Sunny Lee

    "It's not that bad." Kibum's arm slinked around the back of the couch. The tips of his fingers brushed against your shoulders. "At least we're suffering together."

    "Looks like someone forgot who's on the couch tonight."

    His head lolled back as he groaned, hitting the couch’s stiff headrest with an audible thump. "We're in hell."

    After an eternity of the couch trying to swallow you whole, you stretched your arms with a little yawn. Straightening your posture took great effort but you rose to your feet while using Kibum for balance. Tension riddled his shoulder, the muscles taut and tight. Your lips pulled down into a frown. Digging your thumb into the largest knot, you grappled with it, squeezing it between your fingers. Kibum swatted you away with an indignant huff.

    “You’re worse than the springs stabbing me in the back.”

    “You need a massage.”

    “Not from you, not with those hands.”

    He chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head. Throwing your hands up in surrender, you mumbled out a ‘fine’. Once you were back in the big city you would schedule a spa day for the two of you… not that a single session could fix the damage this hell-tel had caused. You would need a vacation from your vacation at this rate. Somewhere free from cars and their woes, perhaps with a king-sized bed, and functioning amenities (would that be too much to ask?). At the very least it should have a working fridge, or an ice machine, or even a convenience store nearby with either a working fridge or ice machine.

    Snapping your fingers as you remembered why you had gotten up in the first place, you crossed the room. It didn’t take much – once you sidled past the table, a single step brought you to the mini fridge. The cooling component inside grumbled to life, mocking you and your desires. Taking it a step further, it didn’t budge as you tried to pry the dented door open. Just typical. Gritting your teeth, you put your whole back into it. It shook and rumbled within your sweaty palms but remained sealed.

    “Just open already,” you growled, kicking the machine.

    “Did you unlock it?”

    “It doesn’t have a lock.”

    “Are you sure about that?”

    “Yes, I’m… sure?” Giving the metal box a once-over, a wave of confusion swept over you. Near the bottom on the left side was a glimmering latch. “Huh. That’s new.”

    “They installed it yesterday.”

    “Really?” you asked, snapping around to face Kibum. Incredulity morphed into irritation once you caught sight of his smirk. “Ha-ha, funny. So glad you can find a way to prank me even here. You’re so clever.”

    “Thank you,” he said, unable to hide his triumphant glee. “And you’re pretty cute when you get all worked up like that.”

    Warmth tinged your ears. You gave him a dismissive wave before directing your attention back to your initial task. When you unlatched the fridge with a huff, it responded with an obnoxious hum that rolled out into the room. It was bare aside from a six pack of beer and a couple bottles of water. The air inside was warmer than the room’s ambient temperature, and the two cans you grabbed weren’t much cooler. You tossed one to Kibum. Froth spilled out as you flipped the tab. It poured onto the floor, earning you a disapproving look from your temporary roommate. Even so he followed suit. Leaning forward, he cracked it open and soon after the carpet soaked up the suds.

    “Now we have to leave a bigger tip for the housekeeper.”

    “As if they even have one,” you said with a shudder, looking down at the old stains that littered the carpet. “Anyway, let’s toast! Here's hoping the part arrives tomorrow!"

    You raised the can to clink against his. Liquid sloshed against metal as your beers bounced against one another. Bringing the drink to your lips, you took a swig. Your regret was immediate. Warm, flat beer rushed down your throat and you choked. Bitter alcohol stung your nose and burned your throat. Kibum’s eyes widened at your outburst but it was too late, the drink was already slipping past his lips. Throwing his head forward, he unceremoniously spat it back into the can.

    Shadows crossed his flawless skin as he glowered at you. "Even if the car isn't fixed tomorrow, I'm out of here. I'll walk if I have to. I never want to see this town again."

    Clearing your throat of the vile drink, you scratched your head. "Still want to go out?"

    "And drink more of that?” He sighed, discarding the drink on the table. "Let's just go to bed. We have to be well rested so we can count chickens or whatever else they consider entertainment around here."

    "The baby chicks were kind of cute though," you said as you walked to the sink, emptying the beer down the drain. Even over the strained glugging of the pipes you heard Kibum scoff. "What? They were!"

    "I'm taking the bed tonight."

    Dropping the can, you tripped over your feet in your haste to accost him. “Like hell you are!”

    He pushed the coffee table into your direct path before you could scramble to the bedroom to stake your claim. Standing with poise and grace, he brushed away not-so-imaginary dust while looking you up and down. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he walked around the table. Now opposite you, he tutted.

    “I’m not spending another night on that couch”—you opened your mouth in protest but he pressed a finger to your lips—“but since it’s your turn for the bed, I’m willing to share it with you.”

    “Share?” you whined before shoving the table back against the couch. He nodded. “Fine. We can share. Since it’s the last night.”

    “Good. It’s about time we slept together, anyway.”

    Warmth rushed throughout your veins. You spluttered, looking anywhere but directly at him, until you heard his breathless chuckling. Another of his little jokes. The embarrassment fell from your face, replaced with an exhausted frown. Your gaze looped around from his feet to his million-dollar smile. Immaculate despite the environment, his silky hair framing gleaming eyes.

    “Just where did your mind go, huh?”

    “Are you going to bed or…?”

    “I’m worried that I might not get any sleep,” he teased, stepping into your space. With him came the scent of mint. “Are you going to pounce me in the middle of the night?”

    Giving his chest a light nudge, you rolled your eyes in an attempt to dispel the heat blossoming across your cheeks. “As if. Stop playing around.”

    “Alright, alright, but”—using the side of his crooked finger, he lifted your chin, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down your spine—“I won’t complain if you change your mind.”