"I've never done this before," you said.
"Neither have I," she assured you.
Later it turns out you had both met people online. You'd both been reckless before and you'd both trespassed on private property, intoxicated.
What you meant to say was, you’d never felt so good doing it.

"We'll get caught, Seul."
She laughs and passes you the bottle.
"We won't, Wen. Trust me."
It should scare you that you do, but what really does is that you don’t care if your trust is misplaced.
She kisses you, hard.

She sits by the edge of the pool and tips the house owner’s stupid cowboy hat at you as you strip down to your underwear.
She whistles and beckons you over with a tip of her head.
You crawl over to her and steal the hat. You slide in the pool and she kisses you, hard.

The owner of the house comes out, shouting and threatening.
She laughs as you scramble out of the pool and to your clothes and over the fence. You don't.
Later, in her car, parked five hundred metres away, she grins at you and you’re kind of angry and slightly terrified but you then you’re laughing and laughing and you can’t stop. 
She kisses you hard.

She drives onto a deserted hill.
"Should I be worried?" you ask.
"Very," she replies.
She lays out blankets in the backseat of her beat up convertible and lowers the roof. You crawl into the backseat and toast to lukewarm champagne and overripe strawberries. Your arms wrap around each other and she kisses the crown of your head.
"We got caught," you say.
"I'm sorry," she says. "There are better things to be caught doing."
"Like?"
She kisses you, hard.

The blankets do a ty job of warming you, so you kiss her, hard. 

You move too fast, fall too hard, give too much, too soon, and you don’t care.

The first I love you slips out carelessly when she drunk calls you a month after she comments on one of your stories. Everything starts with hello, and soon after you know you’re ed.

You don’t respond, partly because you don’t know what to say, partly because you want to pretend for a little while longer.

She tells you you’re everywhere. You are her drunken slurs, her 2 am thoughts, her daydreams, nightmares, everything in between. You have a reserved parking spot in the back of her mind and she writes off any parking tickets. You laugh softly at that. You never know what to say to her, so you smile and hope she understands.
She tells you, the universe is singing and you are its song. You can't breathe and you know she understands then.
 

Seulgi stares at the sky.

“You’re seeing into the past, Wendy,” she tells you. “The stars you see in the sky right now look as they were eight minutes ago.”

“Goddamn philosophy major,” you say, but you smile.

You always do, around her. It’s sickening.

“So beautiful,” she whispers.

She’s looking at the stars. You’re not.

“Yes.”

She tells you about her father. Big man with a big heart and mustache.

“When I was little I thought that stars were dead people.”

Your fingers are tangled and you don’t know who reached out for who. Is she holding your hand or are you holding hers. It seems synonymous but it makes every difference in the world. 
Why is it that when you embrace, one is always holding the other a bit tighter?

“Morbid.”

She smiles at the stars and you know that's meant for you.

“Nah. My dad’s a star. What could be cooler?”

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" she asks.
You want to tell her about your parents' divorce, and at the same time about how in the Korean War, after 54 years of marriage, your great grandparents died in a cellar together, holding hands till the very end.
Instead you shake your head.
"Well, what about love at first click?" she asks.
You kiss her, hard.

You meet a girl on a website where people write fiction about other people who are slightly more famous. This girl is only a username in the beginning but she becomes everything. 

"You meet a girl and she knits all things together. She is the last stop on a bus that comes from nowhere and leads everywhere," she says. "This girl becomes the motive behind everything and she's the logic behind all things that don't make sense."
She is drunk, you realise. She is saying things she doesn't mean into your lips and you are swallowing them. You should fear the inevitable heartbreak you taste on her tongue, but you have her right now and that’s all that matters.

"Spin me a long thread of your yarn," she says.
"What do you want to hear?" you ask.
"Tell me a story of two girls meeting."
Her fingers are on your stomach and your heart is in your throat. Her legs wrap around you and her head lays itself on your ribcage. You’re not sure if she’s hearing your digestive system or your heart. She lays a kiss on where she presumes your heart to be, but it’s really your left lung.
"It happens at a carnival. Her hair is the first thing you notice. You see her by the carousel, holding pink cotton candy. She is alone. You make eye contact and you are the first one to break it. When you look back, she’s gone. You have to know her, so you go on the carousel she stood by earlier. You’re on the horse with the pink mane and you see the girl with the untamed blonde hair on the blue horse. You watch her rise and fall, rise and fall, rise- The carousel stops and the power in the whole city goes out. There are no sounds, just the thumping in your chest. The moon is there, shining onto the left side of her. You step off your horse as she gets off hers. Her cotton candy is dropped, a forgotten pink tragedy on the carousel ground and everyone else has descended from the carousel platform but you two. You don’t know where it comes from, but you’re saying, “What a pretty night this is.” And she replies, “I was just thinking the same thing.” She smiles.

I’ve loved you ever since.”

She kisses you, hard.

“I’ve loved you ever since.”