When Meeting a Guy, Avoid Gray Underwear Too
Shopping done, we stepped out into 5 p.m. It was nearing evening, but with everyone's outfits getting lighter, the outdoors stayed plenty bright.
"What time's the train back down?" I asked my sister, who was staring at her smartphone beside me.
"I'm crashing here tonight?"
"Where?"
"Right next to you."
What the hell? As the actual tenant, this was news to me. I stared at her blankly, and she just grinned shamelessly. Hanjiu too—did they think my place was some inn? Not that I planned to kick her out. Nothing incriminating in sight. I'd stashed the leftover condoms and dead vibrator just in case.
"What? Got something to hide?"
"H-Hide? What do I have to hide!"
We decided on a taxi instead of the subway for the way back. The clothes haul was solid for both of us, filling our hands with shopping bags. Boarding the crowded weekend subway like this would've been a nightmare. Hailing a cab wasn't easy either, though.
"That's why driving would've been easier."
"Are you nuts? Driving in central Seoul?"
"What? Don't you drive well, sis?"
"Sigh... Driving's fine, but parking's a pain. Anyway, isn't there a mart near your place, Yujeong?"
I nodded. But a mart? Did we still need more stuff beyond this?
"Then let's drop the bags and grab dinner ingredients from the mart."
"You'll cook? I was gonna treat for dinner."
"Nah, it's been ages since we ate together. Time for sis to show off her skills."
After wrestling a taxi back to my studio, the room smelled like fabric softener. Good girl—she'd hung the laundry properly. I'd pat her head later. I was just setting the bags down by the bed, plotting how to tease Hanjiu about it, when my sister stood frozen by the drying rack, staring me down.
"Hold up. Song Yujeong, what's this?"
"Huh? What?"
Her fingertip pointed to a black short-sleeve tee and short shorts. And next to them, men's drawstring boxer briefs.
My heart plummeted. Was this what they meant by chills down the spine? Forget not sweating—I was drenched. Meeting her sharp gaze, cold sweat trickled down my back.
Sure, I could BS the tee and shorts as oversized loungewear, but... the boxers? No dice. Women's drawers exist too, but the lining's positioned differently. Men's have soft fabric up front; women's down below. My sister, Song Yunseo, wasn't the type to miss that.
W-What should I say? Uh, my friend's washer broke, so I did their laundry? But why mix loads? If she asks why I threw guys' stuff in with my girly clothes... Say I'm clueless about this stuff and I'll be more careful? Would that fly? I agonized over excuses.
"Yujeong, you still haven't tossed these?"
Her words caught me off guard. She must've mistaken Hanjiu's boxers for mine from back in the day.
Whew, crisis averted. Maybe I could slide by easy—
"Ah..."
But her expression killed any relief. Complicated. Fragile, like she'd burst into tears at a touch, as she stared at the black boxers. I'd seen that face often when I lay in the hospital bed, enduring agony, barely breathing with machine help.
Did she still think I clung to those days?
"Y'know, sis probably wouldn't get it, but they're comfy once you try 'em. Good stretch, perfect as house shorts!"
"......"
"They were new anyway. Felt wasteful tossing 'em, so I kept 'em."
"Still, Yujeong... now..."
"Yeah. Time to ditch 'em."
I snatched the boxers from the rack and chucked them in the trash. No real need right then, but her eyes left me no choice. She didn't pry further once I ditched them. After lingering with that heavy look, she mustered a faint smile.
"Let's hit the mart. I'll help unpack after dinner."
I pulled her arm into a hug and headed for the door.
"Yeah, let's go. I'm starving, hehe."
Playing extra chummy on purpose.
~
Raising three kids through college from a plain, average family couldn't have been easy. So Mom and Dad busted their asses for tuition, leaving the little chores—and caring for kid me and my even younger sister—to our five-years-older sis.
"This one's borderline."
Song Yunseo, now scrutinizing a quail egg's expiration date in front of me. But she wasn't the sister from back then. Now she doted fiercely on her gender-flipped little brother. Back then? Decent to her little sis maybe, but not to her brother—me. Always irritable, quick to snap. She'd pick fights and beat on me plenty.
Normal sibling stuff? Ours was worse. Way worse. Even Hanjiu dreaded her rampages, letting me crash at his place often. By my mid-teens, I barely spoke to her. He still eyes me like a crazy bitch if I say we're close now.
Looking back, she wasn't a full adult then. Handling housework and little siblings? Must've been stressful as hell.
If she truly hated me... she wouldn't have gripped my hand, sobbing heartbreakingly enough to guilt me, while I teetered on death's door in that hospital bed.
Enough gloom. Point is: years of chores and babysitting honed her womanly skills, especially cooking. Her food beat Mom's for my taste.
"Not that hard. Bean sprout soup's quick. I'll prep sides before I go."
"Got it. Eat proper, okay."
"I worry, seriously. Saw you changing earlier—minus the boobs, you're all bones! You good?"
"Ow! Just been slammed lately! That's all."
"Short on cash? Want sis to spot you allowance?"
I barely shut down her fretting with "I'm fine."
"What's with all this?"
"Told ya. Sides to stock."
She double-checked her phone memo and cart, continuing.
"Hmm... this should do. Oh, Yujeong, anything you crave for dinner?"
"Chicken stew then. Spicy!"
"Gotta grab a whole chicken and potatoes. While at it, curry to freeze?"
"Nah, really, no need."
"Nonsense. Curry portions freeze fine. No whining—push the cart!"
~
Post-mart, she told me to shower first while prepping. Cooking illiterate and wiped from all-day try-ons, I took her up on it and headed to the bathroom.
Out fresh, wrapped in just a bath towel. No shame. She'd handled my showers and bathroom runs in the hospital—seen me naked plenty.
I sidled behind her, hand on her waist as she peeled potatoes.
"Sis could get married now!"
"Eek, you scared me!"
The peeler clanged sharply against the sink. She whipped around, startled wide-eyed.
"Why so jumpy? What'd you sneak in?"
"Sneak what! Dangerous coming up behind with a knife!"
She smacked my hand off her waist, protesting the peeler's risk. She'd swapped her neat two-piece skirt for my familiar oversized hoodie and white training shorts. When'd she raid my closet? Setting the knife down, she cupped my cheek.
"Baby skin still! Managing okay? Figured you'd ditch the cosmetics after a few lazy tries."
"Wasteful. Searched online—stuff you got me is pricey."
I'd shrugged it off at first, no interest. But friends visiting gasped at my vanity. Turns out toner alone topped 100,000 won; essence and serum beside it, even pricier! Old me, slathering cheap 20,000-won all-in-one, couldn't fathom it. Couldn't let that go to waste.
Grumbling the truth, she cackled and sliced the peeled potatoes.
"Cheaper than dermatology in old age. Bulk buy with mine, not bad. Running low? I'll ship more."
"No, I'll buy next."
"Yeah, right. Lasts two months usually—expect a package in one."