Where is the line between love and like? How do people realise that they already love the person? What if they just like them? Like their company, perhaps? When do people know when to leap over the fence from liking someone to loving someone? 

I always wonder… what’s in between love and like? Does such thing even exist? 

“Hey, you alright?”  

, I lost myself again. Ever since I met her, I’ve always wondered about love. Maybe because it’s my first time experiencing this kind of sensation in my stomach - that curling sensation like my organs are being squished in a non-painful way, that feeling in my chest like my heart is running a marathon, that feeling in my bladder like I would pee the moment she touches my skin, that feeling like I just want to die from happiness as she engulfs me in her warm embrace. Taeyeon, that’s her name. Just like her name I find serenity just by looking at her stunning pair of hazel orbs. 

I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know if I’m in love with her or just the idea of her being by my side. 

“Jess? Hey babe, what are you thinking?” 

I smiled. Babe. Our term of endearment. That word always rolls on her tongue so smoothly it feels heavenly. Sometimes I would pretend not to hear so she would say that to me again.  

“I’m starting to think I’m talking to a statue.” She laughs, my hair, looking amused. 

I smiled and took her hand in mine. I intertwine our fingers together and lock it. I’m holding her so tight she flinched for a second. “Is there a statue that holds your hand tightly like I do?”  

She smirked, but let go of my hand. It doesn’t matter how tight I was holding her, she still managed to let go. This is why I’m confused with the concept of love. We have been together for a few months and there’s always something missing. I don’t know what it is - no matter how happy she makes me feel, there’s always that subtle sinking feeling in my chest that she doesn’t feel as happy as I do. Sometimes I feel like she’s trapped… with me.  

“Is there something wrong?” I ask her. I’m afraid of her answer. 

She looks down, up, left, right. In five seconds she scanned the four corners of my room. She lies on my bed, taking my hand and pulls me down on the bed with her. “Nothing. I just had a ty day in university.” 

She sounded upset, so I hug her from the side and lay my head on her chest. I can hear the beating of her heart; in comparison to mine, hers was beating so slow. “Define ty for me?” 

I close my eyes as she starts caressing my hair. “My best friend. I saw her talking to her ex again. I mean, that ing guy kissed a in front of her and even had the balls to ing defend himself! After crying for five weeks on me saying how she hated his guts - look! She’s back with him!” 

It’s faster. The beating of her heart is so loud it hurts my ears. But I stayed in that position.  

“You always talk about her,” I mumble.  

Her hand stops my hair, instead, she bends down and kisses the crown of my head. 3,2,1… She’s still kissing my head. “I’m sorry.” She whispers, her lips moving against my hair.  

“It’s fine, I guess.” I hesitate. I was considering being honest and say that it’s not okay. It’s not okay because every time she’s with me, she’ll alwa