The rest of the night passes in a blur and when Soojung finally ends up at home by means of Jinri’s chauffeur, she is disappointed – but she’s been expecting this – by Jongin’s noticeable absence. As she passes his room – barefoot and taking light footsteps so as to minimise evidence of her lingering presence, she sees that the room is dark. She sighs, physically tired but also whirling inwardly. She can’t help continuing the process of replaying their encounter in the middle of the dance floor, her arms around his neck, and his arms around her body, holding her close. If only she could linger in that moment on and on.

But of course she can’t. Soojung knows this – painfully aware of it right from the beginning. And really, it is so remarkable that she had lulled herself into a relative paradise, entertaining the idea of having friends who wouldn’t disappear from her side in a split second. It’s nice, this version of Soojung’s life, but it probably can’t last.

She thinks it over, that look in Jongin’s face that day over the dinner table. Barely out of school, and already shouldering the burden of becoming somebody he can barely imagine. He doesn’t even know who he is yet, just like everybody else their age. It’s a shame, she thinks, as she pulls the bedsheets up to her chin – she hasn’t bothered to shower and change, she’s too tired (too heartbroken – this is her excuse for all her bad days).

Her thoughts don’t get very far, before she sinks into a dreamless sleep, and wakes up to the sound of quiet footsteps coming through her bedroom door. It’s Chorong, setting down a tray of fruit and some juice and water. Soojung peers through the gap between her eyelids as she continues to feign sleep, and silently thanks Chorong for looking after her. She waits until the other girl leaves the room, before Soojung sits up, blankets still pulled around her, knees tucked under her chin. She stays there, thinking about how on earth she’s meant to approach Jongin now.

Dread translates into reality when Chorong knocks on the door again, and insists on getting Soojung dressed and to get some food into her system. The girl, sympathetic to Soojung’s plight while respecting her privacy, then shows her to a secluded part of the Kim residence. Natural light filters through the glass ceiling, and the air surrounding the indoor garden is fresh. Soojung also thinks it smells like wealth. She stays there for a majority of the day, interchanging between reading, and some idle schoolwork (but the year is ending soon, and the question of her graduation looks grim), before she finally gives in and decides it’s time to find her way back to her room and not reappear in broad daylight for some time. She retraces her route back towards her room, and god forbid should she pass Jongin.

Fate is surprisingly inconvenient at times, because there he is, looking directly at her from his position at a wide window, lounging underneath the afternoon sunlight. Soojung stops for a moment, and there they are, looking at one another, only metres of empty space to separate them from last night’s events. “Hi,” she manages first, and she edges into the sitting room, uncertain of where she should sit, or stand, or maybe she should leave.

There’s a pregnant pause. “Hi. I’m sorry about what happened.” He’s turned to face her directly, and his hand is on the space on the couch beside him, offering her a seat.

She sits. The distance between them has decreased dramatically. “Are you sorry about feeling that way? Or what you did?” Because there is a distinct difference, she feels. She wouldn’t be able to forgive him if it was the former option.

“No.” Their fingertips are on the brink of touching. “I’m sorry for acting that way. It wasn’t considerate of me. I should have at least made sure you got home safely –”

“I’m not a glass doll. I’m not interested in your good etiquette.” Soojung knows she’s probably pushing some buttons there, but she doesn’t care. This is unfair to her. Why did it have to happen this way?

He averts his gaze for a moment. “Okay, fine. I’m making excuses.” He sighs, before inhaling, and exhaling again. “I just don’t know how to do this right by you.”

Soojung can see it, this invisible burden that bears down on his shoulders. And they both understand why – Soojung will not always be in this world. She is sitting with him, in this mansion, but only for a little while. Jongin has a life ahead of him, planned down to the colour of his suit and the selection of his cufflinks. He can’t abandon it that easily. And she can only imagine the outcry that would break out if the general public caught wind of the handsome and well-to-do Kim Materials heir being romantically involved with the pitiful and lowly teenage delinquent. She knows it’s like asking for a death sentence, knowing how powerful (and petty) his parents are, not that she’s a fan of them anyway. But it doesn’t stop her from wanting it.

They stay like this, side by side on the couch, underneath the golden glow of the afternoon sun. Silent for a while longer. “You still feel the same though.” She wants to make sure.

Something flickers in his eyes. “Yes. The same.”

And Soojung knows that this is all that he can manage right now. It wouldn’t be fair to her if he offered her false promises. So Soojung accepts the part of his heart that he has given her, on this quiet Sunday evening, and she holds it close. She may never get close to anything like it again. “Thank you,” she musters up a smile, a little fractured, on the edges, but it is still a genuine smile. “That’s enough for me.”

Jongin likes that smile. He’s grown fond of it, surprisingly quickly. He finds himself smiling too, wishing that he could have Soojung’s company beyond this finite forever. He finds himself thinking about all the possibilities if they were different people, living more similar lives, and he likes how their fingers entwine and fit together. In fact, it feels so natural, Jongin barely notices how they turned out like this, holding hands in a sitting room, closed off from the critical gazes outside. “I like this. I like being like this.”

She smiles, looking down a bit, embarrassed, but clearly happy. She glows. “I do too.” She dares to shuffle closer, so that the texture of his shirt is against her exposed arm, and she lets him slide an arm over his shoulders – and she is quietly surprised too, that Jongin would initiate more physical contact. Simultaneously, Soojung is deeply embarrassed and flustered for suddenly thinking like a conservative, middle-aged woman. This is normal, when two people like each other – except it’s Jongin, and this is special.

“Soojung.”

Her head is resting on his shoulder now, and she can feel the movements of his breathing, and now even when he is whispering, she can hear him clearly. Like he is sharing secrets with her, and only she will ever be privy to them. “Yeah?” she murmurs.

“We shouldn’t do this.” Yet he doesn’t move. Not a muscle quivers. His arm stays around her, and Soojung’s head stays at the crook of his neck.

“I know.” She is amused by this though, “you’re not doing anything about it.”

“I know.” He pauses. “I’d like to stay like this longer.” It feels so good to be honest.

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t respond. In fact, when he does speak again, it’s as though he hasn’t even heard her question, brushed it under the carpet so he doesn’t need to face his life beyond the now. “Let’s go to my room. Housekeeping might come around.”

They interchange between holding hands, and Jongin pulling her closer to him by the waist, before Soojung pushes him away and scolds him, and calls him reckless. But she does want to do all of that, hold his hand, feel his arm around her waist. She wants it, but surely they know better.

Responsibility and good judgement is less of an issue once the door is closed, though. Jongin sits on his bed first, guiding Soojung to stand before him as they hold hands. He looks up at her, this girl that his parents picked off the street. Her long hair, her lovely eyes, her smile is so utterly enchanting. Jongin finds himself sighing as he takes the sight before him in, she is so beautiful, and she is his – no she’s not. He blinks as he cuts himself off, feeling the few minutes of paradise he had wrapped himself in disappear.

It all falls apart. Light comes rushing in again. “Soojung.”

“Hm?” She hasn’t quite noticed yet, the reason why he’s facial expression is frozen, eyes a bit darker.

“Maybe you should go.”

“Hey, it’s okay –”

“I can’t do this – what if I can’t control myself, and somebody finds out, we can’t –” all of this is just falling out, all his fears and doubts –

She sits beside him and pulls him into a hug. She is small, frail, but still she holds him close and firm. “It’s okay.”

“No –”

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything. We can just be … together. For now. Baby steps.”

Jongin manages a grimace. “Don’t patronise me.”

Soojung pokes her tongue out at him, “I can do whatever I like –”

He attacks the sensitive spot beneath her ribs with dextrous fingers, reducing her to a giggling fit on his sheets as he tickles her into submission. “Oh really now?” He’s laughing too, along with her, and this is good, it is innocent fun, but intimate too.

“Okay, okay! I give in! I won’t patronise you, baby Jongin –”

He pulls her into a hug, then, now both of them lying on the sheets. The laughing dissolves into silence, and deep breathing. “What did you call me?” he whispers to her, her eyes only centimetres from his, lips dying to close the distance. Jongin can hear his heartbeat, and he imagines Soojung feels the same. He’s smiling now, almost his characteristic smirk, “So what did you call me?”

Soojung ignores his childish question now. “I like this.”

“I like it too.” Smirking now, definitely, but a good-natured kind. Soojung likes it.

“It’s weird though, we barely know each other.”

“I think we can start getting to know each other.”

They laugh, because it’s happening right this moment. Soojung loves this moment, being so close to Jongin, being in his embrace, being close to him. They lie there, holding one another for a few more minutes, just enjoying this little piece of heaven. “Jongin?”

“Mm?”

“I wish we could have this more.”

And it all comes flooding back again. Jongin sighs as he lets go of Soojung, and just lets her lie beside him while his arm rests below her neck. Another perfect fit. “If only.”

“Hey,” she swallows, realising that his inner conflict is getting the better of him, “it’s alright. We’ll take what we can get. This is enough for now.”

For now. They are such an ominous pair of words.

||+||+||+||

It’s midnight and Jongin is still sitting on his bed, dressed in his pajamas, staring at the wall. He’s still thinking, baffled as to why, out of a million other girls it could’ve been, why it’s her who makes his heart beat like this, why it has to be now of all times, why it has to be him. She’s right, he realizes, about how little they know about each other, but the connection is undeniably there. He’s afraid of what might happen if they open up more to each other, scared that by then he’d be too late to save himself.

A timid knock resounds on his bedroom door. “Jongin?” He looks up. “Can we talk?”

When he doesn’t say anything, she wordlessly walks across the room, settling next to