Page 43 of Signed, I'm Yours!
There’s a tap on my shoulder, and I jump, turning around to a red-faced Seojun.
“All done?” I ask, taking the headphones off.
“Oh yeah. My voice has never sounded better,” he says, waving his hand in front of his mouth as if he’s about to sing.
“Oh yeah. It smells like you sang great.” I pinch my nose even though I can’t smell anything but vanilla and step out of the bathtub. His eyes go wide, and I catch a glimpse of the vanilla-scented air freshener on top of the toilet lid.
“Mind if I practice my runs too before lights out?”
His shocked expression turns into a grimace, and he snatches the headphones from my hand.
“You’re disgusting,” he says, jumping into the bathtub.
“You started it.” I wink at him.
“How’s the floor?”he asks when we’re back in the room and after he’s thrown me two pillows to rest my head on.
The lights of the city that never sleeps flicker below like fireflies, never allowing the room to go fully dark. Not that I mind. I’ve never had the privilege of sleeping in such a setting. It’s magical.
“Cold and hard,” I answer, too dazed by the view to look back at him.
“You’re so funny.” He snorts completely deadpan before he goes quiet.
I can tell he’s staring at me though. I can feel it in the back of my head, tickling me.
“I guess…” he starts but pauses. This time, I turn around and look into his eyes reflecting the city lights and making him look more vulnerable than he’s looked since I met him earlier today. “I guess you can sleep here.” He pats the space next to him, hugging the pink pillar cushion.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He nods, moving back a smidge.
“But keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Creep.”
I sit up, grab the two pillows, and jump into bed with him. For some reason, I don’t point out that I could have moved the armchair closer to the bed or I could make a bed with a few more pillows, which he has in abundance. No. I don’t point that out. I just lie beside him and watch him.
His legs and arms are wrapped around the pink cushion like a sloth clinging to a tree branch. His pink silk pajamas look flawless against his skin, even if his face no longer is. His cheeks are red and spotty and his lips appear dry and almost white. But I don’t mind. He looks like one of us without all the makeup and character he puts on when he gets caught.
As if I didn’t notice how relaxed and giggly he got during movie night. As if I didn’t notice how drained he looked in the cab before we’d arrived.
He might not be a good liar, but he is a pretty good actor, and now I’m finally seeing more of the real Seojun.
“You’re staring at me,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.
“I am.” I feel a laugh in my belly, but it turns into a grin when it reaches my throat.
“Stop it. It’s weird.”
“Okay. I’ll stop,” I whisper but keep watching him.
Without needing to open his eyes, Seojun readjusts his hold on the pink cushion and grimaces.
“No, you’re not. Stop being a creep, creep. Good night!”
I close my eyes for a moment and then open them again.
What’s wrong with me? I should be tired. I should be looking forward to passing out, to resting my eyes.
But all I can do is lie there and stare at Seojun as sleep claims him one breath at a time.
