A few days later I am convinced that “melting” has been the wrong word all along; it is better described as boiling, seething. The heat is not only searing my skin but also my brain, as my usually sharp mind doesn’t seem to be able to figure out the reason behind this situation.
Jjong’s lips are only so briefly on mine that it almost makes me wonder if they’ve ever been there in the first place, because really, my mind malfunctioning is more likely than him kissing me.
Yet as I look at him, there’s a tiny bit of confusion underneath his self-confident glance and it’s enough to persuade me that yes, my straight best friend, who is together with a girl, has just kissed me.
“Wha—“ is the only sound that manages to pass my lips, I must look so dumbfounded. I hate losing my cool.
“So, what do you say?” At first, I have no idea what he is talking about, but then I remember why we’re in this situation in the first place. I am supposed to answer a question.

It has all begun with me standing next to my desk, a bunch of papers in my hands. English lyrics are written on them, the song I’m going to perform at the concert in Tokyo. “My first kiss” by 3oh!3. I sing quietly to myself to memorize the text.
Lost in the not so innocent words, I am startled as the sheets are suddenly ripped from my hands. “Hey!” I exclaim but Jjong’s already singing.
“My first kiss went a little like this…” Can’t he for once leave me alone?
“And twist… and twist.”
“Jjong, your English is hurting my ears!”
“I said no more teachers and no more books. I got a kiss under the bleachers hoping that nobody looks.”
“Stop it.” I absolutely do not want to him to reach the next passage.
“Lips like liquorish, tongue like candy. Excuse me miss but can I get you out your –“
“Enough! You keep me from working.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” His grin is so sheepishly wide again. “If you answer a question.”
I groan, but without the slightest idea of what he is plotting, I simply say yes.
“Since you’re singing about it, I was wondering… how was it?”
I frown. “How was what?”
Hesitating a little, he says, “Your first kiss.”
I swallow, hoping that he has not just asked that. Yet of course he has, always unconsciously on confrontation course with my feelings.
I fidget with my shirt.  How can I tell him about something that doesn’t exist? And why is he asking me of all people? The person I would give my first kiss to as a present.
“That’s… hard to say…” The answer is far form being witty, but I can’t think of anything else.
“How come?”
“Because— really Jjong, why are you making me do this? What are you; some MC at a talk show?” Becoming angry won’t get me out of this situation, I know…
“There is none, right?”
I pause then, wishing I didn’t need to talk about this.
“… so what?”
“Don’t you think that you’re kind of… late, being 19 years old?” This conversation is walking in a really uncomfortable direction. “You’re missing out on something.”
He leans in swiftly, proficiently, just as if I were a girl, with the only difference being that he has to tilt his chin up not down. Confusion is burning inside me.

And now, after his short touch is gone and he has directed that unanswerable question to me, I am at the point of stammering.
That curiosity is all over his face again, addressing me from his eyes down to his mouth.
And in that moment I am suddenly positive that his eagerness to experiment and my slightly feminine charm are sufficient to lead him into crossing the boundaries between friendship and love. No, not love; intimate physical contact. I am the only person in love.
Yet with this thought comes the realization that only one word from me will be needed to let this continue. If I put enough effort into trying to win him over, I will, at least in a physical way. That he’s dared to kiss me once makes it clear to me. And as much as every touch will hurt me, I can’t resist the temptation to achieve this proximity.
Eventually I answer his question.
“Can’t really say.” I see that I have successfully activated his ambition by his eyes narrowing just slightly. I’m sure that he will prove his abilities.
The way he kisses me now seems almost inexperienced, which he obviously isn’t; but in the next moment I realize that he in fact is, since kissing me must simply be so different from kissing girls.
For me it is also different. I have nothing to compare this kiss to, yet still I am sure that it’s different. Maybe that’s because I feel whole and empty at the same time or because as we part and he turns away, a feeling of resolution lingers in the air. We will come together like this again and again.
I feel that we are standing at the bottom of an unstable staircase and I wonder if its steps are going to break under my feet.