#gamja

There was truth behind your father’s grumbles. Your favorite cousin, Seokjin, never failed to bring a smile to your face with his clever quips and his never-ending assault of cheesy jokes. In the midst of your current despair, however, you doubted whether he would be able to pull you out of the pit of misery in which you were currently drowning.

You pulled yet another tissue from the box in your hands and swiped at the ceaseless drops spilling past your eyelashes. You frowned slightly at the darkened wet spots dappled across the fabric of your pink floral romper.

Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have worn mascara.

“Oh, look, honey,” your mother whispered while tapping your shoulder. “I think the Kims just arrived.”

You sniffled and wiped at your nose before turning toward the entrance, and sure enough, the entire Kim clan was filtering into the funeral home. Your aunt waved in your direction, and your mother sent back an equally enthusiastic wave in response. In mere moments, the two of them were embracing and chattering away in hushed voices about incoming relatives, friends, and the big dinner taking place after the funeral. Your father patted your shoulder, encouraging you to keep out of their gossipy affairs.

You sighed heavily and scanned the room, looking for Seokjin’s broad shoulders and tousled chestnut locks, but he was nowhere to be seen. Discouraged, you turned back to gaze at the myriad floral arrangements landscaping the front of the room. As luck would have it, everyone knew your grandmother remarkably well. Every bouquet was in a shade of pink and the delightful rosy hues transformed the dreary box into a chest containing a precious treasure. It was soothing to look upon the roses, carnations, lilies, and other flowers all lending their delicate fragrance and beauty to the somber scene before you.

A side door creaked open to reveal two funeral home workers carrying in two more large floral arrangements. One was decked out in the signature pink motif, but the other was a ghastly collection of yellow and purple blooms with a hideous printed bow and gold foil wrapping around the bottom of the pot.

“Where did that monstrosity come from?” uttered a voice from your left. “It’s an eyesore.”

You turned just in time to raise your eyebrows as a newly bleached blonde Seokjin slid into the seat next to you with a scowl on his face. His rosy button up shirt was accented with a fuchsia pocket square and tie combo, and you smiled at his strict adherence to your grandmother’s signature color. Pink just accentuated Seokjin’s personality perfectly; it was light, comforting, and full of life. The horrid yellow and purple creation invading the flower arrangements was an affront to Seokjin’s very nature, and you could tell he was not having it.

“Help me hide that hideous thing in the back,” Seokjin requested with a pat to your knee. “Before anyone sees it.”

The urgency in his voice drew a small smile on your lips and you readily followed him to the front of the room. You both made a big show of rearranging the flowers and potted plants, and through a little misdirection, you hid the sore thumb behind a mountain of pink roses and lilies. With the funeral faux pas handled, you and Seokjin meandered back to your seats and sighed with relief.

“Glad that’s done,” Seokjin smirked. “High five for teamwork!”

With his large hand lifted just above your head, you grinned and gladly granted him the high five. Seokjin’s comforting presence seemed to have cleared some of the gloomy rain clouds which refused to dissipate in the wake of your grandmother’s death. More people began filing into the funeral home and Seokjin placed his arm around you and drew you close.

“I still can’t believe she’s gone,” he whispered. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“My heartbreak feels real,” you countered. “I was just talking to her the other day, Jinnie.”

“I know,” he pouted. “I called her a few days ago too. I was still missing a few of her recipes for the family cookbook. We’re going to have to dig through her stuff at the house to figure out the rest on our own.”

“Whatever you need, Jinnie,” you promised. “I’m just glad she was able to share some of those things with us. Don’t worry. We will find the rest. I don’t know what I would do if we could never taste those things again.”

“It’ll take some practice to get them just right,” Seokjin sighed. “But we really need to find the rest. Between you and me, I think we can handle it. Right, goguma?”

“Awwww, goguma,” you sniffled. “Grandma won’t ever be able to call me a sweet potato again.”

“I know,” Seokjin said comfortingly. “But I’m still here, and I will continue to call you goguma from now on.”

“Thank you, Jinnie,” you smiled. “Does that mean I get to call you gamja?”

“But of course,” Seokjin chuckled. “What good is a sweet potato without her savory counterpart? Together, we can find those last remaining secret recipes.”

“Typical Grandma,” you mused. “Never wanting to give away the best recipes. Not even the secret things she would do aside from the written recipe!”

“I know,” Seokjin huffed. “Remember what she would tell us instead?”

Seokjin rearranged his face to take on the look of an old lady with a smirk.

“And that’s all,” Seokjin creaked out in a faux granny voice. “Unless you want to get a little fancy.”

“And of course, she always got fancy,” you seethed. “Sneaky old lady.”

“The sneakiest,” Seokjin agreed. “I guess I have to take over that position now.”

“I’ll fight you for it,” you challenged with a smile and you both put up your dukes.

Your quiet giggles were interrupted by a grim faced man in a gray suit tapping the podium microphone. A cacophony of feedback and groans from the guests erupted across the room, culminating in a clearing of the throat and a somber “Pardon me.”

“Pardon me,” the somber man repeated. “Will everyone please take their seats? We will begin the service in a few minutes.”

Everyone crowded into the long pews, and soon, only standing room was available. The beloved matriarch of your family certainly touched an abundance of lives in her time on Earth, and that sentiment carried you forth as the service began. Family members and friends took turns reading words of comfort and praise, and you and Seokjin even contributed a reading of your grandmother’s favorite poem. When all was said and done, the service continued on to the cemetery where your grandmother was finally laid to rest beside your already departed grandfather.

----------------------------

“Kim Seokjin, I’m warning you!” you growled. “If you fuck up my hair, I will literally murder you.”

Seokjin’s barely contained guffaws spilled out as squeaks and squawks as he continued to apply pink dye to the bleached sections of your hair before folding them up with foil.

“Relax,” Seokjin chuckled as he continued working. “This isn’t my first time doing someone’s hair. You’re in good hands.”

You grumbled slightly as Seokjin continued to foil wrap more blonde sections of hair around your face, but you relaxed when you realized how focused Seokjin was. After questioning his new blonde look, he explained his clever scheme to pay tribute to your grandmother by dying his treasured brown tresses to a brilliant pink color. After expressing your desire to do the same, you were now sitting in her bathroom with foil sheets, bowls of bleach and dye on the counter and one of your grandmother’s favorite dressing gowns covering your clothes.

“That should do it,” Seokjin announced as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Now, we just wait for the dye to set.”

“How many foils did you use?” you questioned while lifting a few covered sections. “I look like an aluminum pinecone over here.”

“Not that many,” he admitted while adjusting the plastic shower cap on his head. “I think I bleached about 13 different sections. Maybe a bit more? You should’ve just done your whole head like me.”

“I don’t want to be twinsies, Seokjinnie,” you replied. “I just want a little pop of pink.”

“Hey,” Seokjin smirked. “What do you call a country with only pink cars?”

You perked up and grinned at your smug cousin, noting that he was desperately trying to hold the punchline in.

“What,” you relented.

“A Pink Car-nation!” Seokjin sputtered.

You both gave in to the absurdity of the cheesy joke and you wandered into your grandmother’s room to sit on her small pink loveseat.

“I always loved this little nook in her room,” you sighed wistfully. “Remember when we’d watch cooking shows with her in here?”

“Yup, every Thursday night,” Seokjin beamed. “I purposely avoided school activities that met on Thursdays so that I never missed an evening with her.”

“She loved those shows,” you reminisced. “Remember when we found all those old Iron Chef episodes on YouTube? She loved it!”

“Not as much as she loved watching Iron Chef America,” Seokjin reminded you. “She had a crush on both Alton Brown and the Chairman.”

“No way,” you argued. “She wanted Morimoto and Michael Symon! She always loved their dishes the best.”

“I think we can agree that she just loved food,” Seokjin chuckled. “The woman had a passion for feeding us delicious things.”

You both sighed and nodded your head, your thoughts replaying touching memories of your grandmother in an attempt to summon her spirit into the room.

“What are we gonna do without her, gamja?” you sniffled. “Things are never going to be the same around here.”

“I don’t know,” Jin huffed. “I’m sure we’ll think of something, goguma.”

A gentle knock pulled you both out of your reverie and your aunt appeared at the doorway with a pink plastic tote in her hands. Her eyebrows rose comically when she peeped the hair accessories you were both rocking, but she shook her head and decided that silence was best in this situation.

“I figured you two would be in here,” she smiled softly. “This was always your place with her.”

“Yeah, we just feel closer to her in here,” you replied.

“What’s that, eomma?” Seokjin gestured at the tote in his mother’s hands. “More of Grandma’s stuff for the closet?”

“Actually, it was on one of the chairs in the dining room,” she explained. “We saw it when we were clearing places for dinner. There’s a note inside. It’s addressed to the two of you...from her.”

Both you and Seokjin bolted off the couch, arms ready to receive this newfound treasure. The glossy opaque exterior did nothing to offer any explanation as to the contents of the container. Noting the intimate nature of this discovery, your aunt stepped forward and gingerly placed the container on the coffee table. After giving your hand a gentle squeeze and offering a kiss to Seokjin’s cheek, she offered a small smile and left without another word.

You and Seokjin sank back into the couch cushions and stared at the pink plastic taunting you from the coffee table. After a moment, you glanced at Seokjin and realized that he was too dumbstruck to do anything.

“I’m going to open it, Jinnie,” you announced. “Is that ok?”

Seokjin could only nod with furrowed brows and his breath caught as you lifted the lid to reveal a pile of multicolored pieces of paper stacked inside topped with a folded sheet of pink lined paper. The box released the scent of coriander, bergamot, lavender, and peppercorns and your eyes watered at the nostalgic scent of your grandmother. You took the folded note into your hand and began to unfold it as Seokjin sat forward to hear you read what was inside. Tears sprang to your eyes as you quickly scanned the page and began to read.

My Dearest Gamja & Sweetest Goguma,

I know that I will not be able to help you finish the cookbook that you’ve been working so hard on, and I apologize for that. I know that whatever you two “cook up” will be amazing, with or without my help. You two will always be my favorites, but don’t ever tell anyone that, not even your parents. They’ll just be jealous, or “jelly” as you kids like to say. I know this isn’t much of a gift, but it’s my most precious possession in the world besides my family. Inside this box, you’ll find the last of my secret recipes. (Yes, the ones you’ve been bugging me about for months now. I also threw in a few extra things just for you two.) Please take this knowledge and put it to good use. Remember that whenever you get stuck in a recipe that it’s ok to improvise. Always trust your instincts and believe in your skills (because I taught you most of them), and if all else fails, just know that I will be proud of you no matter what you do. I love you both more than you will ever know. Please take care of each other and don’t forget that it’s always a good idea to get a little fancy in the kitchen.

Always your little kitchen fairy,

Grandma

P.S. Don’t you dare get rid of my aprons! I worked very hard on those. They belong in the kitchen.

You sniffled as you took in the elegant swirls of her handwriting and the esoteric scribbles in the margins. You were about to comment about one particular doodle to Seokjin, but then you looked up and noticed his reddened ears, his tear streaked cheeks, and his trembling lips.

“Oh, gamja,” you cried out. “What’s wrong?”

“I just-,” Seokjin tried to speak, but failed. “I just miss her so much, goguma. She just got us, you know? No one else really gets us. She always did, and now, she’s gone.”

His last word died on his lips and he could no longer hold back the choking sob clawing at his throat. You quickly placed the letter back on the table and threw your arms around your cousin’s quaking shoulders. The two of you held onto each other, sobbing in your shared grief and comforting each other as best you could.

“We knew this was going to happen at some point, Jinnie,” you muttered into his shoulder. “She couldn’t keep fighting forever. At least we know that she’s not in pain anymore.”

“I know,” he pouted petulantly. “Doesn’t mean I wanted her to leave us.”

“She didn’t completely leave us,” you assured him. “She left us this. Now, we can finish putting together this cookbook. It will be her family legacy.”

That thought seemed to sit well with Seokjin because he released a shaky exhale and straightened up. He leaned over to pull a few tissues out of the crocheted tissue box on the coffee table and he handed you one while he dabbed at the wetness on his flushed cheeks. After you’d both composed yourselves, you began digging through the items in the pink container.

“Oh my God!” Seokjin exclaimed while lifting several pieces of paper. “She finally gave up those last few gems that we kept asking her about.”

“You got her cookie recipe?!” you gasped. “And what about that soup she always makes when we’re sick?”

“It’s all here!” Seokjin confirmed. “The cookies, the soup, and even that chicken dish she only made for special occasions. She even gave us some cooking tips. You know, the stuff she would always do that wasn’t in the recipes? She wrote it all down here in the margins. This is fantastic! You just need to help me put it together.”

You continued perusing the contents of the container and noticed some irregularities in the organization. Your grandmother was a culinary genius, but keeping things neat and in order was not one of her strong suits.

“I think we’re missing a page, Jinnie,” you pouted. “I can’t find the second half of this cookie recipe. I wanted to make some for dessert tonight. Help me find it.”

You both began digging through the dozens of pages of notes in the container, and it was proving to be quite the task. Seokjin frantically filtered through several sheets of paper seeking the page in question. With the copious collection of Post-it notes, sticky flags, and impromptu bookmarks, the coffee table was an absolute disaster area within minutes.

“I swear I just saw that page,” Seokjin grumbled. “It had a blue tab on it and it had a little whale scribbled in the corner of the page.”

“Is the one that you’re holding in your hand?” you quipped with a smile.

Seokjin examined the paper in his hand and his head fell back in defeat. You could barely control the giggle that was threatening to escape from your lips.

“Seriously?” Seokjin groaned. “We’ve been looking for this for like five minutes already.”

“It’s fine, gamja,” you assured him. “You know what they say, if you’re searching for something, take an apple with you.”

You gestured at yourself and Seokjin smiled.

“And why is that?” Seokjin mused.

“So that your search will be fruitful,” you grinned.

You both chuckled at your lame pun, and you could see Seokjin gearing up for one of his infamous cheesy jokes.

“We should’ve called you sagwa instead of goguma, y’know?” Seokjin suggested. “But grandma always said you were too soft and sweet to be an apple, even if your middle name is Eris.”

“I yam what I yam,” you gloated. “There’s no arguing with her logic.”

“Hey,” Seokjin chuckled. “Why do sweet potatoes make good detectives?”

“Why?” you smiled.

“Because they keep their eyes peeled,” Seokjin responded before exploding into a fit of squeaky laughter.

The two of you collected yourselves after the giggles calmed down and stacked the handwritten notes back into the pink container for safekeeping. Once you got the chance, you were going to begin typing everything up and creating a digital template for the cookbook. Your best friend/soulmate, Taehyung, was creating some dazzling layouts and original artwork that would be used to decorate the cookbook and commemorate your grandmother.

After rinsing the pink dye out of each other’s hair in the shower with your grandmother’s removable shower head, you and Seokjin dried your hair and styled it the best you could with your grandmother’s limited styling products. You wove your hair into a pair of French braid pigtails and the brilliant hues of pink peeking through your dark hair filled you with glee.

Perfect.

You turned to see Seokjin arranging his rosy bangs so that his forehead was still exposed when you had a brilliant idea.

“Want to help me make some of Grandma’s cookies, gamja?” you chirped. “We should make a double batch for everyone that’s coming.”

“I’m down,” Seokjin replied with a grin. “As long as we have this recipe, what could go wrong?”

30 MINUTES LATER

“This doesn’t look right, gamja,” you huffed while scanning the recipe ingredients on the page again. “The dough feels too wet. I think we did something wrong.”

Seokjin walked over and looked at the sticky mess coating your hands and then glanced back at the page you were still decoding.

“You’re right,” Seokjin agreed. “Something isn’t right.”

You wiped as much of the greasy dough back into the bowl as you could before walking over to the sink to wash your hands of the sticky substance. Whatever it was, it was definitely not cookies. You dried your hands on the flamingo print towel hanging from your pink ruffled apron and groaned at the unchanging list of ingredients on the page. You didn’t even notice when your cousin Sana wandered in and peeked over your shoulder.

“What is this?” she asked abruptly, nearly giving you a heart attack.

“Holy shit, Sana,” you gasped while clutching your chest. “Where the hell did you come from, you little ninja?”

“Your mom sent me inside to get tablecloths,” she griped. “Where are they, anyway?”

Seokjin opened a cabinet and pulled out a pile of folded pink patterned tablecloths and handed them to Sana. She gazed at his hair for a second too long and Seokjin took that as an invitation to strike a pose.

“You like it?” Seokjin prompted. “Looks good, huh?”

Sana’s sharp gaze cut across to your braids and she raised a judgmental eyebrow at the pink threaded in your dark hair.

“We did it for Grandma,” you explained. “Something to pay tribute to her memory.”

Sana’s countenance relaxed and she nodded with a smirk.

“Well, that’s ok then,” Sana murmured. “If you’re going to look ridiculous, at least it’s for a good cause.”

Both you and Seokjin gaped at her snarky remark and your eyes followed her as she made her way to the hallway. She paused for a moment and turned back with a huff.

“By the way,” Sana grumbled. “One of your friends is here.”

“Oh, is it Tae?” you hoped. “He’s supposed to be getting here today. His parents couldn’t drive him yesterday so he missed the funeral.”

“Ugh, no,” Sana snapped. “It’s not your idiot best friend. It’s some girl.”

“Soulmate, Sana, not idiot best friend,” you admonished playfully. “They may mean the same thing, but Tae is big on labels.”

“Whatever,” Sana rolled her eyes. “It’s not him. Just come outside and get your friend. I don’t know who she is, but she’s kinda annoying.”

“I’ll go out in a minute,” you replied while studying the recipe once again. “Jin-Jin and I are working on the cookies right now. We need to figure out what’s wrong with the recipe.”

Sana leaned in and looked at the dough in the mixing bowl and scowled.

“That dough looks like shit,” she growled. “What did you do to it?”

“Sana!” you exclaimed with a start. “Rude much?”

“What?” Sana argued. “It does! My dog’s shit looks like that if she eats too much fried food.”

“You know, she’s got a point, goguma,” Seokjin commented lightly. “Maybe we missed something in the recipe?”

“Just dry it out,” Sana suggested. “It looks too wet to be cookie dough.”

“Huh?” you recoiled. “How would you know that?”

“Trust me,” Sana smirked. “I’ve stolen a lot of cookie dough out of Grandma’s freezer. I know what it should look like.”

With the mischievous smirk still pulling her lips into a sneer, Sana turned and left the kitchen with a little hitch in her step.

“That little hellion,” Seokjin mused. “Should we tell her that Grandma knew about her thievery all along?”

“And ruin the illusion that she’s a sneaky little thief?” you giggled. “Nah, maybe later. I’m just surprised she paid so much attention to the texture of the dough. She’s one smart cookie after all.”

“I guess she’s a cookie dough expert,” Seokjin chuckled. “Do you know what they call a smart cookie?”

“What?” you smirked with anticipation.

“Academia nut,” Seokjin replied, then immediately fell into squeaky giggles.

You both enjoyed the lame pun and joke combo for a moment before looking back into the mixing bowl with frustration. You grabbed the ingredients page again and tried to puzzle out the mystery of the cookie recipe once again.

“Are you sure this is the right page to the cookie recipe, Jinnie?” you queried. “Maybe it was a different page.”

“Maybe?” Seokjin hummed. “Can you check the pink container again? Maybe we missed something.”

You took off your apron and placed it on a hook before walking back into the hall. You raced back to your grandmother’s room past the living room and shuffled through the box looking for the long lost cookie ingredient list. After flipping through a few pages, a loose piece of heavy cardstock fluttered to the ground. Upon further inspection, you immediately realized the problem with the recipe and you groaned loudly.

Grandma, you sneaky old lady!

You quickly headed back to the kitchen, but unfortunately, you didn’t get very far.

When you got back into the living room, a high pitched squeal assaulted your ears.

“HEY!” the voice bellowed. “THERE YOU ARE!”

Before you could trace the origin of the voice, a pair of arms enveloped you in a bear hug. You look past the wisps of caramel hair flapping in your eyes at your confused younger cousin Sana.

“She said she was here to see you,” Sana scowled. “I told her you were busy in the kitchen, but she wouldn’t listen. Friend of yours?”

“Well, of course she’s my friend,” the strange voice insisted. “We’ve been in the same class since second grade, haven’t we?”

As she pulled away to reveal her face, you nearly growled at the pair of pleading eyes belonging to the one and only Aeri. The same Aeri who once poured glitter glue into your pencil case, who was the sweetheart of your school, and who was infamous for going after all the popular, rich boys in town just to reap the benefits.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your grandmother,” Aeri squealed sadly. “I just wanted to come over and make sure you were doing ok.”

“I’m fine,” you said, suspicion etching little wrinkles around your eyes. “How did you know I was here?”

“Just a lucky guess,” she shrugged. “Your aunt said I could stay and help set up for the party as a sign of my condolences to your family. Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, sure,” you commented, still unsure of her intentions. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you dyed your hair?” Aeri noted. “That’s an interesting color choice.”

“Grandma loved pink,” Sana explained. “Her and Seokjin decided to play salon together. It’s a tribute.”

You glared at the air quotes Sana was making when she said “tribute,” but you also noticed that Aeri’s eyes lit up with Sana said Seokjin’s name.

“Oh well, that’s wonderful,” Aeri cooed. “It looks great. I bet your cousin’s hair looks just as good. That’s so sweet that you guys did that for your grandmother.”

The air in the living room shifted uncomfortably with Aeri’s words and you cleared your throat before the moment got any more awkward.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat,” you muttered. “But I’m a little busy right now getting the dessert ready for tonight. Have fun setting up.”

You turned towards the kitchen, but not before hearing the beginning of Aeri and Sana’s conversation.

“Oh, I wonder if I should go help her in the kitchen,” Aeri proclaimed sweetly. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“No, she’s fine.” Sana grumbled. “She’s got Jin in there. We need your help outside setting up tables. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Aeri’s protests faded out the door and you scowled as you heard the screen door fall shut.

What is this bitch up to?

You didn’t have time to play detective, so you shelved those thoughts until after dessert was finished.

Seokjin was pulling out more ingredients from the cupboard as you entered and you noticed that the spices were piling up on the counter.

“What are you doing, gamja?” you asked. “What with the spices?”

“Just thinking of getting a little fancy,” he quipped playfully. “Grandma liked to play mad scientist in here. Why shouldn’t I?”

“If this is for the cookies, hold that thought,” you said while handing him the cardstock. “We need to fix the recipe before you do that.”

Seokjin took the card from your hand and tilted his head in confusion. After flipping the card over and then back, he looked at you with questions in his eyes.

“What am I supposed to be looking at, gamja?” Seokjin asked

“That is a label for a box of butter sticks,” you explained. “Actually, it’s for a box of half sticks.”

“Ok, but why am I looking at it?” Seokjin persisted. “What does this mean?”

“This is Grandma’s butter package,” you continued. “This is the only butter she buys. But they sell it in half sticks...they only sell it in half-sticks.”

Seokjin pondered that statement and then the light bulb flickered mockingly above his head.

“She only used half-sticks!” Seokjin exclaimed loudly. “We have to go in and adjust all her recipes now.”

“Yup,” you sighed. “Leave it to Grandma to write her recipes in code.”

“So, we just need to double all the ingredients and we should be good,” Seokjin concluded. “That’s why the dough feels so weird.”

“You grab the wet ingredients,” you commanded. “I’ll gather the dry and meet you at the mixer.”

You both high-fived and pounced into action. With a little teamwork, you managed to pull together a decent cookie dough out of the mess you’d made. Seokjin even took a little time to mix some freshly ground ginger to the mix for a little fresh and spicy kick.

“It will be like gingerbread,” Seokjin promised. “But without the dark flavor of the molasses.”

Once the cookies were done, you both filled a few platters and carried them out to the table that was set up in the backyard patio. People were just starting to arrive, and the two of you mingled around and welcomed everyone to the memorial dinner. Once or twice, you caught sight of Aeri mixed into the group talking to Seokjin, but you couldn’t get away to confront her. The way she was batting her eyelashes at him and touching his arm was making you bristle.

I don’t know what she’s playing at, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.

Once the dinner was over, the clean up crew was hustling and bustling inside to get your grandmother’s house cleaned before everyone left for the night.

You were just putting the vacuum back into the closet when a loud argument erupted from inside the kitchen. You and Seokjin rushed into the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about.

“That glassware set is mine and I’m taking it,” cried your aunt. “Mom always said that I was going to be the one to inherit it after she passed.”

“You can’t just start taking things out of the house,” cried your other aunt. “We should give everyone a chance to claim something of their own. You weren’t the only one who was promised something, you know. Give the kids a chance to get something as well. Don’t be so selfish.”

The word “selfish” triggered another round of yelling and you and Seokjin decided to step in before things got out of hand. In the end, a running tab of claimed items was created and everyone settled down once the matter was put into writing. The emotional aunts wandered back into the living room, while you, Seokjin, and your mother stayed behind to finalize the list.

“Did you two already pick out something?” your mother asked. “I know a lot has already been claimed, but I’m sure there must be something you would want.”

“Not really, mom,” you sighed. “Seokjin and I already have the best part of Grandma: her recipes. I don’t think there is anything else that would rival that.”

Your mother nodded and then abruptly perked up. She walked over to one of the drawers and began digging through the silverware inside, seemingly searching for something specific. She pulled out a spoon and a fork and smiled widely when she held them in her hands. You and Seokjin were puzzled over her actions and your confusion increased when she placed the utensils on the countertop between you.

“This design was from Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding set,” she explained. “They received a full place setting, but these are the only two items left from the original set. The others were either damaged or lost along the way. I think you two should have them. That way you can always be connected to your grandparents and to each other. You two were the roses of your grandmother’s garden. She always held a special affection for you two that was different from your other cousins.”

With tears brimming in your eyes, you looked up at Seokjin and saw he wasn’t faring much better. Your mom sensed that this needed to be a private moment, so she placed her hand on both your cheeks for a moment and then gracefully exited the kitchen, leaving the two of you staring at the elaborate spoon and fork on the counter.

“So how do we decide who gets what?” you probed with a sniffle. “I don’t want to fight like our crazy aunts did. We’re way more civilized than that.”

“There’s only one answer to that question,” Seokjin said while wiping a tear from his eye. “Why did the sweet potato cross the road?”

“I don’t know, Jinnie,” you hiccuped. “Why?”

Seokjin slid the fork over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder. This was a bittersweet moment for the two of you and you knew that his joke was the only thing keeping the two of you from breaking down into yet another round of tears.

“She saw a fork up ahead,” Seokjin croaked. “That’s why you should get the fork, goguma. I’ll take the spoon, yeah?”

“Makes sense, gamja,” you agreed. “You are always the one to scoop me up when I’m down. You’re always such a sweetheart, and I love you for that.”

“I love you too,” Seokjin mumbled while pulling you into a crushing hug. “Hey, speaking of sweetness, if you put sugar in tea, what do you put in sugar?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed into his shoulder. “What?”

“A spoon,” he chuckled while grabbing his spoon from the counter. “See, my jokes always make sense of everything.”

“I promise to keep this with me always,” you swore while holding your fork. “This random utensil will forever be my connection to you, gamja.”

“And this spoon is never leaving my sight, goguma,” Seokjin promised. “It will be a constant reminder that I have you and you have me.”

You embraced once again and a sharp throat clearing interrupted your heartfelt moment. You both turned to see your younger cousin Sana just inside the kitchen doorway, wearing her signature scowl and a bright blue Transformers T-shirt.

“Hey, Sana,” you called out while wiping away your tears yet again. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Sana sighed. “We just finished cleaning up. Your friend Aeri just left. It took a while to get rid of her.”

“Oh, is she your friend, goguma?” Seokjin probed. “She mentioned something like that earlier.”

“No, not really,” you scowled. “She’s just a girl from school.”

“I think she liked me,” Seokjin bragged. “She said my hair reminded her of her favorite bubblegum.”

“It looks more like Pepto Bismol, if you ask me,” Sana interjected.

You released a loud cackle as Seokjin’s ego deflated slightly at Sana’s words, but he shook it off quickly and smiled.

“So how did you like the cookies after all, Sana?” Seokjin asked. “As good as Grandma’s?”

“They were pretty good,” Sana admitted. “A little different, but still good.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t have any left,” you sighed. “I wanted to take some home, but they were gone before I could.”

“So no cookie dough left either?” Sana hoped. “Maybe in the freezer?”

“No, you rascal,” Seokjin chuckled while rumpling her hair. “Nothing left for you to steal this time.”

"What makes you think I don't already have cookie dough at home?" Sana challenged.

"What cookie dough?" you asked. “What are you talking about?”

"Grandma's last bag,” Sana stated with a grin of Cheshire proportions. “I found it in the freezer the other day and took it."

"Sana!” you reprimanded. “You should share that with the family."

"Nope,” Sana boasted. “Mine now. But I might be willing to share if you can do me a favor."

“What kind of favor?” Seokjin wondered aloud. “Whatever it is, we’ll do it. We need an original sample to make sure we get the next batch of dough right.”

Sana shuffled forward and glanced between you and Seokjin. She was one of your stranger cousins, always dabbling in odd hobbies and adopting a style that was all her own. Both you and Seokjin felt protective of her unconventional personality, and despite her surly demeanor, Sana gravitated to the two of you more than any of your other relatives.

“I was wondering,” Sana began softly. “If maybe you could teach me how to cook. I want to learn how to make cookies.”

“I think you mean bake,” Seokjin corrected her gently. “And we’d love to teach you how to make cookies. We have grandma’s cookie recipe now. Want to help us make some?”

“No,” Sana replied. “I want those peanut butter cookies that you guys made for Halloween. Those are my favorite.”

“We can do that,” you beamed. “Let’s get our aprons on and then we can show you how to make those cookies.”

Once you all had on aprons, with Sana opting for a plain white apron while you and Seokjin donned frilly pink ones, you all started pulling out ingredients for the cookies. As you waited for the butter to soften, you started regaling Sana with recipes from your grandmother’s cookbook.

“So there’s also candy recipes?” Sana asked. “Are you going to share those with everybody?”

“Absolutely,” you replied. “It’s a family cookbook. It wouldn’t be fair if we kept it all to ourselves.”

“I didn’t know you were so interested in cooking, Sana,” Seokjin commented while showing her how to mix the dry ingredients. “It’s a valuable skill to have, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sana smirked. “I’m sure I can put those recipes to good use.”

The three of you continued to work on the cookies while you and Seokjin gave Sana instructions on each step of the recipe. A comforting air settled in the kitchen and you couldn’t help but wonder if your grandmother’s spirit was sitting in the corner on her stool, fondly watching as her kitchen was brought to life once again.

Author's Note: I finally got around to finishing this drabble. Work is really putting me through the ringer. I hope you all enjoy this little slice of family time with the one and only Kim Seokjin. These potato heads are so lovable and it did make sad to put them through such an angsty memory, but it all worked out in the end. Thank you to my Beta @xxxille-girlxxx for being an amazing soulmate and reading my drafts. Your suggestions brought this whole drabble to a whole other level. I'm going to be working on my collab fic that is due next month, so I will return to these drabbles and my other fic Peripheral after I finish that. Stay safe, everyone!

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