LEENA POV

I sat on the floor with my back against the door, hands wrapped around knees, head buried in my lap, and I didn’t change my position ever since. The sunlight lit room turned golden, shadows gathering in the room. Soon after that it turned completely dark, so did my heart.

Then I hear a soft knock on the door, someone tries to turn the knob. It’s locked. A lengthy silence lingers in the air. I can almost picture him tramping along the hallway whether to knock harder, or just let me have my own space. He knows. I know he knows. He knows there’s something I’m not prepared to share with him yet and I’m grateful he didn’t push.

He knocks again, harder this time. “Leena, dinner will be ready in ten, wash yourself and join me in the kitchen, ok?” I hold my breath. Should I answer him? “O…Okay, I’ll be there in ten.” My voice comes out croaked and hoarse.

Silence.

I jerk. What did he just say? Dinner??!! No no no…

I run into the attached bathroom, splash some water onto my face to get rid of the tear stains and stumble down the stairs, almost bumping into him at the doorway to kitchen.

His surprised look is replaced by a smile cracking across his face when he looks down at me. I’m nervously peeking at the stove over his shoulder. He grins. “The kitchen is still intact, for now.”

That’s when I notice the two big bowls sitting on the kitchen table. Ramyeon. I sigh in relief. Who can burn a kitchen by cooking ramyeon? “I tried to make spaghetti, but I figured ramyeon is a better choice if I didn’t want to burn this house down. They’re all noodles, so who cares?” He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. I pat his shoulder and give him a maternal smile. “Good choice, Seunghyun-ssi,” I nod my head several times before making my own way to the table. 

The dinner is almost perfect. He may at steaks, but ramyeon? I suspect he has a secret recipe or something because it’s really good. I mean, yes how can ramyeon go wrong, but still, it’s exceptionally good. The bottle of wine goes very well with it too, which is weird but who says we can’t have wine with ramyeon?

The only imperfection on this night is the guilt hovering over my heart. I smile and laugh at his lame jokes, most of the time sincerely, but the talk we had this afternoon keeps drilling into my skull, and that’s the few seconds the smile on my face doesn’t reach my heart. He seems to have noticed it, but he pretends he doesn’t.

“Can I uh…sleep with you tonight?” He touches my wrist and holds it gently when I’m about to take the stairs. I believe I’ve just smirked at how nervous my boyfriend sounds. “Did you do all the dishes?” He answers almost instantly, “Yes, clean and dry!”

I clean my throat and ask him in a stern voice. “Just sleeping?” “Just sleeping!” Isn’t he cute? I twist my arm a little to hold his hand in mine and drag him to the bedroom I stumbled into few hours ago, chuckling all the way.

He’s a man of his words. When I get out from shower with bathrobe wrapped around me, he’s sitting perfectly straight on the bed with his back almost glued on the headboard. I can’t help but laugh at the sight. “Why are you so nervous? It’s not like we hadn’t slept together before. You end up passing out in my bed almost every time you drink.” I slide under the cover, head resting on the fluffy pillow and look up at him, still waiting for his answer. He shifts his gaze, looks at anything but my face and mutters shyly under his breath, “It’s different, it’s just us.” “For the first time,” he adds.

I roll on my side, head plopped up on one elbow. He stiffens at my movement, although I couldn’t quite tell why. I chance a glance over him at the bedside lamp and yawn. “Can you turn that off? I’m sleepy.”

He doesn’t respond until a couple of seconds later. He blinks. “Oh, ok, sure.” With a click, the room falls into complete darkness, except for the dim yellow light emanates through curtains from the balcony lamps. My elbow gives way and I rest my head back on the pillow, eyes still on the man sitting beside me who seems to remain in that position through the night.

I tug at his shirt and tease. “Are you meditating?” With the dim lighting in the room I can barely make out his figure in the darkness, let alone getting a clear look at his face. He lays down on his back, it takes him few moments before he finally rolls on his side to look at me.

My brows knit together when I realise the distance between us. It’s not ridiculously far away, but absolutely ridiculous for a couple sharing a bed. I snuggle into him with the intention to close the absurd distance between us, but soon giggling inwardly as I become aware that my “just sleeping” principle actually covers wider range of skinships than I thought.

It covers wrapping my arms around his waist and legs brushing against his. The next thing I know is it covers a peck on his lips as well. Even after that he does not move a bit, body still as still as steel. It takes him a good few seconds before he reaches down and brings my mouth to his.

Kissing, is not what we haven’t done before, but in this situation, with this proximity? It’s a new page to us. He rests a hand on my back and presses us even closer as he deepens the kiss. Heat from his body underneath his shirt pulsing between us, so alluring that I couldn’t think with my now foggy mind, an arm snakes to his neck instinctively and outlines his chiselled jaw with the tips of my thumb and index.

I can feel his tongue brushing against my lips, demanding entrance to which I eagerly comply. His kiss turns possessive as our tongue dance. It startles me when I shift my body to press tighter against his and my ankle feels his .

It startles me even more when I realise my right leg is trapped in between his muscular ones. I don’t remember sneaking my leg into that position, apparently my body reacts faster than my cloudy mind.

In a swift move, his body is now hovering above mine, my hands clutching at his shirt, I open my eyes to meet his when we finally break away for breath, panting. His eyes are sparkling in the dark, as mesmerizing as the stars in the sky, and I can’t take my eyes off his once we lock gaze.

But it gets so intense and the air around us seems electrified, making my heartbeat more erratic than before. I know it has the same effect on him when he reaches down again, capturing my lips with his plumpy ones, his hand fumbles at my waist and pulls at the tie to my robe.

His lips move their delicate way down to my jaw, neck and collarbone, my mind goes wilder with each of his kisses. He pauses just above my chest with the robe being the only obstacle.

My eyes fly open at the realisation of me wearing nothing other than the bathrobe, meaning the next thing his lips would touch is— “Uh…”—a moan escapes my mouth as he slowly pulls at the hem of my robe, his warm and wet lips come into contact with my , my back arches a little with his touch.

My arms wrapped around his neck somehow move to his stomach and find their way to the underneath of his shirt, trailing up and down his spine.

I’ve never experienced this or anything close to this before, leaving me no clue as what’s the proper reaction to the wet muscle now tickling my , sending shivers to my body. I bite down on my lower lips to stop my irritating moans. He’d think I’m a . Soft moans escape nevertheless. But he makes me feel so damn good!

His hand slides from the opening of the robe and cups my neglected firmly, before teasing and squeezing with his thumb and index. Following my instinct, perhaps more body than instinct, I help him off with his shirt, tossing it on the ground.

He connects our lips again once he gets rid of the thin layer. “You smell so good,” he mutters between kisses, “You’re so beautiful.” It’s the words, or his voice that’s even huskier now that turns me on that much, I can’t tell, but one thing I’m certain is the wetness between my thighs. Realising how immediate and shameless my reaction is, I blush and feel abashed as I practically tremble at every of his touches.

Our lips still connected, my hands travelling all over his bare chest, his toned stomach and his back. I believe I’ve dug my nails into his soft skin here and there along the way as his touches send pleasure right through me, forcing moans out from between my slightly parted lips.

When the kiss has almost all the air from our lungs, he pulls back, leaving me panting and gasping for air. I know that rappers need to have control over their breath, but is the lungs capacity of rappers much greater than us ordinary people? The next second our lips part way, he , , kisses along my neck, as if making his own marks on me.

Then his hand slides under the bathrobe, his fingertips trail along my inner thigh. I gasp when I realise where this is leading to, eyes wide opened. My hand grabs hold to his wrist which is inches away from my core, I writhe to sit up with a gently push at his chest when he shoots me a questioning look.

I pull the robe around me, retreating from him until my back touches the headboard. His frown deepens, my heart aches at the way his brows knitted together under the dim light. It aches even more when he huddles in, cupping the side of my cheek with his calloused hand and gently asks, “What’s it? Did I hurt you?” There’s nothing but concern and solicitude in his voice.

“No, not yet.” “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he retorts almost immediately, as if what I had just said is the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. I shake my head, he takes it the wrong way, that’s not what I’d meant to say, of course I know he’s not going to hurt me.

“I’ve never done this.” I bite down on my already swollen lips, shifting my gaze from his dark orbs. Few seconds of silence before he unsurely asks, “What do you mean?” I squirm in uneasiness, choosing the appropriate words to confide my deepest fear, which would inevitably lead to my darkest secret. Which terrifies me more, I can’t tell. Hands grabbing on the sheet under me, I mutter all the strength in me to look him in the eyes. “Will it hurt? I heard it’ll hurt the first time…” My voice trails off as his eyes go wide.

“You’ve never…had ?” My head hangs low in response. “Oh babe…” He pulls me into him with his muscular arms, resting my head on his broad bare chest, a hand gently my hair. The moment his caress pauses abruptly, I know THAT question has finally struck him.

He fumbles, “But how can… I mean… Clarence…”

“There’s a story I must tell you before we can go further,” I whisper into his chest, my stomach churning in agitation. “Okay,” he whispers back, his hand resumes my hair to calm me down, a gesture of him to tell me he’s there for me.

I inhale deeply, cheek nuzzles deeper into his chest, hands wrapping around his slender waist as I began my story. Or her story. “When I was in the states, I got a part time job at this entertainment company, in management department. They required you to standby 24hour, but it paid really well. That’s when I first met her, I worked under her. She’s just few years elder than me, about your age.”

“We clicked right away. She took pity on me, if I had to guess. A Korean girl working her off to pay her tuition and all. Plus she can speak a little Korean, much to my surprise. Her boyfriend taught her, she once told me. But I never met him though. ‘He’s always busy’, she said.”

“He must be busy saving the world, she broke her arms once, got admitted to hospital for almost a week. I was there every day, but he never showed up, not even once.” I stop and gasp for air, going over those memories is smothering me. Few years had passed and yet the bitter smile she gave me everytime I pushed open the door to her ward and found her alone still has that has that power to make my heart cringe.  

“She broke up with him, he didn’t even try to make her stay, that jackass. Who’d let a gorgeous woman like her go? Why did he make her promises that he can’t keep?” I sob in the darkness, the ostensibly healed up wound is tore opened again. He coos, my back.

“Then one day, she came to me, she’s so happy that she’s glowing. She told me she’s pregnant. I didn’t have to ask who’s the father. ‘My baby doesn’t need a father, he has me and Aunt Lenna,’ she said. She made me his godmother long before he’s born. We didn’t know it’s a he, she just felt that way, turned out she’s right.”

“The storm struck two months later. She’s diagnosed with cancer.” He in a breath, arms around me tightened. “I can’t believe it’s Stage III at first diagnosis. I looked it up. ‘The early changes caused by cancer can be easily mistaken for the normal changes that happen with pregnancy,’ you gotta be kidding me.”

“And even worse, it advanced to Stage IV in one month. The doctor suggested abortion, reasoning that saving the mother is the priority and having a baby will cause complication during treatment. I agreed. But she didn’t. I begged for days, but she’d made up her mind.”

A lot of images had faded over the years, but not the determined look she wore when she told me, “The baby will live, his baby will live.” She smiled. I can never forget that one.

A drop of glistening tear falls on my arm. Words die on the tip of my tongue because from this angle, it can’t be mine. I tilt my head and find his eyes shut, brows knitted together in excruciation. His on my back has stopped. Between sobbing, my hand reaches up and soothes along the trail of tears, then brushes his deeply frowned brow.

Slowly, his eyes open and our gazes meet. It’s as if I’m looking at my own reflection for I can see the agony and torment—the same emotions that have been wrecking me—in his eyes.

He smiles wryly, more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Continue.” The word comes out barely a whisper from his trembling lips. My heart sinks. We were kissing and making out for Christ’s sake! I’m being selfish. I throw the burden off my shoulder and toss it to him. He shouldn’t be listening to this right now.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t...” “Continue,” he repeats, almost pleading.

I stare at him and when he doesn’t seem to be changing his mind, I bury my head in his chest again and he hugs me even tighter this time. “There’s nothing much we can do. It’s too late for surgery and she refused to have chemo although the doctor tried to convince her that it’d have very little effect on the baby. The only option left was taking medicines to stop the cancer from sparking like flowers in her body, to buy her some time until the delivery.” My body is shaking, tears pouring out from my swollen red eyes. I’ve been supressing for a long time, much longer than I’m capable to withstand, and when I let it out, it comes out like a broken dam.

“She made it, Clarence came to this world. But the delivery squeezed the last bit of energy out of her. She fell into coma. ‘It’s her own war now,’ the doctor told me.”

I try to force a smile although no one is looking. “She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met. She opened her eyes two days later and asked for her baby. But…” I choke on my tears as the last piece of memory of her invades my mind.

He whispers into my ears, “Shh…It’s ok… It’s ok…” while pulling me closer, rubbing his hand up and down my arm tenderly. “But she closed her eyes forever when I put him in her arms!” I finish after regaining my breath.

I pound my balled up fist against my thigh, once, twice, thrice before he grabs a hold of my wrist. “You’re hurting yourself.” If I was on the edge just now, now I’ve fallen over the cliff. “She died! She died giving birth to his child! And where’s he? Not even a ing call!” I cry, swinging my fists at his chest, again and again, and he lets me.  

After what seems like eternity, my fist falls on his chest feebly and he holds it, intertwining our fingers. My eyes sore and hurt as I cried away layers of anger, hatred and sorrow, at least I tried. “Does God really exist? Why did He give her the world and take everything from her? Why take her to heaven if the next thing you do is to drag her to hell?” I mumble under breath, eyes half-closed.

“I’m sorry,” is the last thing I remember before exhaustion finally washes over me, my heavy lids close and I drift helplessly into a deep sleep.

A/N: We shall have Seunghyun’s perspective in the next chapter.