pt. 6
3:37am(Kyungil POV)
...
Going overseas has become your favorite part of this life recently because it means that you get to pretend that you're not being a complete idiot for a few days. This time, you're letting him initiate things and even though you may have thought that would mean hooking up less, he is definitely willing to prove you wrong.
He's making you coffee every morning and you're forcing him to stop slaving away every evening and if you aren't at a venue then you're both in your hotel room. You've probably more than made up for those eighteen days you spent apart by now, but you're not going to be the first to suggest it.
It's been an exceptionally long day and you're more than tired, you're worn down, so you opt for the hotel swimming pool instead of the gym. The tour is short this time, but it's going well and you're okay with long days if it means you don't have to go back home to dorm living yet, if it means that you can be with him for a little longer. (Because this is still just a hookup.)
He finds you there after a little while, swimming laps across the pool. He sits down on the edge, soaks his feet, waits for you to notice him. You make him wait, finish your lap slowly before swimming closer to him. You rest an elbow on the edge of the pool, prop yourself up next to him. "Did you get bored with the cable again?" you say. "Let's call it writer's block. I needed to clear my head." He kicks his feet across the water slowly. "Where are the others?" He shrugs. "Out, I guess. I didn't see them on the way down."
"You're in your swimsuit," you point out. "So?" You grin, grab his hands, yank him into the pool. He lands with a splash, comes back up sputtering and glaring at you. "You could have just asked," he coughs, trying to focus enough to tread water. "Where is the fun in that?"
"Is it always about fun with you?" You reach for his hands, lace your fingers together. "Why'd you come to find me?" He rolls his eyes. "You were the only one here," he replies, but you know that's not the whole truth. "And?" you prompt. "I wanted to see you," he says, and you knew it but it's nice to hear it out loud. "What a coincidence. I wanted to see you too."
You think this might be too public of a location for the two of you to be alone much longer, so you climb out of the pool, grab a towel, toss one to him. "I didn't mean to interrupt," he says but you shake your head. "I was done." He hangs on your arm on the way back to your room, laughs when you make a stupid joke, leans his face into your shoulder. (You definitely have everything under control.)
You take a shower first, wash your hair, get ready for bed. You come out of the bathroom to find him going through your phone. You know the passcode for his phone too, but you've never actually used it. "Are you reading my texts? I told you, I don't even have that girl's number," you say. He looks up at you, shakes his head. "What are all these pictures?" He turns the screen around to show you picture after picture of him, pictures you took when he wasn't looking, when he was passed out on a tour bus, when he was focused on work. "What do you mean? Don't you have pictures of me on your phone?"
"Not like these, these are so... ugly," he says, turning the phone back toward him. "Let's clear up some space on your phone, okay?" You leap across the room, land on your bed, wrestle your phone out of his hands. "You can't delete those," you say, sitting up and turning off your phone, holding it protectively in your lap. "Why not? I'll leave the good ones." You shake your head. "They're all good ones," you insist. "You have no eye for photography."
"I mean it, look." You tap around on your phone, turning your phone back and forth so he can see. "I took this one on the plane because we were finally going overseas again and I was happy." He sighs. "That's the day I took care of you when you were sick. This is when I felt like I was forgetting what you looked like because you were working so hard, but I didn't want to bug you so I took it through the blinds." You swipe around some more, explain the meaning behind photo after photo of him.
"This one is from your favorite restaurant, because I thought you looked happy. And this is when you were obsessed with that anime and you wouldn't even look at me until you finished the last episode." You flip past some ridiculous selfies that Jaeho had taken covertly at some point, find more pictures of him. (You didn't realize what a collection you had going until now.) You grimace at the next picture. "This is from Paris, when I thought you'd hate me forever." All you had then were these pictures, these memories. You realize now that these are not the type of pictures people usually need to get them through breaks with their boyfriends. (Did you just refer to him as your boyfriend?)
You find another picture, turn your phone so he can see. "Do you know what this one is?" He nods. "It's from the night we started hooking up," he says. "It's from the night I kissed you for the first time," you correct him. "I don't have the greatest memory, I don't have a lot of memories I want to hold onto, but you... you can't delete my memories, because even if you don't like how they look, if you don't like the lighting or your expressions or what they remind you of, they're real and they're my memories and I want them."
You think he'll laugh and tell you how ridiculously cheesy you are because it's the truth, tease you and say he doesn't know what he sees in you, but he doesn't, all he says is, "Why?" You don't know what he's looking for, what answer he wants, what words he needs to hear. "Why what?" He relaxes his arms, collapses in a heap next to you. "Why do you hold onto those memories, even the bad ones?"
"Because... because it's you," you say finally, prepare yourself for a lecture on non-answers and how not to be a sappy loser, but all you get is a head on your chest and an arm wrapped around your waist. "So, all you have to do to forget me is clear your phone?" If only it were that easy, you think. "The thing is, I thought I needed something to spark my memory, but I don't anymore. I still want them, but... I wouldn't forget even if you deleted every last one." You're not sure what that means, why you're holding on to everything, good and bad, why you're actually kind of okay with it. "You think it's stupid, right?"
"It's kind of stupid, but... I don't want you to be able to just forget either." He sits up to kiss you, lays back down on your chest. "Even if some of those pictures came out kind of ugly, it doesn't mean you are. Even if some of the memories are bad, it doesn't mean we're bad for each other. Right?" You hope, you hope with all your might these days. He doesn't say anything, closes his eyes. "If you really want to delete them, I can try to let some of them go."
"No, keep them," he says, "they're yours, I don't have the right to delete them." You kiss the top of his head. "What kind of pictures do you have of me?" He shrugs. "Mostly pictures of the two of us together, but you always look good in them," he explains. The thing is, you always think he looks good too and it scares you, honestly, but that doesn't make it any less true.
You click your phone on, angle it over him, snap the picture, admire your work. He opens his eyes. "Why do you want to remember this one?" he asks. "I don't know," you respond, "I just do."
"We have to go back soon," he says, and he means back home but he actually means that you have to go back to pretending, to being miserable, to trying to ignore each other and you're beginning to hate that idea, you propose another. "No, we don't," you protest. "What do you mean?"
"We have to go home, but we don't have to go back." He sits up, holds your hand, looks at you like you've lost your mind. "This doesn't have to stop at home," you explain, "not if we're careful, not if we keep it under control." He shakes his head, but he's smiling. "It won't work, we'll get caught, it's too big of a risk."
"Then let's stay here," you suggest. "We have a comeback to promote, we have to go home." He's playing with your hand and he's biting his lip and he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but you know you've got him. "Then we'll go home and we'll focus on the comeback unless... unless we run out of focus." You'll close the door, but you don't have to lock it. (You're incapable of locking it.) "This doesn't work at home, you've said it yourself."
"We've never really tried and you know better than anyone that I've been wrong before." He nods in agreement, leans over to kiss you. "If it becomes a problem, we'll stop," you continue. "For real?" he asks. "Just until we leave again, it won't be that long anyway. Isn't it worth a try?"
"Is it?" he mumbles. "Yeah, I think it is," you tell him, eyes fixed on his. "Okay, but we're going to need some ground rules," he says. "Like what?" He shakes his hair from his eyes. "Like you can't just... show up whenever you want and expect me to go along with it. We need a plan, an actual plan." You roll your eyes. "You're no fun. How are we supposed to plan this?"
"I don't know, but let's start with rule number one, you have to stop looking at me like you've seen me ," he tells you, crosses his arms across his chest, pouting a bit. "I've done a lot more than see you ," you tease and he scoffs. "Yeah, but you don't have to make it so obvious."
"Fine. Rule number two?" you prompt. "We sleep in our own beds," he says and you sigh. "Makes sense, I guess. How many more of these do you have?" He shrugs, counts off rules on his fingers. "No kissing outside of the dorm, don't make suggestive jokes when other people are around, and no touching unless absolutely necessary."
"How is this any different from when we press pause?" you whine. "Because we don't have to keep it paused when we're alone," he explains, "this is the only way." You nod slowly. "I'll accept all your rules under one condition."
"What's that?" You kiss him, tuck your thumbs underneath his waistband. "I get to break them all when we press play again." He nods. "It's only fair," he jokes, leaning in to kiss you again.
You tell yourself you're not being stupid, that you're not risking everything, that everything will work out, but you've been lying to yourself for so long that the only truth you can remember is that he's worth the risk.
(He's laughing as you contest some of his rules and jokingly add some of your own and his eyes are shining because he's always loved to hate your sense of humor and he's always liked being in on your jokes and right now you feel like the luckiest man in the world.)
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