upright, then let her shoulders relax again as Jihoon returned to the living room and sat on the couch.
Miyoung let her head fall onto his shoulder; the day had been too long.
“What do we do now?”
“Nothing. Just wait for Somin’s mother to get back from the market.”
“I’m sorry for being such a nuisance,” she mumbled, blinking furiously, and she realized she felt like crying. Which was silly. Why should she cry now when she felt safe with Jihoon beside her?
“You’re not a nuisance. You’re sick. We’re all worried about you . . . which bothers you, doesn’t it?” The realization in Jihoon’s voice made Miyoung’s burden deepen. He knew her so well. Too well at times.
“It’s strange,” Miyoung mused. “I always thought I was the strong one. But I realize now it was a lie I told myself. I’m slowly uncovering all of my lies, and it’s not very pleasant.”
Jihoon shifted so she had to lift her head from his shoulder and face him. “What do you mean? What kind of lies?”
“Like when I’d say that I needed no one but my mother. When I said I didn’t care about the men I killed so I could survive. When I told myself I was strong. That I could handle anything that life threw at me, but now . . .” Should she tell Jihoon about her dreams? About her mother coming to her?
“You are strong,” Jihoon said, caressing her arms. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
Miyoung shook her head. “I’m not talking about physically. Though, I guess that’s gone now, too. I mean I’m realizing how much of this world my mother shielded me from. I don’t know what to do now that she’s gone.”
Jihoon nodded. “I get it. She was your world. It’s not easy to get over that.”
“So you understand that I can’t just move on.”
“Are you saying you don’t like that we’re trying to take care of you?” Jihoon frowned.
Miyoung didn’t know the right answer to that, so she picked up her tea, which had become lukewarm now. “I’m saying that I’m not used to this stuff. People waiting at the hospital half the day for me and insisting I come over for family dinners. It makes me feel like a burden.”
“You’re not. This is what family does. And you’re part of our weird, abnormal family. You know that, right?”
Miyoung couldn’t answer. If she said yes, did that mean she was throwing Yena away? If she said no, did that mean she would never get this offer again? She’d always thought that being a human would make things easier, but somehow it had made everything so much more complicated.
She shook her head. “Would you hate me if I said I don’t know what I know yet?”
Jihoon took her hands in his. “Of course I wouldn’t hate you. I don’t know a lot of things. Just ask Somin.”
Miyoung laughed at that and knew it’s what he’d intended. To lighten the mood. It’s what Jihoon did best. She rested her forehead against his. “I know one thing. And it’s that, no matter what, I can trust in you.”
“Always,” Jihoon whispered, then leaned in, hesitating a moment before their lips touched. As if he was asking permission.
Miyoung smiled and closed the last of the distance. The kiss was sweet. Meant to comfort. A gentle brush of lips to soothe away her anxieties. But she didn’t want something sweet right now. She didn’t want easy or comfortable. She wanted to forget the things that gnawed away at the back of her mind. She wanted to stop thinking. So she shifted until she was straddling him. He let out a sound of surprise, his hands fluttering to her hips. She nipped at his lip and heard his sharp intake of breath. She smiled at the power she had over him in this moment and tilted her head to find another angle of the kiss.
His hands tightened as she took more and more. She wanted to lose herself in him completely. She wanted to become a part of him so she wouldn’t have to be herself anymore.
She shifted, started to pull up his shirt, but Jihoon pushed at her shoulders until they separated.
“We can’t. Not here. Not right now.”
“I’m feeling much better,” she said, but he held fast, sliding her off his lap and back onto the couch. She let out a groan of protest.
“Somin or her mother could walk in at any minute.”