Page 25 of Paradox
“You fucking idiot,” I swear, and throw his hand away to crank up the heating as high as it will go. “Take your shoes off, you dense prick.” But he just sits there like his insides are frozen too.
I slam on the breaks again, and this time, the beets fly against the back of the cab.
Expecting some action, or at least a little urgency, I’m met instead with Jin almost cowering away from me.
“Seriously, are you gone in the head?”
I reach for his leg, but he pulls it away.
On my next attempt, I take his knee, but he pulls away again.
He lied to me. His clothes are still wet.
Exasperated by his stupidity, I unbuckle his seatbelt. With both hands I grab his ankles and force them onto the bench. At first, he tries to fight it, but within seconds his muscles weaken.
The dampness left in his laces has already started to freeze, and I tear at his trainers until they are both lying on the floor. His socks crunch too as I peel them off. And then, his toes; they’re worse than his fingers.
Holding his feet, I run my thumbs over each of his toenails then wrap my hands around them while I figure out what to do next.
We’re still at least ten minutes from the cabin.
Without thinking, I grab the sides of Jin’s sweatshirt and tear at it until it, and his tee, are in a pile with his shoes. I pull at his sweatpants, and he lets me do it because he's got no energy left to fight.
The last two buttons on my flannel are collateral damage as I strip my upper body.
Grabbing Jin’s left bicep, I pull him towards me.
I lay my t-shirt over his chest, then I put my flannel on him backwards, sliding the sleeves up his limp arms.
All I wanted from him earlier was to acknowledge my existence, and now, with him at his weakest, his eyes haven't left me since I took off his shoes. They’re heavy, and the lids are hanging low. He’s trying.
“Come here.”
He doesn’t move, but I don’t think it’s out of spite.
Pivoting, I bring my right leg up on the bench and slide it behind him.
Taking him by the shoulders, I spin him around, and pull him towards me.
Lifting one foot at a time, I rest them against the heating vents in the center of the dash.
The bare skin of his back is like a frozen board against my chest when I take his hands in mine.
Skin to skin, this is what mothers do with their newborns, right?
Yeah. It is. I’m sure of it.
With the heater pumping, the cab is the most uncomfortable level of warm.
Jin’s head falls back on my shoulder, then to the side until it hits my chin.
“Get off,” I say and move him away, but he just flops in the other direction.
I grab his chin and crane my neck to look at him. “Hey, Jin. Are you still with me?”
“Yes,” he says, but barely.
“Fuck you, Jeon Jintae,” I mumble, and loop my leg over him to brace him on the bench.
