The couch was not uncomfortable, but I wanted it to be, honestly. I was staring at the ceiling for an hour, eyes closed, trying to fall asleep. My mind was keeping me awake and I didn’t like that. Every time I tried to fall asleep, I kept thinking about him. I thought I didn’t want to think about him because the bar incident made me feel so infuriated, but it wasn’t that. Worse, I was thinking about only him. The way he listened. Really listened. Most people waited for their turn to talk. Kento seemed genuinely interested in whatever the other person had to say. I remembered him leaning forward and laughing when he told a story, how easily he spoke to everyone at the table. Then the blanket. The way his face had softened when I handed it to him. The smile after he realized I wasn't some stranger trying to bother him. The raised eyebrow. His hair...

I groaned and pressed the heel of my hand against my eyes. I kept on tossing and turning, still thinking about how he smiled and laughed, frowned, moved him hand, touched his hair… The apartment was too quiet. And his scent was seeping through the bedroom doorframe. Was he feeling alright? His scent was that of… black tea and bergamot.

I took those two pills, but I felt like I was losing my mind, not my bodily composure. Then I thought about myself. Thirty-two years old. A chef who spent most of his life in a kitchen and could not dare look him into his brown, deep eyes. A guy who apparently spent months tracking another person's coffee habits. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

Maybe I should just focus on making sure he was okay for now. That sounds simpler. 

Clean shaven or should I leave it natural? Ugh, do I have too many grey hairs? I also don’t think I look good in this shirt. Since when did I start caring about things like these? I think I am standing too close and for too long in front of the mirror. I grabbed the gifts and wanted to grab the car keys. What if I drink? I will definitely have a drink. I will take the subway. I checked the address three times before leaving the apartment.

I don’t know how it happened, but I arrived 15 minutes earlier. I was pacing around outside like a headless chicken until I felt like I lingered too long on the street. I rang his apartment from downstairs and got let in. I made my way up the stairs and knocked on the door. I had to wait for some seconds until I heard someone approach the door. I got tense on instinct and was about to relax, thinking Kento would open the door. To my surprise, someone else opened the door. He was wearing a white shirt, glasses and looked rather older. I figured it was his dad, who else? I extended my arm to shake his hand and tried to introduce myself when he stopped me.

“Who are you? I think you have the wrong apartment.”

What? It couldn’t be. The moment he opened the door I sensed Kento’s pheromones. Didn’t his wife mention my arrival? She invited me herself. And if she didn’t, why didn’t Kento tell him I was coming? What is going on?

Suddenly I saw Kento come down the hall. An oversized shirt hung off one shoulder and several silver necklaces rested against his collarbone. The apartment behind him was warm and bright and smelled like roasted meat and cinnamon. I didn’t know he could wear such basic clothes and still maintain his flair. His hair was clipped up but not very far away from his neck, but the pieces framing his face were out. Before we even got the change to say hello, he pulled the man to the side, whispering to him. He called him Alex. Does he call his dad by his first name?

“Geonsu, my dear! Welcome, welcome! Don’t stand there so awkwardly. This is Cynthia, my best friend. She works at Bella-Donna. You’ve never met each other, right? How could that be? You work next to each other!”

I heard Kento’s mom suddenly. She seemed to have had a drink or two, was smiling and waved at me. Next to her was who I believe must be Cynthia. She looked close in age to her, red light curly hair with a pointy nose and a gap in her front teeth. Her right canine tooth had a gem on it and her eyes were brown. She was taller than Kento’s mom and slimmer too.

“Hello, missus Becker. No, I’ve never met Cynthia. Good to see you!” I responded.

She started to laugh, Cynthia as well, both holding onto each other for support from laughing so hard. I was so confused.

“Dear, I’m not married. Call me Denise, okay?”

So, who is Alex? Irrelevant for now. He must be someone important to them, seeing he was over for Christmas. But then again, I was invited so did it mean that much? I gave Denise her wine while I was being guided into the living room and hoped I made the right decision with the one I picked. But the present that stressed me out the most was Kento’s. I agonized over which one to pick. I didn’t know which one would represent him better, so I chose the most beautiful one I could find. It was detailed but not too overpowered. I hoped he liked it.

I didn’t know how to let him know I brought him something so while Denise was instructing him to bring something from his room, I just put my hands out and stood before him, waiting for him to see me stand there stupidly. He took it without saying anything, which I was thankful for. Everyone was doing something else, so no attention was paid to us. He opened it and looked inside, then suddenly ran to the kitchen.

“Mom! Mom! Look…” He screamed.

Seeing him run to present the espresso spoon gave my heart a little throb. I felt accomplished. He then returned to me into the living room and approached me. His eyes were sparkling and moving fast, his pupils dilated and his lower lash line looked damp.

“I’m sorry, I got too excited. Thank you so much! How did you know?”

“I asked Romina what something is you like to do… she only said coffee and espresso were your true love.”

I was spouting nonsense. I could not let him know I watched him buy coffee and espresso for a span of almost 4 months. I came up with the most plausible explanation. I hope Romina doesn’t expose the fact that we didn’t talk about this at all. I could only smile at him like an idiot and hope they didn’t talk about it later. Then suddenly, he left and came back into the living room quickly.

“I hope you like it. My forgetful son chose it; to replace the one you lent him.” Denise said.

I looked at Kento and he also extended his arms the way I did previously. Was he teasing me? He is pretty funny. I never expected to receive something, so I opened it slowly.

“Thank you. I’ve never had such a high-quality scarf. I like it very much.”

The scarf was dark blue, soft enough that I kept touching it whenever I thought nobody was looking.

We sat down at the table, and dinner was served by Denise and Kento. I hadn’t had someone else cook for me in a while. I was sitting almost in front of him around the table. I caught myself glancing at him, watching his fingers maneuver the fork and knife, and sometimes put his hair behind his ear to not get in the way of eating. He drank the wine and contributed to the conversation every now and then. Alex, who still hasn’t introduced himself to me or shook my hand spoke directly to me.

“So, how do you support yourself, Geonsu?” He asked.

“I am a sauté chef. I have 7 years of experience.” I had to mention my years of experience. Was he testing me, whether I was a proper adult or competent?

“So, you were what? 26 when you started to be a sauté chef?”

“Yes, sir. Indeed.”

“Hmm, what were you doing 7 years ago, Kento?” He glanced at Kento as he asked and then shifted his gaze back at me while Kento answered.

“I was a sophomore. But you know that. Why?”

“And you were a freshman 2 years before that, right? Oh, how time flies!”

“I would argue any job is a good job. I didn’t go to university, but I earned my place there and my income is just fine. What do you do, sir?” Yeah, Kento went to university and likely so did he. I heard them talk previously about a sample from work. I felt like he looked down on me and my profession.

“No one says going to university is better than. I was just remarking how interesting and different your stages were. You were 26, Kento is going to be 26 in 2 and a half years.”

Wait. He was trying to imply that the age gap between us is problematic? I know I am older, but Kento is… Do I have the right to stay friends with him? Maybe I am a problem…

Denise seemed to take my side, and we ended up making small talk and bonding more and more even when Kento stepped on the balcony to smoke. He must have had a talk with Alex because Alex didn’t say anything else and didn’t look at me with his previous gaze. If Kento would allow me to stay by his side, I would not step away from him… what am I thinking?

Eventually the night slowed down. Romina and Cynthia passed out on the couch and Alex and Denise were bringing the dishes, silverware and glasses over to the kitchen for clean-up. As I was washing the dishes, Kento stepped next to me and rinsed them. 

We didn’t talk, but every now and then my fingertips grazed his and I felt like I was getting warmed around my neck and chest. It must have been the hot water running. But I noticed that the longer he stood next to me and the more I was acknowledging his presence, my suppressants started to wear off sooner than they were supposed to. I had a couple of glasses of wine, so I could not control myself as well as before. I was not drunk, but I was releasing some pheromones. Suddenly, I felt his pheromones engulf me. I thought I was imagining it or was some residue left because it was his home. 

No, these were just released by him, right now, standing next to me. I started to blab my mind off, saying something funny here and then, trying to deflect. But then my pheromones got stronger. I was so afraid he would think I was doing it on purpose. I started to slowly realize that it was him who caused my medication to not function properly. The day we sat next to each other in the taxi was the same. And what was this feeling in my chest again?

“Did you take suppressants today as well?” He said suddenly. 

“Yes, I did. The effect is wearing off though… did you notice?”

“I might have. Why did you take them? You’re off work.”

“I… I didn’t know if your parents were Betas or not, so I didn’t want to come off as insolent if they escaped.”

Damn. At least I could come off clean now. I don’t know why I was feeling like I wanted him to notice though. And I wanted him to know it was he who was messing me up. Why? Why would I say that to him? Stop. Don’t.

“But you’re dominant. Does something interfere with your ability to hold back…”

“You.” Ah! It’s out now.

Our eyes met and he got redder in the face than before. Was he drunk or blushing? He said he was feeling too dizzy from the alcohol. I opened the window and made sure he was better than before. Did I affect him too much? Was he really drunk? I should excuse myself and leave. Next time we interact we will both be sober. I wanted to see him soon.

As I was departing and saying goodbye, I felt like my feet didn’t want to move. Denise must have left some make-up on my face because he wiped it off for me. It was the first time he touched me. His fingertips were still warm from the dishwashing. I didn’t want to look away from him. His face was so beautiful.

“Get home safe and text me. You are pretty drunk yourself.” This time, he looked away first, not me. I wanted to see his eyes one more time before departing, but he didn’t seem to want to look up. I didn’t want to ask him to look me in the eyes. But I wanted to feel his warm finger again.  

“I will. Good night!”

My mind is free to wander while I prepare for dinner service. I wonder what he is doing. Whether he slept in after Christmas. Whether he is drinking coffee right now. Whether he remembered to eat breakfast. If I invited him to eat here again, would he come over? And if I invited him to come for breakfast, would he agree? I could feel my heart pounding harder and harder. Amira was preparing her desserts for tonight and while doing so, the smell of orange and lemon reached me. I realized only after I snapped my head back at the door that he was not there.

My thoughts return to him again and again. I remembered his eyes, the way they held mine for a second too long. The way he would put his hair behind his ear and the pieces would drop again later as he moved his head. I find myself wondering what it would feel like to touch them. Would he let me? I thought about the way his waist disappeared beneath oversized shirts. The way he leaned against the kitchen counter while helping with the dishes. The warmth of his fingers when he wiped the makeup from my face. If I asked to kiss him, would he let me? Or would he pull away?

I want to see him. I want to hear his voice. I want to touch him again. And for the first time, I stopped looking for excuses. There was no point pretending otherwise…

I had fallen for Kento.