He starts panting all of a sudden, and I watch with interest and curiosity as he shifts on his feet, like he’s having trouble holding still, or like his legs just wobbled beneath him.
“I’m not valuable,” he says again, a little weaker this time, almost trembling. Still arguing with me.
Another test.“If you lie to me one more time, you’ll be holding soap in your mouth, young man.”
His eyes widen, and I think I might have startled him. But, rather than pull away, his pulse jumps at the base of his neck, and his breathing gets even harsher. “You wouldn’t.”
I smile. I can’t help it, and I don’t know what kind of smile it is or why I’m enjoying this so much, or why I feel like I’m playing with my food. But I can’t stop the smile from growing, and he watches it grow and swallows hard.
“Lie to me again, and find out.”
We wait, both of us, to see what happens next. His eyes search mine, seeking and seeking, and he seems almost desperate. I can’t tell if he wants to find proof that I’m bullshitting him, or if he wants proof that I mean it.
Then, all of a sudden, his pupils contract to pinpricks and his facial expression shuts down. He goes distant and far away, and I realize that I’ve lost him. Just like that time in the gym, when he sat on the bench and spaced out. He’s not seeing me anymore. I immediately let go of his face and start to guide him to a chair, but he pushes my hands away and then, in a blink, he’s back to normal. Or at least, the appearance of normal.
“Fine, whatever,” he grunts, collapsing lazily back on the couch. “I’m gonna watch this.”
I sit, and don’t even pretend to work as I stare at him. And he watches the screen, but this time, I can tell he doesn’t see a single scene. Finally, after almost half an hour of this, he sags into his chair, and shrugs like he’s lost all interest in me, in the situation, in everything. “Sure, fine. I’ll be the fiancé. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
Mood swings.I make a mental note to look into them, and their causes.
“I’ll get a contract for you to sign.” I pull out my laptop and start typing it up myself, but my mind mulls over the two times I’ve seen him do this. The first time, I was giving him bruise cream, and this time, I was holding his face. Is it physical touch that triggers him?
Or did I say a specific word? Did I remind him of a specific person? What emotion is he feeling when he loses touch like that?
I watch him watch the movie, and wonder if I’ll ever find out.
****************
Tommy
What. The. Fuck.
What theactualfuck.
Holy fucking fuck, shit fuck goddamn shit. What the fuck–
“Tommy?” Kira’s sweet voice rips me from my internal freakout. She’s rubbing the sleep from her eyes as the plane touches down on the tarmac, landing with a jolt. “You okay?”
Her little hand wraps around my arm, and the fact that she’s checking on me right now because she knows this is only my second time flying is so nice that it’s making me physically ill.
I’m fine.She stares at me, and I realize I didn’t say that out loud. Just play it cool. I’m fine.
“I’m great!”
Goddamnit.
She smiles at me, all sleepy and cute. I force my shoulders to relax and I smile back. Young-gi looms in my peripherals like a black hole; he’s terrifying and gravitational, and it’s taking everything I have not to look at him.
Because what. The actual. Fuck. Was that??!
‘Don’t lie, Tommy.’
“I didn’t–” my words come out garbled from his grip on my mouth, and I flush with hot embarrassment at the way he’s looking at my scrunched up lips. “I didn’t lie.”
His intense focus is like a spotlight, and I’ve never felt heat like this before. He looks at me like I should know better than to argue with him.
I start panting all of a sudden, flushed and wilting against him, because… because… because he’s saying I’m valuable. He’s saying shit that he can’t say. Promising not to throw me away? Saying I’m worth something, even though I’m not?
