Yuri POV

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stop with the guilt trip, Yuri.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You didn’t do anything wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You aren’t doing anything wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your heart is beating like this simply because you’ve never felt anyone sing before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was overwhelming. You had a normal reaction to an overwhelming event.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My eyes are still closed, and my arm is still underneath her. I should move it, but I’m still trying to recover.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I really want to hear another song.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This might be making her uncomfortable, but I have to get her to push through her discomfort, because I can’t think of any other situation where I’ll be able to do this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Can I play another one?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s holding her phone, texting someone who’s not me. I wonder if she’s texting Jun, but I don’t peek at her phone, as much as I want to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sica: Okay. The first one didn’t do anything for you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think it did a little too much, in more ways than I’d like to admit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m almost positive it was also obvious to her by the end of the song, with the way I was pressed against her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But feeling her voice and what it was doing to all the other parts of me was way more important than what she was doing to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: I’ve never “listened” to anyone like that before. It was incredible. I don’t even know how to describe it. I mean, you were here, and you were the one singing, so I guess you don’t really need me to describe it. But I don’t know. I wish you could have felt that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sica: You’re welcome, I guess. I’m not really doing anything profound here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: I’ve always wanted to feel someone sing one of my songs, but it would be a little awkward doing this with Yoong. Know what I mean?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She laughs, then nods.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: I’ll play the one we practiced last night, and then I want to play this last one again. Are you okay? If you’re tired of singing, just tell me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sica: I’m good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She lays down her phone, and I reposition myself against her chest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My entire body is battling itself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My left brain is telling me this is somehow wrong, my right brain is wanting to hear her sing again, my stomach is nowhere to be found, and my heart is punching itself in the face with one arm and hugging itself with the other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I might never have this opportunity again, so I wrap my arm over her and begin playing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I close my eyes and search for the beat of her heart, which has slowed down some since the first song.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The vibration of her voice meets my cheek, and I swear my heart flinches.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She feels the way I imagined a voice would feel during a song but multiplied by a thousand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I focus on how her voice blends with the vibration of the guitar, and I’m in complete awe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I want to “hear” the range of her voice, but it’s hard without using my hands to feel it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I pull my hand away from the guitar and stop playing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just like that, she stops singing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I shake my head no and motion a circle in the air with my finger, wanting her to keep singing even though I’m no longer playing the chords.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her voice picks back up, and I keep my ear pressed firmly to her chest while I lay my palm flat against her stomach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her muscles clench beneath my hand, but she doesn’t stop singing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can feel her voice everywhere. I can feel it in my head, in my chest, against my hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I relax against her and listen to the sound of a voice for the very first time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_______________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wrap my arm around Taeyeon’s waist and pull her in closer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can feel her struggling beneath me, so I pull her even tighter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m not ready for her to go home yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her hand smacks my forehead, and she’s lifting me off her chest as she attempts to wiggle out from beneath me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I roll onto my back to let her off the bed, but instead, she’s slapping my cheeks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I open my eyes and look up to see Jessica hovering over me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

is moving, but my vision is too fogged over to see what she’s trying to say.