YOONGI
I'm driving him from the dorms to my home. I considered waiting until next weekend, but decided against it, not wanting to waste any more time than we already have. Besides, trying to stay away from him has proven difficult over the few days.
I refocus my attention on Jimin. The shirt and dress pants I bought look irresistible on him, like he was made for those clothes. He doesn't have his backpack, which is different than what I'm used to, but without the added weight, he seems to sit straighter, less tense.
We pull into the apartment parking lot and I slide from the car, walking around to open the passenger door. I reach my hand out, and he places his palm in mine. A position so delicate that in the dark, we are not seen at all.
"Glad to see chivalry isn't dead just yet," he says. His eyes glance around us. "Is this it?"
I nod. "The inside is much more appealing, trust me."
My hand rests on his lower back, unable to keep my hands to myself, and I guide him toward the lobby, past the other guests checking in, where at the elevator we ride together in silence. I don't remember the last time I've brought another living soul to where I live, but I want him to feel special, different. Which he is.
"This is your place?" he asks.
Nodding, I unlock the door and follow behind him, the feel of his shirt underneath my hand. "It is."
He looks around the living room, the white and black contrasting colors catching his eyes like a kaleidoscope. The floors are clean, swept, and every surface I could reach has been dusted. Watching him take it all in makes my stomach tighten.
"It's beautiful," he smiles. He finds the balcony and looks back to me for permission. When I nod, he opens the door and steps outside. His body leans against the railing as he stares out into the night sky, resembling a painting I wish existed.
I set up dinner on the round coffee table, setting down a Coke and a glass of wine for myself. Another contrast. But it describes us. I set up chairs around the table, a sad excuse for a dining room, but it's better than nothing.
Soon, he joins me and I pull out his chair as he sits. "I hope a birthday dinner of galbi and kimchi is okay?" I ask.
Grabbing his wooden chopsticks, he nods and takes a mouthful of food. He's quiet while he eats, and I notice how his lips purse when he chews, almost in a pout-like shape. It's cute, and it almost costs me a small piece of rib to fall off of my chopsticks.
"It's really nice here," he says after a few moments of silence between us. "Much better than I had originally thought."
I lift the wine to my lips, letting the liquid sit on my tongue before I swallow. "Compared to what?"
He looks away to the carpet. "When you asked me out on a date, I thought that meant going out. You know, like to a restaurant or maybe a movie." He takes a sip of his drink. "That's what I thought the suit and tie was for anyway. I thought we were going somewhere fancy."
"Does that disappoint you?"
"No, not at all." He grins, taking another bite of kimchi. "Besides, I like free food cooked for me."
"Don't get used to it," I smirk. "I don't cater often."
"But you do with me."
"You're an exception."
He smiles, and it lights up his face. A kind of genuine smile I've only seen very few times in my life. Smiles like that cannot be duplicated, no matter how good of an actor one is. Smiles like that have their moments where they blossom and shine like a flower sprouting on a spring day. Here, with me, Jimin recreates that feeling of joy so happy it brings tears to eyes. And that's what makes me smile back, knowing that he's happy and safe with me.
"So why put on a show with these?" He gestures to the clothes he's wearing and my coffee brown blazer. "Do you even own a pair of jeans?"
A laugh bubbles up inside me. "I do, but what kind of date would that make me if I showed up in ripped jeans and a T-shirt of a band you wouldn't recognize? To me, this is a much more intimate, safer place for us to talk freely."
His lip twitches. "Bold of you to assume that I don't know the kind of bands you listen to."
"Oh?" My brows lift and I set down my chopsticks, standing up. "Well then, let's see if you know your trivia."
Standing to follow me, he laughs. "Try me. Eomma and I listened to all kinds of things when I was growing up."
I grab my phone and scroll through my playlists until I find what I'm looking for. Testing the volume, letting it sit at a sound where it's not overwhelming, but still audible, I set the phone down and wait for his reaction.
He pauses, calculates, then snaps his fingers. "It's Clair De Lune."
"Very good," I grin.
"See? I told you I'd know it."
I shake my head before crossing the room and stepping forward to face him. I slowly guide his hand to my shoulder and take his other. Giving a soft push with my hand, we step together. It's stiff, and he yields, but I keep ahold of his waist.
"Steady," I say softly. "Slow dancing is the best type of dancing. It requires no skills. Only trust in your partner."
"Sorry." His breathing halts. "I've never danced with someone before."
This surprises me. "No one has ever danced with you?"
He shrugs. "I never got the chance."
I shake my head. "They lost something they will never get back." He tries to speak again, but I take his arms and twirl him around me in a slow gesture. "Close your eyes."
He does, and while his motions are slow and halting, he stays within the circles of my arms and allows me to lead. Gradually, muscle by muscle, he relaxes into the movement. Our steps begin to match the music. We dance around the living room, laughing every time one of us bumps into the corner of the table. It's not graceful, nor is it professional, but it's us.
The song ends, replaced by an advertisement on YouTube for an insurance company I've never heard of.
I stop, and Jimin stops too. His eyes open and he looks up at me. "Thank you," he says quietly.
"For what?" I ask.
His eyes narrow a fraction, catching sparks in the soft light of my lamps. "For giving me this. Gifts. Memories. Things that I would have never experienced had I not met you."
I go still.
"I've been in a relationship before, but I never knew of this happiness. . . I made peace with the fact that true love didn't exist in the real world, but you put your arm around me and I feel like I could die happily." He closes his eyes, leans into me. "It's pathetic. How far we've come and yet we're still separated."
"Truly." I release my hand to brush his jawline and tilt his head up to me. "You have convinced me that distance, whether it be time or miles, is the worst hell a man can be put through."
To my surprise, tears form in his eyes. "I want to want you," he says so quietly it's almost lost on the sound of traffic below us. "I want- I want to know this is real. Not that you're trying to trick me or pity me."
I do not understand how he can believe I would ever pity him, especially out of all the desperate actions I've taken for him. I pull his hand to my chest and lean into him, until we share breath. My lips brush across his.
"I want to know it's real, too," I say.
His body goes still against mine and then he nods. His head falls against my shoulder, his face close enough to breathe warmth against my neck. We stay like this, still, frozen in time, for what feels like mere seconds. My phone has automatically turned off, leaving us in the melody of cars outside and our breaths.
I speak low, against his temple. "I never knew how to act around you. I couldn't tell if you hated me to begin with or wanted to play with my feelings for the fun of it all." I inhale deeply, the scent of his hair filling me. "But when you came to me, it felt like it was fate. I hated seeing you so upset, and I did everything in my power to make sure you felt better. Even so, it wasn't enough. The first time I held your hands, I knew there was no coming back, not if I wanted to ignore every feeling I had."
He wraps an arm around my shoulder, hugging me. Moving my hand, my thumb presses against his bottom lip. Our breaths grow heavy, his chest brushing against mine with every exhale. Our eyes are locked, and there's this fire brewing inside my gut. It's new, something I'm not familiar with, so I do the only thing I can think of to let it out.
I lean in and kiss him.