I'm on waves, out being tossed

[hismelody]

Eventually, the lack of sleep was always going to catch up to him. Through three sleepless nights, or at least mostly sleepless, S knew it, exhaustion increasing, though easy enough to push past with so much else to focus on. Still, it was only ever a temporary solution at best, nothing that could have lasted much longer than it did. With that being the case, it shouldn't be such a surprise when, after that third night, on their third full day together, he hits a wall, no longer able to keep his eyes open, drifting off while sitting on the couch. He isn't expecting it all the same, though even that, he barely registers, just as he's only half-aware of J ushering him back to bed, too tired to protest or to focus on why he should.

It's different when he wakes up. S grew accustomed a long time ago to sleeping and waking up alone, though it was one of the most difficult things about all that solitude, no longer having a warm body beside him at such times. He and J shared a bed for years, even before their relationship became more than platonic, cuddling together for warmth in the one bed in their small studio when the weather began to change. Of course, he felt it then, the beginning of something more, and it wasn't all that long after that they admitted their feelings for each other, but they spent ages like that. Even when they fought, even when J would barely speak to him, he still had the anchor of J's presence at his side, the distance sometimes easier to breach that way. It was comforting, always, but like so much else, he never thought he would lose it until he did.

He had months, though, after J left, after J died. At some point, following the former, it just became routine, as sad and empty as everything else about his life, J's absence as tangible as it ever was to be with him. It shouldn't, then, have taken only three nights to change that. They've hardly been apart in that time, though, save for brief moments of one going into another room for something or other. He's spent every night holding J as he slept, so overwhelmingly grateful to be able to do so, determined to do anything in his power to keep him safe.

So, when S wakes up distinctly alone, disoriented and unaware even of how long he's been asleep, the first thing he feels is cold, sheer terror.

For moments — sometimes hours, even — at a time, he's managed not to dwell on it. It's always been there, though, never too far from his thoughts, always ready to creep back in, the memory of how J sounded that first day on his couch, what S was so fucking scared he might do, J's promise not to stay, but to try. Even that was more than S could have asked for, and yet he knows it's not a guarantee, either. And while the past couple of days have been good more often than not, there's no telling what might happen with J alone, left to his own thoughts. Believing that a couple of decent days would be enough to override all that darkness would be entirely too naïve, even for S; it isn't as if he ever stood a chance against it before, and things are far worse now than they ever were then, even if, in some ways, they're better, too. He doesn't know how long it's been, he doesn't know what might have happened, and it's too much, his chest so tight that it feels like he can't breathe. Despite still being tired and out of sorts, it takes him only moments to pull himself out of bed, trying not to move quite as frantically as he feels but unable to take his time about it.

Not so very long ago at all, he woke up to find out, not very long after, that J was already gone. Now, as he moves out of the bedroom and down the hall, he silently prays to whatever deities might exist that he won't be too late again. He only just got J back. He isn't at all ready to lose him again.

He's dimly aware of a few things — muffled noise that he can't distinguish, the fact that the bathroom door is still open and the light off, which is something of a relief in its own right, though he doesn't really feel it until he rounds the corner and sees J sitting on the couch, watching TV. Overwhelmed and breathless, trembling with worry, he presses his free hand to his chest, the other resting against the wall for support he's surprised to realize how much he needs. "You're alright," he finally manages to say, though it's more to himself than anything else, his voice so small he's not even sure it will be fully audible over the sound of whatever J is watching. He doesn't care, just taking in the sight of him, mercifully alive and alright, relief mingling with the panic he can't yet shake off.

Comments

[hismelody]

"You are taking care of me," S murmurs, the words spilling out of him thoughtlessly, soft and fond, if just a little bit rueful. He shouldn't need it. As much as this distraction helps, it's still there in the back of his head, the fact that he shouldn't require J's comfort over the possibility of J wanting to die again. J is the one who did that, after all, who might wind up in that same place once more. It isn't fair that J should have to try to make him feel better because of it, but he is, doing as much as anyone or anything could to keep him anchored when he could too easily drift back into too-deep water.

It was like this for a while, years ago, after he first lost his parents. S can't be sure when things changed, almost reversed; he can't be sure of a lot of things. What he does know is that it means more to be held and soothed and distracted than he would know how to say right now, having to settle instead just for that acknowledgment of what J is doing. Later, when he's steadier, he can get into it more. Right now, it seems like enough just to be that present at all.

"And it would be good," he agrees, idly toying with J's shirt where his hand is wrapped around it. "A real kitchen. With enough space for both of us."

[beklemmt]

"Always," J says softly, smiling as he looks at the one S plays with his shirt. That's a good sign, that he says that; it means J is doing something, and that's as much as he can ask for, even if he wants more. If he could make it all go away, he would. If he were to try to, though, if he said S doesn't need to worry about him, that he doesn't think he'll ever want to kill himself again, it would be a lie, and they would both know it. That would only make things worse, he's pretty sure. It's better just to be here as much as he can be, as steady as he can be. "I want to take care of you always. Not just now, not just this, but in every way I can."

He lifts a hand to brush through S's hair, the other still gentle at his back. "I love you, Sihyun-ah," he says, "so, so much." He won't always be able to do this, to be the one giving comfort. Sometimes he'll need it — more often than he'd like, undoubtedly. But that's how it is in a relationship. He's learning that now, figuring out things he should have known years ago. He wants to give S as much as he can when he's able to. It will make the times when he doesn't have the strength to do more but keep dragging himself forward as best he can easier to bear.

"What should we make?" he asks, not wanting to risk making S too emotional — or himself, for that matter. "In our kitchen, with all that counter space. What do you want to cook?"

[hismelody]

Please stay. It's there on the tip of his tongue, barely held back, repeating over and over in his head like when he was so overwhelmed yesterday. S knows, he knows, that he doesn't get to ask that. It wouldn't be fair, it wouldn't be right, when he can only guess at the kind of pain J must be living with now. It's all he wants, though, to be able to hold onto this, not to have to lose J again. If that's what J wants, to take care of him always, in every way, then the only way he can do that, S thinks, is by being here. Anything else — the fear that overtook him so completely a few minutes ago, the crying they've done and have yet to do, the awful, messy history between them — he can face, as long as they're together, as long as J can find it in him to stay alive.

He can't say it. He can only stay close, letting J hold him, soothe him, trying to keep his breathing as slow and steady as he possibly can. "I love you, too," he replies instead, the words soft and just barely tinged with melancholy. "So much. I always will." More than ever, that's the truest thing he knows, an indelible, unshakable part of him. Both losing J the way he did and then unexpectedly getting him back have made that incredibly clear, though he wouldn't have doubted it in the first place. Even if the worst does happen, it will still be true then, something he'll carry around for as long as he has left.

When this calm still feels so precarious, he can't let himself think too much about that now. He tries to focus on J's question instead, coming up with some menu, but he gets stuck between what's feasible and what's fantasy, and it makes little difference anyway. "Anything," he says. "I don't know. But I'll show you how to make all of it."

[beklemmt]

Something about it stings, a quiet, shared melancholy, and J wonders if he was wrong to say that. It's true, though, and he was utterly in earnest. He's always wanted that, to give S the same kind of love and support he's always given J, to be his best friend, his protector, even when it's his own thoughts he needs to be protected from. More than anything, he wants to believe he'll be able to do it. He's more hopeful about that than he could have thought possible, but that doesn't mean it's guaranteed. When he's only just begun to cope with the things that haunt him — when even that assessment might be a generous one — he can't possibly say what tomorrow will bring. He aches to stay, clinging to life, to S, with all he has in him, but he's grasped after the things he longs for before and failed. He won't make a promise that solemn without knowing he can keep it.

But he can hear what S doesn't say, what that always carries, the way it would echo in his absence. It's all he can do not to hug him tighter and keep professing his love, make promises he's unsure of, fall into tears himself. But when he can tell that S is still trying to regain his balance, it wouldn't be right. If he wants to take care of S, it starts with this. Later, maybe, maybe, he can tell S these things, but right now, it would only make things worse for both of them. Besides, the problem is S already knows. He wouldn't have gotten this upset if he weren't all too aware of how precarious J's place in this world is.

With a soft, thoughtful hum, he nods. "All of it," he echoes. "I want to learn everything." He lets out a tiny laugh. "Ah, well, the basic things. I don't think I'll ever be a chef. But I could learn to make steamed eggs and kimchi jjigae and tteokbokki. Ooh, cheese tteokbokki."

[hismelody]

Even just in J's words, there's a welcome distraction, one that comes not a moment too soon. Still curled close, S lets out a soft laugh of his own — still not much more than an exhale, really, but it's something, and hard to help given what J has just said. "You could be a chef if you wanted to," he says. He's never known anyone as stubborn, as persistent as J; if he really wanted to be, S thinks, he would get there, find a way to make it happen. And though this probably isn't something he should joke about, veering too close to uncomfortable truths, he is at once just out of it and just relaxed enough and worried about enough other things that he continues without stopping to talk himself out of it, quiet and fond. "Just watch, I bet I'll teach you everything I know and you'll wind up cooking circles around me."

He wouldn't mind that, if it happened. He likes cooking, and just happens to have gotten fairly decent about it, but it's nothing he particularly cares about beyond keeping himself, and now the two of them, fed. Especially when he was younger, too, when his parents had just died and he and J were first living on their own, it was something he could do, one small thing he could control, a way of moving forward and proving he could handle it. It's nice to know that J likes the things he cooks, but it's mostly just convenient.

"We'll make those, though," he adds. "In that kitchen, with all the counter space."

[beklemmt]

J laughs and shakes his head. "I think you're mixing us up," he teases. He was so jealous of that for so long, how easily S seemed to pick up on how to play the piano, how good he became so quickly. It isn't like it was all easy. He practiced too and he observed, and it took time before he got as good as he is now, but he did it faster even than J did. Or maybe it's that it always seemed effortless in spite of the effort, like things just came naturally to S. When he was little, J thought he was the same with the piano, but the further he tried to push himself, the less true it felt.

It doesn't matter so much now. Any resentment over that is nothing but an old habit he's learning to break, and it isn't like he's playing at all these days. He probably won't for a very long time; he's not sure he ever will again. "But I'll do my best," he says, "and if I cook circles around you, then good, more reason for me to be the one who makes dinner for us. All the things you like best, that's what I want to learn."

He shrugs. "Though now I just want tteokbokki." It's been a while, but he's not even sure what time it is or if anywhere around here sells it or if the grocery store is open for them to go buy the stuff to make tteok themselves. Given how wrung out S must feel, that seems like a lot of work anyway.

[hismelody]

If he wanted to, he could dispute that, but it really doesn't seem like the time. S is too tired for that, too unwilling to shatter this fragile contentedness when that could still so easily happen anyway. Though he's feeling better now than when he first came out here, that's mostly just due to being in J's arms and having a consistent distraction. Everything that had him so frightened a little while ago is still there, it's just drowned out for the moment, pushed to the background. He'll probably have to deal with it more later — trying to bury it and just keep himself awake clearly didn't accomplish all that much — but it's too much for right now.

So, too, would be arguing what J has just said, even lightly, even as a joke. With as long as they've known each other, he suspects that's one point on which they'll never agree, anyway, his admiration of J's persistence at odds with J's envy of things that came more easily to him. None of it matters when all they're doing is discussing food, and when he'll teach J as much as he can anyway. Maybe it's just because this is still so new again and he would be happy for anything they could do together, but he really does think it will be fun.

Right now, though, he definitely doesn't have that sort of energy, too wound up to go back to sleep, too tired to do anything that strenuous. He doesn't even know what time it is or how long he was asleep, everything still a bit hazy. "I wonder if there's somewhere that delivers," he says, thoughtful. There aren't a lot of restaurants around here with food from home, but there are a few, and while he doesn't feel hungry in the slightest right now, mostly wants to curl up with some tea or something, it might not be a bad idea to have something on hand for later when he's this worn out. "We could order food, if there is. Save cooking lessons for later."

[beklemmt]

It's a nice idea, J thinks. He's not entirely sure if they should, but maybe it's okay. Now that they're sure he'll be staying here, they can be a little more free with their money — not much, but enough that some takeout shouldn't set them back in any real way. Now that they're talking about food, he finds it sounds like a good idea. Sitting out here, flipping channels, he probably could have found or made himself something, but he forgot that he probably should have, and he wasn't sure about using the stove in S's absence yet anyway.

Now that S is up, though, and clearly exhausted, it might be the best thing they could do. "Mm, maybe lessons tomorrow," he agrees. "For now — it doesn't even have to be tteokbokki, but now I have a craving. You have menus in the drawer, you said? We can look if you want." If S feels much as he does during these attacks, he probably won't have the presence of mind to choose much on his own, too overwhelmed for such decisions. That's fine, though. J knows what he likes well enough to figure it out for both of them, and he can make a phone call if he must. He doesn't want to push S to get up, though, to pull away, before he's ready. "If you're even hungry. You seemed so tired, darling." He still does.

[hismelody]

S nods, a quiet concession, unable to argue the truth of that even if he wanted to. He was tired; he still is, at once both wound up and all the more worn out from that surge of panic. Even not wanting to explain the extent of it and the reasons for it, he can admit that much. The past few days have been exhausting, anyway, even as they've been the best he's had in a long, long time. It ought to be understandable that they'd take their toll, regardless of how much he did or didn't sleep. They do need to eat, too, and if he isn't up for cooking now, he doubts he'll be any more so in an hour or two or whenever. Ordering food doesn't seem too unnecessary, then — a little frivolous, maybe, but still worth it, all the more so now that J's gotten himself in the mood for something specific that they don't have the ingredients on hand to make.

"Ah, it'll be good to have something for when I do get hungry," he says, shrugging a little. By the time any food gets here, he might well be, anyway, or the smell will entice him into it. Either way, as long as it gets eaten, it won't be a waste of money, and they did talk the other day about trying some of the nearby restaurants at some point. This seems like a good opportunity to start, another little distraction in its own right. "Menus in the drawer. I can get them, I was thinking of getting up to make tea, anyway."

He doesn't start to move quite yet, but he will. Even if it turned out alright in the end, he still remembers J's uneasiness when he first used a burner on the stove, and S doesn't want and wouldn't expect him to do so now if he'd be uncomfortable with it, not least given what they were talking about not long ago at all.

[beklemmt]

J nods, making a small hum. "Good idea," he says. "Sometimes it helps just to have a warm drink like that." He was too distracted to think of it himself, but it's something to remember for the future. If this happens again, he'll be better prepared. As much as he hopes it won't, he doesn't think these are one-off kinds of things. It isn't for him, at least.

It might help, too, for S to have the tea-making process to focus on. If he seems to need help or wants it, J can step in, but until then, he decides, he'll let S handle it when he's ready. "I'll come with you when you're ready," he says, "and look through the menus. Tea sounds good. Ah, and we're not far from those shops we went to before. I saw restaurants then. There must be at least one that delivers tteokbokki." There are a few things he wouldn't mind getting, but he's trying not to get ahead of himself. He can make decisions once he sees a menu. Until then, he just keeps stroking S's back, slow and steady. "And something else, too, of course. Some beef maybe or chicken."

It'll be good to have something like that on hand. If S ends up not being hungry, J knows he'll eat most of the tteokbokki himself, less because of greed than because of the way the cheese and sauce and rice cakes tend to congeal after sitting out or being in the refrigerator a while. It's hard to reheat them well. But meat and rice will keep well, and most other things can be heated again just fine. "Ah, now I really am hungry."

[hismelody]

"That sounds good," S agrees, still leaning into J, trying to focus on the steady movement of J's hand against his back. The tteokbokki won't keep, but anything else they get, they can always keep being able to heat it up later in mind. By the time the food gets here, he may well want to eat anyway. Right now, all he really wants is to stay where he is, warm and comfortable in J's arms, reassured with every soft touch that, at least for now, J is alright, but it will probably take a while for any food they order to get here anyway. They might as well get it over with, and then they can come back here and he can let J hold him for a bit longer while they wait. He hates needing it, he really does, but he's too tired and too worried to pretend that he doesn't. Food should be a good distraction, too, at least, whether he eats yet or not, something else to give his attention to that isn't just how scared he is.

With a soft sound of protest, he lets out a sigh, still staying close even as he speaks. "Let's do that now," he decides. "Get the water on, see what menus we have." He feels reasonably certain that there should be one that has what they're looking for, at least, food from home. Some other time, it would be nice to branch out, too, but right now, J is in the mood for something specific, and for his part, if he does eat, S thinks he could use something comforting, which means something familiar. "Since we'll have to wait for delivery, we should go ahead and order."

The more he thinks about it, at least, the more it really does seem like a good idea. They've never been able to do this sort of thing very often, but now that J has decided to stay here, the expense of it shouldn't be too great, and with how he feels right now, there's something nice about knowing their food will be brought right to them, that they don't need to do anything but sit and wait.

[beklemmt]

"Okay," J says, nodding. At a time like this, it seems best that he follow S's lead as far as what he does or doesn't feel up to. If he says he's ready, then J will take him at his word. Except that he doesn't seem entirely sure of it himself, still lingering against J even as he says they should get up.

If it were him, he thinks, he might do the same — say he's ready, but not want to move. Hesitate. Get mad at himself for hesitating. "You have to get up first though," he says, lightly teasing, prodding at S's side to get him to do so. He'll just have to stay as close as he can until he's sure S is steady on his feet. For now, though, he just sits up a little straighter, pulling S with him to nudge him into action without actually making him go if he really isn't ready. As it is, he hardly wants to let go of S either, worry still buzzing through him. "I don't know which drawer they're in. Show me?"

[hismelody]

It helps, having a question to answer, a task to do. S still doesn't really want to move, but he knows he should, so finally, eventually, he makes himself sit up a little straighter, then start to lean away. All they're doing is going to the kitchen to make tea and retrieve takeout menus. He spent a long time having to do far more on his own while feeling a lot worse than he does now. This — the lingering worry, the slight tightness in his chest — is bearable. It has to be. He knows better than to think that this fear is just going to go away, so he has to learn how to live with it, not just fall to pieces every time he gets a little worried that J isn't beside him. Putting that on J isn't fair, anyway, when J has so much else to carry already, when he chose this and doesn't regret it in the slightest.

"Yeah," he agrees, instinctively reaching for J's hand as he gets to his feet. J will still be close, anyway, and in a few minutes, once the tea is made, they'll be able to settle back on the couch again to wait for their food. "I'll show you. Ah, you ought to know where everything is, anyway." At the last, he summons up a small smile. Although it's strange, in a way, for J to be moving into a place where he already lives rather than the two of them doing so together from the start, at least he's barely had time to settle. It doesn't really matter, anyway, when he'd be overwhelmingly grateful for it regardless.

[beklemmt]

J nods, his smile soft and fond as he squeezes S's hand. "True," he says, stepping beside him to head toward the kitchen. He doesn't rush, unsure how steady S might be on his feet after that. Even if it still feels horrible to him, even if he wishes S didn't have to experience it, too, there are things he knows are routine occurences for him when he has these attacks. It might help S to know that they're as normal as all this can be.

He doesn't want to be overbearing about it, though, or to remind S too much of why he was so nervous and upset. He keeps his voice light, but gentle as he asks, "Are you okay? Sometimes I get dizzy during and after. Ah, we should get some water, too. I don't know when I last had any." He definitely forgot to while he was watching TV. At least that much he can take care of while S makes tea. He may not know where the menus are, but he's learned the location of all the basic necessities, and he'll figure out the rest in time. Still, even as he steps into the kitchen, he doesn't pull away to do anything, grasping S's hand in both of his now.

[hismelody]

"I'm —" S starts, already nodding as he speaks, instinctively starting to say I'm fine. It's both true and not, though, and not really enough to actually say. No matter how much he wishes he could downplay whatever just happened, he doubts he would be all that successful if he tried, not because he couldn't sound convincing but simply because J was there for all of it. As much as S hates having worried him, it would probably be worse, he thinks, if he pretended like it was nothing when they both know it wasn't. Besides, as hard as it is to think about J feeling the way he just did, it helps, too, to know that he gets it. S can only imagine how much more frightening it would have been without J to hold him and talk him through it.

So he opts for honesty instead, expression soft as he looks over at J. "I'm a little lightheaded," he admits. With as hard as it was to try to catch his breath, to breathe at all, for a few minutes there, he figures that was probably inevitable anyway. Still, he would rather not dwell on it, or continue worrying J, any more than necessary. "Water sounds good." He doesn't really want to pull away, but they did come out here for a reason; as a momentary compromise, he opens the drawer, the one furthest to the outside of the kitchen, that he's been keeping the menus in with his free hand. "Menus are in here."

[beklemmt]

That much is to be expected, J is pretty sure. For a while there, it was frightening, listening to S trying to catch his breath, and he's feeling a bit shaky himself now that the worst of it seems to have passed. It might come back, he knows that, and it's unnerving to know that all he can do is be here whether or not it does, but at least for now, S seems to be breathing more or less normally.

He glances at the drawer, then back to S, tipping his head up to kiss him, soft and chaste. At least S told him the truth. He's thankful for that. Knowing as he does the urge to wave these things off as nothing, he couldn't fault S for trying to downplay it. He's done it too many times himself. Still, it helps. There's something grounding about it that he can't quite name. It doesn't really matter as long as S is feeling even a little better. "It can be like that," he says when he draws back. "It'll pass eventually. Put on the tea and I'll find a restaurant, okay?"

He doesn't want to let go. That's the problem. It's protectiveness and projection both, knowing that he would want to stay close if it were him. He doubts S feels any differently, especially given what set him off. But it'll be better if they can take care of this soon and then sit again, so he squeezes S's hand and steps over to the drawer, slowly letting go so he can pull the menus out. There are quite a few, but they should be easy enough to sort through, since he knows exactly what kind of food he wants now.

[hismelody]

As much as S really doesn't want to pull away, he does want to get their assorted tasks here over with so they can go sit again. The food will probably take a while to get here anyway, so they'll be better off getting it ordered sooner rather than later. Having a small task to do is a good distraction, too — nothing that he's too out of it to handle, but just busy enough to keep him going, preventing him from getting too caught up in his own head again. He squeezes J's hand in turn before he lets go, then heads to the stove for the kettle so he can fill it with water. They really should, next time they go out, get an electric one, but that's something to consider later, not something that seems worth bringing up under the current circumstances anyway.

The kettle filled and on the stove, he lights the burner, pausing to take a deep breath before he moves again. Unsteady as he feels, it's still better than a little while ago, and he tries, at least, to focus on the quiet, welcome familiarity of this, the two of them moving around each other in the kitchen, even if this one is bigger than their last. Reaching up to get two cups from the cabinet, he glances over at J and the menus in his hand. "Find anything that looks good?" he asks. He barely knows what's there, really, has saved them mostly out of habit and with the thinking that it would be good to have them on hand later. Doing so has paid off sooner than he expected it to, but still being so newly arrived himself, he's hardly familiar with the nearby restaurants.

[beklemmt]

It's hard to focus on such a small task as this, J finds. The names of restaurants don't matter as much as keeping an eye on S, and he keeps glancing over, trying not to. He doesn't deal well when others hover around him. He doesn't want to do the same to S. When he was just shaking and struggling for breath, though, J can't help worrying about him.

"Mm, a couple," he says. "I want to try this sometime." He sets a menu aside for a pizza place that's piqued his interest. He's heard of it, of course, and he's sure there are places in Seoul that serve it, but it's not exactly a common dish if so. If he's going to live in a new city in a completely different culture in the future, he ought to try new things too, and the pictures of cheese and meat covered bread are tempting. But tonight he wants tteokbokki, and he's pretty sure something familiar will be better for both of them right now. "But not now. Now I want this."

He holds up a different menu. Though it's primarily written in English, he can recognize the dishes as romanizations of foods he loves and knows well. There are a few pictures, but not many and he doesn't need them. Setting down the others, he opens this one to look at it more. "Ah, yes! They have it, good. Oh, chicken, let's get chicken. What else?" It's better if he makes decisions, he thinks, but he still wants S's input.

[hismelody]

S keeps moving as J speaks, though he glances over intermittently to see the menus in question. It's just easier if he stays busy, getting the cups out, retrieving a box of tea so he can put teabags in them, looking over to the kettle, too, as if doing so will somehow make the water begin to boil. Of course, it doesn't, and he knows himself well enough to know what he's doing — doing something because he feels like he has to, because it's all he can do — but at least for the moment, while it lasts, there's still something quietly soothing about this in its own right, if only in the way it keeps him from getting too lost in thought.

That it feels so normal helps, too. He thinks he can pick up on some lingering concern from J, but considering how often their positions have been reversed, he can hardly blame J for that. Had J not been there to hold him through it, telling him that it's happened to him, too, S would have been even more unnerved by it than he already was and is. Instead, he can at least set it aside long enough to make tea and decide what to eat, the same as they would at any other time, even if they're ordering from a menu rather than cooking.

"Chicken sounds good," he agrees, thoughtful for a moment as he tries to decide what else they should get. "And... I don't know, anything that will keep well. And that we wouldn't just make for ourselves later in the week." Now that they know J is staying here for good, he isn't all that concerned about the money for now, but it would seem a bit wasteful, ordering something they could just as easily cook tomorrow or the day after.

[beklemmt]

"Oh, smart," J says, nodding. There are a few things that, as much as he likes them, they can still make for themselves. Steamed eggs are such comfort food, in his opinion, but even he can make that perfectly well on his own. "Ah, we should make some rice, too, while we're in here."

A lot of restaurants offer it automatically, he knows, but it's always unclear on these menus, and it's not like having extra rice would be a hardship. He's not paying more for it if they don't include it. "Tteokbokki, chicken," he says, skimming the menu. "Kimchi jjigae?" The soup will keep and reheat easily enough, and he finds that kind of thing soothing when he's agitated. "Or samgyetang, maybe. What do you think?"

Bulgogi, too, he decides. It's probably a bit of a splurge to get two meat dishes, but wings are best eaten right away anyway, and if they have leftovers, then they'll just eat well tomorrow too and S won't have to cook. Even if he feels up to it by then, it'll be nice if he doesn't need to.

[hismelody]

"Mm, let's get the samgyetang," S decides, thoughtful as he considers their options. Even as he does, with the cups ready and waiting for the water to boil now, he starts getting the rice cooker ready. He hasn't ordered from this restaurant before to know whether rice will be included with their order, and J is right that they may as well make some while they're out here. If they have more than they need, they can save the rest for later, and he would rather have too much on hand than pay for something they can prepare so easily for themselves. If they couldn't afford to order food, he wouldn't have suggested they do it, but just making some rice isn't half as much work as preparing a whole dinner for them would be.

Glancing over at J, he asks, "Do you want to call and order, or do you want me to do it?" Though he still feels a little shaky, it's not like he can't manage a simple phone call, even with the tea and the rice to finish getting ready, but he's also not going to insist. "And don't worry about how much it costs, we should have enough cash here."

[beklemmt]

"Don't say things you'll regret," J teases. "I might order some dumplings and samgyeopsal too and then you'll see." Stepping up alongside S, he leans in to kiss his cheek. "I'll call. You finish taking care of the rice."

It is, at least, a good reason to be the one to handle the call. While he's sure S could do it, the rice should keep him occupied, and J wants something to do, too. Even so, he's careful as he steps away, glancing briefly back. "My phone's over here," he says, trying to stay in S's line of vision as he heads toward the table by the couch. The last thing he wants is to be out of sight too soon and accidentally set off S's anxiety. Even making that effort, it isn't long at all before he's picked up his phone and started back toward the kitchen where he left the menu.

"Alright, here we go," he says, glancing between the menu and his phone as he taps in the number. He has, he realizes abruptly, never actually used the phone to speak to anyone but S, and that's at once nervewracking and kind of exciting as the line trills. When the person on the other end picks up, he breaks into a smile, placing their order in careful English. Samgyetang, cheese tteokbokki, chicken wings, bulgogi — a feast, in his opinion, and enough to keep them well fed whether S is up to eating now or not. He asks the cost and repeats it aloud, glancing to S to let him know that's what it is, and soon hangs up. "Half an hour or forty five minutes. Ah, this really is the future. It works."

[hismelody]

As much as he wishes he didn't need it — knows he shouldn't, really, when J is just going to the other room for a moment — a part of S appreciates the warning all the same. He feels better now than he did, steadier, no longer full of such immediate terror, but he's shaky still, not quite on steady ground. He wants to ask if that's normal, to be so off-kilter still even once it's died down, as if it could start back up again too soon, but they both have things to do, and he doesn't really want to get into it until they have some time to sit and relax, if he does at all. Right now, getting the rice on and placing their order are more pressing concerns.

It does help, too, in a way, having something to do, familiar enough that it happens almost instinctively, taking little thought, but still keeping him busy enough that he isn't just left with his thoughts. Listening to J place the order helps as well, quiet, soothing background noise. Really, the total still only half makes sense to him, unused to this money as he still is, but he knows they can cover it, which is all that matters. He can worry about money later. For now, especially knowing that J has decided to stay here, they can spare the expense, and it's worth having food on hand that they won't have to cook.

"Ah, that's not too long to wait," he says, giving J a soft smile once the call is ended. It's about what he expected, really, and gives them a chance to sit for a while longer before the food arrives. Maybe by then, he actually will be hungry. If nothing else, some of the soup might be nice, just so he'll be eating something. "I'm glad it worked. You've used your phone more than I've used mine, now."

[beklemmt]

J laughs a little, setting his phone down on top of the menus, and steps over to slip his arms around S's waist. "I'm getting a hang of the future, I guess," he says, his smile fond as he looks at S. Even if he's still not wholly at ease, he looks better, to J, considerably calmer than he was earlier. It's a relief to know that he didn't make things worse, stepping away. There have been times where the idea of S leaving his sight for a few moments was genuinely terrifying. Though he tried to avoid letting that happen, he doesn't know how successful he was, but it can't have been too bad.

He really isn't very fond of the phone in general, but at least a food order is easy, and it's worth the effort. For now, though, his part in this is done, and all he needs to do is stay close to S. "How's all this coming?"

Rice is easy, at least. Tea is, too, but it's a much more drawn out process, which means there have been too many times to count where he completely lost track of the time and ended up with either tea that was far too strong or tea that turned out to be just hot water because he forgot to add the actual tea. With how on edge S has been, he wouldn't be surprised if one of those last two things happened.

[hismelody]

"I guess you are," S agrees, instinctively leaning back into J when he steps in close, hands resting lightly against J's arms. Even feeling a little steadier now, or at least trying to, it helps to have J near again, a sturdy, physical reminder of his presence and safety. Once the tea is ready, and then, later, once the food gets here, there won't be anything to do but curl up together again, and he wants that badly, more than he should. It isn't as if anything happened. He didn't even have some kind of bad dream involving J being gone — at least, not as he slept this past while, though there have been plenty over the past few months. There shouldn't be and shouldn't have been any reason for him to be quite so rattled, and yet he was, and yet it lingers still, and trying to pretend otherwise won't make it go away.

Rather than saying so, though, he just stays where he is, savoring J's presence, as he nods towards the rice cooker. "Rice is on," he says. "Water for the tea should be ready soon, and the cups are all set when it is." Having these little tasks to do helps, too, though not as much as being close to J does. Even so, stealing a glance back over at the kettle, not quite boiling, he has another thought along those lines. "Should we get dishes out now, do you think? So we're ready for the food when it gets here."