Sehun canted by the jamb opening to Aya’s porch, hands pocketed and eyes shut. He’d given up trying to make out the landscape stretching beyond the household’s backyard, submerged in thick clouds of fog, enveloped in arctic cold, barren and lifeless. He had to remind himself their neighborhood ascended to a hilltop and Aya’s parents had chosen a lot close to the peak. The altitude wasn’t something he could be aware of in particular—the rise wasn’t steep after all. But in the cold, or under the rain, the area could only drown in ghostly white mist, bereaving him of the grandiose scenery that would have otherwise graced the dull horizon.

This he knew because he had hung around once while Aya was sleeping a rainy Sunday afternoon away. He had felt guilty then; still felt guilty about it now. But just as he had always excused, he hadn’t done anything wrong beyond the trespassing.

“…talking to the wind again.”

Aya’s voice whipped him around, lids snapping open. He met her impatient gaze with a frown.

Torso twisting away from her study table, Aya rolled her eyes. “Great. I get ignored and you get mad. Such a fine boyfriend I have.” She laughed before turning back to her books. “We can take a break if you’re hungry.”

“What were you saying?” Sehun crept towards her.

“I just repeated myself.”

“No, I meant earlier.”

An exasperated sigh. “Nothing.”

He paused at the edge of her study table. “Aya.”

An irate snort. “What?”

She’s sulking. He wouldn’t confess, but he found it endearing that she brooded over his having ignored her. It made him feel important.

But while he found her sulky mood cute, he wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to handle it. Should he shut up? Should he appeal? Should he cajole her? Damn. What should he do? What should a boyfriend do?

What the hell. Defeated, he knelt beside her and fetched her hand. Her fingers were slender; her skin, soft and a little moist—perhaps from prolonged writing. Nonetheless, the warmth emanating from her touch was enough to drive him insane. He couldn’t quite believe he had dared kiss her before.

When he looked into her eyes, her scandalized gawk wasn’t a surprise, because really—what was he doing, kneeling on one knee and taking her hand as though he were about to propose?

He laughed, dropping his gaze and shaking his head. It was a short chuckle but he had to do it anyway.

“Now what?” This time, Aya’s tone was skeptical—and only a tad bit amused. She wasn’t sure she liked him enjoying his own private joke. But she did love the sound of his laugh: a merry, soothing tone.

“Nothing.” Sehun stood, crouched down a little to cup her chin and kiss the crease between her brows. He was very much sensitive to her that he caught the hitch in her breath as soon as he touched her. His own stomach flipped.

He leaned away before his thoughts explored any more peculiar paths.

Aya, still quite stupefied, stood, too. If it weren’t weird enough that Sehun was being a gentleman, she found the way he was gently clutching her hand even more… bewildering. She cleared , as if sending him a mental message to let her go now. But the boy was focused elsewhere, on the table, on her books, around the room, towards the door—on everything else besides her.

At last, she wriggled free, gathered her notes to a neat pile and tucked her chair beneath the table. She walked past him, twisted the knob to her door and pulled—

Sehun had pushed the door shut before she could fully draw it open. His hand found hers once again, interlocking them, sealing the gaps in between.

“Sehun…“ She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Thoughts of her evasion flooded her mind and all she could feel at the moment was embarrassment—raw and cruel. She wondered, in agitation, how she could stand his insufferable attitude, or his deafening silence, but not his open affections. She was probably burning at the moment.

“May I kiss you?”

The question was so innocently honest that she wondered if guys in general were that frank. Her eyes pinched shut. She forced a lump down . “You… didn’t ask the first time.”

Sehun frowned. She had noted. Of course she had. Didn’t she avoid him for months because of it? “I’m sorry.”

It was his dejected tone that chased Aya’s jitters away. She chortled, finally daring to look at him. “No, you’re not.”

Sehun cracked a smirk. “You’re probably right.” He pressed his free hand against one side of her face. Warm and soft, like her hand. She was captivating, and before he knew it, he was concentrating on her lips.

He could swear his heart shattered his ribcage when his mouth connected with hers. Sweet and soft and mindblowing. His hand swept down the side of her neck to her nape, holding her there as he flattened her against the door. Just as he tilted his head to kiss her deeper, he withdrew, like a magnet repelled by its opposing pole. Breathing jagged, he turned away completely.

“Sehun.”

He was suddenly terrified to look at her. Would she avoid him again? Did he just sign up for another bout of conspicuous evasion from the girl he was in love with?

The answer was conveyed when Aya reached a hand and caught his pinky from behind. She pinched it once, before collecting his ring, then middle, then index fingers. She tugged at him gently, called out his name once, in that soothing voice of hers.

When he still couldn’t bring himself to face her, she circled around to face him instead. “I have something to tell you.”

He remained silent. The glint in her eyes told him it wasn’t about the kiss. It wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about the two of them. And then he grew even more fearful, for there was only one thing that could draw out the life from her soul and make it burn through her eyes.

“I’m going back to the crew.”

Ah, it seemed ages ago when they were arguing about the people Aya used to dance with before Sehun offered to accompany her and limit her dance sessions to the two of them.

“I’m joining t