“Kyung-soo.”

He knew she took great care of her skin. Even under harsh fluorescent light, her skin glowed, pale pink and impossibly clean. But he could never have imagined her softness ...

“Kyung-soo.”

If the hotel happened to crumble or explode this instant, let this be my last memory, he thought. Her comfortable in this bed meant for one person, in his arms. Her fragrant hair, the smell of olives. Her heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“Kyung-soo, are you awake?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, her arm.

“What do you think?”

“I ...” He missed her question. He blames the supple, half- body pressed against him. “I think it might be a good idea.”

She sat up immediately, making his body groan from her absence. “That your whole team is really on to us? You think that’s a good idea?”

Ah. No. Maybe. Although he suspected they were rooting for them to become a couple since the first day, he wasn’t sure how their relationship would affect the team dynamic. Colleagues were allowed to develop non-platonic relationships with one another, weren’t they? It happens often in films, and what were films if not representations of real life? Would people treat them differently now that they were seeing each other? Would people feel uncomfortable to be around them? Would the effects be material or negligible? Would they get sacked upon discovery? He made a note to check the employment material. “I’m not sure,” he told her. “Probably not.”

That was enough to make her burrow into him again, her body trying to find the exact places she made warm. “I wonder if we’ll be allowed to go on vacation,” she said softly. “Just the two of us. No cameras, no press, no management, no wolves ... maybe a few wolves, just one really, from a safe distance, behind a fence. That would be really cool. I’ve never seen one in the flesh before.”

“You’re with a wolf now,” he told her, and he felt her body shake with giggles against his.

The sides of DO’s mouth curved upward to form a gentle smile. Everything about her had been making him incredibly, inexplicably happy lately—the other day when she wore a green dress instead of her usual blazer-pants combo and got teased by everyone, her steady supply of candy in her purse, her tasteless lip balm, the curve of her torso and her hip ... like the outline of a gentle wave on white sand, a cello. He was thankful he didn’t make a living out of playing cello. The mere memory of her curves and edges would be the death of that career.

They were almost never alone, what with cameras on the ready during the day at all times and his commitments, but sometimes he would sneak a pinch here and there, and she would gasp into her phone. “D.O.,” She never called him by his name in public. “Someone might see.” And he would indulge her with glinting eyes and a mischievous grin. A promise.

“What if we just ...” he began as he held her tighter to him, in case she decided to spring up again. “... told people?” No reaction. “Tao is obviously rooting for us. I don’t think people would mind as long as we don’t let the mushy bits get in the way of work. My brothers would probably be all right with us. And ...” The management issue. The irreversible-loss-of-privacy issue. He paused.

Her hand moved from circling his chest to his torso. He was slightly ticklish, which she thought she could use to her advantage in initiating one thing that could lead to another. “Mushy bits?” she said a notch above a whisper. “What would those mushy bits be, Do Kyung-soo?” The inquisitive voice, with just a hint of teasing.

She did eventually sit up but immediately settled back on him, her hand cushioning her chin as she looked at him with her girl face, her girl eyes, and her girl mouth. God, that mouth. “Oh, the standard mushy bits. Naughty texting, for example,” he said, propping his head up with his arm.

She smacked his chest playfully. “That was one time, because we were both curious. And you were so bad at it! I still can’t look at cucumbers with a straight face.”

“We should try that again.”

“Maybe with squash this time. Or roleplay. I’ll be Amanda Seyfried. You play ... unmarried Tablo.”

“Tablo?!”

Her glorious laugh pealed through every layer of himself.

There was also stealthily running his finger on the exposed part of her back when her shirt hitched up too high, sending her little gifts on the sly from the countries he visits, and keeping his eyes locked with hers when they would drink using one straw and handing it back to her visibly wet. DO felt his development as a gentleman and a risky romantic was progressing at an alarming rate.

He had always wished he could be a good boyfriend, or at the very least a satisfactory lover. They haven’t been too clear on terms and conditions, what with all the secrecy and access to ... intimate business. But D.O. felt that he didn’t need to broach this subject too deeply ... for now. He was thoroughly enjoying all the perks and privileges she allowed him. Even though at times he wanted their non-platonic friendship to ripen into a beautiful, public relationship, he didn’t want to upset the peace and surety of their arrangement now. At the end of the day, the inevitability of her consideration and affection gave him so much joy he often didn’t know what to do with himself.

She started to put her shirt back on, but he stopped her midway as he pulled her to his chest, their legs dangling off the bed. Their time together was almost up.

“Forgive me,” she whispered. He embraced her tighter. “But I wish things were different.”

This conversation had happened before, in different forms, in different times. One of the best things about her was that she understood their circumstances. She accepted the fact that he couldn’t afford to stop his career now. The expensive gifts he gave her were received and appreciated, but he knew they could never replace this—time together, moments spent touching each other, talking about their days while their knees rubbed against each other. She wished she didn’t have to share him with millions of people. He felt terrible.

“We’re still in this together, right?” He pleaded, not knowing what else to say that hasn’t been said before.

She gently disentangled herself from him, running the back of her fingers on his cheeks, and glided across the room towards her things. Wordlessly, she dressed herself, her face soft and sombre. She sat down on the desk and reached for pen and paper. “I’m not going to be around for a few days next week. I’m going to Malaysia with a couple of friends. Do you want anything? I’ll get you that chocolate you like.”

When he watched her, everything seemed to slow down. The tip of her pen waving in the air blurred, and each blink happened like a dream. He felt he could look at her for hours. “I want something ...” he said.

She stopped writing and looked at him.

You.

I know.

“Here’s my hostel information in KL and Genting. I leave on Sunday. I’ll be back on Friday.” She walked over to him, picking up his shirt on the way. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” he managed to say.

She was about to turn away when he caught her hand. Even her bare fingernails drove him crazy. The question of his ideal type was a test of self-control on the record. If he had the liberty to say the truth, everyone would know about her dislike for cosmetics, her great taste in literature, the anxiety she felt when she met new girls, how she was fearless when it came to food, and how important it was for her that young girls stay in school. He often rationalized that he was protecting her by keeping their relationship secret, but doubt in that logic would eventually reveal itself. Was he being selfish because he didn’t want to compromise his career? Was he being unfair to her? A girl like you deserves the world.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“I’ll find a way to watch your Band Camp appearance there.”

“Don’t talk to boys there.”

“I won’t. I’ll talk to men.”

I’m serious.

“Fine, I’ll tattoo a wolf on my forehead every day so they’ll stay away.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him. Their kisses before parting made him feel so blessed and so desperate. “As for that silly question earlier,” She straddled him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His warm hands ran the length of her as he pulled her closer. She shivered in pleasure. “Of course we are,” They fell back on the bed together. “Always, always, always.”

 

 

 

While she and D.O. were trying to amass and save as many memories of their time together to tide them over the days they would be apart, a faint light came to life inside her bag. It followed a steady rhythm. Then it stopped.

1 missed call.

Suho.