17. CHAPTER 17
“ W hat the fucking fuck, Jin? You said you weren’t going to poison me.” I wave my hand in front of my face and do that thing where you think if you open your mouth wider it will stop burning.
“You said you weren’t going to complain.”
“I’m not.”
“What do you call this, then?”
“A slow and painful death.”
"I've seen you eat my Mom's Tteokbokki before."
"Your mom can fuck off with her tteokbokki. That shit could be classified as a chemical weapon."
"How did you eat at our house so many times?"
"She'd make me black bean noodles in bulk. But she still tries to get me with those damn rice cakes every Christmas when I'm drunk."
Even though he's turned away from me I can see Jin roll his eyes before putting another fiery red piece of potato in his mouth. After chewing it, he puts the fork down and gets up to go back inside the cabin. “If you’re worried about calorie intake, you’ll shut up and eat the meal I prepared.”
In front of me on the ground is the lid of a cast iron skillet with a large piece of aluminum foil peeled back with Jin’s creation inside it. All four vegetables are diced, but everything is the same deep red. And it had all started with one lone potato haphazardly thrown into the fire.
I’d wanted to say something about it not being wrapped, but I held my tongue.
It seems that's all I’m good at lately; not talking and making myself scarce.
He didn’t even stay outside with me for the twenty minutes it sat amongst the flames. But can I blame him? I've been ghosting him while living in the same house.
Jin returns from inside and sits back down on the front steps beside me.
Leaning forward, he splashes something onto the roast veggies, then pops the lid of the glass mason jar where I keep the sugar.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I put my arm in front of him to stop him pouring it onto our dinner.
“Shutting you up.” He pushes my arm back.
“Not with that you aren’t.”
“Do you even know what you’re complaining about?”
“Unless it’s Korean barbecue, I steer clear of everything Tek eats.”
“Then stop Eden–splaining to me.” I open my mouth, but the daggers Jin shoots at me shuts it straight back up again. “Sugar counteracts the spice in gochujang, and soy sauce makes it more umami. Because I didn’t realize I was cooking for a little bitch.”
I shouldn’t let him get away with it, but there’s something pinching at the base of my skull. It’s not rage, but it’s similar. Maybe more of a glutinous need to see Jin fighting back against me more and more.
After sprinkling on a good amount of sugar, Jin stirs everything up and sucks the residual mixture off his fork. Then he snatches my fork, pierces four things, and hands it back to me. “It’s like, thirty percent better.”
“And what exactly do I have here?”
He points; “Potato, carrot, beet, and spam.”
“Spam?”
“Spam,” he repeats, but I don’t drop my frown of disgust. “Koreans eat it all the time.”
“I’m not Korean.”
“It was in your pantry.”
“Was it past the use by date? I think it came with the cabin.”
“It’s fine. And, lucky you, I didn’t even use it all.”
“Yeah, lucky me.”
“It’s no skin off my nose if you don’t wanna eat it,” he says, stealing the fork again and taking the bite himself.
“Hey.” I grab it back.
“You don’t get to complain on both fronts.”
“And you don’t get to keep pointing out my contradictions.”
Jin dips his face towards me and looks up all innocent like, preemptively countering his following words. “But you make so many. It’s too hard for me to ignore them all.”
The pinch is back, but this time it’s lower down my spine.
Grabbing his wrist, I yank his hand towards the food. “Again.”
“How primitive of you.”
“I’d do it myself but all that shit looks the same cause of that lava you put on it.”
“Gochujang.”
“Whatever.”
“Go. Chu. Jang.”
“Go. Chu. Jang.”
“Thank you.” Jin stabs the same four ingredients on my fork and hands it over. “It’s just red chilli, fermented soy beans, and rice powder.”
“Sounds delicious.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“It is… I coated the veggies in Perilla oil first, then mixed in the spam and Gochujang—for goodness’ sake,” he sighs, guiding the fork into my apprehensive mouth. With his other hand he pushes up my chin. “You’re gonna have to chew it on your own.”
The heat from the chilli is almost instant on my tongue, but he is right, it isn’t as bad.
My first bite is weary, but as soon as the sweetness of the beet and carrot mix with the salty fat of the spam, I understand everything.
As I swallow, Jin already has a hand cupped at his ear. “Go on, I’m ready,” he says, waving his other hand and beckoning me to speak. “Tell me how good it is.”
I smirk, "It's fine,” and the look on his face turns it into a proper smile. Slapping my hand down on his shoulder, I tell him, "Calm your farm, little man. It’s good. Just maybe a little less go–chu–jang next time.”
Expecting a smart ass follow up response, I look at him directly and notice him staring at my hand as it rests on his shoulder. But I don’t move it. I just keep looking at him until he raises his eyes to meet mine.
Fuck, they’re pretty.
I’ve never known a guy's eyes to ever look like that. Almost as though they’re begging me to do something, though I don’t know what and I’m not sure why.
I just know that I want them to keep looking at me for as long as possible.
But I know it’s weird, so I let my hand slide slowly from his shoulder, my fingers grazing over the sleeve of his jacket because I don’t want to let him go.
Blinking, and shaking my head, I randomly stab at the chunks of food until my fork is full, and wish that I’d allowed myself to drink tonight because I need it right now.
“Thanks for cooking,” I tell him with my next mouthful.
“Like I said earlier, it’s no worries. I liked doing it. Plus it’s not really cooking. It’s more preparing then just letting it sit. The fire does most of the work.”
“Well, I’d be happy to wash the dishes if you would prepare more.”
"I'd rather you taught me how to make your sourdough."
"I can do both."
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“I’m serious.”
“I bet you think you are.” Jin puts his hands in his lap and straightens out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. And I can’t help but feel like he’s trying to get as far away from me as possible. “It’s okay. I don’t mind doing both. It’ll give me something else to pass the time with.”
“I do want to start helping you with the cleaning, though.”
“And I won’t be surprised when I’m doing everything again by next week.”
“I want you to read those books.”
“I already know everything I need to know about Taylor Swift and Olivia Rodrigo.”
“It’ll probably turn every woman in the world against me, but Shawn always did have shit taste in music.”
“Look, they’re not shit. They’re just not for me, or us, I guess.”
“That is a nicer way of putting it.”
“Gotta be good at something.”
“You’re good at a lot of things.”
I can hear the sarcasm in the sound of his breathing before he even says a word. “And how would you know that? You’ve avoided me most of my life, and you haven’t exactly taken much of an interest in me since I’ve been here.”
He’s not lying. Just the same as with everything else he draws attention to, Jeon Jintae is right, and I’m the evil prick.
“You’re good at calling me out.”
“And you’re good at beating me up for it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Jin—” He stands, and with fists clenched by his sides and one foot on the porch ready to leave, I grab his wrist.
“Stop it.” He snatches it away. “You’ve tormented me for as far back as I can remember.
Then, when I came here, you started hitting me.
I was determined to grin and bear it in order to stay.
And I could, until you started having these moments of softness.
I can’t handle them, Eden, because they make it so much more painful when you snap again.
Then, the other night I… I thought we’d reached a place where you considered me a friend, only for you to ignore me for three days.
If you hate me, that’s fine, but the mood swings have got to stop.
Sitting out here with you is nice, it makes me happy, but I’d rather not feel that at all if it means you’re going to pretend I don’t exist the next morning. ”