LEENA POV

We’re heading east, that’s all I know. In his Lamborghini.

I asked him shouldn’t we be more cautious now that we’re outside. “You know, subtle.” I said as he drove through Seoul downtown. He had his attention fixed on the road ahead. “This’s subtle, it’s not over the speed limit. You should see how Jiyong drives his Ferrari.” I scoffed at his matter-of-fact tone. “You’re the second person to say Lambo is subtle.” He got curious. “Who’s the first one?” I smirk. “Christian Bale.” He puffed out a laugh. “Batman and Superman are buddies.” This three years old.

Shaking my head in amusement, I rested my elbow against the armrest and my chin against my fist, looking out the window and taking in the change of view from concrete monstrosities to mountains in distant.

Did you ever have this feeling? You’re not talking to each other, but you felt like you’re having a conversation. A silence conversation. None of us spoke and yet we felt comfortable with each other’s presence.

Then something hit me. “Seungri-ssi picked you up everyday, I thought you don’t drive.” His hands on the wheel tightened. “I seldom drive, but I do have a driving license.” I noticed the solemnness in his voice but I can’t quite put my finger on it. It fleeted away as he went on, “Not everyone gets to be my passenger. You should be proud of yourself.” “How about your members?” He chuckled. “They don’t let me drive. It’s too dangerous to let someone didn’t drive in years to go behind the wheel. Seungri made a mistake though.”

I raised a brow. “Hmm?” “On one of his birthdays, he made a wish to have me as his chauffeur for one whole day.” “How did you turn him down? He must be disappointed.” “Why would I? I’m a good Hyung. I granted his wish.” From his mischievous expression, I knew something must have gone wrong. “And?” “And he begged to be my lifetime chauffeur.” “That bad, huh?”

It was intended to , but I was the one who shrieked a second later. “Oh my god, you drove Clarence to hospital?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, and you’re welcome.” I facepalmed myself mentally. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask this before. Let’s forget about you driving him to school.” He reassured, “Don’t exaggerate. Yes I haven’t been driving for like…years, but his life hung by a thread. His blood just won’t stop and I freaked out, I didn’t think much and I just…grabbed my mom’s key and—” “Thank you.” I put a hand on his thigh and gave it a little squeeze to stop his rambling.

We exchanged glances and his shoulders finally slumped in relief before he turned his attention back on the road.

Another hour later and the sadness in his voice is still bugging me. Call it woman’s instinct, I’m sure there’s possibly a reason for him to take cabs or order Seungri around when he has a Lambo in his garage. I didn’t push because he seemed unprepared to open up the wound yet. Yes, a wound, that’s what I suspect.

“We’re here.” He announces as he turns off the car. I looked around through the window, unbuckling the seatbelt in a frown. “A jetty? It’s almost winter now and you bring me to a jetty? Now I think making kimchi is a better idea.”

Much to my surprise, he doesn’t retort. “Be patient, will you? Now follow me.” We step out of the car and he reaches his hand out, which I hesitantly clasp with mine.

What a good way to spend my weekend. I’m on a boat, shivering as the chilly wind cuts through my frieze coat. I pull the collar around my neck, trying to bury my head in it. Suddenly I feel warmth spread through my back, his arms are wrapped around my waist and his chin is on my shoulder. Now my heart feel warm as well.

I turn my head to have a better look at him only to be startled at the close proximity that I didn’t give much thought a second before. I freeze, not because of the bone biting wind, but the dark orbs that are looking right back at me. The next thing I know is his lips brushing against mine. I’m now grateful for two things. The beanie covering my head to save my long hair from flying around my head like an escaped patient from asylum. And the high speed boat and deafening wind roaring in my ears, because I swear I’d moaned a little at the kiss, and I wouldn’t want him to know that.

It’s not the first time we kiss, but everytime feels like the first time. I’d always be nervous, my heart would always go wild.

I lost count of the time we took to get to the island. Let’s just say my eyes were busy on something else. Okay, okay, someone else.

I gasp in awe as a villa is unfolded before my eyes. It’s even bigger than my house and his back in Seoul combine together. The colonial design amplifies its dignity. “Don’t tell me it’s yours.” I say when he walks towards me after whispering something with the skipper ahjussi and he drove away.

He snickers. “No, not yet. It belongs to a friend of mine. I borrowed it.” I nod in comprehension. “C’mon, let me show you around.” He takes my hand in his and we walk up to the villa following the wooden trail.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the villa as we make our way towards it. Other than the front which is facing the sea, it’s surrounded by trees. Whoever its owner is, he/she is exceptionally rich and definitely a nature lover. I mean, who would spend stacks of cash for a house on an isolated island if you’re not fond of nature?

He punches in the security code and pushes open the door. “After you.” I chuckle at his butler roleplay and step into the house. If I’m stunned by the exterior of this villa, its interior completely astonishes me. “It looks like something you’d see from a magazine, or a drama in which the absurdly rich guy lives in.” My eyes go wide at the words slipped from his mouth. “They shot a drama in here. But I could be wrong, it was some time ago.”

I try to hide the gasp slipped my mouth but it doesn’t seem to go unnoticed from the playful smile plastered on his face. Using my elbow, I nudge his waist, “Show me around, Mr. Butler,” and both of us take a tour around the house, giggling.

I stop in our tracks as the floor-to-ceiling glass window at the far end of the living room has my attention. At close inspection, it turns out to be the sliding panel leading to the balcony. My jaw drops when he clicks and slide the window open, a gust of salty wind rushing in.

Half-hypnotized by the panoramic view, I step outside to the balcony. He follows suit. This time I don’t bother to hide my admiration. “Your friend’s got some tastes.” His hands snake around my waist from behind, his chin rests on my shoulder. “In fact, it was my idea,” he snickers.

I roll my eyes silently, hands reach up to his which wrapping me tightly against his chest. I tilt my head backwards to rest on his broad chest, eyes flutter closed—by the gentle wind blowing against my face, or the calming tranquillity radiated from the man behind me—I can’t tell.

This place reminds me of Moreton Island, and the days we’d spent together. We both sigh in unison. Raising a brow, I my head to look at him. Defensively, he says, “What? It feels so much alike with Moreton, I miss those days.” Three years old. Can’t he tell I’m not mocking him?

Smiling, I turn my body a little so that I can wrap him in my arms. I nuzzle into his chest with my cheek. “That’s what I was thinking too, pabo.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head and hugs me back just as tightly.

It’s the comfortable intimacy we share every now and then, purely out of instinct, what both of us still get blushed at but willing to get closer to each other, that tells me he’s the one.

The weighty thought frightened my at first, but I’ve succumbed to it long ago. I’m tired of running away, tired of putting a shield between us only to be broken down by him, with just a smile, or a sentence, a word, or his mere presence. He feels so…right.

When I’m amazed by the same mind we share that’s almost telepathic, a deep rumble resounds from the area just under his chest, and he stiffens. I raise my head to look at him and meet with his awkward smile. “I guess it’s a sign for lunch.” I bury my head in his chest again and groan, “What a way to kill the mood.”

“He never fails to surprise me” is the conclusion I come into when I realise he had come over the day before to make sure the house has everything we might need to use in the time we’re going to stay here. And that includes food and ingredients. That’s brilliant, I must say, but only if I don’t have to cook.

He volunteered to cook, but I snatched the frying pan from him when he successfully burn the steak into a piece of charcoal within the few minutes I walked away to take a shower. I kicked him out to set the table. The moment I’d taken the apron off of him and put it on myself, I’d taken control of the kitchen as well.

I highly doubt that it could be his intention all along. But I’d let it slip even if it were true, I won’t tell him this though. I enjoy cooking, it gives me satisfaction when the people I love enjoy the food I cook for them. The big grin on his face now tells it all.

“You’re doing the dishes.” I . “Yes, Mad’m,” he replies with big chunk of meat stuffed in his mouth, the grin on his face never ceases.

It’s a lazy late afternoon after the lunch. I plop myself on the long grey wool couch in the living room, eyes staring out the full height tampered window over the back of the couch. I could stay in this position for one whole day, it makes my heart at peace.

I sense his presence and shift my gaze from the captivating sea view to the man walking towards me, a bottle of wine in a hand, two wine glasses in another. Oh, not to forget the warming smile on his face. “After-meal wine?” He raises the wine bottle in his hand. A smile cracks across my face.

“So, you never told me, what makes you bring me here?” I’ve been keeping this question for a while. “Hmm… I like it here, and I guess you’d like it too,” he says amid opening the bottle and let it breathe. My brows knit a frown, instinct tells me there’s more than that. After a moment of silence, he adds, “Okay, I can’t really hide from you anyway,” he settles beside me, a hand drape over my shoulder on the back of the couch, “We’ve been together for more than a month now, but we didn’t have much chances to spend time together. Yes we’d always had dinner together, but I want to do more for you.”

Despite the warmth spread like fireworks in my heart, I decide to . “Ah… You’re doing this out of guilt?” He’s clearly taken aback by my accusation as he jumps, flailing both hands in the air. “Of course not! Yes, I wish I could have spent more time with you and Clarence. But this, I’m doing this for the woman I love.”

It’s me who is taken aback now. The love confession he just spoke—he probably has no idea that he just declare a love confession—sends an electric current down my spine, immobilising me for a minute or two. When my consciousness comes back, his dark orbs are still looking at me, as if pleading for trust. I hold his hand in mine, brushing the prominent knuckles as he hold my hand back tightly. “You should know better when I’m being serious or it’s just a joke.”

He heaves a sigh, pulling me onto his chest. “I guess I’m just too scared of losing you.” I nuzzle deeper, breathing in his intoxicating scent. “You’re not losing me.”

Few glasses of wine later, gone the tensed atmosphere and he’s now cracking jokes and mumbling something about how Seungri used to drunkcall him in the middle of the night telling him about the girls that dumped him. I lay against his chest, listening attentively to his stories, the stories I didn’t have the chance to be a part of.

Then he suddenly straightens his body, jerking me a little. Confusedly, I raise my head and shoot him a puzzled stare. “It’s not fair.” Now I’m more confused. “What is?” “This whole sharing thing. I’m the only one talking. Soon later you’d know everything about me and I know nothing about you. You can sell my secrets to the paparazzi and yet I’ve nothing to hold against you.”

I’m amused by the way his stony brain functions. I pull away to have a clearer look at him, cupping his cheeks with my hands. “Because my life’s boring, that’s why. Now, my boyfriend, what do you want to know about me?” “You make it sound like I’m forcing you.” He pouts, his alcohol-reddened cheeks are more pronounced now.

Sometimes I’d feel like I’m babysitting a child, and now is one of the babysitting moments. “What do you suggest then?” I ask softly. He seems to be in deep thought, then his eyes light up. “A five questions session. You can ask me five questions and so can I.” “Anything?” “Anything.”

“My lady, you first.” He sits back and downs the red liquid in his glass. To be honest, I’ve a question that I’ve been dying to ask but I never got the guts to do so. But we’ve five questions, the big question can wait. So I decide to start with something light. “Who’s the owner of this house?” Or maybe too light.

He bursts out laughing and looks at me unbelievingly. “You’ve five questions and you decide to ask this? Really?” I get defensive. “What? I can ask anything. Maybe I’ll ask what colour of boxers you’ve under that pants later.” I stick out my tongue, making a face. He squints his eyes and comes nearer, smirking. “First of all, how do you know it’s boxers and not briefs?”

Turning my face away, I bite down on my lips so hard to hide my embarrassment. The burning sensation on my face tells me I’m no different with a ripened tomato. He pulls me back onto his chest, his laughter doesn’t seem to cease though. “Okay, I’ll let you off for now, we shall have a serious discussion over what’s under my pants later. But I’ll answer your question first. It belongs to John Lee, the director of one of the movies I got casted in. we became friends since then.”

Burying my face deep in his chest, I simply muffled with a word, “Okay.” It’s still too embarrassing to look at him in the eyes. He rocks me a little with his arms, his persistent laughter lingering in the room as I bury myself deeper and deeper in him. “It’s my turn now. Hmm… How did you know?”

Is that qualified as a question? Instinctively I lift my head to give him a perplexed look. And there comes the smirk again. “Boxers or briefs. How did you know?” I answer with punches against his muscular chest. “Yah! You said we’ll discuss about that later, not now!”

His grins get widened, if that’s even possible. “So you do want to have that discussion?” “Oh Jesus.” I swear I’ve just rolled my eyes a full circle, or maybe two.  He huddles closer. “Come on, I’m really curious.” If I could reach a wall now, I’d be hitting my head against it in no doubt. A word slipped from my stupid mouth and here I am. Knowing that I can’t get away from this, I might as well just come clean.

“Alright, alright, listen here, jerk. Remember the nights you used to…sleepover?” He nods and I continue, “I caught a glance when you were changing after shower in one of the mornings.” “One?” “Okay more than one, but that’s not very frequent, really.” It doesn’t take a genius to know I’m desperately saving my depleting dignity. And I fail miserably.

Since the big cat is already out of the bag, I don’t mind letting the kitten out as well. There’s no way it can be more embarrassing. “Plus…” His straightened body tells me he’s all ears. “The day on Moreton, I was picking up the clothes you scattered all over the floor. I might or might not have peeked at your suitcase. But it’s opened, so that didn’t count right?”

When I stop looking down at my fingers which fidgeting nervously and raise my head to get a glimpse at his reaction, he plants a soft kiss on my forehead. “Had anybody told you before? You look cute when you’re nervous.” Hesitantly, I answer, “No… But that line sounds really familiar.”

“Next question,” desirous to change the subject, I decide to bring up the big gun, or the gun I think should be big enough to shut his stupid grins. “How many ex-girlfriends?”

He’s startled, for a moment I’m relieved for the grin on his face finally disappears but that’s the longest I have. The grin climbs back on his handsome face. “Now, that’s the question I’m expecting.” I grimace.

“Two,” he pauses for a second. “One in high school, the last was about six years ago.” I could sense the change in atmosphere, the thought of dropping this flickers across my mind but I decide not to. This is a topic that should be brought up sooner or later, given we’re in a relationship now and we both are taking it seriously, it might as well be now.

“And?”

He looks puzzled as he repeats my question, “And?” “Tell me about them.” He an eyebrow. “Are you asking this out of jealousy?” I clear my throat. “I’m asking this out of curiosity.” Well, it doesn’t come out as convincing as I intend it to be.

He hugs me closer and brushes his cheek against the top of my head. “My first love was… It happened so long ago, everything’s blurry to me now. We’re still friends though.” I nod and wait for him to continue but he stops. Fail to hide the killing curiosity inside of me, I tighten my arms around him and ask, “What about the second girlfriend?” I hold my breath, praying in my heart that he won’t give excuses to avoid answering the question.

I frown as I sense his heart beat crazily in his chest. It was one-eighty to how he had reacted when he talked about his first love. For some reasons, I feel threatened.

He inhales deeply. “The song you asked me about, it’s for her. It’s a peaceful breakup, we didn’t shout at each other. Now that I think of it, she might as well just slap me, or blame me for abandoning her. But she didn’t. She’s so comprehensive, so understanding, even at our last meeting. Our last meeting was…quiet, awfully quiet.”

Every word he told me back in Moreton Island was carved in my head, but his painful expression was the most unforgettable. He’s resting his chin on the top of my head but without looking at him I can tell it won’t have much differences. Six years and he’s still suffering, what are few months capable of to heal his wound?

“You can’t contact her since then?” I ask gingerly. “It’s been almost half a year the first time I tried to contact her. I figured I can’t let her go. But as I’d told you, I tried everything, I called her but the number was not in service anymore. I went to her company to be informed she’d resigned months ago, I went to her house, asked almost everyone in the neighbourhood, they either told me she’d moved away or they didn’t even know her. She’d just vanished.”

I can tell he’s smiling bitterly as he huffs, “I guess she just didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.”

The ache my heart is feeling right now is complicated. I don’t intend to try picking out whether it is jealousy over his love for the girl, or his remorse for letting the girl he loved so dearly go, or frustration at the burden he’s carrying that I can never share no matter how much I want to, as I know it’s the blend of all those emotions.

Then I realise a fact. I can never replace her in his heart. I laugh at myself internally, why would I want to replace her? She’s probably the reason of him being him, the man I fall deeper by seconds. She’s his past tense and me, me and him, we’re in the present and future.

As I’m immersed in my own train of thoughts, he pulls away and plant a kiss on my nose, snapping me back to reality and as I do so, his smiling face is inches away from me. I notice his bloodshot eyes instantly, but there’s no tears on his face. “But it’s all in the past. I’ve you now, that’s all that matters.”

His words hit me hard, much harder than the all the mixed up emotions I had just moments ago. I’m supposed to console him, whisper words into his ear to calm him, to let him know that everything is all right now, because I’m here with him. Instead I was stupefied and he’s doing the two things I should have done. Smile. And tell him it’s all in the past and I’m with him now.

We lock gaze and the time seems frozen. Then I throw myself at him and wrap his broad shoulders with my arms. We stay in silence and let the embrace do the talking. We're having a conversation with neither of us speaking. 

When I think I might have smothered him, he whispers with his husky voice, “How many ex-boyfriends?”

I pull away and send him a glare. “Seriously? Now?” He shoots back matter-of-factly, smiling faintly. “What? You’d asked me a question, so it’s my turn. Fair game.” I can see myself practically shrink into bean size in front of him. Ex-boyfriend. Choi Seunghyun, do you know that I’ve to break up with you first to have one?  

No. No way. He’ll laugh his off as soon as he finds out I’ve none. That “boxers or briefs” question seems to more appealing now. “But that’s my question. You can’t copy mine!” I try to haggle. “It’s not in the rule book that we can’t ask the same question.” Ironically, everything seems to fall back in place when we start arguing. It actually calms me, at least he’s not drowning himself in agony.

“Well, check the rule book.”

He looks at me in disbelief and surrenders. “Okay, let me rephrase. Tell me about Clarence’s father.” My eyes go wide. I’ve to admit that this question is the last I’ll be expecting from him. Can’t we just talk about his boxers or briefs?

The rational voice in my head tells me it’s time to disclose the truth to him. If his past is something I should know, the true identity of Clarence is something he must know. I’ve never dated before, yes there were guys who approached me but they ran away the moment I told them I’ve a son. Not that I’d blame them. Who would be willing to raise another man’s son, let alone treating him like his own? The man before me does. It hurts me even more now that I still owe him the truth.

Telling him about Clarence’s father means I’ve to unlatch the tragic past of her as well. That, is something I can’t bring myself to do just yet. It has been buried for too long, too deeply, and it gets harder to unearth it as time passes.

I stretch my arms and open my mouth to fake a yawn. “I must have drunk too much, my head is heavy. I’ll go lie down for a bit, wake me up when it’s dinner.”

He mumbles something about “You barely touch your glass,” when I retrieve myself from his arms. I climb the stairs and enter the first bedroom I come across, closing the door behind me, I exhale the breath I’ve been holding since I walked away from him.

I’m not playing a fair game.