Page 101 of Signed, I'm Yours!
SEOJUN
“I’m wiped.” I collapse on my couch as soon as we’re back home, and I don’t even care that I’m getting the very expensive velvet wet, which says a lot about my exhaustion.
The Phantom, one of the supervillains I’ve always looked up to, is such a disgusting wuss.
“Me too. But great job, baby. We only got him because of you.” Jack crashes next to me and cocks his head to the side to look at me.
Why does he have to look so fucking cute when he’s complimenting me?
“You’d have got there eventually.” I brush his leg and tap his knee. He smiles.
“You beat me to it by mere seconds.”
I roll my eyes, and even that hurts. Jack offers me his hand, and I thread my fingers through his. It feels good touching him. I don’t even miss the fire we felt when he was still signed. It was toostrong, too intense. This…it feels good. It’s nice and gentle, and just the right amount of heart-warming. It’s…Jack through and through.
“It’s been a crazy few days, hasn’t it?” I hum, my eyes so heavy it takes effort to keep them open. Effort I can’t withstand. I lean on his shoulder and breathe deeply. “Hm?”
I wait for an answer, but it never comes.
“I said…” I lift my head just enough to look him in the eyes and find him fast asleep. “Oh good,” I mumble and close my own eyes, letting sleep claim me, finally.
When I open them again, it’s dark outside. And Jack is no longer beside me.
“Wait a minute!”
How did I get to bed?
I lie back and try to think. Try to figure out if I’ve just started sleepwalking or something when Jack enters the room with a tray. I can’t see what’s on it at first but whatever it is smells delicious.
“Good evening, Mr. Sinister. I take it you’re starved?”
“Famished,” I reply and sit up.
Jack puts the tray on my lap and kisses my forehead before taking his place beside me.
I go for the coffee first, which smells divine and is the perfect drinking temperature, before I even try to discern everything else on the tray.
There’s a small glass pot with apple and cinnamon overnight oats, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and scrambled eggs and bacon on toast.
“I have to say. I’m impressed.”
He raises an eyebrow and chuckles.
“You do realize I just scrambled some eggs and cooked the bacon, right?”
He does have a point, but it’s more than anyone has ever done for me, so I couldn’t care less. He could have slapped me in the face with a slice of toasted bread, and I would have dropped to my knees to worship him.
“What about the oats? How did you overnight the oats when it’s not even night yet? That takes skill.”
“You’re such a goofball.” He pushes my head to the side. I laugh.
“And you’re a creep. Quite a pair,” I tell him, looking into his eyes, trying to capture this moment, commit this feeling to memory so I can treasure it for the rest of my life. Who knows how long it will last, and how do I know this will ever happen again? Especially when it hasn’t happened in my twenty-six years on Earth.
“Meh. We make it work,” he says, reaching for my coffee mug.
“Hey. That’s mine!”
“Sorry. A creep’s gotta creep,” he answers and takes a sip, ensuring his tongue covers every possible rim surface.
