All I ever wanted;

She has cold hands

She is the last passenger onto the train.

He looks up from his book when she slips into the seat beside him and the ground beneath them awakens with machine precision. As she settles into her seat, sighing and eyelids fluttering shut, he watches from the edge of his vision.

She wears minimal make-up and carries only one bag. She seems vaguely familiar, though he can’t quite place where he may have seen her before.

Then she turns to him and asks what he is reading. Instead of answering, he just lifts the cover. She smiles as she takes in Decoding Your Cat and asks if he is having trouble with his ‘feline friend’. Shaking his head, he tells her that he owns a pet store and had just gotten a new tom who’s life ambition is to destroy every claw-able thing in reach.

Maybe he just wants your attention, she suggests with a laugh.

He considers it.

She asks what the cat’s called so he shows her a picture on his cell phone and tells her that he doesn’t have a name yet. He doesn’t think she heard him because he can see her falling for those mischievous eyes. Something twinges when she pushes the phone back, but he ignores it.

A silence settles between them. The train bumps and shifts, falling in time with his thoughts. Then he asks why she was going to New York. She says while putting her bag onto the top shelf that she is attending a convention as break from her filming. The bronze afternoon light from the window veils her face, softening the rough edges.

That’s how he remembers. Remembers that he had seen her on TV once on a show or something. Or maybe it was a movie.

But before he can respond, she raises a finger to her lips.

Please, she says, treat me the same. I want to get away from that now

He finds himself nodding. She returns a smile so shy that he wonders how much of it is from practice. When she raises her hand to push a stray dark hair behind her ear, he notices a tattoo. It is a silhouette of a bird in flight.

She sees him look at it and pulls back her sleeve to show him the others. They rise up like black Braille against the pale of her skin and almost quiver with life.

There are more, he finds, everywhere on her body. She is going to New York to attend a tattoo convention.  The body is a temple and a home, she believes, why not decorate it so? If she hadn’t become an actress, she knows, she would’ve become a tattoo artist.

With eyes like shy sunshine, she asks if he likes them.

Beautiful comes out like the release of cigarette smoke. He suddenly finds himself wanting to know them, to know them all, to know her. To know all the secret codes of her language. But then she is asking the time so he pulls out his phone.

Fifteen minutes

To his surprise, she takes the phone from him and types a few characters before handing it back with I added something important in there, and eases back into the seat. Without taking his eyes off her he nods, only knowing the feeling of her cold hands brushing against his.

They pull into the station three minutes late, but it still wasn’t long enough.

As she reaches into the top compartment to get her bag, her shoe falls off. And he is there, reaching down and taking it. Despite her protests, he slips it back onto her foot, tracing the rim to ensure the fit.

He follows her down the steps and hears her say goodbye as she turns away. He calls after her. She looks back, eyes round with surprise. Before he can stop himself, he is inviting her to visit his shop. Surprise melting into understanding, she waves a promise and seals it with her smile before blurring into the crowd.

And he gazes after her shrinking form, only remembering her warm feet.

She has cold hands, but warm feet

He has a bright smile

The Sunday morning rain is light when she pushes open the door of the pet store. The veil of his hair falling into his face does nothing to hide the excitement that lights his eyes.

Welcome, he says, smiling and walking around the counter. But she knows what he really meant was You came

With a nod, she wanders the shop, feigning curiosity. Because her heart had been set before she even opened the door.

Looking for something in particular? He asks, eyes dancing with mischief. He plays along with her game, leading her like a suitor trying to pique her interest in this or that. Trying to hide her smile, she passes downy feathers and marble eyes.

Finally he folds his arms across his chest and tries to look annoyed. You came for him, didn’t you? The beam in response affects him more than he would care to admit so he hides it by turning around to unlock the cage by the door.

As he lifts the mewling cat into his arms, she can’t help but wonder if he had been saving him for her.

Name?

She pulls out the list. Too many. He agrees with a chuckle.

They choose (more like she decided) to name him Chen. It is as if the pair were once siblings in a past life because everything just falls into place. Chen had napped while they talked but perked his ears up at the name, purring deeply when she his head.

After the deal is sealed, he settles the tom into her hold and, while he carries the extra things into the waiting taxi, he can only just shake his head in wonder.

He tries to pet Chen’s head but the tom just bats at the hand playfully, maybe not fully aware that he is leaving.

But it isn’t goodbye, she pipes up, eyes earnest.

He wonders if she means for Chen or for them. He quietly hopes the latter.

With a small wave, he turns and the taxi rolls away. Chen meows a sad goodbye. And she catches a glimpse of sadness before the door swings shut.                                                                                                                             

He has a bright smile, but sad eyes

She can act

It shouldn’t come as a surprise when the invitation came, but it still does.

That night he stands near the wall and nervously adjusts his tie, feeling out of place and lost and the plastic wrap encasing the bouquet in his hand echoing his nerves with its crackling. Around him are a mess of cameramen, directors, lighting team, technicians, stylists and it’s all a blur and it confuses and bewilders him and he’s not even sure why he’s even there and—

A familiar hand at his shoulder orients him.

Thank you for coming, she says with a squeeze to his arm, looking even more beautiful in the slanted light and he’s reminded again of their differences.

But he still immediately relaxes in her presence and hands her a grin with the flowers. She brightens even more and, disappearing momentarily into the petals, asks how he knew that tulips are her favorite.

He’s spared an answer when she’s called away for the filming. She tosses him an apologetic smile, but he almost misses it when she trails a hand against his arm, leaving a tingling under the sleeve, under the skin in her wake.

Finding a spot out of the way with a perfect view, he leans against the cold plaster. But it is a futile action because he is soon leaning forward, mesmerized.

As if the artificial lights in the room had a stripping ability, she walks like the light beams, shedding the vestiges of herself to become something else completely. Where she was gentle sunlight, she is now summer suns.

She demands attention and receives it.

But whether it’s because he’s known her for over six months now or it was just apparent, but he notices that she isn’t quite there. Something in the way she lets poison slip from her criminal lips seems so fake and forced.

So fake, so forced, so lifeless.

Somehow there is far more life in the way she holds her coffee on sunny afternoons, shades her eyes in the mornings, pushes her hair behind her ears.

Yet this side of her is so completely different, so captivating that he can’t help but soak in her passion like logs receiving the fire.

He cannot take it from her. It’s her choice.

So, from the shadows, he watches with wide eyes and quieted breath as she dances under a sun that isn’t her own.

She could act, but couldn’t be

He is lonely

It starts as an accident.

The first time he receives a call and within heartbeats he is sweeping out the door, with jacket half on.

He finds her with ease, as if all the roads always leads to her, as if he is always drawn to his true north. With heavy-lidded against the concrete wall, she smiles weakly and murmurs something through red-smeared lips. He tries to pretend that he doesn’t hear it as he eases her into the taxi.

I knew you’d come

She’s asleep long before he carries her to the bed, but her eyelashes flutter open as he rests her down. Hooking her skinny arms around his neck, she pulls him back into the rush of blankets until is beside his ear. His arms naturally find her waist.

Stay with me

Even if she wasn’t holding him, he doesn’t have the heart to let her go so he stays with her until her eyes flash open hours later.

Confusion quickly melts into guilt as she stumbles from the bed, apologizing and leaving before he can even protest.

He’s left to greet the sunrise alone.

But one night frequents until it’s stranger that she isn’t there. She has been sleeping over more often recently because of her new project.

Tonight, they fall asleep together, movie quietly running itself dry into their breathy silence.

She is jerked awake by screams and cold skin. His eyes are still dream-heavy, but he’s crying in his paralyzed state.

Without even a thought, she is holding his face in her hands, hands rubbing away the tension, nose grounding him, words tumbling from lips reorienting him.

It’s a long time before he wakes and falls back to reality. Between shaky breaths and trembling fingers, he tells her that it had always been this way. Night had never been kind to him and she realized that he is always awake around her.

His eyes, alight with gratitude, contrast her tender eyes. He tries to find the words, but she already knows.

She tells him that doesn’t mind doing it often, all the time, always.

Perhaps even for forever.

He tells her not to act anymore, at least with him; she returns with Don’t ever leave my side. Their fingers find each other’s in the darkness, weaving their broken edges together.

There are no false words, masks, or hidden meanings. It is simple and pure.

And it’s all they ever wanted.

He is lonely, but he is no longer alone

Familiar morning routine tastes like sunshine and vanilla. From the windowsill, Chen’s purrs vibrate in the space, wedging themselves into the crevices.

Her fingers trail over the love-bites scattered among the tattoos on his chest—all her marks—as his hands memorize the curves and dips of her body. His touch warming the hands and tangling between the toes. Her caress filling in all the blank spaces and connecting all the stars into constellations. Their hearts beating in perfect Morse code, typing out a secret language that only they know.

They don’t open their mouths,

but say everything

A/N: SO

before I'm a terrible author-nim, I am a terrible friend. I had actually finished it on the day I was supposed to - dec 11th. but I had finals and put it off until christmas and then... basically I miss the important day for my bbs, but I hope you still liked it ;u;

anyway, sO. This is dedicated to my two beautiful friends Sapphy and Hana~ Congrats on levelling up you guise ;u;

Hana: Sorry for being a butthead and not get anything done on time for your birthday OTL I hope you still like it ;u; 

Sapphy: Hey, hey. Happy birthday baby~ <3 Remember when you commented on my WIP meme? Recognize the line? See why I said that you'd know it soon? Haha! xD But I tried to write it in your style but...I guess this is what happens if we mix our styles x3

Thank you two for being awesome sauce and please never leave me ;u;

For all my other subbies, I love you all too and thanks for reading~