CHAPTER 19

JEON JUNGHO

       I sit still, hands kicking and poking the food on my plate. Doubtful eyes are seizing me from the moment Jihan hurried upstairs. How could they not look at me weirdly when I was almost hugging Jihan when his mom called for us? And now the way Jihan acted around me screamed in not one, but many ways that he didn't want to be anywhere near me. He wants me out of his house. 

        Am I supposed to go and check on him? Yeah, I could do that at least, and tell him not to worry that I'm leaving.

       Half of his food is still on the plate, untouched. I wonder if this is the reason for his skinniness. I sigh through my nose, tongue my cheek, drop my fork and lift my gaze to meet Hans' concerned ones. "Excuse me." 

       I wash my hands and walk toward the stairs. I can feel them watching my every movement but their mouths are sealed for my own good. I would be damned if they ask or say any word. I can't help the tilt of my head when I stand at the bottom of the stairs and stare up at it. As I assumed, they got their eyes on me. "Go ahead, Jih will show you your room," Jaewoon says, giving me the assurance I didn't know I needed. As if my eyes betrayed me by revealing my doubts.   

       "I won't stay," I say back. 

       "Please do." I don't know what to say after that so I press my lips together and dare to take my first step at climbing the stairs to get to Jihan. The pad of my feet bonded with the wooden steps in thuds like my heart thudding against my chest.

        My hands cling to the railing as I clench it with my eyes traveling all around the small hall and the two rooms facing each other across the hall. 

       Which could be his? 

        I look around to find the door to the balcony, because suddenly, I'm in need of some fresh air. I feel the railing sticky, pulling away my hand, I eye it. My hands are wet with sweat. Shit, I rub it off on my pants. 

       Fuck, why am I so nervous that I feel like I'm getting swallowed by a black hole. 

       Why did I come here in the first place?

       I lose track of time as I stand at the railing, now leaning on it as I balance my weight on it. I have this urge to rummage my hand into my pocket and get one cigarette that I need oh so desperately. But there's not even a window for me to go and take one and burn my lungs with its fire. 

       I swallow harshly. I do once, then again and again but no matter how many times I force a gulp down, the bile around my throat won't go down. My hands almost start to fumble with my pants to get one cig. I want it now. The need is scraping to get under my skin. 

       Shit shit shit. 

       I can't stand here any longer. 

       I didn't know my foot was padding on the wooden floor as it worked on its own instinct like it was not even in my fucking body and my ears were duff enough to not hear a noise, but I still manage to startle when the bedroom door on my left pulled open in a rough creek. I stand with my mouth agape and my eyes glued on him. 

       "What do you think you're doing here?" He snaps. The pajamas he wears drown him but still make him look soft and nice. His golden disheveled locks flow down to his forehead and scatter across his unblemished neck. 

        I wanna blemish it. Shit.

        I bit inside my cheeks, trying to shove every forbidden thought that's haunting me now, into the far corner of my head. But it's hard, hard as hell when my eyes can't leave his rosy lips. When my lips want to take it between them and feel them, taste them. I don't want cigarettes anymore when I could kiss those lips instead. Fuck!

        What in the heck, Jungho Jeon? 

       "Cat got your tongue, Jeon?" Shit. His voice, it's a grainy voice note that I would love to keep in my heart till my last breath. I run my tongue over my abruptly dry lips. 

       "Okay, don't say a word and go back to the shitty city where you came from. Don't waste your time standing here kicking your foot on the floor to make me come out, because I won't, again." 

        Shitty city, wow. 

       He narrows his eyes at me and straightens his poster from leaning on the door frame and places a hand over the door knob from inside, stepping back. I leap forward, and one of my hands flies on the door frame, ready to push open the almost closed door just to see his gorgeous face a little bit more. Just to get yet another whiff of his sweet, alluring scent. 

        "Wait—" 

        "What now?" He asks, wide golden orbs looking up at me. 

        "Can I come in? I need to talk." 

        "Have you gone mad?" 

        "Please."