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Gods & Monsters
chapter five

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CHAPTER FIVE
Dinner And A Show

THERE'S A word for what he's feeling. There's probably several words in the English language that could perfectly sum up the way he was feeling. But only one word came to mind as he sat with her in the front of the house, polishing the forks. Calm. Being near her was so calming. It was almost as if she made him forget all of the turmoil going on in his life. Like she was a drug he had taken to mellow out.

          His eyes cut toward the brunette as she sat perched on the counter, her dark hair pulled back and away from her neck. Her sneakers were on the floor, mix matched socks on full display. Music played from the speakers of her cellphone just beside her. He didn't recognize the song. She was humming along to it, though. That alone was enough for him to remain silent.

          "Did Richie tell you what Marcus said?" she asked, looking over toward a disheveled Carmen. Blue eyes snapped toward her, his lips parted slightly. He shook his head, curiosity suddenly flooding the forefront of his mind. He had remembered Richie shouting and cursing, but he hadn't had the patience to ask just what it was about. She snorted, pleased to be the one to fill him in.

          She picked up another fork, sliding the clean napkin against the metal. "He told Richie to bite his ass," she said. "In Italian, because he's got this sick tutor teaching him the cool stuff." His eyebrows shot into his hairline. Carmen let his hands fall against the counter top. "Seriously?" he asked, humor sparkling in his eyes. She nodded her head, wearing a pride smile. "Who told him that?"

          She flipped an imaginary tuft of hair over her shoulder, a soft laugh spilling from her smiling lips. Carmen looked impressed. He hadn't expected her to know Italian. Really, he hadn't expected her to know much about it, anyway. His eyes returned to the napkin he had discarded. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

          He snorted softly. "You just did," he responded. She sent him an impassive stare that had his smile growing. "Go ahead." With the green light, Miyeon knew that now was her chance. She spun around to face him, tucking one of her legs beneath her. Carmen sat back, surprised by her actions. "You can tell me to fuck off, okay?"

          That familiar uneasiness settled deep into his stomach. He nodded his head, signaling for her to continue. "Why'd Fak call you Bear? Is it, like, a childhood nickname?" His jaw visibly tensed. For a second there, she thought he was going to tell her to fuck off. His body language gave away his true feelings almost immediately. It was his words that shocked her the most. "Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, it was a nickname I got from my siblings. Sometimes we called each other Bear, but-- Uh, it was mostly me."

          His hand wiped over the lower half of his face. Miyeon's eyes softened. "Do you still talk to your siblings?" she asked, and he knew that she didn't mean anything by it. How could she have known? He scoffed, however, a sour feeling resting on his tongue. "This was my brother's place first," he informed her, sucking his lips to his teeth. She nodded, none the wiser. "He died four months ago."

          It felt like a bomb had landed between them. The news shocked her like ice water in her face. She quickly covered her mouth in shock, her skin growing cold. "Carmen, I-- I am so sorry. I had no idea." His face scrunched up as he shook his head. "No, no, don't worry about it. You couldn't have known."

          "That's... God, that sucks." She wasn't sure what she could say to take back what she had asked. If she could just purchase a time machine, or even the DeLorean, she could go back and erase the stupidity that her curiosity had inspired. She screwed her eyes shut, sliding her hand over her face. "It's okay. You didn't know," he assured her, feeling somewhat lighter with her reaction.

          It didn't feel fake coming from her. It didn't feel like pretty words, like they were only said to make him feel better. She was sorry, actually sorry. She felt awful. That much was certain by the flush of her cheeks. "Hey. Seriously. It's all good." He reached between them, giving her uninjured arm a gentle squeeze.

          She peered between cracked fingers, too embarrassed to move her hand. Carmen smiled, a gentle smile that almost reached his eyes. "I have a sister, though," he said, pulling his hand away hesitantly. "She is alive. And we talk when we can. When I'm not stuck here." She ducked her head, hand falling to her lap. That uneasiness faded slightly now that he could look at her properly. "Do you have any siblings?"

          She nodded, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears. "Two sisters," she stated matter-of-factly. He nodded his head, returning to the task at hand. They didn't have many more silverware to polish. It helped that a majority of their food is eaten with hands. "What are they like?" he asked. His head leaned to the side slightly to get a better view of her face. She frowned to herself.

           "I was seven when my older sister moved out. She, uh... She's transgender. And our parents got really mad because they felt like she was betraying them or something. I don't know, but I always kind of looked up to her. You know? She's just... super badass. Like, she knew who she was and she wasn't going to let anyone tell her otherwise. She was fifteen." Carmen held a neutral face. He hadn't expected that. She was always surprising him with every layer she revealed to him. "I haven't talked to her since my fourteenth birthday, though. After that, she just kind of disappeared. And-- And I don't really talk to my younger sister, either."

          "How come?"

          Her eyes flickered toward the curly haired man. He was looking at her so intently, listening to her so intensely. It made gooseflesh blossom across her skin. "That is a long, long story that would probably bore you to death," she answered with a nervous giggle. "So, I will leave that for another day, if you don't mind." He lifted his hands, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. "Heard."

          She tossed her freshly polished spoon into the bucket. A soft sigh slipped past her lips. "Can I ask you a question?" Carmen asked, echoing her earlier question back to her. She didn't hesitate to nod her head. He grinned, tossing his own fork into the bucket. "You hungry?" She scoffed. "I'll always be hungry if a professional chef asks me that question," she replied.

          He couldn't fight the roll of his eyes. "Alright," he chuckled. "You wanna give me a hand?" Her face lit up. She nodded excitedly. "Definitely," she replied. "For sure." She was quick to slide off of the counter and wrap the three remaining spoons in her napkin. "I'll finish this later. Swear."

          His eyes danced with adoration. "I believe you," he replied with a low chuckle. He stood next, taking the big bucket of silverware. It clinked together with every step he took, following after the brunette back into the kitchen. The two went their separate ways to put things up, and returned to the kitchen counter to figure out just what they wanted to eat.

"So, what is the great Chef Carmen going to make us tonight?" she asked with a hint of a smile. His hands moved to his hips as he looked over the somewhat clean kitchen. It was cleaner than usual, thanks to the rest of the staff pitching in to help, but it wasn't as clean as he had hoped. "Uh, how about a beef and spinach ravioli?" Her brows dropped.

He was already reaching for his apron, not noticing the confusion written across her features. Or the silence, really, as he began scouring for ingredients and tools. She stood there, leaning against the counter, watching him. She hadn't had raviolis since she was a kid, other than the ones that come out of a can. "Could you grab the ground beef, spinach, and an egg from the deep freeze?" he asked.

She hummed in agreement, rounding the counter swiftly. "Thank you, Chef." Her face warmed at the nickname. She ducked into the deep freeze and gathered the needed items in her arms. "Do you drink?" he suddenly asked. She used her foot to close the door of the deep freeze behind her. Blue eyes fluttered toward the brunette as he grabbed a skillet from the shelfs. "Sometimes," she replied. "Depends on what it is."

Her shoulders lifted nonchalantly before she set the ingredients down on the table. Carmen huffed out a soft laugh. "Mikey stored a few bottles of random shit in his office," he explained, "and a ravioli dish always tastes better with alcohol." He turned to the stovetop and set the skillet down. The gas clicked before a flame erupted beneath the steel. "I can go grab something," she offered. "And some of those plastic cups that Marcus smuggles in."

He knew about the cups. Probably everyone knew about the cups. They were essential to keep from having to wash so many dishes while the kitchen staff slaved away in the heat. He nodded his head as he used the tip of his knife to cut into the package of ground beef. "Sounds good," he replied, his tone airy with a hint of humor. She smiled.

It didn't take long for her to go and come back with a bottle of Schnapps. It was mostly empty, save for a third of the bottle perhaps. She set it down on the counter with a triumphant grin. "Your brother knows good alcohol," she joked. His back was to her now as he tended to the cooking.

His muscles strained against his white shirt as he stirred the meat, browning it. She stood back for a moment, head tilted. "Could you get me a bowl?" he asked. She side stepped around the counter, lowering herself to get a good look at their inventory. "Got ya, Chef," she replied, pulling out a stainless steel bowl and setting it down onto the countertop. He snorted silently.

          "You said that you used to cook with your grandmother, right?" She hummed in response. It amazed her that he had remembered such a small detail. "What did you guys usually make?" Her fingers drummed atop the counter. Her eyes focused on her distorted reflection in the bowl before her. "Usually Korean dishes," she admitted. "We would make big containers of kimchi, and fried chicken. Sometimes we'd make kalbi. Gamja jorim, which is just potato chunks covered in honey and soy sauce."

"Gamja jorim," he repeated. "That actually sounds really good." She nodded her head. It was one of her favorite dishes. She could remember eating it in her grandmother's kitchen as music played over the radio, and they'd drink it with a cold Coca-Cola in a glass bottle. "Next time we do this, we'll have to make it," she suggested with a dreamy smile.

His heart pounded in his chest. His movements stopped, a tremble flexing at his fingertips. "Yeah," he replied. "Sounds good." Color flooded her face. Next time, she thought with a giddy smile. Next time she'll impress him with her cooking skills.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆

          Carmen was right. Ravioli did taste better with alcohol. So much better that she had even gone for seconds. Miyeon sat perched on the counter, plate set off to the side as she washed down her final bite with a gulp of Schnapps. Carmen had since finished, leaning against the counter next to her.

     Music had been playing from her phone speakers. Most of the songs left Carmen confused. She said that they stemmed from her childhood; her Disney Channel days, along with songs her parents liked to sing along in the car. It wasn't until the familiar tune of U Can't Touch This began to play did Carmen look at her fully.

          The light behind her face almost blinded him. Her head snapped toward him, cheeks flushed a cherry red color. "Wow," was all he could muster, amusement sparkling inside baby blue eyes. She laughed, a belly laugh, and slipped down from her spot on the counter.

          "Do you know this song?" she asked him, and he couldn't stop the scoff that slipped past his lips. Of course he knew it. Who didn't know MC Hammer? Her grin broadened with a spark of mischief behind her eyes. "You know the words?"

          "Who doesn't?" he replied, nonchalantly. Truth was, however, that he didn't. Not now. He'd probably fumble over every word and embarrass the hell out of himself. And he was not going to do that now. Miyeon seemed to have other plans, though. As soon as the first verse started, she joined in just in time.

          He watched, lips parting in surprise, as she followed the flow with ease. Her tone matched his just about perfectly and watching her do so was enough to have Carmen visibly cringing to himself. Large hands moved to his face, peeking painfully between lithe fingers.

          His embarrassment only seemed to fuel her further. She slinked closer to him, head bopping left and right. Carmen snorted, the sound amplified by his palms. "C'mon, Carm," she giggled, reaching for his wrists. "You can join in at any time."

          Hands fell with her gentle tug. His face was growing warmer, his eyes locked with hers. The touch of her fingers had his stomach twisting in nervous knots. After a beat of silence, she began bopping her head once more. "Fresh new kicks and pants. You got it like that. Now you know you wanna dance."

          She pulled and pushed his arms, eliciting a sigh from the tattooed man. "You're being a real Debby Downer, did you know that?" Their hands hung between them. His eyes followed the cool skin of her arms, the black ink that swirled along the inside of her right wrist, and to where their hands touched. "A real Pessimistic Patty."

           His eyes returned to hers. A soft smile graced her lips. "Negative Nancy." He rolled his eyes, his own mouth curling into an amused smile. "I get it," he reassured her. "I don't... I don't dance."

          "You have to dance to this song. It's like... Newton's law." His brows raised in surprise. He had concluded that her sudden confidence had stemmed from the alcohol. It also explained the flush to her skin. From her cheeks to her chest that peeked out past her button down shirt. He sucked in a breath, tongue prodding his cheek. "I don't think that's right," he replied.

          Her fingers left his wrist. He stood back, watching silently, following her every move. It was in that moment that Carmen realized that maybe... maybe he wasn't the worst dancer in the world. He wanted so desperately to stop her. To wrap his arms around her so she couldn't move anymore. But he also enjoyed watching her move, however weird and awkward it was. Because it was a flaw, and he liked the fact that she wasn't perfect. That he was able to see it firsthand, and alone with her.

          She laughed, gleefully, as if there was no one else in the world. It was a sight anyone would be lucky to behold. "Dance with me," she said, begged if he listened hard enough. Carmen's head immediately began to shake in response. She continued to jump around, dark hair falling into her face. "You might actually like it if you try it."

          "You're having enough fun for the both of us," he responded with a soft gaze. She began to slow her movements, brows furrowing. Was she beginning to be a handful? Was he finding her annoying? Too crazy? Before she knew it, all movements had stopped save for the rising and falling of her chest. Carmen's face fell. "Are you okay?" he asked, and he had to admit that it felt better to ask that than answer it.

It was like night and day. Alcohol had such a tight grip around her that Carmen almost felt guilty for suggesting they drink with their meal. "I'm sorry," she blurted out and pushed back the hair sticking to her slick skin behind her ears. He blinked, confusion creating a tightness in his chest. "For what?" he replied, his voice growing softer. She swallowed.

"For being too... big, I guess?" She wasn't sure how to word it. Her parents always told her that she was larger than life, and sometimes she was just... too big. She overflowed like a metaphorical elephant in a room. And she had forgotten that, until now. "I– Don't apologize," Carmen told her, head shaking only slightly. "I think you're... the perfect size."

She blinked. "Seriously," he pressed. "You can be you around me. Okay?" Her head immediately began to bob in a nod. Her sparkling eyes took him in with a hint of a smile. It was enough to have his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. "Heard," she said, sniffing.

          He scoffed out a soft, breathy laugh. "Good," he exhaled. The song had long finished. He didn't recognize the next one, or the artist singing it. But it didn't bother him. He was exploring a whole new world with her, right there. "Can I ask you something?"

          He nodded. Her tongue swiped over her bottom lip. Her flushed face had his mind swirling with thoughts. "Why do you only call me Miyeon?" she asked.

          Because I think it's beautiful, he thought. He liked how it felt on his tongue, how it sounded when he said it. He liked how it made her head turn, and her face light up. He liked how it sounded so familiar yet so new at the same time. And he liked that he was the only one to call her that. "You call me Carmen," he reminded her, his lips curling into a stupid grin.

          "Only because you call me by my name," she replied. She'd love to call him Carmy. She felt like it made them closer; much closer than now. If only she knew. "Hm," was all he said then. He smiled, amused by the frustration that furrowed between her perfectly shaped brows. "Hm? What does that even mean?"

          And the rest of the night slipped away. The two washed dishes, listened to more music, before going their separate ways back home.

rumi says . . .

i had originally planned a pretty
steamy scene to happen but after
listening to u cant touch this in the
car with my best friend while driving
home, i just knew i had to do something
with it.

we're finally moving to episode 3 !! how
fun. things are progressing. things are
building up. we love to see it.

how are you guys feeling about
carmen & miyeon ?

thank you for reading!
feedback is greatly appreciated!