There was a bit of silence while he attended to his call on his watch and I drummed my fingers on the armrest, pretending I wasn't affected by the weight of his occasional stare.
He would raise his head, waiting for feedback, but at that point, his eyes would fall on me, as if trying to figure out my thoughts.
But thankfully, I was on a tight lock.
The boiling hotpot in the kitchen sent out waves of familiar aroma into the living room, and a nostalgic feeling hit the tip of my tongue.
Ah, I could feel it.
"Dinner's ready," I announced cheerfully, hopping off the couch arm before he could scowl me back into the armrest. "Come to the dining table," I said but there was no response.
What? Now that the food is ready, he wants to be all moody? Whose gonna finish all that? The pot was quite big.
He kept his eyes on his watch, obviously pretending to be busy cause I didn't buy it.
"Ahem," I cleared my throat. "I take it that you're not going to wait for the food to get cold just because you have a nickname like 'Mr. Ice Prince' right?"
His eyes furrowed.
"Just as I thought. Everyone likes a hot meal. So, unless you want to sit here looking broody while the food gets cold, I suggest you get up on your feet."
He didn't move immediately. His gaze was still fixed on the blue-lit watch, and his jaw clenched like he was weighing something heavy on his mind. Then finally, he stood up.
"Why do you keep talking down to me?" He suddenly asked, out of nowhere, standing before me like a tall statue made of ice.
That cold energy was coming on strong, like he was planning to strangle me with the cold.
He still doesn't know that that doesn't work on me, huh.
"You keep acting like we're close, getting unnecessarily touchy," as if he didn't like it. "And say weird stuff as if I'm your lover. I don't know if you're mistaking me for someone else but you need to start treating me with respect."
I looked at him, stunned but then laughed.
I didn't mean to but it was kind of funny.
"Sorry, sorry, it slipped," I said and laughed a little bit more, forcing an irk to form with the veins on his forehead. Quite cute. "You and I... You and I both know who's talking down to whom here."
I was sure he read my information so he should know just how old I am. Our appearance might make it seem he was older but there was a truth we both knew.
"Let's put aside my overfamiliarity with you," I said, my fingers tracing the lines of his fine coat that he refused to take off at the door. "Aren't you supposed to be more respectful towards me? You know, call me something like, I don't know, Hyung? Since I'm three years older?"
He clenched his fists, not wanting to accept it, but it was a truth we both knew, and he couldn't possibly deny it.
"You're the one who's been talking down to me."
"It's because you started it." He said, "You've been too familiar and unusual."
"Wow, so is that a reason to talk down to someone older than you?" I asked, folding my arms. "That's the first time I'm hearing something like that," I laughed.
"It's not that." He said but obviously couldn't explain. So, he let go of his clenched fist, sighed, and said, "If I stop talking down to you and use honorifics, would you do the same and stop being so... Intimate?"
"Nope," I answered right away with no shred of remorse and this got on his nerves. "I like talking to you this way. It makes us feel... Closer, you know." I turned around. "But if you start calling me Hyung, I might consider adding -ssi to your name at least."
"Not a chance." He immediately declined and I laughed.
"See, we're both unwilling so let's just keep things as they are right now."
I heard Sung-min exhale, following me towards the kitchen, where I turned off the stove.
The shift of his gaze was subtle, but it felt like the room itself exhaled when he did.
"Fine," he muttered, brushing his way towards the diner table. "But don't expect me to pretend this is normal."
"Oh, Sung-min," I grinned, following close behind with the dishes in my hand, "... Nothing about me is normal. You should know that by now."
That seemed to have set him on some sort of high alert. Well, I did speak the truth. He'd be a fool to think that, after all that happened, I was serious about being a normal civilian.
I set the steaming pot on the table, the scent of spice and broth filling the room. His nose twitched, just slightly, but enough for me to notice, and it made my heart do a ridiculous little flip.
He sat down, his movements rigid like the ice man he was, but I noticed how his eyes kept darting toward the food. He probably wanted to stay nonchalant from start to finish but his hunger betrayed him.
It had probably been a while since he had a home-made meal and eaten with someone.
Even before his awakening, he wasn't exactly someone who grew up in a warm home or had friends either.
He became even more of a loner after he awakened as an Esper and had the ice attribute, befitting the state of his heart all his life.
Frozen and cold, unable to love and unable to feel warmth.
I served the broth and meat into his bowl before he could complain about the tiniest thing.
"Here. Don't glare at it, eat it. The spice won't bite… much."
He gave me a look colder than a snowstorm, but he lifted the chopsticks anyway.
He took the first bite. While I watched, waiting for what he would say about the meal I had cooked after a long time.
His brows knitted together, his lips parted just enough to let a faint breath escape. I stifled a laugh. I knew that face. He was dying from the heat of the pepper, but his pride wouldn't let him admit it.
"You like it, don't you?" I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand while watching him closely. "See? I told you you'd love my cooking."