He was tall, skinny and languid. She was soft, expressive and unbeatable. His hands pressed down on either side of her and his dulled eyes pierced a sharp gaze into her soul. Her smooth palms cupped his cheeks as he swooped down to kiss her through the night. They kissed and kissed some more, wet lips brushing past, sweaty hands running clumsily down burning skin. Fumbling fingers undid her buttons and her own shivering palms pulled her skirt down to her knees. His shirt hung open as he ed his trousers and kicked them aside. He sank down on her, his heavy breath ghosting across her scorching skin as his mouth met hers again.

   And they spent the night, high on acid, drunk on alcohol, rocking gently on the centre of her bed.

   The mornings after are rarely ever as beautiful, dazed and euphoric as the night that precedes them. Yet she wakes up to a comforting embrace, and looks at a beautiful boy with his arms wound tightly around her. The sunlight streaming through her blinds paints a rosy picture of the tall skinny boy who is fast asleep beside her. She leans over and pecks him lightly on the lips before settling back to watch the steady rise and fall of his bare chest. He is unbelievably good-looking, she thinks, and he doesn't even know it.

   He blinks himself awake with a huge yawn, sits up and runs long fingers through his tousled hair. He takes in his surroundings and looks at the girl beside him with a lazy smile. A second later, the spell is broken and he gapes at his best friend, with sheets bunched up carefully around her and pale bare shoulders peeking out. "Oh," he mutters in realization, as she pulls the sheets around her and slides off the bed. "Good morning, Chanyeol!" She smiles back, a little too brightly, a little too fake, "I'm off to take a bath. Help yourself and make yourself at home just as you always do!" She grins, feeling sick to the stomach. And he forces himself to grin back at her terrible attempts at normalcy.

   She walks into the bathroom, locks the door behind her and lets the bunched up sheets fall to the floor. Her heart beats heavily in her chest and she knows that they will never speak of last night. It's an unspoken agreement. It has never happened. Never mind her tumultuous feelings for him or the simple truth that the previous night was euphoria. His blank look of dismay when realization had dawned on him has told her more than she likes to know. He regrets it. She revels in it. She is his best friend. And he is all hers in the confines of her mind. So she turns on the shower and stands beneath the gushing waters, making a silent oath to never speak of last night again.

   She is fully dressed and freshly showered the next time she looks at him languidly leaning over her kitchen platform in a rumpled t-shirt and pyjamas that hang low on his hips, sporting a spectacular bed head. "Nayeon," he whines, the second she enters the kitchen, "You're all out of tea! How can you be out of tea? Sacrilege!"

   Well at least he's recovered, she thinks as she sighs and points to a shelf. "There are more shelves than one, Yeol. Go look in that one."

   She grabs a bowl, pours in milk and stuffs a cookie into . From the corner of her eye, she watches Chanyeol extract a tea bag triumphantly from a container and she almost smiles. Stopping herself in time, she slumps down at the kitchen table with her bowl of cornflakes. He flops down at the table while later, hands gingerly clutching a steaming cup. "I hope you drop the tea all over yourself," she informs him sweetly as he takes his seat beside her.

   "Come now, Nayeon, don't be so rude so early in the day," he laughs, as he rubs his head against her shoulder. She fakes retching and moves away from him. "Go away, you filthy creature," she sticks her tongue out at him; "I'm all dressed and clean. Take your dirt somewhere else."

   He smiles and shakes his head, and all traces of last night which may have been imprinted in his heart fade away. He watches her, affectionately noticing the back of her slacks still damp from the shower and the little drops of water glistening on the tips of her hair. It is at times like this, when he looks at her clumsily spooning cereal into , with just the tiniest bit of milk running down her chin, that he thinks of how much she means to him. If someone had stuck a microphone under his nose just then and asked him to name the one person he would trade his life for, he would have uttered her name in a heartbeat. But, sleeping with her? That he could not fathom.

   And yet, it had happened. And if hazy memories were anything to go by, it had been beautiful. It had been a splash of vibrant colours against a pale white canvas. And that was exactly what Nayeon was, in Chanyeol's mind. She was a pale, white, unblemished canvas. She was pure and untouched. One day, it would've fallen upon an amazing man, a knight perhaps, one who was worthy of her, to spread out his paints and leave his mark. And at the moment, Chanyeol was meant to be in the sidelines, waving and cheering on. He was never meant to have played a part in the canvas of her life. He was never meant to leave a clumsy, bubbling drop of paint right at the centre.

   So he agreed as did she, as did the two of them in the hidden folds of their mind that they would never speak of this. And because they needed each other too much to go through that period of awkwardness that most people do, they would just put it behind themselves and move on forward.

   And he looks at her once more. She sits upright, striking and graceful against the backdrop of the golden rays. In the theatre of his mind, she looks up at him with piercing eyes and asks, "Do you regret last night?" And as the credits roll in the theatre of his mind, he moves forward, kisses her forehead and whispers, "Never."

   Hours pass by in that languid, slow drawl of a Sunday morning. Chanyeol rests his freshly showered head in softness of her lap as she leans back against the duvet and stares lazily at the blinking TV screen. Every now and then, she absent-mindedly grazes her fingers against his smooth cheeks and rubs soft circles into the curls of his hair. He hums contentedly against her palm in reply. He falls asleep with his head in her lap, with the rays of the sun kissing his face. She falls asleep with her head against a cushion, with her fingers intertwined between his locks.

   The clock clangs a harsh twelve and she awakens with a start. She makes a mental note to do something about its terrible wake up call, pushes Chanyeol off her lap with a rough shove, stands up and brushes her hands down the pleats of her skirt. Chanyeol sits groggily on the floor, palm rubbing his head, blinking up at her in sleepy surprise. "Wake up, sleepy head!" She sings out, "It's noon already, do you want something to eat?"

   "Yes, please," Chanyeol nods enthusiastically, his words curved slightly with the hint of sleep.

   "Well, too bad you're going to have to make your food yourself," she smiles down at him and stalks off into the kitchen. He stares after her receding figure and somewhere, in the confines of his mind, deep within where even he rarely explores, a single thought occurs to him: God, I love that girl.

   She leans against the kitchen counter, reaching up for ingredients that elude her finger tips. Her shirt rides up her waist and Chanyeol stands behind her, resting his chin gently on her soft hair as he retrieves the foodstuffs with arrogant ease. He holds a packet of cheese atop his head. She laughs and pouts and obligingly jumps up to reach it until he stretches higher, until she is pressed against him, soft lips kissing his pulsating neck, grasping fingers curling around his hands. Laughter fills the room until it doesn't; until it stops in a sudden realisation; until she steps away, clears and he misses her warmth against his chest.

   "So," he forces out brightly, "When are your parents coming back?"

   She deftly slices a piece of bread and answers, "Probably not for another week. I haven't really heard anything from them."

   "Okay, I'll just stay on here then!" Chanyeol grins.

   She shoots back a smile and shakes her head, "You really don't need to. I mean, I'm totally fine alone."

   "Yeah, I know," he nods.

   They both know he's going to spend the night anyway.

   "Let's go out somewhere!" He suggests enthusiastically, as they settle down at the table munching into cold sandwiches, "It'll be fun. We ought to make the most of today. Last year of high school begins tomorrow!" He stands up on his chair, bends forward and extends one graceful arm towards her with a flourish, "We're getting old and we need to have all the fun we can, so come on out with me today, Lee Nayeon. Let's go explore the world!"

   She laughs and takes his hand. Her palm rests atop his and he pulls her towards him, jumps down and spins around with Nayeon gathered up sloppily in his arms. "We're going on an adventure!" He yells as he rushes outside with her in tow. And if you've ever wondered what happiness looks like, picture two teenagers running on a grey pavement, one still sporting a spectacular bedhead, the other with long tangled black hair sweeping through the wind. Now picture them laughing, laughing as she points out he's still clad in his pajama pants and laughing as he sticks his tongue out at her. That, right there, is happiness. It is the happiness found in the smallest of things and it is the best kind of happiness there is.

   "Where are we going?" She calls out, the wind whipping back her hair as they run through dreary crowds and honking cars.

    "I don't know!" He calls back truthfully, "Just keep running!"

   And so they do. They keep running until they pant and huff, until sweat pours down their skin, until they feel exhilaration coursing through their veins. The asphalt beneath their feet melts into the soft pillow of sand and their long yards slow down into short steps. They come to a halt before the blue water of the sea and stand still, hand in hand, as the water gently laps against their feet. They move closer, closer, standing in a moving wave of knee deep waters before Nayeon grins a devilish smirk and pushes him down and Chanyeol's fast reflexes pull her down as well.

   Nayeon tries not to think about the drops of water running down his smooth jaw or the way her body fits so perfectly into his as she drops onto him. And if her hands curve around his torso tighter than she intended, if she feels the roaring passion and heady intoxication of his closeness, she puts it down to the waves crashing about them.

   After what seems like ages, their grips on each other loosen and they stand up, shivering in their wet clothes despite the afternoon sun. And as they lie on the sand, side by side, waiting for their clothes to dry up, Nayeon murmurs, "Tell me about yourself, Yeol." Chanyeol laughs out loud, rolls over and hoists himself up on his elbows to look straight into her soft eyes, "You've known me since we were about six. What could I possibly have to tell you?"

   "Isn't there anything you might have secretly hidden from your best friend?" She probes, shielding her eyes as much from the sunlight as from his intense gaze.

   "Nope, can't think of anything. You always ferret out all my secrets." Chanyeol replies thoughtfully, "Rather unfair actually since you hide yours so well. So tell me then, Nayeon, give me some confidential information about you."

   She drops down her hand from her forehead and peers into his eyes. "What if," she whispers, "What if, for just one hour, we pretended like we could do anything, anything at all with no consequences and no repercussions? What if for one hour, we pretended I could say anything I liked and we wouldn't speak of it ever again. Can we do that?"

   Her eyes blaze with a fire, he notices, as he whispers a breathless affirmation. So she wriggles towards him, until his face hovers directly above hers. She takes a deep breath and murmurs in the softest of voices, "I loved last night." He stares at her, unblinking, and asks a question in reply, "Can I say something fantastical in this one hour that we have?" And as she nods, he puts his mouth against her ear and says breathily, "I did too." His lips swoop down to capture hers in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. And for one hour, they kiss, cuddle and kiss some more. And when the hour is up or it might have been two or maybe more, they stand up, brush the sand off their sun-dried clothes and grin at each other. The sun has set and the stars twinkle against the black backdrop.

   "Race you home!" Chanyeol yells suddenly as he takes off in a laughing sprint. She curses and runs after him. They reach her house in a huffing, puffing, sweaty mess and tumble into the hallway. As she pulls off her shoes and watches him do the same, she reiterates, "You don't have to spend the night. I'm fine alone." And he nods in agreement.

   Come midnight, and he's curled around her in her small bed, as she rests her cheek against his chest. He knows she's fine alone, he really does. He has also known her since she was six and he knows she hates the sound of a barren room more than anything else in the world. Because sometimes it's not about whether she can brave the fears herself; he knows she can. It's about the simple fact that she doesn't need to. So his steady breathing lulls her to sleep and she doesn't think sleep-eluding thoughts of loneliness. And his warmth dispels the cold void left by the recurring absence of her parents.

   "Hey," he whispers sleepily into her hair, "Do you think Jinhee will finally notice me this year? It's my last year to score. Please go befriend her and tell her good stuff about me."

   Nayeon laughs, the sound muffled against his t-shirt as she kicks him lightly, "I'll do my best, idiot. But I'm not sure she'll approve of your weird doll collection."

   "Action figures!" Chanyeol mutters indignantly, "And if I never tell her, she'll never know."

   "Right, because lies is the best thing to base a relationship on." She rolls her eyes affectionately and calls out, "Good night, Yeol. We'll try and get you hooked up with Jinhee, don't you worry. You have a strong 0.7% chance of success."

   He raises one eyebrow and shoves her lightly, before grinning, "Good night, Nayeon."

   And if she presses a soft, muffled kiss to the thin material of his shirt, it is only because she's asleep and dreaming.

A/N: Props to you if you thought of Martin Freeman when Chanyeol said, "We're going on an adventure!"