Coming Back to Her Senses (2)
I snuck a wine glass that matched mine into the cart, checked out, and after that, the two of us spent a quiet, uneventful afternoon together. She stayed buried under the blanket, cautiously peeking at the world's news through the living room TV, while I set my laptop on the coffee table and tackled my backlog of work. With the economic news window open, tracking the flows and clicking the mouse—the only sounds filling the living room. In our own ways, it was a fulfilling, peaceful time.
Before we knew it, darkness had fallen outside, and evening arrived. To give her the medicine, she couldn't take it on an empty stomach. Lunch had been skimpy, so I wanted her to have a proper dinner instead of ice cream, but with that fever boiling inside her, hot or heavy food would just be torture. I grabbed my wallet and headed to the neighborhood convenience store. I filled the basket with things to cool her overheated body and mind: chilled ion drinks, soft cream buns kept cold, and refrigerated desserts that went down easy without irritation. I paid and came back, plastic bag swinging.
As I opened the front door, there she was, waiting for me again.
"Hungry? You waited so nicely."
She stared at me, wrapped tight in the blanket. Her cheeks were still flushed, and she looked overwhelmed by the heat radiating from her own body. So this time, I didn't call her to the dining table. I just unpacked the stuff right there on the low table in front of the sofa.
"Got mostly sweet and cold things. Gotta take medicine later, so even if you're not hungry, eat a little."
"Yeah..."
She reached out from a gap in the blanket and grabbed the cold drink bottle first. Her small hand struggled with the cap, grunting a bit before finally twisting it open and taking a slow sip. Then she tore open the bread bag and nibbled a tiny bite like a rabbit.
Pfft... eating like that, she really is cute.
Chewing away so daintily—it was straight out of the cute girl playbook—and before I knew it, my tense heart softened, a smile tugging at my lips. But she must've felt my proud stare, because she flinched, then yanked the blanket over her head. Only her two hands poked out, fumbling blindly for more bread.
Whoops, did I make her uncomfortable again?
"Sorry. If my watching bothers you, want me to step away so you can eat comfy?"
As I started to stand, her hands waving frantically from under the blanket stopped me—no, no.
"Okay, okay. I won't look. Eat slow. I'll watch TV."
She had to be right next to me, but no peeking at her eating? It was ridiculous, but I happily played along. I turned my head sharp to the TV screen, eyes locked. The news scrolled by in my vision, but my nerves were tuned to the rustling plastic beside me and her soft gulps on the drink.
By the time the main news wrapped and boring insurance ads droned on, a mumble came from her side.
"All... done. Medicine... please."
I finally turned, checking the table. The bread and dessert wrappers were neatly emptied, the drink down by half a bottle.
Good. Doesn't look forced.
Unlike cramming in that white jjambbong, she'd eaten at her own pace, comfortably. My mind lightened. I pulled out the pill pouch, carefully tore open the evening dose. To keep her at ease, eyes still on the TV, I just extended my hand with the pills.
Swish. Her unusually hot fingertips brushed mine as she took the pouch. Then, from under the blanket, the sound of her swallowing with water—and a tiny, clear voice.
"Thanks..."
"No big deal."
I tossed it back casually, gaze fixed on the dull ad. But inside, it felt like the funniest variety show ever—bubbly and light.
With the medicine down safely, my own body finally released the tension it'd held since morning. My stomach belatedly realized nothing but coffee had passed my lips all day and started protesting fiercely.
Grrrowl.
The embarrassingly loud rumble echoed in the quiet living room.
"Pfft... starved all day, huh."
I chuckled to hide my awkwardness, rubbing my belly, about to heat up the leftover sweet-and-sour pork from the fridge.
"Sorry... my fault..."
A small voice from the blanket. Her usual habitual apology, but this time... different.
"Nah. You took your meds good—keep watching TV. I'll grab some food."
"It's okay... not hot anymore."
Her tone had shifted for sure. No more feverish panting or fearful trembling like a trapped animal. The cadence overlapped weirdly with the old Han Junseo I knew, but the timbre was so delicate, so purely feminine.
"Oh yeah? Meds kicking in—back to your senses now?"
The vicious fever that'd tormented her for two days finally easing—I couldn't hide a bit of relief, blurting it out. Careless words, not thinking through her headspace.
She rustled under the blanket, squirming, before replying ages later.
"Dunno... body cooling... cooling..."
Then she buried her face completely, voice muffled leaking out.
"Everything's cold. Body... heart too..."
Ah, crap.
When it was boiling, instinct and fear were all— no room to think deep.
The meds calming the hormone surge had paradoxically sharpened her reason, hitting her with a brutal backlash. Kicked out by family she'd thought lifelong, treated like a monster. Her trusted friend stroking her changed thigh in heat. That trashy pimp eyeing her homeless self. Unlike before, crushed by instinct and fever, just fleeing and wailing to survive—now clear reason ruled her brain. Those horrors sharpened into icy daggers, shredding her heart. The fever's fire gone, harsh reality's chill seeping to her bones.
"If it's too cold, say so—I'll crank the boiler. I'm starving, gonna eat."
"Huh...? Yeah... okay..."
My deliberately flat tone, and she steadied her faint tremble to reply. Glancing down as I stood, she wasn't hiding from the world anymore. Face peeking out, just clutching the blanket against room chill like any normal person.
Whoa. Meds are scary effective.
Just one pouch, and reason snapped back so quick—relief washed over me. Maybe I should've hauled her feverish ass to the ER yesterday, a fleeting regret, but I shook it off. What happened happened; I'd done my best. No need to beat myself up.
But now her reason's back... mine's starting to stir instead.
Another soft growl from my gut. Luckily, unlike her terrifying instinct, mine would vanish peacefully with some cold sweet-and-sour pork.
"Nothing on TV? Find a movie or something."
I tossed the casual line at her blanketed head and headed to the kitchen to feed my hunger.
I nuked the rock-hard sweet-and-sour pork with sauce. The warmed piece was decent—sweet sauce soaked in. No initial crisp, just soggy and oily, but to my all-day-fasted stomach, it hit good. A piece, two, silently filling up—my foggy head cleared.
Whew... guess I was ruled by hunger instinct too.
If she read that silly thought, she'd yell in disbelief or cry injustice. Anyway, hunger eased, I peeked at the living room. Blanket-burrito her glancing between TV and me—eyes met in midair.
"What's up? Want some sweet-and-sour?"
"No... I'm good..."
Now she's replying properly.
Really a relief. From barely squeezing out sorry, thanks, yeah—now full answers.
Maybe time to talk temp ID, living as a woman realities?
The thought flashed, but I shook my head.
Not yet.
Body changed days ago. She hadn't fully accepted it—hitting her with ID hassles, abandoning family, life ahead? With reason just returning, already confused and hurt, it'd burden her unbearably.
Yeah... wait quietly a bit more.
I finished the pork, tossed the empty container, and returned. She stared, then shifted aside, making space for me.
"Thanks."
She nodded silently this time, leaning ever so slightly toward me. Meds and reason back, but not fully okay. Blanket-wrapped, yet her warm breaths teased the distance to my side. Mind clearer, body still battling instinct.
I jumped the gun.
Thinking she'd bounced back from rock bottom just 'cause she lifted her head once. What an oblivious guy. Self-mocking lightly, blankly at the looping news, she spoke hesitantly.
"I... was super ugly, right?"
"Outta nowhere?"
"Yeah... just thinking. I was awful..."
"Haha. Dude, name a time you weren't ugly."
She froze at my teasing jab.
"Was there... ever?"
"Fingers and toes? About a year total."
"Oh... right..."
Treating her like old buddy with past banter, she deflated, pulling the blanket over. Mumbling on.
"Still... thanks. For saving me."
"Pfft... saying it now?"
Yeah, thanks won't cut it—past is past, mountains of future debts ahead. Teasing, I scooted closer.
"Eek!"
She yelped like a little girl, curling into blanket-cocoon fast. And the familiar line.
"Sorry..."
Hah... back to square one.
Her emotions a carousel, up-down nonstop—I'd just have to get used to the ride.