And as we kissed, I did not think: She doubts me.

I did not think: She does not feel the same way.

I did not think: Hyukjae might be in his room.

I did not think: We should just talk about this.

I did not think about any other possibility or consequence, but I just kissed her. Kissed her like what I had wanted to do thirteen minutes ago in front of her bedroom door, or two and a half hours ago when I saw her wearing her usual attire. And all I wanted was to kiss her. Kiss her like it was the only thing I could do. It could go on forever. I could kiss her all night long and I wouldn't have minded.

I didn't know what happened next, or maybe I got too carried away. The only thing I was sure of was that when I had opened my eyes, my shirt was only the floor and her shirt was on the floor and the fly of her jeans were undone and we were still wearing our shoes. The front door opened and Hyukjae nearly called out all the demons with his eyes closed. "Goddamnit. Your bedroom's just a few feet away. Can you please just go and lock the door oh my freaking Go–"

"I got it, I got it," I said, laughing and getting up from the couch.

Jihyuk immediately ran off to my room and left me to pick the strewn clothes up. When I got to my room, she was lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Climbing up the mattress, I laid on my side to face her. It was almost nine in the evening and I was sure that I love her. I love her and I don't know if she loves me too. It was like it pains her to say it. Or maybe she simply doesn't. But she answers my calls and lets me hold her hand and lets me kiss her. So maybe she does. I love her and maybe she loves me too. Because someday I will want to wake up and see her next to me and I'll feel as if I'm not so lonely as I think. As if I deserve to even be lying on the same bed with her. Breathe the same air as her. I love her. And maybe she loves me too. Maybe not. But I love her. Everything about her. And I hope she loves me too. So I asked, "Do you love me?"

"When did you paint your room blue?" she said instead, and it felt as if I've done something wrong. But I ignored the feeling.

"I didn't paint my room blue."

She looked at me and laughed. "So who did? Don't tell me some stuff about the house painter fairy or whatever. The last time I came here, your room was green."

"Um, my room was blue ever since I moved here seven years ago," I informed, looking at her confused.

She pondered about this for a while before facing me. Jihyuk eyed me closely without speaking. Just blatantly staring. And all too soon, she kissed me. Resting my forehead against hers and looking into her eyes, "I want you tonight, later, tomorrow morning, the day after tomorrow, next week, next month, next year and for the rest of my life," I said. This kind of eye contact was dangerous, but lovely. Oh so lovely.

"Can we not do it?" she asked softly.

"Do what?"

Jihyuk looked at me and rolled her eyes.

"Oh. Okay. Alright then."

"It's just..." she said and trailed off. "Should I really say this..." she mumbled to herself. Then to me, she said, "Because I think every time I get so happy, something bad always happens next."

"What 'bad' will happen?"

She contemplated about it for a while. "Like, you'll wake up tomorrow morning and you won't feel the same anymore. I just want to be sure that you won't wake up and just feel differently," she admitted, meeting my gaze. "Will you still love me tomorrow?"

I kissed her softly. "Tomorrow and all the mornings after." And she slowly drifted to sleep. Because she was inexplicable. Unexplainable. Quiet at first, then unstoppable. Loud and outgoing and fun and carefree. She was everything. No one knows what she's about to do next because she was Jung Jihyuk.

She was once a girl, like everyone else, and lived in a world that dictated what she should and should not do. And she didn't like that because she was nothing of the ordinary. Since then, she had been through a lot and didn't want any more. And so she put up a wall, brick by brick, until she couldn't be found anymore. And she couldn't find herself any longer. So she began reading these books, perhaps trying to search for the spark she lost. But the brick wall was still there – high and sturdy.

And it just so happened that I had a very tall ladder.