Loveboat in 서울

*𝟛𝟚*

I kiss him. Hard.

His arms close around me, his strong hands grasping my back. My lips part, drinking down his hot mouth, his tongue that tastes of mint and plums. I slide my hand between us, along the planes of his chest, his ribs, exploring his body, those muscled abs. His firm fingers glide down my wet skin to my waist, then come up to thread into my hair and cup the back of my head.

I have no idea how much time passes, or when the stars begin to cluster so thickly overhead that the sky drips with their lights.

We separate at last, dizzy, breathing heavily.

"Why didn't we do that sooner?" I murmur.

"There's more where that came from." His voice is languid, lazy.

"You're so smug."

"Mhm."

We slip lower into the water, resting our heads on the ledge, listening to the soft song of crickets in the night. I want to stay in this warm moment with him forever.

But a thought from dinner stabs into my head. A connection clicks and I sit up with a soft splash.

"What did you call this place?"

"Hot springs?" He turns to look at me, his head still resting on the ledge.

"You used a different word. The Japanese word."

"Onsen."

"This is what that tourist was looking for. He said it wrong. 'The outdoor onsee.'" And he took it out on Jihyo, while her parents were running for their lives from a flood. My throat swells shut. I can't explain why it makes me so sad to realize the tourist had been in the wrong on two fronts.

"What's wrong?" Joohyuk sits up, alarmed. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. Her parents—" To my horror, a sob escapes my throat. "My parents—"

"Come here, princess." He pulls me to his chest and I sob against him.

"I'm so sorry," I choke out between hiccups. "I don't know what's wrong with me. This is our one night together and here I am raising the salinity of the hot springs."

His laugh echoes off the waters. "I have never met anyone like you, Suzy. Don't worry. We're still having our night." He kisses the top of my head, my cheek. "What are you thinking about?"

I rest my head on his shoulder. I hadn't wanted to burden him, when he's already borne so much for Rosie. But this is Joohyuk: solid, dependable. Maybe it's okay to lean on him. I try to pull together my thoughts, what it is that's been troubling me, not just tonight, but for so many nights.

"My dad's fifty-five. Older than most of my friend's parents. He didn't have shoes until he was nine. His mom cooked noodles with scraps of meat, because they couldn't afford more. When he first came to America, he admired the roads so much, because all he knew were dirt ones. When I was little and spit out meat, he ate it because he couldn't bear to let protein go to waste. And now Asia had built itself up, and meanwhile in the States, my parents have had immigration officers on their backs, and dried-out dragon fruit, and my mom sold her necklace to send me here to learn their culture, and every time I let them down, it's like I spit in their face like that tourist.

"I hate when they remind me, but they have suffered. Like Jihyo's family. And no one cares. And tonight, when Sohee said I could be a surgeon general—do you know what that would mean to my dad? He's always dreaming about big stuff like that when he's pushing his orderly cart—that's how he's kept himself going. That's how he injured himself; he walked right onto a spill at the Phoenix Clinic and never even saw it.