{  ONESHOT  }

She was Love. She only spoke the language of whistling Nightingales in the mornings. Her eyes feasting ever so carefully upon the horizon of the sea, whose waves waved at her in return for her loving gaze during the bright afternoons. At evening, she danced barefoot into the forest, tapping the earthy ground with a playful heel and toe. She let the scent of the forest invade her senses, with all its inhabitants alongside; Beauty the fox, Persistence the squirrel, Relaxed the worm, Understanding the Owl, and all the creatures whose paths crossed in the richness of the web of wisdom trees at evening. And when night fell, Love opened her arms wide and embraced the darkness. She let herself be drowned by the uknown, the unseen, the blackest of shadows, because Love knew there was nothing to fear. 

Junhoe gasped himself awake. His sore figure casting stiff shadows along his bedroom wall. He rubbed his face instinctively and regretably, he had been so close. For three months now, he had been having the same dream. Each time, he would see her, Love, and each time, he would wake up before he could reach her. He longed for her. He had become desperate to at least tap her shoulder, ask her for a dance in the forest, or just watch her as she stared so dreamily at the sunrise and sunset. But each time without fail, he had woken up too soon. Just as Love was about to turn around and face him with her grace and elegance, he's ripped from his dream and forced to realize his reality. He wasn't sitting on the edge of a cliff with Love, and he wasn't singing a duet with the songbirds of the mornings. He was in his room, blissful sweat damped along his skin, beading like water crystals on his forehead and chest. 

He turned to glance at the clock on the nightstand beside his bed. 4:00AM. He didn't have work for another four hours, but he was restless. He couldn't take his mind off his dream. It echoed inside his mind and chest, blurring his vision and ability to think or feel anything else. He decided to take a morning walk down to the coffee shop before work. He had time anyway, and needed fresh air to weed himself back into the real world. 

On his way to the shop, he noticed a familiar tune. He thought it was a song he must've heard repeatedly on the radio, but as he listened closer, he realized it was a singing Nightingale. His thoughts staying flooded by Love and the friendly bird who reminded him of Love. When he finally got his coffee, he decided to take it with him while he strolled around. He made his way to a morning garden, which was usually packed with people enjoying the sight of the nearby sea. He sipped his coffee and found himself cross legged on a bench, facing the water. The sun was just rising slowly over the distance, casting a warm glowing shade over the sparkling sea. Junhoe reached his arm out to rest on the back of the bench at his side. A cool breeze fluttered by and caressed his arm and side, as if the wind was embracing him. His entire body tingled with a warm sensation, and he couldn't understand why he felt so good about it. He closed his eyes and leaned slightly against the soft wind, listening for a quiet whisper or the sound of a smile. He felt a kiss on his forehead, and didn't have to open his eyes to know it was Love's kiss, reaching to press her warm lips on his skin through the sunlight that now reached the spot he sat at. He didn't dare open his eyes and let go of Love to reality, not again. 

He only smiled and invited her to stay, to sit with him and bathe in the sunlight. He knew full well that she was the sunlight, the breeze that carried soft sighs and genuine smiles. He only wished he wouldn't have to keep letting her go each time he wakes up. He heard a gentle giggle and the touch of fingers on his cheek, but he refused to open his eyes in case she disappeared like she did every dawn. "Silly. I'm here." Love called, brushing the pad of her thumb smoothly along the bridge of his nose to his lips and ja