I enthusiastically hum the words to the American Dad theme song while squeezing my fluffy blanket up to my chin. A high, very scratchy note ends my performance.
Before the show even begins, my door slams open and there, Yang Jin stands in his grey, checkered pyjama trousers; nothing to cover his naked torso. My eyes widen awkwardly as I watch him from my laidback position on the bed. His brown hair is in a disgruntled mess almost like he has just woken up and his chest rises and falls with the occasional pant of air he takes in and out. What is he doing in my room and why is he up so early in the morning? Wait, did he wake up earlier than usual and run to my room just to watch American Dad?
"You didn't tell me you're watching American Dad," he exclaims, thinning his eyes angrily.
I guess he did.
Nonchalantly I shrug.
He closes the door behind him, and I realise that the show has already begun so I immediately get immersed into it as Yang Jin jumps in beside me, causing the bed to dip down under his weight and I let out a snort when it creaks loudly from the mass he's exerting on it. Feeling his venomous stare burning the side of my head, I clear my throat and tame my expression into a non-laughing one. Through my peripheral, I nudge him and point at Roger the alien.
When he's finally had enough of glaring at me, he takes the pillow I have on my lap and places it on the head of the bed, shifting into a comfortable position after resting his head on his palms.
This show is messed up in so many ways, but I just can't get enough of it. Neither can my older brother. Yang Jin and I laugh between hilarious scenes and when the break cuts in the show, he gets up off the bed.
"I'm gonna empty the tank," he announces, causing me to scrunch my face in disgust and confusion.
"I did not need to know that," I reply stiffly, reverting my eyes back onto the television.
He's about to walk out of the room when a thought suddenly hits him and so he adds, "Oh, and if I'm not back by the time commercials have passed, you better pause it."
I roll my eyes.
"I'm serious, Seong Jin. Pause it!"
"Yeah, yeah."
Keeping his suspicious gaze locked on me, he stalks backwards slowly. I try to act as nonchalant as possible so that he can finally leave to empty the tank and after narrowing his eyes at me, he quickly pulls the door open and runs out of the room. I shake my head, releasing a small sigh.
Why he has to watch it in my room is beyond my comprehension. He can just go downstairs to the lounge or even better, just watch it in his own room with the eighty-five-inch television that my Franklin took the liberty of buying for him.
It was so that Yang Jin can move out with at least one item to add to the furniture he doesn't have.
My parents are very adamant on him moving out by the end of the year, because they are tired of supporting an adult. Besides, Yang Jin really needs to put his degree in business and economics to good use. I mean, I don't really mind that much. He can watch the show in my room, because it contributes to our sibling bonding time. It's surprisingly nice spending time with my backstabbing, petty brother who won't give me lifts to school.
Pushing my blankets aside, I pause the show so that I can go and get some snacks from downstairs. There're probably only strawberry flavoured granola bars left, but I'll take what I can get. Beggars can't be choosers.
Tugging my goat onesie's hood over my head, I begin to head out of the room. When I hear a faint clink, my movements come to a halt. My heart races as I scan the empty room in search of the source of the sound. My breaths become shallow and my eyes dart around with urgency, waiting for the noise to repeat itself. After a few tense moments, I relax my shoulders and prepare to continue on my way.
Clink.
I see some movement from the window. Somehow receiving a valiant boost of some sorts, I rush over and pull the window up. Instantly, a yelp of pain escapes my lips when something hits me on the nose. I stumble back.
"Ow," I mouth widely, palming the throbbing spot. "What the fuck?"
I quickly rush back to the window and look down to see who the imbecile that threw a stone at me is.
At first my eyes widen until a scowl pulls my lips down when I see the one person I really didn't want to see today. Seriously, I've seen his face for five days now and I'm sick and tired of it already. Dominic is standing down on the recently watered lawn in a black cap, a black hoodie, black tracksuit trousers, and black trainers. He looks like a spy, but only one that spends his money on expensive brands instead of just buying regular, non-branded tracksuit trousers.
"Finally," he whispers in what appears to annoyance, lowering the hand that's preparing to throw another stone at me. "I've been out here for over thirty minutes. What took you so long?"
"What the hell are you doing here," I hiss down at him panicky, "and how did you get in my backyard?"
"What do you mean? I told you I was gonna come over," he answers, burying his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "Oh, and the gate in the back was open. That's really unsafe on your part, Starr."
"But I told you it's lazy Saturday. I was—I am planning on relaxing today," I argue in frustration, glowering down at him.
"Is it?"
"Dominic, I think I made it pretty clear that I didn't want to see your face today. Do you remember me describing the awful week I had with you? Is it too much to ask for a break?"
He remains silent.
"I'm tired, mate."
"Well, Starr you seem to be forgetting who the puppet and the puppeteer is between the both of us." He lifts his hand up and starts moving his fingers in some sort of gesture which shows that he is pulling the strings. "I'm the one pulling the strings on you, Pinocchio. Not the other way around."
"I regret the day I met you," I murmur hatefully, nodding to myself with a strained smile on my face which probably looks more like a grimace. "How did you even know that this was my room? What if my mum had come out or something? What would you have done then?"
"I would've probably run away," he answers honestly, "but I had a feeling that it was your room."
"How?"
"Well, over the past awful week, as you so subtly put it, I've noticed a few things about you. Like the unusual fascination you have with goats."
"What?"
"Your bag has a goat on it. Your pencil case has a goat on it. Your phone case has goats on it. Your book covers have goats on them. I figured, the room with the goat curtains just had to belong to one person. Unless your parents also have a strange fascination with goats too."
"I-It's not a strange fascination." I can't hide the red which splashes onto my cheeks.
"I wanna come up," he says, ignoring my statement.
"You can't come up. My brother and I are watching American Dad."
He furrows his brows down into his eyelids. "What?"
"Yeah, I know. I'm boring for hanging out with my brother."
"No, what are you watching?"
"American Dad," I drawl out slowly, scowling when his expression doesn't change. "You know, good morning, USA?"
His face pulls into a deeper frown of bemusement.
I glance over at him in disbelief. "You don't know American Dad?"
He shakes his head, no.
"Where the hell have you been living? Under a rock?"
"No."
"You've got to watch American Dad. It's hilarious."
"I'd rather not. Your sense of humour is very different to mine."
Dryly, I stare at him. "It's, because you don't have a sense of humour."
"I'm coming up," he reiterates, starting to climb up the tree which is supposed to have been for when I get a boyfriend who'd sneak up into my room. We wouldn't do anything other than talking, because again, doing anything extreme under my parent's roof is very disrespectful. I was raised better than that.
Of course. You were raised to stalk boys and crush on your best friend's boyfriend.
Whoa! Way too harsh, Seong Jin 2.0!
"Weren't you listening to me? My brother and I are watching a show. He just went to take a piss. He's going to come back just now," I whisper-shout.
He doesn't seem to be listening since he's still continuing on his climb up the trees. He does it skilfully, like he has been climbing trees ever since he was a child. Maybe Taylor was right about him sneaking into people's rooms at night, specifically into a man in my neighbourhood's room in spunky spandex with crosses taped over his nipples just to get his arse fucked with a toy lightsaber.
When he has reached the final obstacle in his path, I start to second guess Taylor's theory, because he pants heavily from the way he's been exerting himself. If he were used to climbing into people's rooms, he wouldn't have to pant from exhaustion.
He gets on the last branch, ignoring my pleas for him to go back home and places his hands on the windowsill. As he hoists himself up to peek up at me while he's balancing on the branch,
I purse my lips in irritation and will myself not to push him off. It takes a lot of effort not to do it, but the thought is satisfactory enough.
"You never listen to me," I realise, crossing my arms over my chest in irk.
"You never listen to me, Starr," he replies, and I watch his hands tightening on the grasp which is keeping him stable. "I clearly recall saying that we should meet at the park… and you didn't want to come. So, I came here."
When he slips a bit, his eyes and mine widen in horror and I reach over to steady him by firmly planting my hands over his tense ones. What the hell is he doing? Is he really willing to die for pride? How stubborn is this guy? His eyes linger on my grasp on him for a while before he shakes his head and blinks dismissively.
Averting my enlarged gaze into my goat-filled room, I wet my suddenly dry lips. My panicked stare remains on the door, waiting for the moment my brother bursts into the room to find me in this incriminating position.
"Listen, you seriously need to get out of here. If my brother busts me, he'll run over to my parents and tattletale."
"If only you had come to the park."
"Yeah, well, I didn't so can you please leave," I desperately plead with him.
"I'm not going anywhere, Starr."
"Man, you're stalkerish as hell. It would do you some good to put all this effort and energy into Jodie."
"Excuse me?"
"Yeah, why don't you visit her house and climb up those trees to peek into her room? She's the one you're in love with; not me. Maybe you'd have enough intel about her likes and dislikes, the colour of her favourite bra and exactly which sex position she enjoys."
He scowls at me angrily, his glare puncturing two deep holes into my eyes and I'm surprised that they haven't melted me into slime from how fervent his gaze is.
"Get your hands off me," he grits out through a clenched jaw.
I roll my eyes at the rehearsed line that he says to me all the time. I lift my hands off him, nonetheless, throwing them up in surrender.
"And who said I'm in love with Jodie? It's merely an infatuation I'm giving into for my sole entertainment."
"You don't have to lie. I won't judge you for having feelings for someone." I shrug, folding my arms over my chest. "Although you really should've picked another candidate to infatuate over, because… Jodie? Like seriously, what the hell do you see in her? Ever since she started hanging out with Savannah, she's become a pain in the arse."
"You're just jealous," he states flatly.
"Over the impetuous, delirious passion you hold for Jodie?" I muse sarcastically, arching an eyebrow at his hilarious statement. "Yeah, Dominic, I'm so jealous."
He scowls.
Suddenly, I get an idea from the fact that he can't let go of his hold on the windowsill. Smugly pulling his black cap off, I gently tug the hood of my onesie down my head and firmly fit his cap on my head. Posing for him like a model, I make a few snapping sounds with my mouth as if cameras are taking pictures of me. I change my pose ever so often and I'm pretty sure I look ridiculous. With my hands resting on my hips, I ask him how I look, smiling widely and wiggling my eyebrows up and down playfully.
"Give that back," he demands calmly.
Only, over the past few days, I've also gotten to know Dominic the same way he has gotten to know me. While he picked up on the fact that I'm in love with goats, I picked up on something of my own. Something that I would've never picked up on if I didn't recall how back in the eighth grade, he basically remained as cool as a cucumber when I was around him.
When I would annoy him, he never burst out once. Not even once. Except for the time I told him that I liked him, but I don't know if I can even call that getting angry. He just slammed his locker shut and walked away from me.
He's what some people describe as the calm before the never-coming storm. I've rarely seen him losing his cool. He's always so composed and in control of his emotions. It might be why I like pushing his buttons so much, craving the slightest bit of a reaction. Always confirming to myself that he's not just a lifeless, breathing corpse. I'm impatiently waiting for the day he snaps and goes on a rampage. In fact, I pray that my death is delayed just so I can see that happening before I go.
"No. I like seeing what's happening on your face. I mean, even though it's little to nothing, since you're very impassive, I want to see Dominic Lachowski. The black, rugged hair you probably style for hours. The dull, chocolatey eyes which glare at me all the time. That mean scowl."
Reaching over, I fix his hair by ruffling a hand through it. He can only throw daggers at me since he needs to keep his hands on the windowsill otherwise, he will literally fall to his death.
Looking down at his hands, my lips twitch in hilarity when I see how his knuckles are whitening from his tightening grasp on the windowsill. A sudden hilarity hits me and I have to purse my lips in order not to break out laughing. This is actually quite fun, teasing him like this. I should do this more often. It makes spending time with him a little more bearable.
"Get your hands off me," he grits out, trying to evade my persisting hands.
"Chill. I'm just quickly fixing you and," I drawl out the last word as I twirl a few of his surprisingly silky locks away from his face, "there. Now, you look perfect."
"Seong Jin?"
I jump up in panic, my eyes widening in shock and I quickly slam the window shut, spinning around to face my brother with a guileless look on my face.
"Hmm?"
"Shit," Yang Jin exclaims loudly, the blood draining from his face as he glances over my shoulder and I'm pretty sure Dominic has been spotted.
"Okay, I know this looks bad, but I can explain." I hold my hands in front of me in some sort of defensive mode. Before he can jump to conclusions and run over to tell Amma that I'm busy sneaking boys into my room for an estranged purpose, I add, "You see, it all started with my sketchbook going missing and then Dominic—"
"No," he cuts me off between my sentence. He's not even trying to be courteous by looking at me when I'm explaining myself. No, Dominic is more interesting to him. "You just—you slammed the window down on that guy's fingers."
With eyes as large as saucers, I turn around painstakingly slow, dreading the nature of my brother's words and the honesty they hold.
Catching that he is in fact telling the truth, I grimace like a blood-stained criminal. Dominic is biting down on his bottom lip, trying to contain what I can assume is a scream of pain, but the gloss in his eyes says that he is an awful amount of agony. Hurriedly, I push the window open and glance over at him apologetically and also in panic.
"I'm so sorry," I breathe out an exclaim, carefully picking up his hands which are already red from how hard I slammed the window against them. I catch some blood on some of his knuckles and when Dominic's hands go limp instead of tensing in my grasp, I bring my gaze up to his face and horrifyingly watch his eyes fluttering closed on their own accord. "Dominic?"
"Blood makes me… oh fuck," he murmurs out weakly, the daze on his face disappearing when his eyelids cover his eyes completely.
Before I can pat his cheek and bring him out of his oblivious state in a panicky manner, even more horror engulfs me when I notice his foot slipping away from the branch.
My eyes bulge out of their sockets as he is about to fall down from the second floor, but I grasp on his wrists to make sure he doesn't fall. I'm about to yell for Yang Jin to help me, only, I never realised how heavy Dominic truly is, so I almost end up getting pulled out of the window along with him. A terrified scream spills out of my throat.
"Yang Jin, help me!"
I don't glance back at him, but I hear him running over to grab Dominic's hand. Together, we strain every nerve in our bodies to pull him up and once he's halfway through the window, it's easier to drag him inside. Breathing a sigh of relief, I thank God yet again for saving me. My luck seems to be changing nowadays. With a loud thud, I fall down on my arse and because of gravity, Dominic lands on top of me, forcing me down onto my back. Beside me, my study desk rattles, and the rose resting atop it dances around the edge of the table before toppling over.
The water splashes my face.
I pinch my eyes shut tightly.
Wasn't I just saying something about my luck changing a second ago?
Why was there so much water in that vase? And then it hits me why there's so much water in that vase. Perhaps coercing Chu Hua to water my plants wasn't such a good idea. Blinking irritably, I worriedly look up at Dominic and I catch his eyes fluttered shut like the sleeping beauty he is. If it wasn't for the rosiness in his cheeks and lips, I would have presumed him dead. I can't believe we almost just fell from the second floor of my bedroom window.
"Seong Jin." I glance over to see Yang Jin sitting down beside us, panting harshly and watching me with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay? You almost j-just fell out of the window like that… and you scared me. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
I shake my head up and down and push my voice to leave my mouth. "Yeah, I'm fine, b-but I think… I might've broken something in Dominic's hands."
"Okay, I'm gonna call Amma. Don't move him," he decides with urgency flashing in his eyes, and I see him standing up and disappearing out the door. Then he reappears to emphasise, "No, seriously. Don't move him. I'll be right back with her."
I nod at him frantically before he runs out of the room again.
I wipe away at the liquid slightly blurring my vision and immediately my eyes go back to linger on Dominic's form. Despite feeling safe, my heart is still beating erratically. I place two shaky fingers against his neck and feel relieved to find his pulse steady. Without thinking, I brush some of his wet hair away from his forehead and gulp fearfully. The idea of being a murderer at the age of seventeen must be what is causing my heart to beat in my face.