Living Without You (1)
Title: Living Without You
Author: syn2554
Pairings: Duseung
Rating: NC - 17
Summary: Dujun is a normal guy with a normal job, but he has an addiction... one that seems to follow him no matter where he goes.
Warnings: Heavy smut, slight swearing, angsty as all hell.
Author's Notes: IDEK this was a random idea I had. (Un-Beta’d. Entirely). 12,709 words. What a terribly uneven number D: Enjoy?
I was frustrated that the moon had been covered by clouds - a beautiful full moon, and it suddenly became overcast. I wanted to turn the lamp on, but I didn't think that would be totally appropriate. Hyunseung knew how sexy he was - he wouldn't sell himself if he didn't - but I wasn't sure he wanted his naked body lit up simply so I could look at it. I was damn mad at the moon, though. Couldn't it just show itself for another hour?
Hyunseung's lithe body rode up against mine, and then back down harder and faster than he rose. I couldn't ever look away from his glistening body or his slightly absent face. His expression wasn't ever direct - almost as if he didn't want me to know how he felt. He had always been like that - too stubborn to let me understand anything. Once I paid my money, he was whatever I wanted him to be... for the hour.
After that, he would go back to his spot on the cold, dark street-corner and try to flag down cars. He was never alone, but he always looked it. He stood a little distance from his friends who tried to drag in girls as well. Hyunseung never flagged down girls. I hadn't asked him why because I knew he wouldn't tell me. Even if he gave me an answer, it would be a lie.
It was the same with everything else, too. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?" "Aniyo," when clearly the boy was famished. "Have you got somewhere to stay tonight?" "Ne, a mate's house," even though I would keep an eye on him sometimes until dawn, and he never left the street. "Are you cold?" "Aniyo - you make me warm," when he shivered against my skin.
The worst part was... I was madly in love with him. Him. A prostitute. He had no self respect, little personal hygiene awareness and seemingly no propensity for affection. Even though I tried really hard to hide it, I knew I showered him with what I could only call affection, and he didn't shun it, which always gave me a horribly temporary false hope. He played along like he wanted me too, until the hour was up. Then he was out the door, tucking my bills in his torn, dirty jeans and bowing once, very briefly.
And I would sit alone in my small flat and wonder what the fuck I was doing blowing over fifty thousand won once a week for a very short trip that was mind-blowing at the time, but agonising to reflect on. Why was it agonising? Because I was paying for it. Because he didn't want me back. Because he didn't stay.
I wanted to just grab him and shake him. I just wanted him to know that I loved him. I just wanted him to be mine; safe in my home... never hungry, never tired, never busting his ass on strangers just to feed himself for the week. But I wouldn't ever open up to him.
While his terrifyingly thin frame moved in front of mine, I tried not to shout with ecstasy at the feeling of his insides pulling me deeper and then protesting as he moved himself back off. His bony legs wrapped around my waist and one long-fingered hand grasped my shoulder while the other rested on my knee behind him. His shoulder was always tipped back so that I had a wonderful view right down his front. Sometimes I found myself simply enjoying it, but I often noticed myself feeling upset at his almost malnourished state.
He seemed to understand that I liked to look at him. It had been nearly six months that I'd been hiring him - and that was about as much as he seemed to know about me. I only knew his name because I heard one of his friends address him with it. I didn't offer him mine; I was sure it would make me believe we were closer, and I didn't need any more false hope.
When I reached my climax, he would continue to ride me through it until I signalled for him to move off. Sometimes, he would push me back and lift my tank top to tease my nipples and maybe try to excite me again. Sometimes he would ask if there was anything else I wanted to do. Sometimes, if I looked exceptionally wiped-out, he would sit back and stroke himself slowly, making one hell of a show out of it that I never stopped being embarrassed to thoroughly enjoy.
No matter what, it was the shortest hour of my week, and it never came around quickly enough. My weeks were slow. I never made much money in my dodgy job and I had little in the way of friends to hang out with. I spent my time at home with my television or working out at the gym.
This particular visit, however, Hyunseung decided I was pretty wiped and he pulled himself off me slowly while clenching his already tight hole as hard as he could, eliciting a loud, involuntary moan that outlived the whole process. My recently-milked cock was much too delicate to deal with that kind of treatment and the sly grin on his face assured me he knew it.
He gently peeled away my condom and reached towards my bedside table to drop it in the little bin (which may or may not be there simply because of this weekly event). He then sat back and shamelessly spread his legs to reveal his shockingly hard and dark erection, which I should have been used by then. His fingers gently ran up the side of it, and I swore I could feel it on myself. I almost looked away when my cheeks flushed redder, but I couldn't for the life of me.
Never in my life had I watched porn. Never had I imagined someone playing up for me. Sex was meant to be you and them. Me and him. What about this was so alluring? The only thing that could ever tear my eyes from his hand was his own chocolate eyes, slightly shrouded by his bleach-blonde fringe - those beautiful round, doe-eyes that locked in mine and showed me everything he wanted me to see about how he felt, how damn good it was, and how turned-on he was.
And I felt it all. He knew that not even teasing my body made me hard again as fast as this did. What was confusing, and what I didn't want to think about but never could stop myself, was why he never let me bring his climax about. In fact, he never even brought about his own. Six months of fucking him silly up to three times in an hour every week, and he'd never come.
Boy, I wanted to see him come. It was always tempting to just reach down between us when our hips ground together, because I knew he couldn't be too far off. It was even harder to leave him be when he would skewer himself on me again and his menacingly hard member would just taunt me, sitting slightly crooked and bursting with thick veins and just wanting so badly to be relieved.
But I couldn't do anything about it. Changing anything about our routine was something I wasn't prepared to do. What if he got mad? He was quite capable if saying no to me when I found him on the street. If I crossed any of his lines, maybe he would just say no. What would happen then? I would be left without my weekly fuck-fest, and separated from the only thing that kept me going to work seven days a week. Hyunseung.
Maybe it would be a good thing - maybe separating myself from him might do me the world of good. Maybe I should get a hobby. I thought about it all the time. If people asked what I like to do, I thought it might be nice to have something to say other than 'spend my hard-earnt money on an hour of an under-age male prostitute's time.'
What was wrong with fishing? Horse-riding? Computer-gaming? Reading? What did I say was my hobby? Working out. Dujun, you're a legend.
It seemed like less than ten minutes he was there, but I watched Hyunseung walk out for about the thirtieth time and sat on the edge of my bed, my briefs carelessly pulled up and my jeans unbuttoned at my hips. It was about then that I woke up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I blinked and looked around the room. It was over three years ago that I moved to my nuna's house. I had been fired when my boss found out I was a 'faggot,' so I stopped earning enough money to pay the rent. Obviously, this lead to me needing somewhere to stay, and my nuna Jina (a successful doctor) had a house of her own out of the city. It was a beautiful big house where she planned to raise a family when she finally settled down.
She invited me to stay, telling me she was lonely in the big house. Nuna and I were close, being the only two children of divorced parents. She was the only person I told about being gay for a long, long time. Now, at twenty-three, I was old enough not to care if people knew or not, bur as a teenager, she served as the most important person in my life.
So I got a job as a receptionist at the hospital where she worked. It worked for me - I got a steady pay, civilized hours and I met so many wonderful people. I felt like my life was looking up.
Of course, one giant chunk of my heart was back in my old place, or rather, on that street corner where that skinny, homeless kid may still be selling himself. It had even come to tears a few times when I thought about him, but that may have been due to extreme sexual frustration. My sex life (if you could call it that) had been fantastic in comparison to that of those I knew and were willing to share. I didn't mention my antics, but all my work mates did was complain about not getting laid, and I had to sit tight and not feel privileged.
Then I remembered I was paying for sex with a sixteen-year-old that probably wouldn't have cared if he never saw me again. That hurt. In fact, it ached. I hated it. I couldn't go a day for almost a year without thinking about it. Tricks here and there would ease the pain, but it wasn't just that I wanted him, or even that I loved him, but it was that he was in danger. Every day if his life he lived in a situation where he could be attacked, he could catch a disease, he could get no business and not be able to eat, or he could just simply end up freezing on the side-walk and never being thought about again.
That was the hard part. After that readjustment period, however, the horrible emptiness he left in my life faded to a dim memory, and I was able to complacently start again.
One day, Nuna asked about that dark period. I didn't notice that she recognised it, but I shouldn't have been surprised - she was the most observant person, and she knew me better than anyone.
"It was... stupid, really," I told her, smiling at myself. "There was a boy..." and I explained it. She was a little shocked by the end of my tale.
"See, by the way you pick up tricks, I assumed you were very new at the whole 'sex' thing but... this sort-of... blew me out of the water."
"What's wrong with the way I pick up tricks?"
"Never mind. What I mean is... well... why didn't you ever... act on your feelings?"
"I told you - I was afraid that would end it. He clearly didn't want anything more from me than paper, and he got that - all of the spare money I had every week, I gave it to him. He told me he would lower the rate if I was a regular, but I couldn't bear to pay him less - I wanted to give him more... you know?"
"Ne... But it seems like... like he should have seen all of this. Why wouldn't a young boy leap at the chance to be taken into your home and fed properly?"
"He was awfully stubborn. I guess he just didn't want to feel like he needed my help."
"This story makes me sad, Dongsaeng. Why are you telling a doctor about a child in need?" I chuckled with her.
"He's a man now, I suppose," I said, my voice faraway as I tried to imagine it. I hoped to hell he'd found some way to redeem himself and live right. I hoped he was safe and warm and slept in a soft bed with a full belly every single night.
"You know, it's obvious now; I can look back and see him in your thoughts. The look you have on now - it was the one you wore for nearly twelve months."
"Don't remind me," I said with a smile. "Hyunseung leaving my life was the best thing that ever happened to me, despite my suffering sex life."
"I bet your wallet is glad."
"More so; much more so. I wish I knew how to thank you."
"You being here is a blessing, Du; you don't owe me any more than that."
I certainly hoped that would be that last conversation I had about Hyunseung, but as it often did, life took a big step in the opposite direction.
"I examined a boy today," Nuna called from the lounge room while I cut vegetables for a stew.
"Ne?"
"Ne. He was rather skinny, but healthy otherwise. What worried me were signs of abuse on his body that he claimed were 'nothing.'"
"Don't all abuse victims clam 'it's nothing?'"
"Ne, but they do it with a guilty, frightened look in their eyes; he honestly just shrugged it off - it didn't bother him a toss."
"So you think it's not abuse?"
"Ne... I think it's prostitution." I felt my eyes widen slightly. Why did she have to bring this up?
"Is that uncommon?"
"For boys... honestly, he's the first. He acts just like the girls I've examined, and he has the same signs of stress about his genitals and such." I swallowed hard, trying not to think back. My nuna's offhandedness when mentioning parts of the human body were not new to me, but when mentioning a male prostitute, it struck a chord.
"So what about him?"
"I think he's homeless."
"Would he be a whore if he wasn't?"
"I don't know."
"Well?"
"I wanted to know if you would be okay with me bringing him home." Shock made me react angrily.
"Aish, Nuna; he's a stranger! What if he tries to attack you, or steal stuff?"
"He needs somewhere - he even asked if I knew where he could stay for free. If it weren't for me having to ask you, he would be here now instead of in the hospital."
“How can you trust him?”
“I have you here - you of all people should know how to handle a boy-whore.”
“That was low,” I said, irritated but not offended. “Whatever; it’s your house.”
“You’re damn right it is.” So when I went shopping - like I did every Saturday - Nuna went to work - like every Saturday - but this time, she reminded me she was bringing home a stranger. It made me worried - more for her than anything. Even if she was my nuna, I still felt protective. She was still small and vulnerable; I still loved her more than anything in the world.
I trudged up and down aisles and bought everything we normally bought, but half-way through, I remembered we were going to have company, and I went back to the start, making sure to have a little extra of everything.
I still worried, all day. I got nuna’s car washed, I went to the markets to pick up fruit and vegetables and I visited Umma to drop her some food for her cats. It was late when I left Umma’s house, since I stayed and chatted with her for a while and we ended up having dinner together.
It was a little after Nuna would have arrived home when I did and I went into the house quickly, incapable of waiting. She met me at the door and took some shopping bags. She didn’t say anything to me other than greeting me until we got into the kitchen and began putting things away. It was a little strange. When the groceries were done, she stood with her back to the sink and her arms crossed.
“Nuna... is something wrong?”
“Ani...” I waited. “You say that boy you loved... what was his name again?”
“Hyunseung,” I said without a hitch.
“Oh dear.” When she said that, the glass I was holding slipped from my fingers. She jumped as it smashed on the wooden floor. I felt my heartbeat speed up.
“Aniyo, Jina,” I said like a warning, my voice rising.
“Mianhae, Dujun, I didn’t know.”
“Can you reach the broom?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. If it really was Hyunseung - my Hyunseung - I was worried I might pass out, so I wanted the glass off the floor. Nuna stepped carefully around the mess and reached the broom. We finished sweeping it and walked out carefully. I clenched my fists as I paced the living room. “I... offered him some of your clothes...” she said, standing well out of arm’s reach.
I ignored her. I didn’t need to wait long before a door opened in the hall. I froze and turned towards the sound. As feet pattered slowly up the wooden floor, I felt a sweat breaking out on my forehead. I swallowed once. That was the longest five seconds of my life. When I saw his face, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Author: syn2554
Pairings: Duseung
Rating: NC - 17
Summary: Dujun is a normal guy with a normal job, but he has an addiction... one that seems to follow him no matter where he goes.
Warnings: Heavy smut, slight swearing, angsty as all hell.
Author's Notes: IDEK this was a random idea I had. (Un-Beta’d. Entirely). 12,709 words. What a terribly uneven number D: Enjoy?
I was frustrated that the moon had been covered by clouds - a beautiful full moon, and it suddenly became overcast. I wanted to turn the lamp on, but I didn't think that would be totally appropriate. Hyunseung knew how sexy he was - he wouldn't sell himself if he didn't - but I wasn't sure he wanted his naked body lit up simply so I could look at it. I was damn mad at the moon, though. Couldn't it just show itself for another hour?
Hyunseung's lithe body rode up against mine, and then back down harder and faster than he rose. I couldn't ever look away from his glistening body or his slightly absent face. His expression wasn't ever direct - almost as if he didn't want me to know how he felt. He had always been like that - too stubborn to let me understand anything. Once I paid my money, he was whatever I wanted him to be... for the hour.
After that, he would go back to his spot on the cold, dark street-corner and try to flag down cars. He was never alone, but he always looked it. He stood a little distance from his friends who tried to drag in girls as well. Hyunseung never flagged down girls. I hadn't asked him why because I knew he wouldn't tell me. Even if he gave me an answer, it would be a lie.
It was the same with everything else, too. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?" "Aniyo," when clearly the boy was famished. "Have you got somewhere to stay tonight?" "Ne, a mate's house," even though I would keep an eye on him sometimes until dawn, and he never left the street. "Are you cold?" "Aniyo - you make me warm," when he shivered against my skin.
The worst part was... I was madly in love with him. Him. A prostitute. He had no self respect, little personal hygiene awareness and seemingly no propensity for affection. Even though I tried really hard to hide it, I knew I showered him with what I could only call affection, and he didn't shun it, which always gave me a horribly temporary false hope. He played along like he wanted me too, until the hour was up. Then he was out the door, tucking my bills in his torn, dirty jeans and bowing once, very briefly.
And I would sit alone in my small flat and wonder what the fuck I was doing blowing over fifty thousand won once a week for a very short trip that was mind-blowing at the time, but agonising to reflect on. Why was it agonising? Because I was paying for it. Because he didn't want me back. Because he didn't stay.
I wanted to just grab him and shake him. I just wanted him to know that I loved him. I just wanted him to be mine; safe in my home... never hungry, never tired, never busting his ass on strangers just to feed himself for the week. But I wouldn't ever open up to him.
While his terrifyingly thin frame moved in front of mine, I tried not to shout with ecstasy at the feeling of his insides pulling me deeper and then protesting as he moved himself back off. His bony legs wrapped around my waist and one long-fingered hand grasped my shoulder while the other rested on my knee behind him. His shoulder was always tipped back so that I had a wonderful view right down his front. Sometimes I found myself simply enjoying it, but I often noticed myself feeling upset at his almost malnourished state.
He seemed to understand that I liked to look at him. It had been nearly six months that I'd been hiring him - and that was about as much as he seemed to know about me. I only knew his name because I heard one of his friends address him with it. I didn't offer him mine; I was sure it would make me believe we were closer, and I didn't need any more false hope.
When I reached my climax, he would continue to ride me through it until I signalled for him to move off. Sometimes, he would push me back and lift my tank top to tease my nipples and maybe try to excite me again. Sometimes he would ask if there was anything else I wanted to do. Sometimes, if I looked exceptionally wiped-out, he would sit back and stroke himself slowly, making one hell of a show out of it that I never stopped being embarrassed to thoroughly enjoy.
No matter what, it was the shortest hour of my week, and it never came around quickly enough. My weeks were slow. I never made much money in my dodgy job and I had little in the way of friends to hang out with. I spent my time at home with my television or working out at the gym.
This particular visit, however, Hyunseung decided I was pretty wiped and he pulled himself off me slowly while clenching his already tight hole as hard as he could, eliciting a loud, involuntary moan that outlived the whole process. My recently-milked cock was much too delicate to deal with that kind of treatment and the sly grin on his face assured me he knew it.
He gently peeled away my condom and reached towards my bedside table to drop it in the little bin (which may or may not be there simply because of this weekly event). He then sat back and shamelessly spread his legs to reveal his shockingly hard and dark erection, which I should have been used by then. His fingers gently ran up the side of it, and I swore I could feel it on myself. I almost looked away when my cheeks flushed redder, but I couldn't for the life of me.
Never in my life had I watched porn. Never had I imagined someone playing up for me. Sex was meant to be you and them. Me and him. What about this was so alluring? The only thing that could ever tear my eyes from his hand was his own chocolate eyes, slightly shrouded by his bleach-blonde fringe - those beautiful round, doe-eyes that locked in mine and showed me everything he wanted me to see about how he felt, how damn good it was, and how turned-on he was.
And I felt it all. He knew that not even teasing my body made me hard again as fast as this did. What was confusing, and what I didn't want to think about but never could stop myself, was why he never let me bring his climax about. In fact, he never even brought about his own. Six months of fucking him silly up to three times in an hour every week, and he'd never come.
Boy, I wanted to see him come. It was always tempting to just reach down between us when our hips ground together, because I knew he couldn't be too far off. It was even harder to leave him be when he would skewer himself on me again and his menacingly hard member would just taunt me, sitting slightly crooked and bursting with thick veins and just wanting so badly to be relieved.
But I couldn't do anything about it. Changing anything about our routine was something I wasn't prepared to do. What if he got mad? He was quite capable if saying no to me when I found him on the street. If I crossed any of his lines, maybe he would just say no. What would happen then? I would be left without my weekly fuck-fest, and separated from the only thing that kept me going to work seven days a week. Hyunseung.
Maybe it would be a good thing - maybe separating myself from him might do me the world of good. Maybe I should get a hobby. I thought about it all the time. If people asked what I like to do, I thought it might be nice to have something to say other than 'spend my hard-earnt money on an hour of an under-age male prostitute's time.'
What was wrong with fishing? Horse-riding? Computer-gaming? Reading? What did I say was my hobby? Working out. Dujun, you're a legend.
It seemed like less than ten minutes he was there, but I watched Hyunseung walk out for about the thirtieth time and sat on the edge of my bed, my briefs carelessly pulled up and my jeans unbuttoned at my hips. It was about then that I woke up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I blinked and looked around the room. It was over three years ago that I moved to my nuna's house. I had been fired when my boss found out I was a 'faggot,' so I stopped earning enough money to pay the rent. Obviously, this lead to me needing somewhere to stay, and my nuna Jina (a successful doctor) had a house of her own out of the city. It was a beautiful big house where she planned to raise a family when she finally settled down.
She invited me to stay, telling me she was lonely in the big house. Nuna and I were close, being the only two children of divorced parents. She was the only person I told about being gay for a long, long time. Now, at twenty-three, I was old enough not to care if people knew or not, bur as a teenager, she served as the most important person in my life.
So I got a job as a receptionist at the hospital where she worked. It worked for me - I got a steady pay, civilized hours and I met so many wonderful people. I felt like my life was looking up.
Of course, one giant chunk of my heart was back in my old place, or rather, on that street corner where that skinny, homeless kid may still be selling himself. It had even come to tears a few times when I thought about him, but that may have been due to extreme sexual frustration. My sex life (if you could call it that) had been fantastic in comparison to that of those I knew and were willing to share. I didn't mention my antics, but all my work mates did was complain about not getting laid, and I had to sit tight and not feel privileged.
Then I remembered I was paying for sex with a sixteen-year-old that probably wouldn't have cared if he never saw me again. That hurt. In fact, it ached. I hated it. I couldn't go a day for almost a year without thinking about it. Tricks here and there would ease the pain, but it wasn't just that I wanted him, or even that I loved him, but it was that he was in danger. Every day if his life he lived in a situation where he could be attacked, he could catch a disease, he could get no business and not be able to eat, or he could just simply end up freezing on the side-walk and never being thought about again.
That was the hard part. After that readjustment period, however, the horrible emptiness he left in my life faded to a dim memory, and I was able to complacently start again.
One day, Nuna asked about that dark period. I didn't notice that she recognised it, but I shouldn't have been surprised - she was the most observant person, and she knew me better than anyone.
"It was... stupid, really," I told her, smiling at myself. "There was a boy..." and I explained it. She was a little shocked by the end of my tale.
"See, by the way you pick up tricks, I assumed you were very new at the whole 'sex' thing but... this sort-of... blew me out of the water."
"What's wrong with the way I pick up tricks?"
"Never mind. What I mean is... well... why didn't you ever... act on your feelings?"
"I told you - I was afraid that would end it. He clearly didn't want anything more from me than paper, and he got that - all of the spare money I had every week, I gave it to him. He told me he would lower the rate if I was a regular, but I couldn't bear to pay him less - I wanted to give him more... you know?"
"Ne... But it seems like... like he should have seen all of this. Why wouldn't a young boy leap at the chance to be taken into your home and fed properly?"
"He was awfully stubborn. I guess he just didn't want to feel like he needed my help."
"This story makes me sad, Dongsaeng. Why are you telling a doctor about a child in need?" I chuckled with her.
"He's a man now, I suppose," I said, my voice faraway as I tried to imagine it. I hoped to hell he'd found some way to redeem himself and live right. I hoped he was safe and warm and slept in a soft bed with a full belly every single night.
"You know, it's obvious now; I can look back and see him in your thoughts. The look you have on now - it was the one you wore for nearly twelve months."
"Don't remind me," I said with a smile. "Hyunseung leaving my life was the best thing that ever happened to me, despite my suffering sex life."
"I bet your wallet is glad."
"More so; much more so. I wish I knew how to thank you."
"You being here is a blessing, Du; you don't owe me any more than that."
I certainly hoped that would be that last conversation I had about Hyunseung, but as it often did, life took a big step in the opposite direction.
"I examined a boy today," Nuna called from the lounge room while I cut vegetables for a stew.
"Ne?"
"Ne. He was rather skinny, but healthy otherwise. What worried me were signs of abuse on his body that he claimed were 'nothing.'"
"Don't all abuse victims clam 'it's nothing?'"
"Ne, but they do it with a guilty, frightened look in their eyes; he honestly just shrugged it off - it didn't bother him a toss."
"So you think it's not abuse?"
"Ne... I think it's prostitution." I felt my eyes widen slightly. Why did she have to bring this up?
"Is that uncommon?"
"For boys... honestly, he's the first. He acts just like the girls I've examined, and he has the same signs of stress about his genitals and such." I swallowed hard, trying not to think back. My nuna's offhandedness when mentioning parts of the human body were not new to me, but when mentioning a male prostitute, it struck a chord.
"So what about him?"
"I think he's homeless."
"Would he be a whore if he wasn't?"
"I don't know."
"Well?"
"I wanted to know if you would be okay with me bringing him home." Shock made me react angrily.
"Aish, Nuna; he's a stranger! What if he tries to attack you, or steal stuff?"
"He needs somewhere - he even asked if I knew where he could stay for free. If it weren't for me having to ask you, he would be here now instead of in the hospital."
“How can you trust him?”
“I have you here - you of all people should know how to handle a boy-whore.”
“That was low,” I said, irritated but not offended. “Whatever; it’s your house.”
“You’re damn right it is.” So when I went shopping - like I did every Saturday - Nuna went to work - like every Saturday - but this time, she reminded me she was bringing home a stranger. It made me worried - more for her than anything. Even if she was my nuna, I still felt protective. She was still small and vulnerable; I still loved her more than anything in the world.
I trudged up and down aisles and bought everything we normally bought, but half-way through, I remembered we were going to have company, and I went back to the start, making sure to have a little extra of everything.
I still worried, all day. I got nuna’s car washed, I went to the markets to pick up fruit and vegetables and I visited Umma to drop her some food for her cats. It was late when I left Umma’s house, since I stayed and chatted with her for a while and we ended up having dinner together.
It was a little after Nuna would have arrived home when I did and I went into the house quickly, incapable of waiting. She met me at the door and took some shopping bags. She didn’t say anything to me other than greeting me until we got into the kitchen and began putting things away. It was a little strange. When the groceries were done, she stood with her back to the sink and her arms crossed.
“Nuna... is something wrong?”
“Ani...” I waited. “You say that boy you loved... what was his name again?”
“Hyunseung,” I said without a hitch.
“Oh dear.” When she said that, the glass I was holding slipped from my fingers. She jumped as it smashed on the wooden floor. I felt my heartbeat speed up.
“Aniyo, Jina,” I said like a warning, my voice rising.
“Mianhae, Dujun, I didn’t know.”
“Can you reach the broom?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. If it really was Hyunseung - my Hyunseung - I was worried I might pass out, so I wanted the glass off the floor. Nuna stepped carefully around the mess and reached the broom. We finished sweeping it and walked out carefully. I clenched my fists as I paced the living room. “I... offered him some of your clothes...” she said, standing well out of arm’s reach.
I ignored her. I didn’t need to wait long before a door opened in the hall. I froze and turned towards the sound. As feet pattered slowly up the wooden floor, I felt a sweat breaking out on my forehead. I swallowed once. That was the longest five seconds of my life. When I saw his face, I couldn’t believe my eyes.