‘How long will you love me?’

‘I’m hungry.’ His voice is soft in the darkness; words like velvet run supple as his hands on her skin as he pressed the back of his hand to her cheek, his eyes clouded with sleep.

‘Baozi~’ She chided, nestling her head under his chin, forehead to jawline, nose to neck. He chuckled. He shushed her gently in the darkness, but his lips barely forced the sound. His skin tasted sweet. One hand on his chest, one in his tousled thick hair. She could feel his heart beat as it pulsed slowly and carefully. Hers seemed so nervous, so birdlike, in comparison. The gentle murmurs of their bodies pressed together in the darkness shooting momentary shivers down her bare spine.  He soothed her, just by lying there with her, pretending that this moment would never end. She was only a little disappointed that he didn’t answer her.

In truth, she knew exactly how long they had left together and this was exactly how long he would love her for. Her alarm, so loud and obnoxious, would scream from the cabinet next to the bed. She’d shower and get ready, when she finished he’d be gone. Again.  He’d be on the road, along with eleven other members and an entourage to make them prettier and more popular and just better. A note would be pinned to her bedroom door, or her coffee table, a love letter written quickly in Korean and left for her to add to her sickening collection. To her, he never needed making any better. He was so very, very perfect. Supple, pale skin without lines and creases and blemishes that fit close to his small, compact body. He wasn’t as pale as she was and their skin threw delicate contrast as they lay intertwined in a mass of bed sheets and pillows. Feline eyes lined with sleep, round and pulled up gently in the corners hid behind his thick dark lashes. Every time his lids flickered, they cast waves of shadows across his high angular cheekbones, down to the fine point of his chin, shadowing his perfect cupids bow.

She stared at him for a few seconds and just admired how perfect he was. So perfectly imperfect.

‘What’s wrong?’ He murmured, his eyes were aware of so much but they feigned ignorance behind his sleepy gaze. She didn’t answer, pulling back and turning her cheek away from him.

‘Will you write me?’ Her words deadpan. Hope would normally fill her voice, she’d be met with false promises and caring lies and she’d just believe them. Like a fool, she’d believe them. This was the fifth time he’d turned up on her doorstop, bringing the scent of mango and cinnamon and aftershave that was so bittersweet it painted her apartment for weeks. Colours so bright in the chocolate of his eyes or the lilt of his voice when he was amused or embarrassed, words so rose tinted they turned everything pink for a short while. Each time he’d promise her he’d write her, call her, text her. Anything.

‘Of course.’ His words were alive, filled with his usual levels of insurmountable emotion. He always seemed so honest, so sincere in his affections.

She knew why she was here, and that was to keep him warm when he was in a place he didn’t want to be. That place was sign-posted due south of boredom and little east of needing something, or someone, different. Living in Seoul had made its mark on her, branded her with its evocative city lights and charming, illusive lifestyle. She was property of him, and she’d been so happy with it. She stayed so she could hope that once every few months he’d turn up on her doorstep out of nowhere, carrying a crate a beer and a burdened smile. He knew, she knew, no one else needed to. Talented teachers who spoke a few languages could make good money if they didn’t cause trouble. Scandals were a pound a penny and nobody would ever prove that he’d ever been here for reasons that were unsavoury. He was her student. She taught him English. Why wouldn’t he come see her? It’s not like they’d ever had . It started with soft kisses, that turned passionate and burned her lips and her skin, but never went any further.

In retrospect, she had to entertain the idea that he was there because it was just inconvenient for him. She was the hard option and every guy loved a challenge. The pretty western girl with the smooth voice and the linguistic talent, hired to teach small groups of people advanced languages, she lived in Seoul for six years, spoke Korean fluently, adapted herself to every situation she’d ever faced. Rare and exotic, a breed of Celtic heritage, pale and milky skin decorated with a smattering of freckles. Her wide blue eyes seemed to capture the light from the window in the darkness under her thick dark lashes as her hair fell loose around her shoulders and down her back. She was so different, but she was not special. He didn’t love her. She was the wild card, whose smile was surprisingly cute, whose eyes were daring and bold, whose body curved elegantly larger than any female idols had the permission to. She was pure, unadulterated danger. That was why he came back. It was inconvenient, and it was dangerous.

The alarm blared obnoxiously filling the room with excess sound and light. She rolled away from him; he never uttered a word as he stood up and picked his shirt up from the floor. Silence filled the room as he dressed; she wrapped herself up in the bed sheet, hiding the body  clothed in loose pyjamas just hours before he had ignored again. He held her, he kissed her, touched every inch of her skin. But it never went any further. His eyes, so angular and innocent, caught hers. They smile in the way that only his eyes could, soft and supple and so full of secrets. A sickening lurch of butterflies attacked her stomach.

‘I’ll make you a coffee before I go.’ She stared at him, his words were calm, but he chewed his lip anxiously. No amount of patience would force her to ask him what was wrong, she felt sick. Sick of being used and sick of being thrown away. This was his goodbye. She nodded once, her thank you for the coffee, and locked herself in the bathroom.

She spent too long in the shower, the heat burnt her skin and made her body feel raw, beaten from fatigue and stress. She finished getting ready, not knowing what to expect when she left her bathroom. The double bed was neatly made, no trace of his existence could be found anywhere in her bedroom, apart from the warm lingering smell of mango and cinnamon and aftershave dancing through the air. With an audible sigh she left her bedroom and headed for the kitchen, expecting the note and a cup of excellently made coffee.

The coffee was still hot, he’d inly just left, the note rested on the brim of the cup. Normally, his notes were quick, rushed affairs. Written on the back of an envelope or a notebook page and left for her to locate in a ridiculous game of hide and seek. This one was different. Written on lined paper in pale blue ink the letters were smooth and considered, time was taken with this note. She flipped the paper around in her hands a few times before deciding it was time to face her fears.

                I’ve gone to the dorms, if you need me call, I’ll always answer. Just remember.

                                                M 

The single letter ‘M’ was how he signed all his notes to her, he never put his name in case anyone found it, or maybe he just felt cooler signing his notes off with a single letter in English. She taught him that, the tradition of signing your love letters off with the initial of your name. He’d been amazed at the way the words flowed so easily from her pen, first in Korean and then in English, as she showed him how you did it. He’d stared at her hands as she laced letters together, been so pleased when she read the words out loud. That was the first time he said she had a beautiful voice. The first time she ever spoke English around him. Tears welled in her eyes and she coughed involuntarily, swallowing some of her surprise, she hadn’t realised how sad things like that made her.

This was the fifth note like his, the fifth time he’d promised to come back and failed to make an appearance in the last year. At first she blamed on the schedule, the busy life and the demanding needs of working. But now, she blamed herself. He was never going to come back, the sooner she let go of him, the sooner he could find someone else to play with.