| Fan Fiction |
by Micah
“Are you a girl disguising as a guy?”
“What?”
“It’s not like I have anything you don’t have.”
Yoochun was thankful that Mr. Kim couldn’t see him blush. “That’s not…I mean…your…”
Instead of finishing (or beginning) his sentence, he decided to just place the clothes where he said he would and quickly walked out. He made sure to close the door behind him.
Throughout the next sixty minutes, he prayed that Mr. Kim wouldn’t die in the bathroom…or call for help.
An hour later, Mr. Kim walked out shirtless. Specks of water decorated his smooth skin and a droplet rolled down his chest to his stomach, showing off a six-pack that Yoochun (and any other guy) would have been jealous of…if he wasn’t so busy staring.
“I hate the button up shirts. Just get me a white T,” the shorter man demanded angrily.
Yoochun blinked and looked away. He scrambled to find a button-less shirt to hand to the half-naked man.
■■■■■
Yoochun threw himself onto the big, comfy bed in the guest room. The butler had led him to this room and helped him carry his luggage in before leaving. Such a nice man; so unlike the employer.
Before falling asleep, he wondered how long he would be able to take this. Maybe he would rather suffer guilt than have to live with Mr. Kim and his friend, Mr. Temper.
Heck, the guy would rather fumble with buttons in the bathroom for half an hour (or so) than call Yoochun in to button his shirt for him. Then again, maybe that was for the best.
Yoochun sighed and fluffed the pillow he was lying on.
Mr. Kim was so handsome and perfect in every way...every way that mattered anyway. He was good looking from head to toe. People wouldn’t care if he had a bad temper because he was so good looking.
People wouldn’t care if Yoochun had a good heart because he was so bad looking.
Sighing again, he punched the pillow several more times. Then he plopped his head back down and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow would be another day, another long tiring day. He’ll need all the sleep he can get.
Eyes closed, he suddenly saw an image of Mr. Kim frowning at him. Even frowning, he looked so cute: a devil in disguise.
Yoochun frowned and buried his face into the pillow. He needed sleep, but thinking about that bad tempered jerk was not helping!
■■■■■
Yoochun grumbled as he mopped the floor. He finally found sleep at three in the morning, but was pulled out of his dreams at six in the morning by the sound of loud music from the master bedroom.
He took it as a message from Mr. Kim that he was supposed to wake up. How the guy found his way to the stereo, Yoochun didn’t know. Yoochun considered taking the machine and hiding it so he won’t have to wake up to loud music every morning.
After cooking the jerk some scrambled eggs and sausage, Yoochun left him to eat in the dining room while he went about with his chores.
As he mopped the beautiful tiles in the living room, he heard the sound of fork clattering with plate (almost like how he clattered with the jerk). Mr. Kim must have been trying to find the food on the plate, but was having too much trouble without his sight. Yet he still wasn’t asking for Yoochun’s help.
The relationship between a man and his pride were probably stronger than a relationship between a man and his lover (well, in Mr. Kim’s case anyway).
As he continued to mop, Yoochun heard the sound of the fork being thrown on the table. Mr. Temper was back.
“That was a disgusting breakfast!” Mr. Kim exclaimed as he felt his way into the living room.
“Did you even get anything into your mouth?” Yoochun retorted. That was a mistake because he could almost see steam coming out of his employer’s ears.
“You…” Mr. Kim began as he took several huge steps forward. Yoochun silently complimented Mr. Kim for being able to follow his voice as he walked towards his housekeeper.
At least his ears were keen.
Then Yoochun realized, “Wait, the floor is wet!”
Too late, because Mr. Kim shouted a curse before gliding towards Yoochun on the wet floor.
Yoochun quickly dropped the mop and ran to catch the blind man before he would fall. Unfortunately, Yoochun slipped and the two collided into each other; chest to chest, forehead to forehead.
Yoochun felt himself fall backwards just as he got a hold on the front of Mr. Kim’s shirt. Seconds later, he was flat on his back and his wide eyes saw the other man falling towards him.
A scene in a movie flashed through his mind, the one in which lips would meet lips when a couple would trip and fall on each other!
Yoochun gasped and quickly turned his face so that his lips won’t meet Mr. Kim’s lips. Unfortunately, he was too freaked out to think and had turned his head to the right. Those plump lips met the scar on his left cheek.
Yoochun froze and forgot how to breathe.
Mr. Kim lifted his head a little and his lips were only centimeters from Yoochun’s cheek.
His famous frown reappeared. “I didn’t kiss your lips, did I?”
“No,” Yoochun peeped. He didn’t know he could reach such a high note.
“Then what…”
“I can’t breathe! Get off me!” Yoochun interrupted before he could ask about the scar.
“Fine,” Mr. Kim grumbled as he planted his palms on the ground to push himself off. Yoochun turned his face back up at him just as he lifted his upper body off.
Unluckily, the jerk’s hands slipped on the shiny, wet tiles and his arms gave up from under him.
This happened before Yoochun could react and as Mr. Kim fell again, his lips landed right on Yoochun’s lips. The skinnier man’s eyes went wide and his whole body went tense.
He was in too much shock to move, but he didn’t know why Mr. Kim wasn’t moving.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, Mr. Kim spoke, his lips brushing lightly against Yoochun’s lips with every word, “It is your lips this time, right?”
“Y…yeah,” Yoochun stammered, trying to not move his lips in the process of developing that one word.
“Well,” Mr. Kim began, rolling off and lying on the floor next to Yoochun. At least he didn’t sound angry. “At least I can still tell the difference between lips and…what did I kiss the first time?”
Yoochun quickly pushed himself up and nearly fell a second time on the wet floor. “I’ll go get something to dry the floor.”
He practically glided out of the living room and ran straight for the guest room. He fell down on the bed and looked over at the large mirror on the table. He didn’t have a large mirror in his room back home; he didn’t have any mirrors at all back home.
Yoochun closed his eyes and looked away from the mirror, unable to look at himself.
■■■■■
“What was that?” Mr. Kim demanded, ears perking.
“Sorry, that was just me burping,” Yoochun replied sheepishly. He tried to control it, but failed.
At least he succeeded in not acting awkward because of yesterday’s accidental kiss. Mr. Kim had obviously forgotten about it…or thought nothing of it.
“I have soda in this house? Who the hell bought soda? I’ve banned soda from here!”
Yoochun rolled his eye. Mr. Temper was visiting again. He remembered the butler telling him that there isn’t soda in the house because Mr. Kim’s girlfriend did not like soda.
“There is no soda in this house. I burped because I was drinking orange juice,” he clarified.
The frown left and a raised eyebrow took over. After a moment of silence, Mr. Kim finally said, “It’s orange juice.”
“That’s what I said,” Yoochun threw sarcasm back at him.
“Who the hell burps after drinking orange juice?”
“Obviously me! Is that as bad as murdering someone?” he exclaimed. If the crime was the same then he might as well take chances and murder his annoying employer.
Mr. Kim didn’t reply. He just said, “Pour me a glass of orange juice.”
“Am I allowed to put poison in it?”
“It’s your choice. God knows you’ll kill me one day, if not today.”
“Glad you know,” Yoochun retorted before walking into the kitchen to pour a glass of orange juice.
He smiled a little as he recalled Mr. Kim’s reply. He didn’t put poison in the orange juice.
■■■■■
“I’m bored.”
“I was hired to take care of you, not entertain you.”
“I’ll pay you an extra thousand won an hour to entertain me.”
“Well, can’t say ‘no’ to money,” Yoochun sighed. “What’s your favorite book?”
“If it’s my favorite book, then I’d have read it several times already before I went blind,” Mr. Kim retorted bitterly. Again, Yoochun felt the urge to hit the jerk over the head with a frying pan, but refrained because, at the same time, he felt bad for the man who had lost his sight.
Maybe hitting his head will bring his sight back and then Yoochun would be able to leave without guilt.