Chapter 24: The Mom Has a Nightmare.
It was the most suitable moment for Yoomi to seek revenge against Jaejoong, who was completely unaware of his surroundings for he was sleeping. Just as she was about to approach him after the filming, she had noticed his vulnerable position: eyes closed and accentuated with dark, heavy eye bags, legs extended straightly, arms folded across his chest with a juice bottle in the centre, mouth slightly open, and head leaning on one side, almost hanging from the bench. He looked innocent and for the first time, she felt he was tamed. She believed that people shouldn't take advantage of those that were resting, and so she crouched beside him, waiting for him to awaken. She quietly chuckled to herself. Wasn't the prince supposed to wait for the sleeping beauty? Why did every traditional act seem to be reversed when she was with him?
For a while, she observed his sleeping body, the way he breathed through his nose and then out from his mouth, and the occasional licks from his tongue to stop himself from drooling. She, too, felt fatigue, yet she still waited. She needed to repay him.
Suddenly, he sat right up and screamed, "Argh, stop b*tching about your boyfriend!"
His unexpected shout petrified her, even almost causing her to squeal, but what had stopped her from screaming was his hand, which had accidentally whacked her head and part of her shoulder. Moreover, that bottle of juice had landed right on her thigh. So instead of expressing fear, she complained as she rubbed her injuries, "Ouch."
"Thank god it's you," he loudly announced. That meant that he was only having a nightmare.
He hadn't noticed her agonizing pain until she repeated, "Ouch, ouch, ouch."
"You okay?" he at last remembered to ask.
"I think I must be very unlucky," she grumbled and eyed him.
Experiencing some guilt, Jaejoong reached for the dropped juice bottle and handed it to her, "Good job for completing your first music video." She, at first, gawked at him, wondering what had made him so friendly. This must be some trick, she thought. It had to be. When had Jaejoong been courteous to her? Jaejoong knew what was passing through her feeble mind. He wondered why people had trouble trusting others. Gifts were gifts for a reason. "It's unopened. You can twist the cap to check," he added with annoyance.
Even though she accepted his present, she still felt unsteady. How could someone be so grumpy and then be so kind? It had to be another sign of PMS, she noted. "Thanks, I suppose," she finally uncapped the drink and took a sip. "Not bad."
"When has my taste been bad?" Jaejoong arrogantly retorted. No one dared to question his immaculate taste for beauty and food. He was always right for these topics, almost always right.
"Well, some girl was 'b*tching to you about her boyfriend'," she carefully quoted and even used her fingers to act as quotation marks. "Hehe, thinking about girls when you're sleeping," she remembered to insert.
"What?" he pensively looked at her until he remembered his nightmare. "Oh . . . that. That was just a bad dream, a dream I had about work, which actually happened."
"So what exactly happened?" she wondered and took a seat beside him.
Jaejoong's hands rubbed his face to fully awaken himself, "This girl kept crying about her boyfriend who supposedly lied to her, but you know what happens when girls cry?"
"What?"
"Their make-up falls off and guess who has to clean up after her? Me!" he beat his chest once in fury. "Guess what else happens when girls cry?"
"What?" she repeated. She honestly could not answer Jaejoong's questions. Who knew what an eccentric guy was thinking about?
"Their tears mixed with makeup ruin their clothes," he gestured the action of crying with his index finger gliding down his cheek.
"Wow, I'm impressed," Yoomi sarcastically giggled. "Normal people have nightmares about spiders and killers, but you, you have nightmares about client disasters."
Jaejoong gave a glare before complaining, "My life is practically a nightmare. No, actually, it's more like rollercoaster. Up and down. Up and down. Right now, it's phewww…..wham! I'm dead! I'm dead!" He had thrashed his arms, which followed his words.
Unable to respond properly, she could only utter, "Umm . . . I think I know how you feel?"
It was too apparent that she had no idea what he was saying. He too knew that there were only a few that understood his descriptions and sadly, she did not. Why did he even bother trying? However, he could not stop himself from sharing his concerns. How would anyone know the reason for his emotions if he kept them hidden?
For a while, the two just sat beside each other, acting as strangers. She became preoccupied with finishing the drink in as many polite gulps as possible. It was delicious, but warm. The warmness of the bottle only made her wonder how long he had been guarding this drink during his sleep. "I'm just stressed," he managed to say.
Before she pressed her lips to finish the last drop of juice, she furtively made eye contact with him and then gallantly affirmed, "Now, I understand."
He just smiled, knowing that his reason had been uncovered and interpreted. All he needed was a simple phrase, but even that, was complex. Often, the simplest tasks were the hardest. He was willing, however, to attempt and to master concision.
That was why he bothered trying, that being the look from her eyes, the look of finally understanding.