"Are the words, ‘I love you’ so hard to spit out? Is your throat clogged up with that much gunk?” Jinah’s lips lifted, a wry smile dancing on her lips as she followed her brother’s movements.
"And to think I actually bothered to fry up some chicken for your lunch. What happened to cute twelve-year old little Jongin who told dad that he wanted to marry me when we grew up, huh?" She teased slyly with an arched brow, lying flat with her back on the couch, head resting on his lap.
Her eyes sparkled with suspicion and impish delight as she cupped her hands together to receive his gift.. “I’ll take care of her, you know that. What brought on this strange bout of kindness?” She murmured distractedly, anticipation blooming at her fingertips as she studied the shiny set of keys.
Jinah sat up abruptly, realization dawning upon like her a ton of bricks dropping atop her head. “Ah. You have another race to go to?” she mumbled gloomily, shoulders sinking slightly. “Fine, ugh. You’re still the best gé in the whole world, even if you do make me want to reevaluate all my life choices sometimes.”
Pressing an affectionate kiss to Jongin’s cheek, she pried apart their tangled limbs and staggered towards the kitchen, mischievously tousling his hair in the effort to escape. “I’ll go get you some chicken!”
Jongin remained unfazed by Jinah’s subtle provocation, opting instead to rest his feet atop the coffee table, heavy eyelids parting the slightest amount in order to survey the girl. “I don’t love you, I simply tolerate you. If I’m not nice, you and I both know that my bank account will be severed by the early hours of morning.”
The lie was riddled with underlying tones of fondness, something he usually tried to suppress unless his brotherly instincts took dominance during Jinah’s most vulnerable moments. Which, fortunately, had not happened a frequent amount of times.
After staring absentmindedly at an empty chip packet on the ground, Jongin’s ears almost perked upon hearing her next words. “Chicken? Are you sure you didn’t incinerate it like last time?”
Impressed, he stretched out his stiffened limbs and proceeded to follow her into the kitchen, the ambrosial smell of cooked meat highlighting his senses as he approached. Feeling a tiny bit more appreciative, he slid his toned arms around his sister’s waist from behind, watching her prepare the meal with a childlike curiosity reminiscent of their younger days.
"Italy," he stated suddenly, lips curling. "I’m racing in Italy this weekend. What souvenirs do you want this time?"
All too soon, Jinah stifled a small grin when she felt the familiar warmth of her brother’s arms loop around her waist. “I knew it,” she murmured distractedly as her fingers settled almost begrudgingly in their task of heating his meal up. “I’ll just get you a lovely little chicken coop, filled to the brim with fat little chickens for Christmas, then. If the birds have a greater place in your heart than I do, I trust you’ll have fun with them while I refuse to acknowledge you for the rest of my years.”
Glancing back at Jongin, she couldn’t help the concern showing through the windows of her eyes when her gaze flickered over his bloodshot stare and the exhaustion carved deep into his features. “Have you been smoking a pack a day again?” she chided, the corners of her mouth quirked downwards with evident displeasure. “I’m fine with you smoking a cigarette or two a day, but a pack? Prepare to get your gluteus maximus whooped in your sleep tonight, ge.”
With skilled movements, Jinah picked up a piece of crispy chicken with a pair of chopsticks and prodded it gently against her brother’s mouth. “Italy?” she repeated, a heavily practiced expression of mock innocence masking itself over her visage. “I’d tell you that that all I wish for would be for you to have fun, but we both know I’m an utter failure at lying, plus I don’t really want to risk you having to check me into a mental asylum. Lamborghini’s an Italian brand, is all I’m saying,” she hinted slyly, flashing her pearly whites with poorly disguised delight.
“Honestly, though, take care, don’t get too drunk, and don’t die. I’d rather you not leave me behind just too soon.” Jinah squeezed Jongin’s fingers briefly. Icy cold as they were, it didn’t really bother her too much.
Cold hands, warm heart - nothing could have described her brother better.