Reflection

My breath is visible, as is the moon behind the clouds, leaving imprints behind my eyes. The silence is punctured only by the sound of our boots crunching against the snow, and her soft consistent breathing.

My face is numb, and the rest of my body is on autopilot. My shoulders are heavy with the weight of possible regret. My brain throbs, and I hope that I- we, have made the right decision. I was willing to take the blame, should we ever get caught.

She slides her fingers into mine, closing the gaps, locking our hands tighter together - smiles at me in a way that makes me forget everything else, because it’s just me and her. We’ve left everything else behind us.

The stars blink at us curiously, and all I can see is her.

She stops walking. I look back.

“Stop worrying, Yoona.” She says, softly. “Everything is going to be okay.”

It was a nice sentiment, one that warms my heart considerably; a sentiment that I want to believe in.

She comes closer, steps into my personal space, and gently grazes her fingertips across my cheek. I look into her eyes and see the consequences of our small and, maybe, possibly, foolish endeavor.

I breathe out, my eyes low, clenching my fists, hoping that this is what she truly wants, and not something that I’m forcing her to do.

She laces her arms around my waist, pressing against me through the thick layers of her winter clothing, and tucks her head beneath my chin. Her body is warm, comforting. I hold her close, rooted to the spot, our boots sinking into the snow.

“This is what I want.” She says, over the rushing of distant cars on the motorway.

I tighten my grip around her and press my lips to the crown of her head.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

I close my eyes, exhale through my nose and swallow down my worries. The first few flakes of newborn snow dance nonchalantly with the wind, the cold-cutting breeze diffracting around us.

“Okay?” She prods.

“Okay.” I open my eyes, leaning into her ever so slightly.

She pulls away, her arms still locked around my waist, and looks up into my eyes, a burning brown against the dark of the night. “I love you, Im Yoona. I’m doing this because I want to be with you. I’m not doing this because I feel like you’re forcing me to. Sometimes I feel as though you’re forgetting that.”

My fingers brush over her cheekbones, and I push a few stray hairs behind her ear. “I’m not forgetting anything, Seohyun. I just hope that this what you want, that…you’ll be happy.”

“Of course I’ll be happy. You make me happy.” She pulls away.

The dark obscuration of the trees towering up against