LEENA’S POV

We ended up sleeping together, just sleeping. In this room, in the same bed. From what he’d told me, I figured it wouldn’t have much difference with the last time, except it’s him who had cried to sleep instead of me.

I didn’t remember how, but he was sleeping with his head on my lap, his long legs bent slightly at the knees because the width of the bed was much shorter to accommodate his full length or otherwise his legs would be dangling over the edge.

Looking down at the man, I can’t help but frown. His eyebrows knitted so closely together that they’re almost touching. What’s in his dreams? With the thought to smoothen up those agonizing creases, I brought my finger to his thick eyebrows and smiled when they finally disappeared when his face fell back to peace.

It’s strange, listening to someone talking about you, telling you episodes you didn’t remember happening, then it occurred to me that it must be how actors felt when they watched their roles in the movies: it’s you, but it’s not entirely you. It’s worse for me because I didn’t remember I’d been a part of the movie.

So I sat there, trying to take in everything he told me, like taking in the every little details in a movie. My favourite moment would be the day he confessed to me, the day he became my boyfriend. Not that I can remember that day, it’s the look on his face when he told me about it, like he’d found something he valued the most. It made me believe that I’d have the same look on my face, if I had the memory of that day.

At some point his tears became uncontrollable, not tears of happiness but tears of sorrow. He apologized over and over again until he drifted off to sleep, and even so the last words he was whispering were “I’m sorry”.

Waves of regret washed over me. Crap, crap, crap. I just sat there, doing nothing. I was stunned. I’d never seen a man cry like that before. I didn’t know what to say, I panicked! So I replaced words with actions, I pulled him towards me, let him cry on my shoulder.

Now that he’s sleeping soundly, although my legs started to feel numb, I had the time to think about my own feeling after the revelation.

In principle, the Leena before the accident should be way more mature than me, simply because, well she’s ten years older than me. However, I beg to differ on her maturity. She acted like a girl who didn’t want to go on her piano lesson which she previously was so invested to, just because the lesson was getting harder for her to handle.

If I were in her place, I wouldn’t just run away from him, not to mention leaving my kid behind. She needed some time alone, I got that, but what can evasion do any good to any of them?

Right, an epiphany. Their biggest problem was they’d rather hide and retreat than face the real problem, as if covering the wound with a bandage, pretending it wasn’t there and it’d heal up all by itself. Stupid. What they didn’t know was the wound had festered under the skin, and it’d only get worse.

If it were up to me, I’d charge up to him and demand answers right off his mouth. For better or worse. With that thought, I huffed out a helpless laugh. I was thinking this way because I wasn’t being the Leena after ten years from now. I had never experienced the loss of a good friend, I had never had to endure those judgemental glances from not only strangers but also my own family for having a black kid with me.

I wasn’t taking Seunghyun’s side though. It’s a coward of him to keep everything from Leena (okay, me). It’s irrefutable that he’s wrong because everything wouldn’t have to progress in this way, had he been forthright with Leena in the first place.

I was sorry for Cordy, I was sorry for Clarence, I was also sorry for myself. It was an ordeal but Seunghyun wasn’t the one to be blamed; sometimes just happened. He was putting too much burden onto his shoulders and that’s so much a man can endure.

The man had suffered enough. From the moment I first saw him in the hospital, he looked like a strayed puppy on the street, discarded by his owner and so remorseful for being disobedient, longing for forgiveness but afraid he’d be pushed away again for getting too close. So desperate to feel loved again.

I had to admit it, I was sorry for Seunghyun, too.

I was now a bystander, which was not entirely a bad thing because a bystander sees through everything. I could look at the matter in a more objective manner; I didn’t have those tangled feelings playing with my mind.

For the first time since I woke up from the accident, I felt grateful for this because, despite the lack of memory, everything seemed clearer and easier. When I look at the man sleeping on my lap, I could feel a pang in my heart.

A smile crawled across my face as the enlightenment came to me.

Then he stirred, his eyebrows join again for one last time before he opened his eyes, meeting right with my gaze. That’s when I realised I had my hand cupping the side of his face. . I must look like I’m drooling over him. Not that I’m not, I mean, who wouldn’t when a man with his face sleeping on your lap?

“.” He sprang up and sat on his knees at least two feet from me, as if he was an infected patient. He wiped a hand across his face before carding it through his dishevelled hair, exasperated. “I’m sorry.”

There he goes again.

“If I get a penny for every apology you make, I don’t have to work for the rest of my life.”

He blinks at me, obviously in confusion.

I giggle, dragging my feet onto the floor, stretching my limbs while doing so. “I mean, you really should stop doing that.”

Standing up on my feet, I stomp on the floor a few times to get the blood circulation working. He yells again, “! What’s the time now?”

My eyes shift to the direction of the window automatically; dim orange sunrays making their last attempt to peek through the curtains. “Sun’s setting, so I guess it’s—”

He fishes out his phone from his jeans pocket. “Oh my god…”

It turns out his plan is to leave this house before sunset so we could reach Seoul at least around dinner. I simply nodded when he explained to me, while both of us waiting for the ajussi to pick us up at the wharf. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind spending a night at this place.

But I didn’t voice it. I figured he wouldn’t expect me to be willingly staying in a space with him after what he had told me, no matter how big the space is.

He had been acting awfully awkward since then. Never once did his eyes make contact with mine, his hands tucked in his pockets and he kept shifting his weight on his feet.

And Seunghyun being awkward made me awkward as well, but now that I thought of it, we’re actually bound to be awkward after what had happened.

I decide to put all this awkwardness into a stop when we get into his car and he pulls away from the jetty. We’ve a good two hours before we get home and we’re now trapped together in this metal box, I’d die of asphyxiation if the pressure built up between and within us doesn’t get decompressed.

Much to my surprise, he starts talking before I could do that myself. “We can drop by the homestay to get your luggage. We left it behind when we…” He trails off, but I can have a pretty good guess at what he’s going to say: when we ran away hand in hand.

When I look out the window, I notice he’s taken a right and driving to the village.

My lips part in realisation, I’ve so many things on my plate that my luggage is in the lowest priority of my list. I jump out of the car once he pulls up beside the homestay. “I’ll go get it, you should wait here, kpop star.” I give him a wink that I hope doesn’t come out too forcefully and slam the door shut before he could protest.

After tripping my clumsy self over a leg of the desk, I make my way out of the homestay, rolling the luggage bag behind me, sweating from all the effort it takes me to climb down the stairs with so much meticulousness to avoid tumbling over myself or the luggage. The luggage being heavier that I’ve thought isn’t helping either.

I shouldn’t have refused the lady’s help earlier. Why didn’t I just bow and say “Kamsahabmida” when she offered to carry it down with me? Why was my mouth so detestable to assure her that I’d be good on my own and she should just wait for me downstairs?

Grumbling on my overconfidence that has brought me nothing but muscles which I know would be sore tomorrow and a bruised toe, I take one last look around the homestay and turn to make my way to the entrance. And there he stands, leaning against the door to his driver seat, flashing his dimpled smiles, seemingly to have a jubilant conversation with the equal excited homestay lady.

His smile freezes for a split second when he spots my presence. He rushes over, grabbing the handle of the luggage. “I got it.” With a swift move, it now sits in the trunk of his car. I curse my damned overconfidence again at how easily he lifts it off the ground and throws it in.

“Thank you so much, TOP-ssi, please come again with your members next time, everything’s on the house.” Even when we’re driving away, I can still see her waving so eagerly from the side view mirror.

He’s right, he’s a man full of surprises.

“So she did make you out, TOP-ssi?” I ask him, voice comes out sarcastic at the mention of his stage name, eyes still on the side view mirror until the lady disappears into darkness then I tilt a little to look at him with my peripheral vision.

He smiles, sheepish. Oh I miss his smile. “Don’t worry, she won’t say a word to anyone.”

I lean back against the head rest, looking over him in curiosity. “How did you charm your way out of this?”

“I called Daesung.” He pauses for the effect and continues when I look at him with raised eyebrows, “And make him sing Look at me Gwisoon to her. Oh, I promised to send her Dae’s autographed photos to her too.”

The foolish grin on his face tells me whatever it is, it’s something worth laughing at. But that makes no sense to me. “Is it a funny song? Is the lady’s name Gwisoon?”

He shoots me a glance, as if I’d asked a stupid question and it makes me start to wonder did I really sound stupid. Then he starts to sing the song with his baritone, aided with some restricted silly movements of his hands since he’s driving and I know what I’ve missed.

“Okay, that’s the champion in my ‘The things I wish I’ve never forgotten’ list.” I laugh and raise a finger to wipe off the tear escape from the corner of my eyes. “I’d have to make him sing to me again, live.”

While I’m almost doubled over my stomach in my seat, the car slows down and comes to a halt. I straighten up and look out the window. We’re still in the village, probably a couple of blocks away from the homestay. The street is silent, there’s a small alley interjecting with the road which leads to nothing but darkness; it looks exactly like those in the horror movies, eerie and gloomy.

He turns off the engine. “She told me something about the day you got into the accident.” The grin is long gone and the frown has come back to claim its territory on his face. I nod, encouraging him to continue. “The doc said reliving past moments will help you recover your memories. So—”

“So you planned this, a walk over our past.” I finish off for him because it seems so difficult for him to squeeze words out of his throat, and I don’t blame him for that, the mere knowledge of him planning this for me is a legitimate reason for me to offer my voice.

“But I’m not sure if you’d want to do this. You know, come back to the scene.” He clamps three fingers on the lower part of the steering wheel, eyes trained on them while he swings the wheel left and right. “I’ve read about this. Coming back to the scene could be a trigger, it could serve as a link that connects your present and your past.”

“You read about brain injury?” For someone who’s accused books as the cheapest sleeping pills, he comes to me as a surprise because I had tried to read stuffs about my condition online but I couldn’t sit through the third articles without planting my face on the keyboard.

“Just some stuffs.” His head hangs even lower and I smile at his subtle method he chose to show that he cares, so subtle that letting me know can make him embarrassed.

I look on the street through the windshield, then the window of my side, and look back up at him. “This is the place?”

“I knew it’s close to the jetty, they told me when you’re transferred to the hospital in Seoul, but I knew the exact location just now, she pointed it out for me.”

So he was making a trade with the lady? Daesung’s live and autographed photo with the information? Flowers blossom in my heart at the thought. Okay, flowers is too much, flower, just flower. I shouldn’t be fluttered by a simple gesture.

I take a deep breath, eyes staring out on the street as the information sinks in. So this is the place I lost half of the memory in my life? A link to the past? I chew my lips on that, I don’t really feel like getting it back. I mean, I’m living a good life without those memories so do they matter that much to me?

Then my mind wander off to him. His intention has been clear, he wants me to remember. Decision seems to come effortlessly when it involves him.

Okay, I’d do it if that’s what he wants.

Slowly, close to reluctantly, I reach for the door handle, ready to go out into the darkness but his hand is faster as it now rests on mine on the handle, my hand goes rigid at the contact. Puzzled, I turn to the driver seat and am stunned by the close proximity as he bends over and our faces are inches from each other. I can feel his breath ghosting over the corner of my mouth with each of his exhales.

His eyes dart back and forth anxiously and there’s a strange noise from the back of his throat. “Are you sure you want to do this? We can leave now and come back when you’re ready.”

The concern and anxiety in his voice make my heart clench, I muster a reassuring smile somehow. “Relax, you’re pulling yourself like a rubber band, you’re gonna snap someday.” I’m telling from what I’ve observed with my own eyes, if me going on the street, trying to relive the moment could put his restlessness to a stop or at least a rest, I would do it. As for the memories, it’s a perk if it ever comes back; if it doesn’t, my life still goes on, doesn’t it?

Using my free hand, the one not clutching on the door handle nervously with his on top, I reach up and brush over his thick eyebrows. “I’ve straightened up something when you cried yourself to sleep.”

His face is funny, it falls in between embarrassed and denial.

I don’t know why I do that, it could be purely impulsive, or something more than that, or simply because I want to, I tilt my head and press my lips against his. It lasts for a second, or less than that before I pull away and push open the door, hopping down the car while he’s still frozen on the spot.

Subconsciously I on my lips while walking away from the car, debating what that flicker contact is. It’s just a brush, not even a kiss. Because a kiss is shared between two people who want it to happen, right? He didn’t even respond, he just froze. Okay, to be fair, I didn’t give him the time to respond in any way. But why is my stomach churning like a whole swarm of butterflies is doing somersault in it?

It’s summer and summer night should be warm, meaning it shouldn’t give off the chilly air I’m breathing into my lungs as I walk down the street lit only by street lamps which are very far in between. I close my eyes and try to calm myself, self-hypnotising that only kids would be scared of darkness and I’m definitely not a kid!

A mewl from afar almost makes me jump out of my skin. It starts to occur to me that this could be a bad idea, wandering off a secluded street in the night. Okay it’s not long after sunset but it’s already dark and the whole street is empty except for me. Who knows what mewled just now? It could be more than just a distant cat with terrifying amber eyes that’d haunt you in your dreams.

I’m one step away from turning on my heel and take harbour of his arms when I hear footsteps behind me, it’s impetuous from afar and it slows down when it comes near. My heart beat seems to become a little more placid at the sound of loafers making contacts with the tar.

I know it’s him, I don’t have to turn to look. That’s when I realise that I actually possess the ability to recognising footsteps. Maybe it’s just because I’ve get used to it for walking beside him one whole day; maybe it’s just his designer shoes; maybe it’s just him. Somehow my nerves calm that little more at that.

His steps are matching mine with about five steps behind me. Just hearing to his footsteps paint a smile across my face. He has his own unique way of telling me he’s right here with me and I don’t have to be scared. And I don’t, because his presence makes me feel secured.

Then I can’t hear his footsteps; he’s stopped walking. “I think it’s here.” I turn and follow his line of sight. It seems…ordinary. I mean, it’s a tarred road, obviously, and that’s it; no blood, no yellow tape from police marking the scene perimeter, nothing. I couldn’t imagine myself standing in the middle of this and…

He’s beside me when I snap out from the trance. The look on his face makes me wonder am I really the one suffered from an accident here, and not him? He looks traumatized.

It comes naturally when I raise a hand to touch his arm. “Hey, you okay?”

He keeps his eyes on the road, his voice croaks a little when he speaks. “We were on the phone. You were going to tell me something but you were interrupted, you tried to save a cat, it ran onto the road.” I nod, squeezing his arm and hoping this could give him strength because he seems to be needing it more than I do now.

My heart breaks at what he says next. “If you weren’t talking to me, maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all.”

I know he’s been putting too much burdens onto his shoulders, I know he’s been blaming himself for not doing what he should’ve done, what I don’t know is he’s been condemning himself for what he’s done, too. Just how long he’s had this kind of destructive thoughts abusing his mind?

His eyes are glued to that specific patch of road which I assume is where my accident took place. The man can’t even bring himself to make eye contact with me. I shift a little to stand right in front of him, forming a barrier between him and the damn road he keeps staring at. “Hey.” I try to get his attention but to no avail, his eyes are focused on the road as if he can see through me.

I cup his face with both my hands and force him to look at me. “Listen, that was an accident, and accident means it’s uncontrollable. You said I was trying to save the cat, right? I would’ve done the same if I wasn’t talking to you, or if I was talking to anybody else.” I give him a light shake when he seems to have trouble taking in my words.

Seed of hope sprouts in my heart when his eyelids flutter and his eyes meet mine; he’s listening to me. But the spark is put off even before it could grow; tears well up in his eyes as he abruptly pushes me away. “You were trying to tell me something when that happened! I know that now, you wanted to tell me about the baby. You knew you were pregnant.” I try to reach his arms but he brushes my hands off and stumbles a couple of steps backwards as if my touch could burn, or it’s him that he thinks is burning. Tears are carving curved pathways down his cheeks.

I open my mouth and try to say something, to deny those bulls he’d said but nothing comes out. Everything about this makes me feel helpless.

“I was so happy when I heard your voice, I was so happy because you’re willing to talk to me. But I was nothing but a distraction! You would’ve seen the car coming if you weren’t talking to me, trying to tell me the news.” His lips trembling, his voice choked with tears and ragged breaths. A part of him is engulfed by darkness for he’s standing on the edge of range the weak street lamp could reach. Subconsciously I make a step towards him, as if petrified that he’d disappear from my life when he disappears from my sight.

Grabbing his hair with both hands, his palms pressed against his temples, he shakes his head like he has lost all the hope in that one second. “God,” he breathe out the word, then he jerks as if he’d found the last component to complete the circuit board and once he did, instead of current, a dreadful thought shoots through him. “I killed our baby!”

I can’t watch this anymore. I rush forward and throw my arms around him, an arm circling around his neck and another settle on the back of his nape and with both I pull him closer, not leaving a sliver of distance between us. His presence makes me feel secured, I want to do the same for him, I want him to know that I’m here for him.

“Stop it, stop your self-condemnation, please,” I beg with my eyes shut so tightly I can see white spots splatter on the inside of my eyelids, because I can’t bear the sight of him torturing himself. I just can’t. “Please.” I draw my hands closer and plea into the crook of his neck, the fabric of his hoodie is stained from my tears.

His hands fall to his side feebly. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you go?” he asks with faltering voice, like he’s just realised my presence. He tries to push me away but I would have nothing of it; I cling tighter onto him, resolved to stay this way until he comes to his sense.

He keeps going on with his self-desecration. “Your dad’s right, I’m a mistake, you would’ve been better off without me. Why didn’t you hate me? Why did you let me stay? You should’ve just ask me to off when you first saw me!” His voice starts off calm, oddly and spine-chilling calm—it sounds more like he’s murmuring to himself, less like talking to me—and it becomes progressively agitated with each of his sentences.

I pull away, my hands form firm grips on his shoulders and look straight into his teary eyes—they’re now swollen and I fight the urge to shut my eyes again at the sight of it. I’ve to take few deep breaths before I could put my tears to a pause. “Choi Seunghyun, you listen to me. I don’t hate you and I didn’t hate you.” His mouth moves to open and I stop him. “Before you tell me I’m saying this because I don’t remember, I’m telling you this because I can feel it. Yes, the memory is gone but the feeling is still here.” I put a hand on my chest where my heart is beating frantically on the other side of it.

I gaze at him, my hand grasps tighter at my shirt as I try to stop the tears pricking my eyes from breaching through. “I can feel it, I was using the whole of my heart loving you there’s no space left for hatred.” His eyes follow the movement of a tear escapes my eye and when he looks back at me, there’s something that’s not there before. His eyes are glistening, not just with tears, but with something I decipher as hope.

“I know you can feel that, too.” I remove my hand off my chest and rest it on his left chest where I know I can feel his heartbeat. “Can’t you?” My voice is soft, almost a whisper as I ask the question, the connection established between us is too fragile, it would break if not handled with care. And love. I’ve to convince him, I’ve to pull him out of the dark pit he’s imprisoned himself in.

He looks me over, the space between his eyebrows undulates, his dark brown orbs narrow in and dart back and forth between my eyes, as if trying to grasp my words and the meaning behind them. But he says nothing.

I take that as a good sign though, I just need to try again. “I wanted to get my memory back so bad because I was getting tired of people telling me things I don’t have a clue of. But today, after everything you’ve told me, I’ve changed my mind. Not that I don’t want to get them back, it’s just… I don’t care anymore.” His brow creases into a frown which earns a weak smile from me. At least he’s giving me reaction, despite it’s a frown.

I hold his face with my both hands, his tears have dried, leaving trails on his otherwise perfect skin. “I start to question myself—why do I keep digging at my past when I’ve my present in my hands? Why choose something I can’t change over something I’ve a say in it?”

Tiptoeing, I reach up and plant a kiss on his right cheek, his dried tears leave a taste of saltiness on my lips. “You’re broken, but it’s okay,” tilting my head to leave another kiss on his left cheek, “I’m broken too.”

When our gazes meet again, the way he looks at me gives me strength to let out the words; those words that I’d come out with back in the house on the island but used to hold a doubt on because it didn’t feel tangible. But he gives me the confidence, he makes me believe what I’m going to say. “We can heal each other.”

The moment we look into each other’s eyes, time seems to have been stretched into eternity. He doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t have to, it’s all in his eyes.

What happens next, I declare it as a kiss. Because he initiates it and I reciprocates. Kind of. I’ve never had much experiences in this. What I do know is, it feels right. His salty lips on mine, his hands on my waist—he’s tried to move them to my back while pressing our bodies together, but at last he settles them back to where they were, awkwardly. I’ve to bite his lower lip to hold back my snicker because I know exactly what silly thought has been going on in his mind—I’m still a teen and it’s wrong to have such intimate contact with a teen.

I would’ve to convince him otherwise, but tonight I think he’s cute.

SEUNGHYUN’S POV

“Can you not stare at my coffee? It feels molested.”

“One sip, please?”

“Coffee’s not good for your recovery, remember?”

“You robbed me of my pizza, remember?”

“That was a—“

“Mommy are we having pizza this morning? I heard pizza.” We snap our heads at the voice and find the sleepyhead standing at the doorway to the kitchen, little hands rubbing at his hardly open eyes.

Leena walks over and crouches down before him and leaves a quick kiss on his forehead which reminds me I’m yet to get mine this morning. “No honey, nobody’s getting pizza as breakfast. But pancakes and omelettes are on the menu.”

He pouts a little and makes a noise of humming when he mulls over the hardest choice in his life. “I’ll have pancakes for today.” He grins, satisfied with his choice. Then for the first time since he woke up, he notices my presence, I would take that as an insult if not for the widening grin on his face. “Good morning, Uncle Man! Are you taking me to school today?”

The question would’ve been normal if it’s asked on any other days, I’m more than willing to take him to school every day, but it catches me off guard today because honestly, that’s not the reason of my sitting on the kitchen stool in Leena’s house in this early morning. “Uh…”

“Granny will be taking you to school today.” Eomoni comes to the rescue as she walks in from the living room, probably just done with her morning news on the TV. “Your uncle and mommy have a date to go on.” 

“Eomma, it’s not a date, we’re just having breakfast. Youngbae Oppa and the others will be there too.” She whines, lower lip protruding in the exact same way as Clarence did seconds ago. She always says Clarence has my eyes and my mischief, but believe me when I say Clarence learns all those aegyo from her, and use it on me, both of them.

She side eyes me so I know it’s my cue to chime in. “Yeah, we can drop him off at school and we can have breakfast together, Eomoni. It’s just Bigbang members. Seungri said he misses you when I spoke to him last night.”

“Oh we’ve a smooth tongue here, don’t we?” Eomoni raises an eyebrow at me and when I think I’ve ruined the whole brisk morning, her amiable smile follows after puts my stomach back to where it belongs. “Good to know that I’m still as charming after over three decades of marriage. But I’ve a date later as well.”

“With whom?” Leena and I ask simultaneously, our eyes widen, half in anticipation, half in apprehension.

“Who else?” She replies with another question. “The old man has been trying to get in contact, I believe living alone in the big house has given him a good time to recognize his stupidity.”

Leena’s shoulders deflate in relief. “I’m happy for you, Eomma. I miss Appa too.”

She pat her daughter’s cheek lightly in endearment. “I’ll tell him that. You can be happy for me later, I’m not a woman to be pacified so easily, he’d need to make more efforts on it.” They share a look before they shift their attention to me.

My breath hitches at the unwanted attention and my eyes dart anxiously between their playful smiles. “What? I’m just sitting here, I didn’t say a word.”

Leena tsk-tsk-tsks, taking small steps towards me and leaning across the counter, her elbows rest on the top of it. She scrunches up her nose and makes a displeased face. “You need to make more efforts too, Choi Seunghyun. I’m starting to think I make everything too easy for you.”

I look over her to ask for help from the other two in the room, only to find Eomoni looking back at me with amused smile and raised eyebrows while Clarence has the expression that cares about nothing but his pancakes.

I’m on my own.

“More efforts?”

“Yup.” She nods, her eyes twinkle playfully as if sending me a challenge.

“You sure you can take it?”

“Try me.” Her answer comes in no time.

I shrug a shoulder. “Okay, you ask for it.”

I stand up from the stool, getting hold of her chin with a hand and pressing my lips on hers. Her deer-like pupils blow wide, staring at me in stupefaction.

“C’mon Clarence, Granny’ll take you to school, it seems we’ve to make a pit stop at McD’s to get your pancakes.” I’m trying the hardest not to giggle at Eomoni’s remark, because she’s right, it’d take us quite some time to leave here now.

With the two of them out of the room, we can have it all to our own. Oops, that comes out wrong, but you know what I mean.

I lean closer and deepen our kiss and she’s shocked to give any responses. That’s not until I her lips with my tongue that she gasps. And smoothly I take advantage of that split second to slide my tongue in.

Being an actor, I’ve tried some kinds of weird kissing angles, but this one, this is my first. And let me tell you, two people leaning from two opposite sides of a kitchen table to kiss each other, it really gives me some hard time and at some point I wish I could just climb over the table and kiss her on it.

Anyways, it doesn’t matter anymore because once she teases me with her tongue, I forget everything else, like my brain is short-circuited by the touch. I want to feel her soft lips on mine, her shy but playful tongue engaging with mine.

As much as I want this to continue, the growing hardness in my pants reminds me it’s time to stop before I do something improper and frightens her. A voice in the back of my mind keeps nagging me about her mental age of being reversed to ten years ago, and that means she’s still a minor. No thanks to the accident.

Her face is flushed red when our lips part. I should’ve pulled away for my arousal’s sake but I want to be near her and her cloudy eyes and short rapid breaths are so adorable, so I rest our foreheads together instead.

“W-what’s that?” She asks, still trying to calm her breaths.

“You asked for efforts, I was merely showing you one of my many efforts.” Another shade of red makes its way across her face and I laugh, pulling away and walking around the table. Her eyes follow my motion, curious about my next move.

I rest my hand on her waist and put on the most teasing smirk. “But there’s nothing you should be worried about, there won’t be any mature content in my efforts.” I lean in and whisper in her ear, “At least not before your birthday. You’d be getting a lot when you’re 19.” I might have been nibbling her ear lobe while doing so, unintentionally.

When I leans back to admire the remarkable work of my words, for a moment she just blinks at me as if the implications of my not-so-innocent words are yet to sink in. Then she smacks my chest, quite harshly I’ve to say, and her cheeks give way to another shade of crimson as she yells, “Yah!”

The intended effect is attained, so I can continue with my effort. I reach over and capture her lips for another kiss, this time without the table being the stupid obstacle, I snake my arms around to the small of her back and press her closer to me.

I can feel her lips upturns into a smile before she kisses me back with equal passion.

Sometimes, out of the blue she’d ask me what the Leena from ten years later would do given the same situation, and I’d try to give the closest answer I can come up with but honestly, most of the time I could just guess.

Other than those “sometimes”, we don’t talk about her amnesia. We aren’t avoiding the topic or such, it’s just because we’ve so much to talk about, to share with each other that it becomes the least important in the list. Not that we don’t want her to get back those lost memories, we want it to happen naturally and before it does, Leena wishes to live her life to its fullest.

It doesn’t really affect me, there’s not much differences between the two of them. Yes, the 18-year-old Leena is always so full of vitality, she always has that smile I love so much on her face and it’d make me this old man wonder why wouldn’t she get tired?

When I come to think of it, this is probably the biggest difference between them—the Leena I used to know liked to smile too, although not as often as she does now; she would space out for a while, as if her mind had wandered off to somewhere in her memory, somewhere her sadness and grief had a permanent slot, then her eyes would find their way back to me and a smile would light up her face.

Then I come to understand. It doesn’t matter which version of her that I love more because seriously I can’t tell myself. What I do know is, I would fall for her, again and again, because it’s her.

A/N:

And that marks the end of The Destiny. I think the ending is warm and…idk, plausible? What do you think of it?

Thanks to everyone who’d spent time to read this story, it’s my first time writing a chaptered fic and I’m proud to say I’ve learned a lot from this.

This is not the end of Seunghyun’s and Leena’s story, the author is writing its sequel (sadly I won’t be participating in it) and I believe it’s something worth your time so give it a shot will you?

Thanks again everyone!

S.C.