Romance in youth is bound to be immature. When I say ‘romance in youth,’ I’m talking about relationships in one’s twenties. The reason romance in the twenties, especially early twenties, is bound to be immature isn’t just because one has only recently reached the legal drinking age, but also because typically our brains continue to grow throughout our twenties. While there’s debate due to insufficient research on whether the frontal lobe develops completely at exactly age 25, it’s safe to say there’s no disagreement that the human brain continues to develop throughout the twenties.
That’s why romance in the twenties is immature, impulsive, and often excessively emotional. Romance full of mistakes, selfish, with endless room for improvement. Even if the people involved don’t realize it, looked at differently, couldn’t that be called a privilege of youth? That’s the kind of romance I’m having now.
Ruben is definitely not in his early twenties. But he’s a baby. Romance with a baby is bound to be immature.
‘So cute…’
I’ve always really loved Ruben’s face from before, but once I became aware that he was a baby, I couldn’t stop finding Ruben adorable. Looking at Ruben’s face sleeping soundly beside me, a smile leaked out. I would cover my mouth in front of Ruben, but now that he’s asleep, there’s no need for that.
Ruben is truly cute. His smooth ivory-like skin, the golden eyelashes of his tightly closed eyes, his blood-colored lips, his soft cheeks, the bangs he always stylishly sweeps back covering his forehead at home—it’s all too cute.
Moreover, this perfectly cute baby angel who seems to have just fallen from heaven is mine. My boyfriend! Every time I become aware of this, I clutch my chest and shudder at the happiness that fills it completely. Even knowing that today will be difficult in many ways because of him, when I see this sight, my anxiety and fear melt away cleanly.
“Rubeeen…”
“……”
“Um… I-I’ll prepare breakfast…”
No answer is particularly needed. Thinking that looking at his face any longer would be bad for my blood pressure, I carefully got up from the bed and headed to the kitchen.
Making breakfast every morning was Ruben’s demand.
I had no idea, but Ruben was quite picky about side dishes. The reason I didn’t know this was because while Ruben had taken me to restaurants he liked a few times, I had never treated Ruben to food I liked.
When I first saw Ruben, he was getting takeout from a not very famous Chinese restaurant where I worked, and even on Saint Helena Island he ate things like pie and sandwiches just fine, so I never imagined he would be a picky eater.
In the first place, I couldn’t have known he wanted me to make breakfast for him every morning. I was able to learn of his demand thanks to the fact that he was in a bad mood all day and the help of hypnosis.
‘Bacon, and eggs, and…’
I opened the refrigerator and took out bacon, eggs, and frozen broccoli. It took a whole week to prepare a breakfast that perfectly suited Ruben’s taste.
*
On the first day, when Ruben opened his eyes and saw me in bed, his face scrunched up slightly.
‘…What are you doing…?’
His voice was languid rather than irritated, so I just smiled and answered. I was looking at your face, Ruben. I’m happy to see you from the morning.
‘…We’re going to see each other all day anyway…?’
Foolishly, I didn’t know there was a hidden meaning in those words and still answered with a smile. Still, I want to keep looking at you. No matter how much I look, I like it.
‘…………’
I waited for Ruben to smile even a little at those words, or playfully retort, but Ruben got out of bed without a word and went to the bathroom. I sat awkwardly on the bed, then got ready to go out.
Ruben was truly in a displeased mood all day that day. He was someone who, when something displeased him, made sure everyone around him knew it. During the morning, he threw punches at five subordinates, and as a result broke a total of 7 teeth and 2 nasal bones.
But I knew that anomaly was my fault because he said he wouldn’t eat lunch with me. When I carefully asked if he had something busy to do, he got angry abruptly.
‘Do I have to eat every meal with you? Who decided that rule?’
At a reaction that made me think this is really strange, something must be wrong, I immediately hypnotized him. When I asked why he was in such a bad mood today, the answer that came back was refreshingly Ruben-like.
‘Breakfast… you didn’t make it…’
‘…Whaat, b-breakfast…?’
‘If you like me… even if I don’t say it… shouldn’t you take care of me…?’
That day, I erased from Ruben the fact that I didn’t make him breakfast. After also giving him a suggestion to compensate for his subordinates’ medical expenses, I became completely exhausted both mentally and physically.
The next day, having learned my lesson, I made Ruben breakfast.
Actually, even calling it breakfast, there was nothing special about it. Ruben’s house didn’t have many ingredients. Ruben probably hardly ever cooks. Seeing that the frying pan, clearly kept for show, had almost no signs of use, I was actually quite excited. Because I could tell that there had been almost no women who stayed at Ruben’s house and made breakfast like this.
I’m not good at cooking, but I had quite a bit of experience living alone, so I was at least at a level where I wouldn’t burn the pan. I woke up before Ruben to make scrambled eggs, put bread in the toaster, and when I took out jam from somewhere in the refrigerator, Ruben came into the kitchen.
‘…What…’
‘R-Ruben! Please have breakfast!’
With this, today will be peaceful. I happily put scrambled eggs and bread on Ruben’s plate and handed it to him.
‘……’
But Ruben didn’t look very happy. When I sat in front of him, he barely smiled and thanked me, but he ended up kicking three shins throughout the day, creating bruises. The reason he stopped at three was because I used hypnosis to ask him the reason again.
‘…Breakfast… the plate was plastic…’
He was angry because the breakfast plate was plastic? I couldn’t understand. The plastic plate was something he had bought in the first place. If he harbored that much hatred for plastic plates, why did he buy them in the first place? Feeling bewildered by his mind that I couldn’t understand, like rough waves, I barely managed to ask.
‘…Pl-plastic, plastic plates… d-do you dislike them…?’
‘…When you put hot things on them… environmental hormones… come out… don’t you want me to live long…?’
In the end, that day I had to correct Ruben’s memory again. To make it so that I had put the scrambled eggs on a ceramic plate from his cupboard.
Even after erasing that memory, I had to go through trial and error three more times. On the third day, because there were no vegetables. On the fourth day, because there was no meat. On the fifth day, because I didn’t take the butter out of the refrigerator in advance. And on the sixth day…
‘It’s the same… as what we ate yesterday…’
‘…D-did, did you not like it…?’
‘Yeah…’
I thought I had created the perfect breakfast. Toasted bread and butter, scrambled eggs and organic sausage. The salad mix seasoned with olive oil and salt was perfectly presentable enough to be sold at a brunch cafe right away. But Ruben seemed to have a disease where he couldn’t have the same meal twice.
By this point, even I was seriously losing strength. Would a day ever come when I could have a peaceful breakfast with him? But despite that, the reason I could endure him was because I knew he was a baby. In the neighborhood where I was born and raised, I often took care of my neighbors’ children. And what I felt was that babies are very picky about food. Compared to those babies, how mature Ruben is! At least Ruben didn’t need a bib, I didn’t need to spoon-feed him directly, and he never grabbed food with his hands and threw it.
‘Because he’s a baby… because he’s a baby…’
Rather, it’s cute because he’s a baby. If I correct things one by one like this, there will be a point where Ruben changes too, definitely!
Yesterday was sausage, salad, and scrambled eggs, so today is bacon, fried eggs, and stir-fried broccoli. When I was grilling the bacon, frying the eggs, and lightly stir-frying the broccoli with oyster sauce, I heard the sound of Ruben’s slippers.
‘Today… I have no choice but to succeed…’
I gulped and took out a plate from the cupboard. A pretty ceramic plate I’d been eyeing specially for Ruben since yesterday. When I put the food on the turquoise porcelain plate with white laurel patterns drawn on it and turned around, Ruben, who looked like he’d just washed his face, was standing there yawning.
“G-good morning, Ruben!”
“…Good morning…”
Ruben smiled languidly and sat at the dining table. I hurriedly took out orange juice from the refrigerator and placed the meal I prepared in front of him. Along with the butter and bread I’d taken out of the refrigerator 30 minutes earlier.
“……”
He looked at the breakfast laid out before him. The expression on his face was subtle, but there was a quietly felt satisfaction.
“En-enjoy your meal.”
“…Thanks…”
He murmured and began cutting the bacon. Finally.
‘Today is a success…!’
The satisfaction of watching my lover eat deliciously inspired me beyond measure. This is just a small breakfast for one person, but for Elbek Tenjis, it’s a great leap. My victory obtained through a week of arduous trial and error, reinforcement learning. Mission complete. Suppressing the urge to dance right then and there, I got up from my seat.
