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My left leg is asleep before I am: a travesty of epic proportions.
Mrs. Jeon is frantic. Jeongguk and I sit patiently at the marble island and watch her pace to and fro through the kitchen, muttering to herself. Every once in a while she'll pause to jot down something on her every-growing list of Things Jeongguk and Taehee Must Not Forget. Then she's up and moving again and I'm slumping in defeat knowing our debrief is long from over.
She's been at it since I arrived after dinner.
It's almost midnight.
Even my leg knows it's past my bedtime.
Just as I begin to lose all hope in humanity she finally calls it a night, albeit still looking worried. As she and Jeongguk help me with my bags, she rattles off important details that have been repeated so many times they're practically imprinted on the back of my eyelids.
Under no circumstances are we to have people over. There is a difference between our grocery money, necessities money, gas money, spending money and fun money: we are not to confuse it. The maid comes Mondays and Fridays and the house is to be cleaned before she arrives. Iseul is not to have his technology past eight. Chul and Sejun won't be able to sleep without a nightlight or a bedtime story.
As we move I barely keep up - not just from exhaustion but the rush of spidery tingles that crawls up my leg. The curving grand staircase is a particular brand of torture sent straight from hell. When Jeongguk finally stops to pull open one of the many unmarked doors in the hallway - indicating this will be my bedroom for the next three weeks - I almost shed tears of relief.
The room is large and spacious, furnished with a desk, a walk-in closet, an on-suit bathroom and a vanity stacked high with packages of unopened beauty products — thank you gifts, Mrs. Jeon explains with a weary smile. The french doors that lead out to a balcony are thrown open and the humid breeze sticks to my skin. A large four poster bed dominates the space, dressed with a plush grey duvet, fluffy white blankets and overflowing with pillows.
It takes every every molecule in my body to keep from flinging myself straight into the bed.
Jeongguk leaves without a word but Mrs. Jeon stays to help me organize some of my things. I don't have much so it doesn't take long. When finished, she pulls me in for a long hug.
"Our flight leaves first thing in the morning. Hyuk should be bringing the boys by at around seven." Mrs. Jeon presses a tender kiss between my brows before smoothing my hair back. "Get some sleep, Taehee."
I don't need to be told twice.
As soon as my head sinks into the pillows I'm out like a light.
•••
The sound of crinkling plastic and paper being torn pulls me from my slumber.
Disoriented, I push myself up on my elbows, one eye screwed shut against the harsh rays of sunlight. It takes a moment to realize that this isn't my bed nor my room.
And this certainly isn't my kid.
A child no taller then my waist stands at the vanity, using the stool to add a few inches to his height. A ring of packaging and soiled tissues encircles him and I realize it's the gifts from Mrs. Jeon that he's been opening. From my angle on the bed, I can make out a sliver of his reflexion in the mirror. I barely swallow my gasp at the bright pigment that stains his eyes, cheeks and lips.
This must be one half of double trouble.
"Can you help me?"
It registers after a few seconds that the boy is talking to me. He looks back at me, shoulder length chestnut hair stuck to cherry cheeks, lower lip quivering and almond eyes wet with tears. A stick of eyeliner rests dejectedly in his hand. My heart sinks at the sight.
I offer him a soft smile, throwing the covers off my body. "Of course I'll help you."
He swipes at his eyes, smearing product across his face. "Really?"
"I'd love to."
Hope and gratitude blooms in the boy's expression. He takes one last look at his reflexion before hopping down from the stool and racing to my bathroom.
As I wait for him to return I attempt to bring some order back to the vanity. Then I randomly set aside various tubes and containers of shades that I hope will do the trick. Half I can't even identify. It's not that I'm bad at makeup — just ill practised. Makeup and fashion are more of Nayeon's domain.
The boy returns with a fresh face, red and dripping with water. He smiles brightly as he clambers back up on the seat, kicking his legs out excitedly. Cute.
I grab a nondescript tub of cream and begin my work.
"I'm Sejun," the brunette introduces, flashing a toothy smile. He's missing his two front teeth. "Chul is my twin. We don't look alike though. My hair is longer."
"I'm Taehee. And I think your hair is really cool."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Sejun says with a mock professional accent. "Do you wear a lot of makeup?"
"Sometimes," I muse. "I'm not that good though and I don't usually have much time."
"Why?"
I shrug. "There's lots to do. I have to study, go to work, sleep...eat!" I teasingly poke his belly and Sejun dissolves in giggles. "That's my favourite part of the day."
"Me too!"
"What's your favourite food?"
Eyes like crescent moons Sejun babbles on, allowing me to transform his features. Obviously ice cream, silly was his answer, to which we both agreed chocolate was the best flavour rivalled only by cookie dough. We discussed his favourite subjects in school (Languages and Music), what him and his friends liked to do for fun and this new book he's reading (his first chapter book!) about dragons and princesses.
Where Iseul has the same streak of mischief as his brother, Sejun is an absolute angel.
Once I'm finished with his makeup, I ask him: "do you want me to do your hair?"
He nods his head so vigorously that I laugh.
I spend the next little while listening to Sejun talk as I run a brush through his hair, untangling the messy locks. He runs his mouth like a river, chatting my ear off with non-stop blabber. With nimble fingers, I separate and twist his hair into twin french braids, trying hard on my end to keep up.
When I'm finished, Sejun's smile is absolutely earth shattering.
I watch him admire the hairstyle and his makeup from all angles, a curious look of awe dancing across his features. As a finishing touch, I dig through my suitcase and produce a sparkly headband which I place upon his head like a crown.
"There," I say softly, resting my hands on his shoulders. "A crown fit for royalty."
His cheeks flush an elated shade of pink. "I look like a princess!"
"The prettiest princess in all the lands."
With one last longing glance in the mirror, Sejun hops down from the stool and wraps his tiny arms around my legs in a ferocious bear hug. I almost topple over from the sheer force of it and laugh as he begins to jump up and down while chanting, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
However upon catching sight of something behind my hip he's relinquishing his hold on me with a shout.
In the open doorway stands a near carbon copy of Sejun cowering behind a frozen Jeongguk, who's brows are raised, eyes sparkling, arm posed as if he were about to knock. He's sporting bed head and a grey sweat set, looking impossibly good despite the ungodliness of the hour. Dark circles hint at a lack of sleep but hide well when he grins down at the boy who barrels towards him.
Then suddenly he's ducking out of sight, arms shooting out to catch a soaring Sejun who throws himself at the elder with a shrieking shout of, "Jeonggukie!"
Jeongguk whips a squealing Sejun through the air, spinning him once before playfully slamming him down on the bed. Sejun's attempt at escape is futile as Jeongguk climbs on after him and proceeds to tickle the poor child senseless, all while laughing and teasing the younger to say the magic word! Say the magic word, Sejunnie!
My lips tug upwards as the scene plays out.
Jeongguk may be an annoying little shit but I can't argue that he's great with kids.
Sejun finally gains the upper hand (which Jeongguk easily concedes) and he releases a vicious battle cry. He climbs atop Jeongguk who lies flat on his back, hands raised in mock defeat as he himself struggles to catch his breath.
"Okay, okay!" Jeongguk gasps, his voice strained as Sejun begins to bounce on top of his stomach. "I give up. You win. Just this once."
Sejun hoots victoriously, giving one more bounce for good measure before he sits back on his heels, pink faced and proud. "Did you see my hair, Gukie?"
"It looks really good. Did you do it yourself?"
"Nope! Taehee did it for me!"
I stiffen at the mention of my name - as does Jeongguk, I notice. Averting his gaze, he simply touches the braids with gentle fingers. "She sure did a good job, didn't she?"
There's an awkward pause. I shift on my feet, not quite knowing what to say. Thanks, dipshit just doesn't seem appropriate.
Thankfully I don't have to flounder for long.
Suddenly Jeongguk's shooting up, curling in on himself with a sharp inhale after Sejun plows an impatient fist into his gut. Then he's scrambling after the kid, tumbling in a mess of limbs and laughs as he wrestles him all over again.
I'm team Sejun all the way.
In my peripheral, I notice that the other boy hasn't yet moved from his place by the door. He's all gangly limbs and awkward arms. His chestnut hair is cropped short, like Sejun said, and pair of circular glasses perches on the bridge of his nose.
This must be Chul, Sejun's twin brother.
When Chul catches me staring, I offer him a friendly smile that flies right over his head. He ducks his head shyly, shrinking in on himself. He seems to want to hide behind the doorframe and grips it tightly with small, feeble hands.
But the image soon vanishes and in an instant, he's clambering up onto the bed to join the boys. At his arrival, almost all commotion jolts to a stop. Chul wades through the sea of blankets before carefully straddling Jeongguks chest. He ensures he has his full attention before he begins stringing a simple question together using the movement of his hands.
Who is that? he signs, peering at me through his glasses with a confused, almost territorial frown.
I blink, momentarily confused.
And then it registers.
He's using sign language.
I can sense Jeongguk's hesitance rolling off him in waves as he glances back at me, debating what to say. So before he can speak — or sign for that matter, though I'm still not sure if he knows how to — I step forward and offer Chul what I hope to be a friendly wave.
Hi, Chul, I sign. My name is Taehee. I go to school with Jeongguk and I'm going to be staying with you guys for a bit. It's very nice to meet you.
When I finish, the twins stare back at me in shock, mouths comically dropped open. It seems as if the last thing they expected was for me to understand Chul, much less reply back in sign language.
But Jeongguk's reaction puzzles me - he doesn't look surprised at all.
He simply smirks.
And at that, I feel like I've just been smacked in the face by a ton of brick.
Because it occurs to me then that he can, in fact, sign; meaning he no doubt understood me just now; meaning he's no doubt understood sign language for quite some time; meaning he's no doubt understood everything Nayeon and I have signed over the past few weeks.
Oh no.
How many times has Nayeon made dirty comments about him in the hallway? Or signed about how good he looks from across a classroom? And how many times have I agreed if only to appease her pestering?
The sly fuck understood it all.
And he said nothing.
My cheeks flare an unnatural hue, especially when Jeongguk shifts back enough for him to drop his head over the side of the mattress to gaze at my upside down. His hair, a mess of ebony waves and curls, tumbles next, followed by a gradual rush of blood to his cheeks. There's something so pure about the action, especially when his face splits into a lopsided grin and he winks, as if to say oops, you caught me.
Now would be a good time for life to dropkick me dead.
Before I can combust from embarrassment, Chul perks up, offering a much needed distraction. His lips lift in a hesitant, curious smile.
You can sign?
I steel my nerves and force a smile. Yes, I can sign.
"Chul isn't deaf, though," Sejun cuts in, throwing an arm around his twin. "He can hear but he just can't talk."
Chul nods his head in confirmation, squirming in his twin's grasp. Sometimes we use signing as our own secret language at recess but—
"The teachers always get us in trouble," Sejun finishes with a sigh, releasing the boy. "Still, we can talk about all sorts of things without anyone else knowing! It's pretty cool!"
Except when this meanie here — Chul slaps a hand down on Jeongguk's chest, making him curl up with a groan — thinks it's funny to say what we sign out loud.
"Except when this hunk of hot stuff here thinks it's funny to say what we sign out loud," Jeongguk mimics in a high pitched voice, earning himself another resounding smack. "Hey! Watch it, twerp."
Don't mind him, Chul says evenly. He's just being a baby.
"A big, stupid baby," Sejun supplies, and the twins break out into a fit of maniacal laughter, throwing their heads back and clutching their stomachs as if it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.
Again, Jeongguk drops his head and gives me a quizzical look, as if to say you see what I have to deal with, here?
I flip him the bird as discreetly as possible.
The door slamming open causes my head to jerk up in surprise. Iseul now stands in the doorway, his hands braced on his hips, cheeks full with strawberries. He hurries to chew his food before pointing an accusing finger at me, his fruit-stained grin impish.
"I thought you came up here to wake the beast."
My lips twist up, brow cocked. "You want to try that again?"
"Sorry - the ugly beast."
Iseul flinches back with a squeal as I step towards him, fully intent on making him rue the day. The twins collapse with laughter again, sounding so soft and pure in the morning sunlight glow. Even Jeongguk is smiling, watching the boys with a fondness inexpressible in words.
It's a nice moment to share.
Though too soon it's broken and the boys are gone. After rounding up the troops (with much difficulty because Sejun insists on going through my clothes with me and Iseul looks ready for a fight), Jeongguk mutters that breakfast is almost done before leaving to let me get ready.
A hot shower is just what I need. The water burns my skin like a sunburn but I welcome the discomfort, knowing it will be nothing compared to the three weeks ahead. This morning was strangely pleasant - almost deceivingly so.
The calm before the storm.
Trading my towel for sweats and a tee, I pile my wet hair on my head in some semblance of a bun and slap my cheeks to bring some life to my face. Then I'm tearing down the stairs, almost slipping in my haste to locate and savour the smell of pancakes and fresh fruit that wafts through the air.
The music reaches my ears before I reach the kitchen, as does the jumble of off-key singing and laughter.
Peeking my head around the corner, I have to bite my lip to contain my smile at the sight that greets me.
Iseul sits atop of the island counter, sporting the booming speaker in question, shoving fistfuls of chocolate chips into his mouth and belting out the lyrics despite his full cheeks. The twins grip each other tight as they dance around the kitchen, occasionally bumping into walls, spinning out of control and thinking it's the absolute best thing that could have happened.
Jeongguk himself stands at the stove, bobbing his head along to the music as he flips golden pancakes in the morning sunlight. His sweatshirt is replaced by a tight black Tshirt and a stained apron that reads Kiss The Chef. He too is singing along, but where Iseul sounds like he's in pain and in need of serious help, Jeongguk sounds amazing, his voice that of a sirens' - soft, melodious and achingly beautiful.
I didn't know he could sing.
Slowly, so as to not intrude, I creep into the ginormous room. I begin to busy myself grabbing plates and cutlery to set the kitchen island for the five of us. When that's done, I wordlessly move beside Jeongguk to help cut fruit, whisk whipped cream and scold Iseul for eating too much chocolate.
But soon enough the pull is too great and I reluctantly find myself singing along with everyone else.
Several times I catch Jeongguk's eye, and each time, his expression is just as unreadable as the last. He makes no move to start anything though, so neither do I. Side by side we work, together but not together, our singing the only thing that breaks the silence between us.
And it's peaceful.
So far, The Babysitting Contract seems to be doing it's part.
I start to think that maybe, just maybe, this won't be so bad.
But boy was I wrong.
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i wrote this long ass chap all in one sitting on my phone and let me tell u folks : it did not slap. pre sure ima have to amputate my thumbs now rip in peace to me
hugs and kisses,
sunny ☼