment for the rest of my life. I can't expect him to be this close to me ever again. All these moments that I wanted to stay frozen in would happen with someone else, and not me.
It hurt.
I looked at his hand in mine, debating slowly.
If I couldn't keep this moment, if I can't ever have this moment again, then I was going to make the most of it.
Just this once, I'll pretend he is mine.
My wingman would be proud.
"What are you doing here, Channie?" I whispered.
He paused for a split second, then focused back on his task. "I climbed a tree."
"That's not what I—" I sighed, but despite myself a smile grew on my lips. "Why did you come in the first place?"
"It's Wednesday."
He said it so simply I almost didn't process what he meant by those two words. Then the memory hit me like a train.
"What about Wednesday, Chan?"
He remembered.
My lips parted. "You...."
Chan finished tying off the bandage on my hand, looking up to meet my eyes with his beautiful dimpled smile. "I told you before, Wonnie, it's a date." He tilted his head. "Why would I ever forget that?"
"But—I'm in class," I quickly replied. "You have swim practice, how are we supposed to—"
"Do you really think I planned to meet you in a random storage room by myself?" Chan laughed. "Minho the one that figured out how to get you out of class. The knife probably wasn't in the plan but I wouldn't completely rule it out. He already texted me to say he covered for you, and Felix told my coach I was sick so it looks we're both free."
Minho did that? To get me to go out with Chan? Why was this starting to feel more like an actual date than the friend date it was before?
My lips formed a smirk. "Are you telling me to ditch class, Chan?"
"I would never tell you to do anything," he responded, tilting his head. "But I am asking you if you want to go somewhere with me."
I think I'm going to have a heart attack.
Calm down, he's not flirting.
That would make no sense.
But as I looked into his eyes, I could almost believe there was some kind of....teasing there. No, he's just acting normal. He's being my best friend, I'm sure we've....teased each other like this before?
Still, it made my heart stop in my chest and the petals in my stomach float like butterflies.
I just wish he meant it like I did.
"So...." Chan dragged out. "What do you say? Will you run away with me?"
I grinned. "If you insist."
- - _ - - _ - - _ - - _ -- _ - - _ - - _ - - _ - -
I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! Sorry it took long, I've had exams and stuff that I needed to put first.
So what do you think? Is it a date, or is it something else entirely?
*In one of their first cooking classes, Minho and Haewon were shown the process of making a crème brûlée, and then told to replicate it. Minho got it right on his first try. Instead of accepting his work, the professor made him do it again, not believing it to be perfect on a new students first attempt. After making the dessert ten times, Minho's crème brûlée was finally seen as "perfect", but before the professor could even try it Minho threw it in the trash. He was so pissed that he promised never to sell or make it ever again*
Don't forget to like/comment if you liked this chapter!