"What about your dad?" he asks the question I was scared to hear. "I don't know, I barely saw him," he does not understand the reason for his absence, but I smile to not break down into tears. "It's a long story, but it's better not to talk about it. He's just away, but I don't know where."

"Oh," he regrets bringing this up, understanding how sensitive this topic is. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"No, don't worry about it. You didn't know," I hasten to add to make it clear I am okay about it. Now, because of me, some tension can be felt, and the silence that landed on us is pretty loud. Loud enough to feel awkward.

"I wanted to ask you something," I break the uncomfortable quietness I caused without meaning to, and he hums, finally setting his eyes on me and playing on his board. "Is your mom gonna be there?"

"Nope," he does not exude any discomfort as I did about one of my parents. "My dad and mom divorced six years ago. So she's never home, and I only see her on some weekends."

"Oh, I didn't know your dad was a single one," I conceal the unexpected delight I feel about this, not knowing whether this is good or not to feel like that. I feel like a toxic girl. "He is, but they're on good terms. It was a divorce that didn't end badly, they both just lost feelings for each other, and they both decided together that it was the best thing to do. Now my mom is married, but my dad said he doesn't want to. He wants to focus on his career and me," he explains to me what I did not ask but like to know about.

"Have you always been closer to your dad than to your mom?" I interrogate him since he seems chill about it, my curiosity leading me to this. "Yeah. Always. I feel more comfortable with my dad. Like, you know the serious talk that kids have with their parents? Well, I had them all with him. He always taught me all the things a kid should know. Especially a boy..."

"Yes, talks are different if you're a boy or girl, the topics that have to be brought up are not the same for either of them," I understand what he means by that, but he smiles and sticks his lollipop in his cheek.

"Did you have to go through the awkward moment when the bees and the birds talk have to be given?" he laughs, and I cannot help but do so. "I was lucky enough to avoid it. I learned everything at school. My parents always avoided anything that was about sex, so I had to learn at school, from friends, and from Google."

"Really?" he expresses some astonishment as if it was not common. "To me, it's always better if one of your parents does it. Despite how uncomfortable it is, I feel like it helps you to know that someone is there to talk to if you're worried about this type of topic. I had many doubts and fears about that when I was younger, but I always went up to my dad to make sure I would not make a mistake with a girl, or just to feel comfortable with my own body. It's so important when you're a teenager."

"That's true, I feel like it is better as well. Otherwise, you'll always feel like this is a forbidden and dirty thing that cannot be talked about, thought about, or something when it is the biggest part of life, so yeah, I agree," I share the same opinion, and he goes quiet to get off of his skateboard and hold it.

I do not say anything more since I do not know how to rekindle the conversation, but he pulls his lollipop out of his mouth and peeks at me. "Did we just talk about sex right now?"

"Why do you have to point it out after it was done?" I contain my laughter inside. "I don't know. I rarely talk about sex with a girl I haven't had many conversations with."

"Same exact thing for me," I do not stay quiet about it since what was said, has been said and cannot be erased. "Anyway, it was soft, so let's not act like pristine."

"How do you know I'm not?" I cross my arms and grin, but he scoffs. "Uh. You're right. I was talking for myself. Sorry for misjudging you, prudish girl."

I punch his arm, but he chuckles and sucks on his lollipop. "Anyway, we're soon there. My stomach is growling so bad."

"Is your dad a good cook?" I ask him, but his reaction does not give a clear answer right away. "He is the best. When I heard him tell your mom that she was an amazing chef, I laughed internally because I know he'd be able to do hundreds of times better."

"You sound like you and your dad are the best humans in the world," I cannot hold back from saying, feeling like he might be arrogant but use humor to pretend he is not. "Of course we are," he smiles and lays his eyes on me, so I sigh and break eye contact.

"I'm joking...Really, I just joke all the time about it. I'm not confident or arrogant, but I do think that my dad is perfect," he corrects what might make him seem like a snotty person. "Hm."

"I'm serious! Don't believe that I'm an asshole who likes to brag about everything, or a narcissist who's in love with his reflection," he nudges me in the arm, hoping for me to forget what I thought. I laugh at this last sentence but trust his words. "Okay, I won't."

"Anyway, here we are, at my house," he looks in the direction of it, and I finally discover the place where he and his father leave together. "Is it big?" I ask, feeling nervous about getting closer to the door that is about to reveal Mister Jeon after I have not seen him since the last dinner we shared.

"Well," he smiles in one of the most idiotic manners, and after walking on the front path, he stands before the door. "That's what they all ask me before being relieved," he dares to say, but with no confidence to own up to this, he escapes and opens the door and does not face me anymore. He first walks in, and I follow him to close the door but see how gorgeous and cozy his house is.

It is indeed big, and the delicious smell of food is mouth-watering.

The dining table is already here on the right, a bit further forward, on the left, there is the open kitchen, then if we continue, we are in the living room that is open as well. Everything makes one single room on this floor. There is one door on my left, right before a case of stairs, there is another one next to the TV, and another one on the right of it.

I wonder what is behind them.

"Good evening," Mister Jeon appears out of the kitchen as we are taking our shoes off, and my heart speeds up when I catch sight of him in black silk pajamas, but Choco, who I am seeing for the first time in real life, runs towards Joonha who squatted down to grab him. "Good evening," I bow to him as well, and he comes closer.

"I'm happy to see you here," he greets me in one of the sweetest manners, and I take my jacket off. "I'm happy to be here too. Your house is so pretty."

"Look at baby Choco," Joonha turns around to show him to me, holding him like a child of his own. I smile at how adorable he is but notice Mister Jeon on my left. "Let me hang this for you," he takes my jacket and puts it on the coat rack, so I thank him but try to pet Choco, who seems happy about seeing Joonha.

This stupid man startles me, so I complain but only in a quiet voice. "Dumbass," I do not try to touch this fluffy ball again, but he laughs at me and brings the puppy close to me. "Here, you can take him in your arms."

I check if he is about to joke again. "Come on, I promise I won't tell him to bite you," he holds him up in front of me, and I cannot even hold back from smiling. I take him in my arms but feel soft once his small body is against me. "I can't guarantee you that he's not gonna lick you or chew on your fingers or hair though," he goes away after sliding his feet in his slippers, and he heads towards his father.

I hope he will not do any of those.

Since I do not want to stay all alone at the door, I move forward to follow Joonha but pamper Choco with attention. His name suits him a lot, he does look like a milk chocolate ball. I wish I could have a puppy too, they are precious.

"Would you like anything to drink, y/n?" Mister Jeon asks me as his son left in another room, so I do not torture myself because of some shyness, I say yes and ask for a glass of water.

"Sure, you can sit on the sofa or a chair if you want," he tells me, figuring out through my actions that I do not know what to do or where to go. "Thank you," I walk forward to reach the sofa out, and I sit down on it but let Choco go. I do not want to keep him trapped in my arms.

I watch him run away and go crazy all around the house, but my eyes move up towards the man who is coming back with a glass in his hand.

"I'm sorry about him, his tiny body literally has more energy than mine," he apologizes about this cute pet that seems to have drunk more than plain water, but I smile and shake my head. "No need to. He's adorable," I take the glass, and he passes right before me, pulls on his pajama pants, and sits down next to me.

"He is, that's why I always give in," he scoffs, but I relate to him. When animals are cute, I always succumb to them. "So, how was your day? Did you have fun at the skatepark?"

I swallow the liquid that is in my mouth, and I nod. "Yes. I really like to spend time with Joonha and his friends. I'm comfortable with them, and I'm learning something I did not expect to like at all, so this is cool."

"I'm glad to hear that. It makes me happy to know that my son is being good to you," he smiles, holding his tough and veiny hands together. I do not know what type of sport he practices, what type of workout routine he has, but his hands are the most masculine, yet beautiful ones I have ever seen. "He is. He's a great person compared to many boys I have met so far."

"That's why they're called boys, many of them have not been educated the way they should have, if they had, so many women wouldn't be scared to go out without anyone by their side nowadays," he expresses his opinion pretty openly, and I agree with him. "It's good to hear that from a man," I nearly, unwittingly mumble my words, and we both look at each other. "I wish I didn't understand why," he forces a smile that does not exude any happiness.

He seems to be much better than expected. His mindset is so rare.

"Anyway," he rubs his hands together, and I heave my glass up to take another gulp of water but quickly realize it is empty. "I hope you'll enjoy the meal. I made sure to avoid a chocolate cake for dessert," he smiles, and the only thing that my brain can make me think of is the fact that he remembered. He actually remembered that small detail.

"You didn't have to, Mister Jeon," I clench my hands on the glass, feeling like someone actually listens to me when I talk for the first time. "I wanted to."

I smile and look away, not knowing how to react or what to say.

"I hope that you do not dislike this either though, otherwise, I'll feel a bit sad," he laughs in a soft manner, making me gaze at him. "What is it?"

"Some cream puffs," he tells me, and the sound of those two words is enough to make me hungry. "Really? You baked them yourself?"

"I did. I mean, it's still in the oven right now, but I wanted to try something that has no chocolate," he explains to me as if it was important to him, and my heart oddly flutters. I am a slight too sensitive, I guess. "I love cream puffs a lot, so don't worry. Thank you for taking time to do this though."

"No need to," he refuses to receive my gratefulness for something he seems to have truly wanted to do. "Your mother doesn't mind you being here, right?" he brings this person up when I wish he would not. "She doesn't, but I'm twenty-one anyway, so I'm kinda free."

"Of course. I just wanted to know," he adds as if he wanted to clarify, and I do not say anything anymore but hear Joonha come back. "Dad, make sure y/n keeps her eyes on the floor," he tells us, for a reason that I do not know, and Mister Jeon turns around but laughs while I do not know whether I should take a peek or not. "Why didn't you take a shower upstairs, Joonha? Are you serious?" he scolds him but seems to not be serious, and once I hear some quick steps against the floor, I understand that he might be naked and running behind us to head to his room.

"Don't look, y/n," Mister Jeon makes sure my eyes remain away from his son, so I hold back from wheezing and do as told. "I'm sorry! I'm back in a few seconds, so serve dinner!" he shouts from where he is, but the tall and buff man next to me sighs and stands up. "You can get at the table, I'm going to bring the food," he tells me to do, so I listen and walk up to the dining table to put my glass down but do not sit down. "Do you need help?"

"No, I'm okay. Thank you," he charmingly smiles at me, so I do not insist but pick a random chair to sit down.

"Let's eat!" the voice of Joonha echoes through the house, and he hurries down the stairs, voicing his eagerness out. Mister Jeon comes closer to me with the pot. "Calm down," he chuckles but puts everything down, and Joonha gets right by my side. "I'm starving."

Mister Jeon goes back to the kitchen to go back and forth and bring all the dishes. Meanwhile, I take a look at Joonha, whose hair is damp, and who is now in a pair of sweatpants and a grey hoodie. I take a glance at his lip ring but notice that his lips are glossy and rosy.

"Did you put lip gloss on?" I mention it, curiously, and his big eyes suddenly meet mine. "No, it's lip balm. Why?" he presses them together because of the attention given over them, and I shrug. "Nothing. I just wanted to ask."

"Why are you looking at my lips, uh?" he smiles, teasing me, and I chortle but look away. "Your piercing always grabs my attention."

"Tch," he makes fun of my answer as if it was not true. "Aren't my lips pretty? It's the only trait I haven't got from my dad but mom."

"And is that a good thing?" I doubt that he is happy about not being almost identical to this man he sees as perfect. "Well, his upper lip is too small, so I'm fine with those."

"That is not true," he hears him and contradicts that statement. He straightens his back after putting the last dish down. "My upper lip is not small. It's great the way it is."

"Fuller lips are better," Joonha does not agree, making fun of him. "I don't want to look like those ducks called Kardahans or whatever they're called. If that's what you call better, then no thanks," he leans over but grabs my glass. "Do you want me to fill it again?"

"Yes, please," I nod, and he walks away. "Kardahans," he laughs at his father who mispronounced the name. "Honestly, I'd rather have big lips than small ones, but only if it's natural," he says but looks in my direction. "What about you? What do you like the most?"

I shrug. "I don't really care that much."

He does not say anything but fixes his eyes on my lips for a bit too long, so I cover them with my hand. "What?"

"Yours are pretty, honestly. Their volume is good," he sounds sarcastic, so I hit him under the table but see him laugh. "Hey. I'm serious!"

"Sure," I do not believe him but look away once I notice Mister Jeon finally joining us, and I set my eyes on him. "Stop annoying her, Joonha. Eat. You've been whining for it."

"I'm not even annoying her," he defends himself but grabs his chopsticks to dig in, so I do it as well. This is finally happening, I am finally allowed to eat without fearing to be called a pig, or being forced to starve. This is so unusual, sadly.

•••

8 pm.

"Look at this one," Joonha turns his laptop towards me, his legs remaining on the cushions. I take a look at the screen to check the photo. "This is something I designed for the tattoo I wanna get. Seunggil helped me a lot because I first gave him a sort of draft, so my first idea, then he gave it to a friend who's an amazing artist, and he did that for me. What do you think about it?"

"Uhm. This is your first tattoo, right?" I ask before giving my opinion, and he answers. "I know. It's big, but I'll handle the pain for sure. I don't want a small tattoo, it's useless. I want something big, with details, and beautiful like that."

"Well, if you're so sure about standing the pain, then it's really good. It's pretty," I scrutinize every small part of it, seeing how professional this is. "Do you think there'd be some things you'd change if I was asking you to?"

"Depends on what you want to change," I get closer so that he can be more comfortable with his laptop on his thighs. "This, I thought about maybe adding a rose, not a peony," he circles the area with his finger. "I could help you, but his way of drawing is different from mine, so it might look weird."

"It's fine, just redraw the whole thing in your own way if you can, I wanna see what you'll do," he smiles, and I agree to do this, but he closes his laptop and moves forth on the sofa. "What is your dad doing?" I take a peek outside to see if I can discern his tall figure. "He's probably smoking and reading."

"Oh, does he do that every day?" I let my curiosity take control. "Not every day but often, almost. He reads a lot and always likes to be alone when he does because he can feel in his bubble and focus on what he reads, so don't worry about him."

"I understand him, it's not the same to read with people around," I share the same feeling since I spend a lot of time reading or writing. "Even when he writes, he goes in the backyard, sits on the swinging bench next to the small fountain, and he stays there for hours."

"He writes too?"