I’m in his embrace. I forgot why I came back to him and I don’t know why. The only reason I can think of is that I love him. Isn’t that reason enough?

                  He starts to sing and I close my eyes. He can definitely carry a tune, but that wasn’t the thing that draws me to his voice. It was the fact that it was HIS voice, and no one else’s. It was the fact that he was singing only to me, and nobody else. It was the fact that I love him.

                  I can’t say that he’s perfect, but I guess nobody is. I love him for his imperfections because it makes him who he is. He is beautiful, no doubt. He is handsome, no doubt. He is talented, no doubt. But I love him for all the parts of him he shows only to me. I love him simply because he is who he is.

                  He pauses, and then starts to sing another song. I’m drowning; I can feel the water pulling me down. I don’t struggle, because I know I’m not drowning in fear. In fact, I’m drowning in him. I’m drowning in his voice and his love for me and I know that it is him that gives me courage. I would not struggle. It’s him that brings me bliss and courage.

                  Based on any sane person’s logic, humans cannot breathe underwater. They simply can’t. Should I fight and reach for the surface to take a breath? Then I realize that I am in fact not suffocating at all. I love this feeling; I love what he makes me feel. Is it possible to drown on perfectly dry land? I don’t know, but right now, I’m drowning.

                  Would I die if I kept on drowning? Would my head hit against the rocks on the ocean ground? If this is a way of dying, then it is the most beautiful way. I know he isn’t singing a song he’s heard, or a popular song. He was singing his lullaby for me. There aren’t any lyrics. It’s just him, his voice, and his heart. What language was he singing? I absolutely had no idea. I don’t need to understand, because music is its own language.

                  He stopped singing and I suddenly broke through the surface of the ocean. I wasn’t relieved, but I wasn’t disappointed either. I took in gulps of air as I felt his arm tighten around me. He didn’t question me, he understood without me telling him. He gently kissed my temple. He kissed my temple again, but this time he didn’t pull away. I could feel the curve of his lips and I tried to memorize the feeling.

                  I remember exactly how we met. It wasn’t a fairytale-like meeting, but it was magic enough. We were at a party and our eyes just met. It took us less than a second to know – nothing else mattered now except for us. It would be us against the world and we would fight for us no matter what.

                  How would we explain what happened next to our friends? We simply couldn’t find any words. They wouldn’t understand anyway. As if we were both in a trance, we closed the space between us and didn’t say a word. I looked into his eyes; he looked into mine. I reached up to trace his face, running my finger along his bottom lip. What I said next I knew would only make sense to the both of us. “I’ve been looking for you.”

                  That was the first time I kissed him. We’ve only set eyes on each other for less than five minutes but it was enough. I knew he would kiss back. It wasn’t because of my confidence, but just the fact that I simply knew. I feel ugly and fat, but when he looks at me I feel beautiful. When he knows that I start to doubt myself, he tries to reassure me but I shush him. The look in his eyes was enough. Why use words when we had our own language?

                  Marriage. A family. We thought about everything but it didn’t matter that much. As long as we’re together. As cliché as it sounds and as fairytale-like it may look, we both knew that everything that stands between us isn’t strong enough to push us apart. Love was just a four letter word until I found it. Jonghyun was just another Korean name till I found him.

                  Why is everything so complicated? It doesn’t have to be. I love feeling his arms around me and the feel of his muscular chest against my forehead. I love how I can feel like I’m flying when I’m with him and yet feel so grounded. What was it about him that makes me feel like I’m on drugs? He’s my addiction and I wasn’t getting rid of it anytime soon. Sometimes I wonder why I’m not afraid that he has such control over me and my emotions, but then I realize- why would I be afraid of loving him when he’s given me endless courage?

                  He respects my pride and he respects that I’m manly too. He respects the fact that I need space to be who I need to be. I respect the fact that he can break down as easily as anyone, especially in my arms.

                  I don’t know what made us take those steps or what lead us to take a risk and have our first kiss. I don’t know why I went home with him right afterwards and I don’t know why we just cuddled. I don’t know why it didn’t feel awkward and I don’t know why I know deep down that I will never leave him.

                  Sometimes things don’t make sense to me. Sometimes I want to find my footing, only to find myself slip again. It’s okay, though. He’s there to catch me. Just like how I’m always ready to catch him if he ever falls. I try to find a ray of sunlight through this mess, but I’m getting the whole universe. Why? Simply because I love him and that’s all the both of us need to know to keep us going. And it’s more than enough to keep me breathing.