Shared Spaces & Hidden Desires • Seungcheol

88 - Elysium

Seungcheol

We woke up late again. No surprise there.

The sun was already high when I cracked one eye open and saw her still curled up beside me, lips parted, hair a soft mess across the pillow. I didn't even need to look at the time to know we'd slept in. Again.

I didn't mind.

She stirred when I shifted beside her, blinking lazily as she stretched.

"Morning," she mumbled, voice rough and sweet.

"Afternoon, actually," I smirked, brushing my hand through her hair.

"Don't ruin it for me," she grumbled, burrowing deeper into the sheets. "I like the illusion."

Eventually, though, we rolled out of bed and decided—after some half-awake toast and a very chaotic attempt at making coffee—to get out and explore a little more of the island. It felt like a good day for something new. For moving. For breathing in every second of this place before it slipped through our fingers.

We hiked a scenic trail that wound through palm forests and rose higher than we expected. She wore this flowy sundress that fluttered with every breeze, and I kept having to stop just to stare at her. Not because she looked perfect because she always did, but because she looked happy. Radiant. Like the version of herself that only came out when she felt completely free.

At one point, she reached back for my hand, tugging me forward as the trees broke open to reveal a panoramic view of the entire island. Ocean on every side, glowing turquoise and infinite. Villas dotted the shoreline, tiny boats scattered like toy pieces across the water.

She let out a breath. "It doesn't feel real."

"It is," I said, not taking my eyes off her. "You are."

She turned and caught me staring, and I could see the blush creep up her cheeks even through the sunburn she swore she didn't have. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Can't help it," I said. "You keep looking like everything I've ever wanted."

We didn't need much after that. Just the beach. Just each other.

We wandered farther than we meant to and stumbled across a small cove—quiet, tucked away, half-hidden by rock and overhang. It felt secret, untouched, like something the island had saved just for us.

She stepped in first, kicking off her sandals and sinking her toes into the cool, damp sand.

"I love it here," she said, sitting down and tilting her head to the sun. "It's like... the world gets quiet."

I sat beside her, brushing some sand off her shoulder. "You ever think about what it'd be like to just... stay?"

She looked at me, curious. "Here?"

"Anywhere. Just drop everything and disappear together. No plans. No clocks. Just you and me and a cove like this."

She leaned her head on my shoulder. "I think about that all the time."

There was a beat of silence as we listened to the waves lap at the shore.

"I'd follow you anywhere," I said. "I mean that."

She didn't say anything for a second. Just reached over and slid her hand into mine, intertwining our fingers.

"I believe you," she said quietly. "And I'd go with you. Every time."

The wind picked up slightly, carrying salt and warmth through the air, and we just sat there for a while—saying nothing else, needing nothing more.

Because sometimes love doesn't shout.