There are boys who kiss you while ripping your heart out of your chest, boys who kiss like they have never been touched before, boys who kiss like they are going out of breath, boys who sway the hearts of girls with a promise of  loyalty, love and only love for the upcoming days.

There are also boys who think girls love to be kissed by their fists or their knees, boys who wreck girls down to show power, boys who hurt just to prove that they are brave enough to hurt.

Then, there are some boys, the rare kind, the ones you pray every night to God, every trait and every feature is lined in the edge of your tongue, rolling it over and over so God can hear you. These are the kind of boys that kiss your knees when you fall, the boys that rip out their bleeding, blue heart for you only, the boys that live seeing tomorrow to see you smile, the boys that gaze at you for a long time while you are looking at the stars or the horizon or the sky. They are the boys that see the world in a person, their touch form constellation of stars in your skin, colourful planets in your veins and lucid daydreams in your eyes.

Jeon Wonwoo is one of that boys (he will always be a boy for her, no matter how grown they are). Nobody but his girlfriend, Kang Seulgi, realizes that. Not even his friends, his family, his co-workers. 

But at first, it was her who didn't realize it first and foremost.

(They find their very source of light in the trails you have left, the roads you have taken and the choices that you made.)

"Seulgi," Wonwoo standing in the porch of her home with rain dripping wet from his hair, drenched shirt and hollow eyes contrasting his bright, toothy smile. "I came to see you.''

She quickly pulls him into the house by the collar, "It's raining, why would you do that?"

"I just want to drop by, that's all. I didn't bring my umbrella on the way home," Wonwoo speaks as he takes the towel from her hand. Her right one. The left is hiding the cigarette pack she's about to smoke outside. He has never realized of this.

"Let me get you some dry clothes okay? You'll get sick-" Before she walks away, his hand already circles around her wrist, making her stop. The smile falls and Wonwoo's heavy heart is so visible she literally can see it branded in his chest. 

(They come with the rain, hazy smiles and wet eyelids for salvation sometimes,)

"Seulgi," he chants, the towel hanging on his hair and his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm so tired," his voice gives up halfway. Seulgi puts the pack in the back of her jeans, and he leans in to kiss her, wishing it will fix him, drive some energy alive in him. It does, and after a few seconds, Seulgi unlatches herself off his arms. "You still have to change. I don't want you to get sick."

Seulgi still blushes whenever he kisses her, because he smells like the rain. And sometimes like sleepy Sundays, mourning Mondays and divine Thursdays. 

(They make you leave your bad habits without force.)

Her cigarette packs (Seulgi needs time to relapse) lays in the bottom drawer on her bedside, Wonwoo's clothes are in her washing machine and Wonwoo is on her arms, half asleep and half awake in the clothes he left at her home purposely sometimes.

He grows younger in her arms, sleeping by her shoulder and feeling warm with her arm around around his back. His legs are tangled between her legs by the couch. He feels at home with him in her arms like a child protected from the world.

People might find it impossible for boys or men to be held like one fragile thing, for they are meant to be strong by nature. But Wonwoo just wants to be off his shell for today, and Seulgi holds him like no other person would, as if she is holding something so tender and precious, easy to shatter. Someone so loved by her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she whispers soothingly as her fingers set him to sleep with the gentle caress in the hair, by the side of his face. 

"No," he hums quiet