Operation: Shower

After the whole messy cooking ordeal, we finally sit down to eat—just plain rice and curry in the end.

I sit on to my seat, exhausted, while he's still glued to the TV, watching that same C-drama.

"Hey," I snap, pointing at his bowl, "it's bad manners to watch TV while eating. You should focus and appreciate the food you're getting."

He turns to me, antenna twitching in realization. "Understood. Bad manners. Learning new. Okay. Appreciate food."

Then, with all the seriousness, he lifts a spoonful, stares at it, and says, "I appreciate you, food," before shoveling it into his mouth.

I groan, pressing my fingers to my forehead. "Ugh, not like that. I mean eat it with focus and maybe, just maybe, compliment the one who cooked it?"

He pauses mid-chew, then looks at me with those wide, curious eyes. "Should I appreciate myself?"

I exhale loudly, waving my chopsticks at him. "Ugh, yeah, sure, but most of the cooking was done by me. So maybe, if you can manage it, show a little appreciation to the chef?"

He straightens, spoon still in hand, antenna lighting up like he just unlocked a new level. "Right. Yunhua, you make the most delicious food… but nothing tastes as good as your lips."

I choke on air. My cheeks burn instantly, and my heart does a full gymnastics routine. "Wh–what?! What are you saying?! When did you taste my lips?!"

He blinks. "I don't eat you. I don't know how your lips taste."

"Then why did you say that, you moron?!"

He shrugs like it's the most obvious thing. "Boyfriend in TV said the same to girlfriend when she gave him food. She was happy."

I slam my face into my palm. "I swear, that drama's going to get both of us arrested."

He scoots a little closer, eyes wide with curiosity. "Yunhua. After the lip compliment, that male pressed his mouth onto hers."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

He nods seriously, as if explaining advanced quantum theory. "Yes. He placed his upper face appendage onto the female's upper face appendage."

I drop my spoon. "You mean a kiss?"

He tilts his head. "Is that what that is? Mouth collision as an emotional ritual? Is it standard procedure after food praise?"

My face burns. "No! I mean—yes! I mean—NO, not always!"

He looks almost concerned. "Was he trying to eat her? Or was it nutritional exchange? Do your people do that often?"

I slap my hand over my face. "Oh my god. No, it's not for eating! It's just—a sign of love or attraction! And you are not doing that to me! Ever!"

He pauses. "So... if I like your curry... I shouldn't smash my mouth onto your mouth?"

"Correct. In fact, let's make that a rule."

He nods thoughtfully, his antenna blinking once in what I assume is disappointment. "Understood. Mouth-smashing forbidden. Only complimenting curry allowed."

"Good." I pick up my spoon again. "Let's just eat."

He lifts another bite to his mouth. "Yunhua, your food is acceptable. But also—your upper face appendage area looks very soft."

"Eat."

He munches quietly for a moment, still eyeing me like he's analyzing the softness of my "upper face appendage area." I pretend not to notice and shovel rice into my mouth like it's the most fascinating thing in the universe.

Then I slam my bowl down with a smile that's probably too sweet. "By the way, since you're such an appreciative boyfriend…"

He blinks. "Yes?"

"You're doing the dishes after dinner."

His antenna droops. "Is this another boyfriend requirement?"

"Absolutely," I say, stretching my arms like a satisfied queen. "Very standard. Boyfriends in this culture wash all the dishes. Sometimes twice."

He nods slowly, as if absorbing deep wisdom. "Understood. So, kissing is forbidden but dish-cleansing is mandatory."

"Correct. You're learning."

He glances at the sink. "Do I use water? Or do I speak to the plates and request them to clean themselves?"

I snort. "Use water. And soap. And don't break anything, please."

He stands deadly serious. "For love and dish duty, I am ready."

I lean back in my chair, watching him march toward the sink like it's a battlefield. Honestly? This might be the best part of having an alien boyfriend.

At first, I just hear water running. Harmless. Calm.

Then—

CLANG!

"Ah! This one is fragile!"

CRASH!

I nearly fall out of my chair. "What was that?!"

"I believe this plate self-destructed due to Earth's weak material composition."

I rush over, only to see him holding two half plates and staring at them like they've personally betrayed him. There's water everywhere. On the floor. On the walls. On him. His hoodie is soaked, hair dripping, and his antenna is blinking in panicked Morse code.

"Why is there foam on the ceiling?!"

"I added the entire bottle of 'dish potion' for better cleansing power," he says innocently, motioning to the now-empty soap bottle. "I thought it would make your plates shinier. Like... your hair."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "You flooded the counter, broke two plates, and created a bubble tsunami. For my hair."

He nods, looking proud. "I also spoke to the utensils to boost morale."

Behind him, a fork is spinning lazily in the sudsy sink like it gave up on life.

I exhale slowly, hands on hips. "Okay, new rule. You're not allowed near soap without supervision."

He stares, soap foam still clinging to his forehead. "Understood, Yunhua."

"Oh my god," I mutter, grabbing a mop. "You're lucky you're cute."

I eye him from up to down, then groan, pinching my nose. "Ugh, you're still wearing that hoodie from yesterday's image?"

He looks down at himself, confused. "But I don't have any your kind's male garments. These"—he tugs at the hoodie's hem—"are projected. I could just dry myself and change the color. Would that help the illusion?"

I jab a finger at his chest. "Yes. Please do. Change the color at least. People will think you don't shower."

His antenna blinks, curious. "We don't shower. Our species evolved beyond it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that. But humans do, and humans appreciate people who smell like something other than space radiation."

He tilts his head, interested. "So... should I shower?"

I blink. "Wait. You can shower?"

"Of course. I saw in tv, It involves standing under falling water."

I squint at him. "That is... technically not wrong."

He gives a hopeful blink. "How do we initiate the water fall?"

I sigh, already dragging him down the hall. "Come on. Let me show you before you start scrubbing the walls or baptizing the toilet."

I march into the bathroom, flick the light on, and gesture like a game show hostess. "Welcome to the most sacred chamber in the human habitat—the bathroom. Behold, the shower."

He peers inside like he's observing a spaceship cockpit. "This is where you pour water on yourself? While standing?"

"Wow, look at that, he does listen." I roll my eyes and point at the knobs. "These control the water. Left is hot, right is cold. You turn them, and—ta-da!—indoor rain. Revolutionary, I know."

He leans forward and taps the showerhead like it might talk back. "So you just stand under it and get wet?"

"Not just that, oh no," I say, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and waving it like a trophy. "This is shampoo. You rub it on your head fuzz. This is body wash. You put it on your skin so you don't smell like spaceship grease."

He sniffs himself and frowns. "I don't think I smell."

"You don't think you do. But trust me, you're one weird molecule away from 'burnt motherboard' right now."

He blinks rapidly. "So... you rub these chemicals on yourself, rinse, and then you're clean?"

I nod solemnly. "Yes, brave traveler. And afterward, we humans dry ourselves with—get ready for it—a towel."

He picks up a towel like it's an alien artifact. "How absorbent."

"Yup. Five stars. Better than your nanocloth magic cape."

He seems to light up—literally, antennae twinkling. "May I shower now?"

I backpedal to the door. "Sure. Knock yourself out. Just don't actually knock yourself out. And if you break something, I am not calling a plumber from Earth to fix your alien shower mishap."

I leave him in the bathroom with the towel, the shampoo, and all the sarcastic wisdom I can muster. Honestly, at this point, if he floods the building, I'll just fake my identity and move to another city.

I walk back to the kitchen, groaning at the battlefield he left behind. Rice stuck on the counter, water splashed on the floor, a single potato slice from eatlier tragically stabbed into the wall like it died in battle. I sigh and roll up my sleeves.

"Mop first, scream later," I mutter, grabbing a cloth.

By the time I'm wiping down the counter, I notice—suspiciously—there's no noise from the bathroom. No water splashing, no alien confusion yells, not even a panicked "Yunhua what is this slippery cube?"

Too quiet.

Too peaceful.

I freeze mid-swipe.

Then, faintly... clink... thud...

I narrow my eyes.

"What the hell…"

I drop the cloth and march to the bathroom, heart thudding with dread. I knock. "Hey, you okay in there?"

No answer.

My eye twitches. I push the door open—and immediately regret everything.

The entire bathroom is filled with steam, thick enough to be a horror movie set. The mirror is fogged up, droplets running down like tears. The floor is practically a water slide. The shampoo bottle lies on its side, completely empty, oozing its last drops of sacrifice.

Vaelor stands under the shower spray, completely naked, water running down his toned body like he just walked out of a drama scene. His hair is plastered to his forehead, antennae sparkling faintly. Muscles I didn't even know existed are glistening under the light. His expression? Pure innocent confusion.

"I think the bottle broke," he says, holding up the empty shampoo like a dead fish. "Also... this water hasn't stopped since I began. Is it malfunctioning?"

I cover my face with both hands. "Why... why does this look like a perfume commercial?!"

"I tried to do what you said," he says solemnly. "I poured the blue semi-liquid. I scrubbed. I rinsed. I might have used... all of it."

I peek through my fingers. "Did you slip?"

"Three times. The towel attacked me once."

Of course it did.

"Get out, dry off, and do not touch anything else. And for the love of humanity, close the lid before you flood the toilet next!"

"Understood, Yunhua. This ritual is very dangerous. Humans are so brave."

I slam the door shut behind me and lean against it, heart pounding for reasons I refuse to name. "This is fine. Everything is fine. I'm not living with a sexy alien golden retriever who breaks physics and shampoo bottles."

Pause.

"…I need stronger doors."

I'm halfway through drying the floor with my kitchen towel—when the bathroom door creaks open.

Steam billows out like a dramatic stage entrance. Of course it does.

I look up.

Instant regret.

He walks out slowly, barefoot and still damp, a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. His skin glistens with leftover water, droplets trailing down his abs like they've signed a contract with gravity. His antennae perk up the moment he spots me, blinking once—bright and stupidly cheerful.

"Yunhua," he says warmly, "the bath process is very efficient. I feel... refreshed. Is this what rebirth feels like?"

My brain short-circuits.

"Wh—put clothes on!" I squeak, nearly tripping over the mop bucket.

"But you said shower, and then dry. You didn't say dress immediately."

I spin around and slap my hand over my face. "It's common sense!"

Behind me, I hear the towel rustle. Oh god oh god oh god please don't let it fall.

"Should I activate the invisible clothing now?"

"Yes! Yes, activate your weird alien fashion technology just not here, not in front of me, and definitely not while I'm still breathing!"

There's a soft shimmer sound—like wind chimes in a sci-fi movie—and a pause.

"It is now blue with yellow stripe. You said to change color so humans don't think I'm dirty."

I risk a glance. Thank god. The hoodie-thing is back, dry and decent.

I sigh and flop onto the couch. "I'm gonna need caffeine. Or therapy."

He tilts his head, stepping closer with that usual too-curious puppy look. "Yunhua, your face is red again. Are you overheating?"

"I'm fine, you towel terrorist."

His antennae blink, then his face lights up. "That's a funny combination of words. I will record that."

I groan and throw a cushion at him.