TWENTY-THREE
“Why don’t you go and get changed, hmmm?” Jaeyong murmurs when I pull back, voice a low rumble, as he swipes some stray strands of hair that got stuck on my wet cheeks. I need forty tissues for my nose, stat.
“Put something comfy on. I’m almost done with the batter, and then we can have some cookies, yeah?” Jaeyong places a kiss on my forehead, lingering there, mouth pressed to my skin as if imprinting all the words that can’t be said directly there through osmosis.
I nod, unable to do anything but sniff, and wipe at my nose before taking a step back, forcing myself to move away from him, to drop my arms and head down the hall, looking back every few nanoseconds to make sure that he’s still there, that he’s still in my apartment and he’s okay.
He’s okay, he’s okay.
Death
