Rin's knife thudded against the chopping board. The gurgle of water boiling was loud in his ears. Beside him, Hye-jin stuck her pinky into the sauce, sneaking a bite when she stuck it into her mouth.

"You'll finish that before your parents can eat," he nudged her with his shoulder with both of his hands occupied with the knife and the carrot. "How's the broth?"

Hye-jin pouted but washed her hands on the sink. "Good. Needs a few more minutes," she jerked her chin to the chopping board. "Hurry up with the vegetables. I need to stir fry them soon."

If he could roll his eyes at his girlfriend while visiting her house, maybe he would have considered it. "Hai, hai," he gave her a mock salute before moving on to chop the carrots into thin strips. Jangmonim liked them that way. "The clams?"

She bobbed her head and tucked the strands of hair that escaped her low ponytail behind her ear. "You don't have to travel all the way and bring those crabs," she said, glancing at Rin. Maybe she thought he couldn't see her gaze wander in his area for a thousandth time since they entered the kitchen, but he did. He's been doing the same when he thought she wasn't looking too. "Must have been hell to carry in the bus."

"None of the cabs would take me," Rin answered, grabbing the next carrot in the bunch and began skinning it. The little skrch-skrch-skrch the knife made against the root crop's orange skin and insides calmed some sort of whirlwind inside him. "You love crabs. I saw a bunch on the market this morning before I left home. It's a no-brainer."

She stuck her lip out. "You really like that," she said.

Rin's knife paused before it made the next groove to lengthen the strip of skin building up in his hands. "Like what?"

"Making things sound so simple," she glanced at him. "When they're really not."

He rolled his shoulders, resuming the skinning once more. "I like it when things are simple," he said. "You don't?"

Hye-jin grabbed the ladle and opened the lid to the pot. Huge plumes of smoke exploded from the boiling surface. Green rings bobbed on the surface, the once-clear water had now turned a rich golden brown.

"I prefer a little complexity," she replied, replacing the lid and twisting the knob to kill off the specific burner. "It's boring if things are too simple."

"Everything in moderation, you mean," Rin summarized—again, proving Hye-jin right, that he simplified things too much. "You don't want to have something too complicated."

Hye-jin snorted. "Can't have that, yeah," she said. "In case you think of me as an elitist killjoy, there are things I wish were simple too. Like, truly simple."

Rin arched an eyebrow. "Such as?"

He discarded the carrot skins and moved to switch gears. Now, he's cutting this new one into the strips. He had to make sure they're even. Those tapered ends weren't helping the least bit, though.

Oblivious of the internal struggle he had over carrot ends, she tapped a finger against her chin. "Maths," she said—the most expected answer. "Programming. Indoor plumbing. Ecology. RPS. First loves."

Rin frowned. "Rock-paper-scissors?" his tone rose to an incredulous peak. "That's simple. The simplest game, in fact."

He held out a hand curled into a fist. "Saisho wa guu," he said.

Hye-jin whipped out her fist, moving it like she was hammering something. "Gawi bawi bo!" she threw out a rock. Rin had thrown paper. "See? It's plenty complicated. How did you know I was going to go for rock?"

"Luck?" his shoulders jerked as he went back to chopping carrots. Hye-jin edged behind him and took the napa cabbage, its thin leaves swashing against each other. That's for the kimchi, right?

Hye-jin nodded at him as she peeled the first layer of the cabbage. "That's because you're not aiming to win," she said. "It gets complicated if you want to win, making you apply the principles in game theory and psychology."

Rin finished the carrots and deposited them into another pot where the broth would go later. "Then just don't aim to win," he said, to which Hye-jin rolled her eyes. She gave up, which meant it was time to move on to another topic. "You mentioned first love. Do you have that?"

"Yeah. Everybody has one, I think," the cabbage in Hye-jin's hand had shrunk further with every snap the thick stalks made as they tore apart from the base. "Don't you?"

Rin sank his teeth against his lip. Did he? He was more concerned with what Hye-jin's answer would be, though. "What about you?" he threw it back at her. "Did he hurt you?"

The faucet turned on. He glanced at her to see her features had morphed into one tainted by nostalgia. "Nah, he didn't. Couldn't, more like," she answered. "He was sweet. Athletic. Smart. All the girls in our school were infatuated with him. Me, included."

Rin was silent. Growing up in his hometown, he didn't understand why some people were liked to the point of being idolized and why some were not. He was not in the first category, so he had a relatively straightforward school life back then. "That's not first love though," he said.

A hand still wet from tap water whished to slap him in the arm. Water whisked into his face, his clothes, and jangmonim's beloved tiles lining the counter. "I'm not done yet," she clicked her tongue and went back to her task of washing the cabbage leaves. "So, as the girls are clamoring for his attention, I admired him from afar. Looking back, I really didn't know what happened, but we...you know, became a thing."

He whistled. His girlfriend's history was something out of a drama he used to see on television. "Must have been nice," he commented.

"Hardly," Hye-jin said, a frown replacing her relaxed smile. "I found out he was using me to get other girls off his back especially when he had to focus for the end-of-school exams."

Oh. "Must have sucked," he said. "I'm sorry."

Hye-jin shrugged. "Cried about it for a night. The next day I'm fine," she said. "It's not like he's boyfriend material anyway. All he cared about was pleasing his dad and would go on and on about him. It's like having his dad as the boyfriend."

Rin laughed. "That's tougher," he said. "Thankfully, I don't have a father."

Hye-jin paused before turning to him. "Is that why you're asking? So you could compare yourself to them?"

" 'Them'?" his eyebrows creased. "There's more?"

She blinked, having been caught in her slip-up. She placed a hand over her lips, a look of guilt coloring her cheeks and scrunching her face. "One or two," she said. "Four. Five? I can't remember."

"Wow," he breathed.

"Stop looking at me like that," she finished washing the cabbages and wiped her hands on her apron. They weren't going out for very long and Hye-jin already knew him like the back of her hand, being able to tell what was on his mind with a single glance. "I'm sure you had loads too."

He smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said. "But there's just one."

A beat passed between them. Two. Hye-jin elbowed him on the side, jostling his ticklish spot. He shied away from her. "Not gonna tell?" Her eyes gleamed at the sudden discovery, raising her hands with fingers hooked. Rin had never felt that kind of fear clench his gut and made him run away on the spot.

He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. "It's during middle school," he said. "She was kind. Smart. Passionate in doing what she loved. Even if I didn't play any instrument, I would watch her practice every day in the music room. We never became a thing. She moved out of the neighborhood one day and never came back. I don't even remember her name."

The memory of the sweet melodies ringing from inside the music room flashed in his mind. "I have no idea what happened to her since then," he looked at Hye-jin who had forgotten she was supposed to make kimchi out of the washed cabbages. "So, you're still way ahead of me, Miss Heartbreaker."

Red colored Hye-jin's cheeks. "I-it's not just me who broke their hearts," she said. "Sometimes, it's my heart that breaks."

"What would you have done then?" Rin asked, the question flying out of his lips before he could overthink its ethics and appropriateness.

Hye-jin scoffed. "I'd look for someone who has a big heart, one who always aims to help," she said. "Someone who would be there for me through all seasons of life. Someone who makes me feel special, like I'm the only person in the world," she giggled and glanced at Rin. "You know, cheesy things like that."

No pressure, right? He had been friends with Hye-jin since their freshman days and now that they're close to graduating, they seemed to be moving on to this brand new type of relationship. Did Hye-jin see that in him when she decided to say yes to them dating? Was he fated to be one of the string of flings and exes, someone she'd leave the moment she found that guy she was talking about?

"What would you have done differently back then?" Hye-jin asked. Her fingers combed through the leaves. She wasn't getting anything done, though.

Rin exhaled through his nose. "I'd go for a girl who was willing to fight for herself and her voice," he said. "Someone who's strong in her own right. Someone who can save herself, who can sometimes help me save myself too."

"That way, I can be of help to her for whatever she needs," Rin continued. "I'm not looking for a servant or something. I just want someone who would be my friend, my partner-in-crime, a companion in insanity and in laughter."

A smirk grew on Hye-jin's lips. She's about to say something snarky when one of the pot's lids started quivering. They looked to the stove to find froth oozing as the water inside boiled and boiled. Well...shit.

"What's going on there?" came Jangmonim's voice, accompanied by a series of scratchy steps. Rin exchanged a look with Hye-jin. Together, they got ready for an hour-long lecture about using the kitchen.