The first thing that hit him, when he had let himself in the apartment door, was the smell of roasted onions. Seulgi was in her kitchen with the sleeves of her thin cashmere sweater rolled up.
Jungkook put his big coat carefully in the hall closet and turned around just as she appeared in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on her apron and smiling through her tiredness. I had a feeling he had been here before.
When they went together into the kitchen he felt encircled by its humid brightness. His eyes roamed dolefully over the kimchi jars and broth cans and fruit boxes, the bananas lined up to ripen nearer to the windowsill. When he discern that she needed that extra focus and attention to finish the cooking, he went out to the living-room sofa and settled himself there, taking very slow, deep breaths to show how self-controlled he was. In a minute she came in to join him, her apron removed and hair reassembled. "Oh," she said with a sigh. "Thank God for Christmas. Just for a little peace and quiet."
"I'll get the drinks, honey," he said, bolting to his feet. He had hoped his voice might sound normal now after early mornings of conversing with her over the phone, but it still came out with echo-chamber resonance.
"You will not," she commanded. "You sit down. You deserve to sit still and be waited on, when you come to me looking so tired. How did your activities go, Jungkook?" as she would never call his proper name when she was alone with him.
"Oh, all right," he said, sitting down again. "Fine." He watched her measuring out the bourbon and soda, his favorite drink, stirring the tall skinny glass in her neat, quick way, bringing it across the room.
"There," she said, settling herself close beside him. "Will you do the honors?" And when he had filled the glasses she raised hers and said, "Oh, lovely. Cheers."
The orderly rotation of many careful moods was her life, or rather, was what her life had become. She managed it well, and it was only rarely, looking very closely at her face, that he could see how much the effort was costing her.
She had her phone out and proceeded to put on some music. "Last Christmas" came up. The glass in his hand looked reassuringly deep. He took another sip or two before daring to look at her again, and when he did it was a heartening sight. Her smile was almost completely free of tension, and soon they were chatting together as comfortably as happy lovers.
"Oh, isn't it nice just to sit down and unwind?" she said, allowing her head to sink back into the upholstery. "And isn't it lovely to think it's Christmas?"
"Sure is," he said.
