“Bbom,” the elder girl’s voice was soft as feather, calling out to her lover gently, while tracing Bomi’s bare skin with the very tip of her finger. The younger one could feel tingles of her nerves where Chorong’s finger had last touched, leaving a trail of flaring hot electricity down her spine.

She could probably die right now.

“Bbom,” Chorong called again. “It’s spring today. Look outside.”

And she did. Her window oversaw a quiet park by the side of the Han River, where hummingbirds would spend mornings composing songs by the trees next to the walk paths. White and light pink flowers boomed shyly across the tree branches that covered the sight, a sea of petals decorating the soft spring morning.

Chorong tucked her chin onto Bomi’s shoulder, rubbing her cheek softly against hers. Bomi was used to the temperature of Chorong’s skin before, but the heat of their contact lead an unfamiliar wave of warmth that set over her insides, and she’d never felt more complete.

And when Chorong spoke, it felt like her voice would forever echo through her bones.

 “It’s our first spring together. Isn’t that funny? Our cho-bom.” The elder one chuckled.

They weren’t straightforward words, but Bomi understood what she meant because she was Bomi and she was Chorong and they just existed with knowing each other like that.

Cho-bom.

The first spring.

Bomi’s first time falling in love, her first time being in love, and her first time being loved. 

Pink blossoms never seemed so warm until today.