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I should’ve been ecstatic, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be.
I worked at HYBE Entertainment as one of the receptionists, and the paycheck was generous, but I couldn’t enjoy it when each one went to someone else, and every day brought more troubles than the last.
Pained, anxious, afraid—that’s what I was, and I was afraid that’s all I would ever be.
I glanced at my phone; 4:55 PM. Almost time to clock out.
Grabbing my bag, I ensured everything was in its place, my heart pounding as I tried my best to breathe.
It was Friday, the day that led to my agonizing weekends. I wanted to escape, but with a lack of cash and fully dependent on someone else, I had nowhere to go. It was pitiful, the way my lower lip trembled as I tried not to think about the horrors awaiting me.
“Fae!” Startled, I turned to see who had called my name. A wobbly smile formed on my lips when I saw the only friend I’d made since I started working here a few months ago.
Lyric Beasley stood in all pink wearing a ruffled skirt and blue blouse. Her green eyes were dancing, and her dark, bronze skin glimmered as the sunset from the windows shone through.
Beaming, she waved at me. “Five more minutes till the weekend!”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat and forced a better smile onto my face. “Can’t wait,” I said, trying to sound genuine.
On her way to me, she grinned. “What are your plans?”
My smile wavered. “Not much.”
“Come out with me then,” she suggested. “We’ve never hung out on the weekends.” Rummaging around in her purse, she added, “I was planning on a little solo coffee and book shopping date, but it would be much more fun if you came with me.”
Plucking her lip gloss from her bag, she applied it to her lips as she looked at me expectantly. “Do you want to? We could hang out somewhere other than the break room for once.”
“I like hanging out with you in the break room,” I said somewhat quietly.
“I do, too,” she teased. “But it would be great to see you in the big, wide world as my friend and not just my co-worker.”
Smiling was harder with every second. “My boyfriend wants to take me out,” I revealed.
“Ooh, that’s nice.” She smacked her lips together, finalizing her lip gloss application. “When? Could we hang out after or before?”
My throat tightened. “I really wish I could, but he works all the time, and the weekend is the only time he has with me.” 4:58 PM. “I’m sorry.”
She stuck her lip gloss back into her back with a sorrowful sigh. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll just need to plan a weekend with just us.” She tilted her head. “What’s your boyfriend’s name? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.” She winced. “Sorry if you have. I can be spacey sometimes.”
“No, it’s okay,” I was quick to reassure her. “His name’s Ryker Haze.”
She snorted. “His full government name.”
I flushed. “You asked, so I thought—”
“I just needed a first name, but you know what?” She slung her purse back over her shoulder. “I’m sure if I ever meet Ryker Haze, I’ll feel like I know him already.” She showed me one of her award winning smiles. 4:59 PM. “Does Ryker Haze ever let you have a weekend to yourself? Let me know; I’ll clear my calendar.”
Lyric was so kind—much kinder than I deserved.
I tried not to cry, but it was 5:00 PM. I could no longer manage a smile. “I’ll ask him,” I told her, even though I already knew the answer.
“Great,” she chirped, leaning over the front desk to give me a quick hug. Squeezing me in one of her warm embraces, she patted my back fondly. “See you on Monday, Faeryn Petal.” She snickered to herself, winking when she pulled away. “Government names are fun.”
I managed a goodbye as I began closing my station. While I was, I heard slight commotion from near the elevators. Turning, I caught sight of a member from BTS; Jung Hoseok. He was walking with one of his staff members, his silvery laugh ringing through the air.
I loved hearing his laugh. Whenever he was around, his laugh was, too, and to hear it so close to the weekend was comforting. If he was happy now, maybe someday I would be happy, too.
He came into view, still talking amicably to the staff member; a man older than him with dyed blonde hair and a face mask, his eyes crinkled as he joked with Hoseok.
Passing the receptionist station where I was, the staff member turned to me, lifting his hand in greeting. I did the same, my wrist crying out from last weekend’s pain.
“Goodnight,” I offered, my voice barely reaching him. I had never been good at making friends; talking had always been difficult, but he heard me, calling the same thing back with an added, “Have a nice weekend.”
Small talk wasn’t as difficult, but it had an abrupt end after the weather had been discussed, but he was leaving, and so was I. That was the end—or so I thought.
Hoseok turned at the sound of my voice, his smile remaining when he caught sight of me. “Have a nice weekend,” he said cheerfully, lifting his hand in a friendly wave.
I was late to return the motion, his attention already back in front of him—as was the staff member’s.
Leaving ten minutes after them, I imagined how nice it would be to smile entering the weekend. I imagined it must be nice and freeing and wonderful. I hadn’t known any of those things for two years, more tired than I’d ever known before.
I imagined how happy Lyrics’, Hoseok’s, and the staff member’s weekend would be as I took the bus home.
Home was a small apartment downtown, perched above a busy cafe. Ryker’s lived with me, although my name was on the lease, and I paid for everything.
When I arrived, my earplugs trembled in my palm as I removed them from my ears, staring up blankly at my home.
I wished that my parents were still alive and we lived together in America like we used to, that I never had to come to Korea to live with my grandparents, who, although kind, had died of a shared illness two years ago.
I was very tired as I climbed the steps to the apartment, suffocating as soon as I opened the door. The smell of alcohol was strong, but the wicked curl of Ryker’s mouth was stronger.
A whimper left me—and my weekend began.
꧁꧂
“What happened to your wrist?” the staff member who had a better weekend than I did asked on Monday. His blonde hair fell over his eyes, but he brushed it out of his face as he squinted at the wrist brace I wore. “You didn’t have that on Friday, did you?”
Embarrassment and shame threatened to envelop me. “No,” I replied uncomfortably. “But it was hurting.” I paused before providing, “Nerve damage. It comes and goes.”
It was the truth, but it wouldn’t have been exasperated if the weekend hadn’t been so painful—if nerve damage hadn’t occurred when Ryker had broken my arm—
“You had a cast a few months back too, didn’t you?” He blew air through his lips, shaking his head. “Can’t catch a break, can you?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I simply typed in his name and offered a tilted smile as I said, “You’re signed in.”
He patted the desk. “Thanks. Take it easy today—” He paused. “What’s your name?”
“Faeryn,” I said, sitting up straighter, wondering if I’d done something wrong.
He smiled a bit. “I’m Jaehyun. I work with BTS.”
“Oh,” I breathed out, relieved. “Hi. I’m—I’m Faeryn. I’m the receptionist.”
He chuckled, looking at me strangely. “I know where you work.”
“Right,” I stammered, my cheeks flaming hot. “I—yeah. I know.”
He patted the desk again before walking toward the elevators. “Have a good Monday, Faeryn.”
“You too,” I called after him, wishing I could wither away.
The day was slow, slower with my left hand out of service. I tried not to think of the weekend, but Monday’s were always the hardest. I would get through it. Maybe things would get better. I wasn’t sure if I believed it, but I tried to.
During lunch break, Lyric fretted over me and told me to sit as she fetched me food. Alone at our table while she did, I looked around to ensure she wasn’t back before limping toward my manager’s office.
My manager, Chiksu, was sitting at his desk leafing through papers, his laptop opened in front of him while he worked. At the sound of his door opening, he looked up.
“Ah, Faeryn.” He motioned me forward, setting a few papers aside. “Come in.”
I walked in, standing with my arms twined in front of me. “I hope your Monday is good so far,” I offered.
He sighed. “I’d rather Monday’s didn’t exist, but then Tuesdays would be the new Monday, wouldn’t they?” He waved his hand around, dismissing his own words. “What can I do for you? Trouble at reception?”
“No, no,” I said hurriedly. “No trouble.”
“Good,” he mumbled, his attention glued to his work. “I love trouble-free Mondays.” Around twenty seconds passed of him mumbling to himself about work and priorities before he jolted, looking back up at me as if remembering I was there. “Shit, Faeryn. I’m sorry. It’s busy, and you’re sitting there so quiet—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I forgot you were there.”
“It’s okay.” I shuffled in my spot. “I was just wondering if I could ask you something.”
“Sure, yeah, go ahead. Quick,” he joked. “Before I forget you’re here again. Anyone ever tell you that you should get a bell to alert people you’re around?”
I tried not to wince. “Yes.”
He laughed. “Tell me what you need, Faeryn. I’ve got work to get back to.”
I took a deep breath. “I was wondering if there were any shifts I could pick up on the weekends, like night shifts? I know there are no reception positions at night, but I’m a good cleaner. I—I could pick up a janitor shift.”
“Need the money?”
“Yes.” I nodded, awaiting his response hopefully. “I’m saving up for something.”
“What are you saving up for?”
“A new apartment.”
“Nice, nice.” He rubbed his temples. “Let me see what I can do. Give me until next week, all right? I have a que to get through, and it’ll take a while.”
“Okay,” I breathed out, the hope I felt threatening to suffocate me. “Thank you so much.”
“Yeah, no problem.” He adjusted his glasses. “Close the door behind you.”
I did, limping each step back to the break room. On my way, turning a corner there, I let out a yelp of alarm when I slammed into something.
“Whoa—” Hands steadied me, keeping me stabilized. Catching their balance themselves, they let out a breath of confusion when we were both standing straight again. “I’m sorry about that. I never slow down when I’m turning here—that was my fault.”
“No, no,” I rushed out, slightly dazed. “It’s—it’s okay.”
My wrist was throbbing from the impact, but I tried to refocus to view who I’d bumped into. I was surprised when I met their dark eyes and tan skin, their black hair long and nearly sweeping across their eyes.
He wore a small, apologetic smile, his lips moving as he spoke. I tuned back in just in time to make out, “I’m sorry again—?”
“Faeryn,” I said, bowing low. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh! Oh no, seriously, it’s—no, please, don’t apologize.” He bowed to meet me, both of us resuming our height only to bow again. He breathed out a chuckle at our position, adding, “It really wasn’t your fault. I was going way too fast.”
“I’m sorry if I slowed you down on your way somewhere,” I apologized, still bowing.
“No, really,” he refuted my apology again. “I’m not in a rush; I have ten minutes left of lunch.”
I bowed deeper, but he only followed my lead, doing the same.
“I’ll get up when you do,” he said, his tone serious, but his chuckle light.
Not wanting him to miss his lunch, I rose, watching as he did the same. He was still smiling, it only faltering when he saw my wrist brace.
He reached for it before he stopped himself, his forehead creasing with worry. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I lied, waving my unwounded hand around in denial. “It’s okay.”
His worry didn’t leave, and not liking how it took his smile away, I blurted, “I have Ibuprofen in my purse. I’ll have some of that and it’ll take the pain away in thirty minutes.”
“Do you want me to grab it for you?” he asked, his tone genuine enough to confuse me. I’d learned that when people asked to do something for me, they were just being polite; they didn’t actually want for me to take them up on their offer, but he sounded so concerned and genuine—
Confused, I stammered, “No, that’s okay. I want to eat something before I take it.”
“Right,” he breathed out. “That’s probably best.” He gestured to my hand. “Will it be better soon?”
“Oh.” I blinked rapidly. “I’m—well, I’m not sure. It’s nerve pain, so it comes and goes.”
His brows knit together. “That must be horrible.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being honest or not, but he looked honest—and kind. I wanted his smile to come back; I felt as if I’d done something wrong to make it disappear.
“It’s not bad,” I reassured him, nodding along with my words. “It’s manageable, and you really didn’t make it worse, so it’s okay.”
His frown deepened. “Is there anything I can do? Do you…do you have water? Do you need any?”
“No,” I said, my eyes wide. “I’m—I’m fine, but thank you so much.”
“Taehyung!” someone called his name, his eyes grudgingly tearing from mine.
He gave me an apologetic look. “I think they need me for something, but—” He bowed again, lifting himself to keep eye contact with me as he added, “If you need anything, just tell someone in my staff, okay? They’ll get it for you.”
Incredulously, I thanked him, bowing along with him. It seemed it was out of instinct that he reached for my hand—perhaps as something he viewed he’d hurt and had to fix—but again, he pulled away before he could make contact.
Wondering if it would make him smile again if he confirmed that I was okay, I offered my hand, holding it out slightly. He looked at me questioningly, and when I offered a slight nod, he gently took my hand, cradling it in his own.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked as he looked at it.
“Everywhere,” I admitted.
He sighed, a soft sound. “But Ibuprofen helps?”
“Yeah, promise,” I assured.
“How did it happen?”
“I fell,” I lied.
“And that caused nerve problems?” he wondered dubiously.
“It made them act up,” I explained. “I broke my arm, and that can cause nerve damage, and so when I fell, it made them act up.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, tracing the stitches of the brace. “I hope you feel better soon.” Carefully returning my hand to my side, he entreated me, “Please take your Ibuprofen.”
“I will,” I promised, my hand warm from his touch. “Right after lunch.”
“Good.” He smiled a small smile, and although it was worried, it was a smile, and I was relieved it was back; glad I could see it again before he left.
His name was called again, but before he left, he bowed again, saying, “Remember to let my staff know if you need anything; just tell them that I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you,” I said, bewildered at his kindness.
“I’m sorry again,” he said, his eyes conveying his apology. “I really hope you feel better.”
He was gone before someone could call for him again, and I watched after him until he was out of sight, my hand tingling in his wake.
“Where’d you go?” Lyric asked when I returned to our table. “I went to get you food so you wouldn’t have to get up.”
My head spun with my interaction with Taehyung, someone I’d heard and seen so much of but never had a conversation with until now, and I took a seat.
“Extra hours,” I heard myself say. “I asked for more hours.”
She exclaimed, “But your wrist!”
“It’ll be fine,” I replied, hoping it would be. “That’s what the brace is for.”
She sighed. “The brace is to help stabilize it, but you need to keep it as immobilized as possible.”
“I will,” I agreed. “I’ll use my right hand.”
She gave me a look before pushing a protein shake toward me. “Eat.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “What did you get?”
“A sandwich,” she revealed. “With a generous amount of tomatoes.”
I made a face. “Gross.”
She poked my side. “No, you.”
I smiled a bit, taking a sip from the protein shake. I thought of Taehyung all throughout lunch and when I took the Ibuprofen back at the reception desk.
Mondays were the remains of the weekend’s cruelty, but there was a piece of kindness on that Monday within Taehyung’s deep bows and kind words.
꧁꧂
I waited until Thursday to hear back from Chiksu. He was able to get me ten extra hours starting from Friday night to Sunday night.
Ryker was pleased I would be making extra money, but I didn’t tell him the exact amount, hoping that would allow me to keep some for myself. I would ask for more hours again next week and do the same thing, hoping it would help me get closer to a life away from him.
I’d seen Taehyung a few times since we bumped into each other, but I was always busy assisting someone, unable to talk with him. He would smile and wave, making a drinking motion to refer to Ibuprofen, and ironically, it would remind to take my regular dose to keep my wrist’s inflammation down.
When Friday came, I was exhausted but relieved I could stay at work for a couple more hours, effectively cutting down my weekend time with Ryker.
It must’ve be around 6 PM when Taehyung walked by the area I was sweeping, humming to himself on his way to the vending machine. In his own little world, he didn’t notice me at first, but I was so eager to finally have a chance to thank him again for his kindness, that I braved the anxiety of social interaction to call out a timid, “Hi.”
He jolted slightly, surprised, and his wide eyes were on mine in seconds. Realization flooded through his face at the sight of me, and then—there it was; his smile.
“Faeryn,” he said like he was happy to see me. It was enough to make me smile timidly in return. “Hey! What are you doing here? Aren’t you at reception?”
“Yeah,” I agreed with a quick nod. “But I picked up a few extra hours, and my manager let me take the janitor’s shift.”
His eyes darted to my wrist brace. “Are you okay to do that? You’re not using your hand too much, right?”
“It’s okay,” I assured him, holding it out to prove my point. I bent it toward me slightly, showcasing the small movement. “See?”
His next smile came easy to him, and he beamed. “That’s great.”
Eager to keep the conversation going, I looked around for a topic before blurting, “The vending machine.”
He nodded, glancing back at it before returning his attention to me. “I was going to grab a snack.” He chuckled a bit. “Another late night practice.”
“What’s your favorite snack?” I asked.
“Maybe…licorice!” He sighed happily. “So good.” He tilted his head. “Do you like licorice?”
I smiled apologetically. “No. It’s…the texture is weird for me.”
He thought about this. “It is kinda weird, isn’t it?”
My smile turned more genuine quickly. “Yeah! It’s rubbery, like a tire.”
“Wow.” His tongue clicked the roof of his mouth. “My favorite snack is a tire.”
I giggled, and his eyes lit up at the sound.
Jutting his thumb toward the vending machine, he wondered, “Do you want anything? It doesn’t have to be rubber.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened. “Oh, no, that’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he offered. “Really. If you’re working overtime, a snack could go a long way.”
Unsure, I shifted closer to the broom than to him. “That’s okay.”
“So I can get you something?” he asked hopefully.
“I meant that you didn’t have to,” I explained, trailing off when his features dropped. His smile was gone, again, and I felt incredibly responsible. “If you—I mean—if you want to, you can, but please don’t feel like you have to. I’m okay without anything.”
His features were back to shining, and pulling his card out of his pocket, he gave me a warm smile. “And now you’ll be okay with something to snack on.” He motioned me over. “Come on. Maybe you can pick out something new for me to try, too.”
Tightening my grip on the broom, I joined him giddily.
“All right.” His hands in his pockets, we surveyed the snack options together. “Anything look good?”
“I don’t know.” I gnawed on my bottom lip. “I’ve never…tried any of this.”
“Really?” He looked at me, surprised. “How long have you worked here?”
“A few months,” I revealed, embarrassed. “I don’t come up to this floor though.”
“You should.” His voice sounded sincere enough. “This machine has all the best snacks; the rest aren’t as good.” As he went back to checking the options, he added, “I’m also on this floor a lot. It’s where the rehearsal room is.”
I perked up. “I’ll…maybe I’ll be up here more often to clean and…get snacks, then.”
“You should,” he agreed amicably. Stroking his jaw absently as he surveys the machine, he decides, “Cookies.” He glanced at me, uncrossing his arms. “What do you think?”
When I confirmed, he bought me three packets; two for me, one for him. Denying my efforts to give him the second packet, he insisted, “You’ll be here longer than me; you’ll need it.”
I thanked him profusely, shoving the packets into my pocket for later. Wanting him to stay, I wondered, “How long will you be here?”
“Probably another hour.” He sighed. “We’re working on a dance for a comeback.”
“That’s exciting!”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the side of his face, showing another smile. “And tiring.”
“It must be a lot of work,” I sympathized. “You’ll just have to rest as hard as you work.”
He grinned. “Right.” Cocking his head, he asked, “Is that what you do on your days off? Rest hard?”
I forced a neutral response. “Yeah.”
“I should do the same.” He opened his packet of cookies. “There’s just so much I want to do when I’m not working, so I end up tiring myself out even more on days off.” He took a bite, uttering a low groan. “You’re going to love these, Faeryn. They’re so good.”
“Oh.” I grinned giddily. “Okay.”
“Let me know what you think on Monday,” he said cheerily.
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” I let him know off-handedly.
“Oh, really? Me too.” I loved his smile, I realized. “I’ll try to come up here to find out what you think about the best cookies ever made.”
I started to feel excitement, such a foreign feeling that it showed itself in nervous shuffles and a strained smile. “Okay,” I managed, my voice higher than usual.
With another bite of his cookie, he took a step back. “Tomorrow?”
I nodded. “Tomorrow.”
With a smile and a wave, he left me to sweeping, and with a tight grip on the broom, the cookies in my pocket kept me company for the rest of my shift.
꧁꧂
Taehyung was ecstatic with my reaction to the cookies the next day, insisting that he buy me more since I liked them so much. I had liked them, a lot, and I was unable to stop him or my excited smile when he bought me five more packs.
He said he had a fifteen minutes break, and he spent each minute with me, talking as I swept the halls.
Talking about dance practice and more of his favorite foods, I realized we had a few things in common, and conversation became easier when he revealed one of his hobbies—collecting different assortments of tea.
I was all over that, my eyes sparkling with fascinated delight.
“I collect tea cups!” I blurted eagerly. “I mean, I used to, but I had so many. My favorites were the ones with flower designs.” Determinedly, I added, “When I save up, I’m going to start collecting them again.”
“That sounds great,” he encouraged. “Why’d you stop?”
“Oh.” I shifted my gaze to his forehead. “I…I had to move a few years back to come here, and they shattered in the moving truck.”
His lips pulled downward. “That’s awful.”
It was half the truth. Half of the tea cups had survived, and Ryker had broken the others. Diverting the topic, I said, “It won’t be awful when I get more, and I’ll get so many. Lots of flowers ones.”
His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Lots.”
“Lots.” I nodded rapidly. “And plates to go with them, too. I also get teas that match the color of the tea cups, so raspberry lemon for tea cups with red flowers, and blueberry tea for blue flower cups.”
“Wow.” He lifted a brow, impressed. “You’ve got a whole system going on.”
“Yeah!” I exclaimed. “And I had pastries that matched them, too, like lemon tarts with chamomile tea and yellow flower cups. I love yellow,” I gush. “It’s the prettiest color.”
“Yellow is a nice color.” He was smiling a lot more than he usually did, and my chest tugged with appreciation. “I like dark red.”
“I like it, too.” Excitedly, I wondered, “Do you like tea cups?”
“I don’t collect them,” he returned. “But you make it sound like fun.”
“It is! It’s so much fun, and they look so nice when they’re on display, and it’s even better when I get to use them.”
He hid a smile into a bite of his cookie. “What else do you like?”
Encouraged, I swept faster. “I like potatoes a lot—pasta, too! They’re my favorite foods, and I have them all the time.”
“You don’t get tired of them?”
“Every couple of months.” I laughed a bit, shrugging. “But I’ll find another food I like, and then I’ll like potatoes and pasta again.”
“Huh.” He rested his hand in his palm as he watched me work. “That probably makes grocery shopping much easier.”
“Yup!” I patted my pockets where the cookies were. “And now I’ll buy these, too.”
He grinned. “A great choice.”
“The best choice,” I responded with a giggle, the sound surprising me.
He beamed at the sound. “I’ll find more foods you like.”
“Okay,” I squeaked.
“What else do you like? Do you have any hobbies?”
“I like to crochet,” I said somewhat shyly.
“Do you?” He looked pleasantly surprised. “One of my staff members knows how, and she let me try once, but it’s way too hard for me.”
“It’s not that hard,” I encouraged. “Once you get the hang of it.”
“Easy for you to say,” he teased. “You have the hang of it.”
I giggled. “You could learn.”
“Maybe,” he joked. “But I’m sure you’d still be better at it.” Looking thoughtful, he wondered, “What do you crochet?”
I turned a bright red. “Oh. Just…I make stuffed animals.”
“Cute!” he exclaimed. “Do you have younger siblings you give them to?”
My blush deepened. “No, I…I’m an only child. I just—I make them for me. To keep them.”
“So you make stuffed animals and collect them, too?” He took note of my pink cheeks. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I managed.
He squinted, suddenly looking worried. “Did I embarrass you? It’s really cool that you keep them—I didn’t mean to make it sound otherwise.”
Relief swept over me. “Really?”
“Yeah, of course,” he confirmed immediately. “If I could crochet, I’d crochet every Pokémon and keep them all.”
Refreshed and put more at ease by his blatant sincerity, I started to relax. “I could teach you,” I offered, hoping to take the attention off of my blush.
“For real?”
I nodded quickly. “It’ll be fun, promise.”
“Well, if you promise,” he teased. Standing from the wall he was leaning on, he wondered, “Do you have free-time during the day?”
Back to being excited, I revealed, “I have a thirty minute break for lunch.”
His forehead creased. “I don’t want to take up your lunch time.”
“You won’t,” I refuted. “I don’t really eat much at lunch; I’m not usually hungry at that time, so I drink a protein shake.” I wiggled my fingers. “It doesn’t get my fingers dirty, so I can teach you.”
“Smart.” He grinned. “Okay.” He began to walk with me as I swept. “I’ll take you up on that offer. A change of scenery is nice, too.”
“I’ll teach you how to make a chain first,” I thought out loud. “Single crochets are super easy.”
“You’re speaking another language, I hope you realize that.” His shoulder gently nudged mine as we walked. “I’m not fluent in crochet.”
My shoulder warm from his touch, I couldn’t help the smile that broke onto my face. “You will be. Promise.”
It was comical and endearing how interested he was in learning, and although I expected him to back out and say he had other plans during Monday’s break time, he showed up right on time, all smiles and dimpled cheeks.
Teaching him was easy. Being with him was even easier. Still awkward, my tongue sometimes refused to work with my mouth, but he didn’t comment on it or make me feel stupid. Not like others did in the past.
He just listened, nodding slowly as he waited for me to finish my train of thought, even when I messed it up a few times, either from excitement, a brain lull, or racing thoughts of dealing with Ryker later; he would listen and wait patiently.
Lyric joined us soon after we’d started, her features twisting in shock at the sight of him. “Uh…” She took a seat beside me, unable to tear her eyes from his struggle with my crochet hook. “Is he lost?”
Taehyung scrunched his nose, his attention remaining on the hook and yarn quite studiously. “I’m not lost,” he said after greeting her. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
“Right,” she spoke slowly, her eyes wide when they met mine. “I meant, are you in the wrong break room? This is for employees.”
“I’m an employee.” His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “Of sorts.” He paused, his eyes flitting to hers. “Why? Am I interrupting?”
“No, not at all,” she brushed his worry away. “I was just surprised, is all. I usually have Fae all to myself for lunch if you can count her protein shake as lunch.”
“It has lots of nutrients,” I countered.
“Lots,” Taehyung echoed, his lips tugging upward. “Oh!” He lifted the yarn slightly, his exclamation loud enough to garner more attention than he’s already holding. “I think I made a chain.”
“You chained one,” I told him, my voice laced with encouragement. “If you do a few more, you’ll have an entire chain. That’s really good!”
Unable to stop smiling, he shifted in his seat, proud of himself as he set back to work on it.
Lyric gaped at him. “Is he seriously going to figure this out before I do?” Her voice dipping into a mutter, she added, “Crocheting is too hard.”
“It’s easy once you get the hang of it,” Taehyung responded cheekily, sharing a knowing grin with me.
I giggled, turning my excited face to Lyric. “I can try to teach you again.”
“I’m a lost cause.” She heaved out a sigh. “I’m better off partying somewhere than being an old granny crocheting at home.” She patted my shoulder. “No offense. You’re the cutest, sweetest old granny in the world.”
“Thanks.” I laughed a bit, embarrassed.
Although Taehyung didn’t lift his face from his work, his brows furrowed as he prompted Lyric, “Why does crocheting make her a granny?”
“You know.” Lyric guzzled her soda. “Staying home with cats and knitting—well, in this case crocheting. You know; the joke.”
At that, Taehyung finally tore his eyes from the yarn to her. “It wasn’t a very good one.”
She blinked. “Fae doesn’t mind jokes like that.” When I didn’t respond, she pressed incredulously, “Do you?”
I focused on my protein shake, my fingers tightening around it. “Is it because I’m not going out with you on the weekends?”
“What?” She looked horrified. “Fae, I was just joking. You’re the cutest person I’ve ever met; if you want to crochet and drink protein shakes during lunch, I see you as a coquette little granny, but that’s a term of endearment, not a jab at you.”
She took a hold of both of my shoulders, turning me to face her. Peering into my face, she said firmly, “I would never insult you like that; you’re my friend.”
I exhaled my confusion and relief, nodding quickly. “Sorry, Lyr. I thought—sorry. Sometimes it’s hard to tell when someone’s joking.”
She squeezed my shoulder, waving off my apology. “I won’t make jokes like that anymore. I’ll step up my joke game, yeah?”
“Your joke game is good,” I refuted, intensely embarrassed. “I just need to get better at understanding them.”
She pinched my cheek with a sigh. “Don’t worry about it. Leave me to worry about making better jokes.”
With a deep flush to my cheeks, I nodded and turned to check on Taehyung’s chain progress. Much to my surprise, he had stopped, his focus on Lyric and I.
He lifted a brow when he saw he held my attention, and his eyes flitted back to Lyric before returning to me. Before I could fathom a response, he held his work out to me.
I looked down at it, my awkwardness traded for surprise. “This is really good!”
When I caught his eye again, he wore a small smile. “Closer to an army of Pokémon, aren’t I?”
Lyric pointed at him, waving her finger slightly. “That’s the spirit.”
He considered her for a moment before granting her a smile, whatever he’d noted from her features enough to appease him.
The three of us talked, the conversation light and playful, and when lunch was over, Lyric gave me a hug, promising to catch up with me before our shifts ended.
After she’d left our table, Taehyung walked me back to reception. “How long have you known Lyric?”
“A few months,” I revealed. “She’s…” Taking a deep breath, ashamed to reveal, “She’s the only person who’s really wanted to be my friend.”
“That’s not true.”
I peered up at him, confused. “What?”
“I want to be your friend.” He slowed when we reached my desk. Tilting his head, his lips followed the motions, drawing into a kind smile that made me feel even kinder things. “And I’m sure if people got to know you, they’d want to be friends with you, too, and if not—” He shrugged. “Their loss.”
My mind whirled, my breath stammering at his words. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he returned. “I’m going to be a crocheting professional soon enough because of you.”
I had smiled so many times that day because of him and Lyric that I felt strange, but it was a good strange. One that I wished I could feel forever, but would be stolen away by Ryker in the end.
Feeling it slip through my fingers, only hours left before I would see Ryker, I clawed at it, struggling to keep it to me, and hoping for some kind of solace, I blurted, “Can we crochet again tomorrow? At lunch?”
“You want to?”
“Yeah,” I rushed out. “It’ll be fun.” I hesitated, backtracking. “Today was fun?”
“So fun,” he confirmed, nudging me as he’d done that weekend, and I leaned into it, breathing a little easier.
“Okay,” I said hopefully. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Let me check my schedule, okay? I had to rearrange a few things today for lunch, so let me see if my dance instructor is okay with it.”
“You don’t—oh, you—you don’t have to do that,” I said with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to mess up your schedule.”
“You didn’t mess it up,” he assured. “Changing my break to sync with yours is fun.”
I couldn’t truly believe him, unsure how being with me could be fun, but I didn’t want to upset him by denying his words, so I forced myself to nod.
“I’ll let you know,” he promised. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he prompted, “What’s your number?”
“Oh, I—I can’t.”
He paused. “You don’t have a phone?”
“No, I do, but I’m not—” Allowed. “It’s broken right now,” I lied.
“Well, that’s okay,” he said. “I’ll come back down here before you leave. My dance instructor will have an answer for me by then. Is that okay?”
Is that okay?
I melted, nodding until I couldn’t stop. “Yes, I—yes. I’ll wait.”
“I won’t make you wait,” he promised. “I’ll get down here before you clock out.”
We smiled at each other, and it felt so wonderful to smile. First with Lyric, then with Taehyung—smiling was wonderful. I wished I had never forgotten how to enjoy it without being afraid of when Ryker would revoke it.
True to his word, Taehyung returned before I clocked out. He was able to join me for lunch tomorrow, and his excitement was palpable enough for me to believe it was true.
Ryker was awake when I returned home, his eyes dark and a curl to his lips when I walked in. Closing the door behind me, I forced myself to meet his eye, knowing the repercussions that followed if I didn’t.
“You’re late,” he drawled, his legs spread on the couch as he regarded me lazily but with a hateful promise in his eyes that I’d come to know all too well.
I wasn’t late, but I didn’t contradict him. I knew better than that.
Slowly, I put my purse down, apologizing for being late.
“Apologies don’t fix the problem, now do they?” was his response.
“No,” I whispered rigidly, stiffening when he stood.
Closing the distance between us, his fingers latched around my throat, tilting my head back. His breath hot and suffocating on my face, he sneered, “What fixes the problem?”
“Me,” I choked out, my eyes filling whether I wanted them to or not. “I fix it.”
“And how will you fix it?” He bit my cheek enough for it to hurt. Dragging his teeth along my face, he prompted, “Tell me how you’ll fix it.”
“Have to be hurt,” I heard myself say, low and quiet. Scared. “If I’m hurt enough, then I’ll be good.”
“That’s right.” He patted my cheek roughly, nearly a slap. “What would you do without me, Fae? Hm? All alone with no apartment, no money, and no one to teach you how to be good.”
I hoped that someday, I would be able to find out just who I would be without him, and while he yanked me toward the couch, I hoped I would be someone happy in his absence.