The Edge Of Forever

41| bottled poetry

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41

b o t t l e d  p o e t r y : 병에 넣어 진시

"-AH! JUNG!" 

My hand flew to my head, and with my other free hand, I slapped his hand that was holding onto the comb away.

"You comb my hair too harshly!" I whined quietly so the night beyond the room did not hear us. "Keep in mind you're using a comb to brush my hair, not a sword to kill your enemy."

"I shall keep that in mind." He assured me dryly, turning my head back to the front.

He started again, this time more carefully. 

I smiled to myself, still unsure of how I managed to get him to hold the comb and convince him to brush my hair at such an ungodly hour of the night. 

In an odd way, I was still in the state of missing him. His absence of almost a year was one I handled with busying myself with my daughter or Palace affairs but it was during the night when the collective stars would tease me that I would feel his absence from the empty space beside me.

Now it was me taunting the stars of the moon I had beside me once again. 

"Jung?" I spoke up through the golden tinted darkness. 

"Hmm?" 

"Do you believe in such thing as destiny? That our lives have been mapped out before us in the heavens?" My expression turned as quizzical as my thoughts. 

He turned it back on me. "Do you?" 

"Sometimes." I shrugged, unsure of my own answer. "But what about you?" 

"No." He answered dimly, diminishing the light of the candle. 

I turned around to face him, seeking some sort of clarification. "Why?"

"You will wait for your life to happen? Why not write it out yourself?" He asked right back.

"Sometimes we grow too tired to write it ourselves." I replied quietly, sighing.

"It must be the preposterous hour of the night that has you thinking and pondering over such thoughts." He stated, so firm in his belief that his words would have sounded completely correct had I not listened into them properly. 

"Really?" I stood up from in front of him, storming as quietly as I could into my bed. "Then I shall sleep to no longer think or ponder."

"Finally." He muttered, leaving me to fold my arms over my chest as I slid deeper into my sheets. He put the comb away, and then followed my trail and dipped into the bed beside me. 

I stared at him as he made himself comfortable and began closing his eyes. It was the fifth night since he had been back and every consecutive night he spent with me, I noticed soemthing different. And it arose questions in my mind that should be left behind. 

"What is it?" 

"Huh?" I blinked, caught off guard with his sudden inquiry.

"You were staring." 

"I was." I admitted nonchalantly. "But there is nothing to it." 

I rested my head down on the pillow, feeling the soft caress of the fine silk cover against my left cheek.