11. DIALOGUE.

"The weather today was colder than usual." I murmur quietly.

I didn't know if he was asleep yet.

The light had been turned off already—when the two of us arrived home, we didn't exchange much. Having spent the entire night outside, we were both a bit tired, silently clambering to wash up and change before collapsing into bed. As we slipped into comfortable positions, his arm had found its familiar path around my waist, thumb grazing my hipbone as his long body curved around mine. Though I could still feel the warmth radiating from his presence, he wasn't pressed against me.

I hear him reply, then.

"Yes, it's fall now...after Chuseok, the temperatures have been decreasing. Seoul's weather has always had its distinct seasons."

I turn a bit onto my side, facing him on the pillow. His grip on my waist tightens, and he pulls me closer, muffling my giggles as his lips brush over my hair.

This man, I garner as I bury my face in his chest, is truly adorable.

I reach my arm out to hug him, my voice faint in the fabric of his shirt as I murmur my agreement. My hand settles on his back, mischievously wandering across the muscle as my fingers find his spine, tracing the dip of the bone slowly down, down, down...

"Yerim, I want to discuss a matter with you..." I suddenly hear him say.

My hand stops its movements.

"...Okay, I'm listening." I answer quietly, brow slightly creasing at the ambiguity I seem to sense in his voice.

"I...want to..." he starts, before pausing indefinitely.

Silence.

I shift a bit in his hold after a while, half-impatient and half-amused. "Finish your sentence, Kookie. Otherwise, my wayward imagination will start thinking of ridiculous things..."

I my lips nervously, blinking in surprise when he bursts into laughter. In a split second, he rolls me flat onto my back, his body lightly pressing on top of me as his face nears my own. Our breaths intermingle in that narrow space, our chests rising against one another's.

Needless to say, I'd been shocked senseless by this turn of events, my head spinning in multiple directions at once.

Was this...?

"I want to..." he begins again, and I hold my breath before he ultimately falters once more.

Could it possibly be...?!

"That's it," I mutter, having been driven to wits end. I use every ounce of my body weight to flip our positions. He lands on his back as I topple over him with a grunt, thankful for the sheer size of the mattress underneath us. I use my hands to prop my upper body up, my knee wedged between his legs as I loom over him precariously, using the dim light from the window to glower down at him.

"Jeon Jungkook, if you don't spit it out right now, then don't blame me if I go crazy." I huff in warning.

He stares back blankly at me, as if not understanding my words.

What kind of goddamn bedroom strategy is this, huh?!

"You..." he musters a single syllable.

"What about me?" I challenge immediately.

"..."

"..."

—

In the end, I lay beside him, resting my head on top of his chest with a small sigh.

If I'm honest, there are some things he doesn't even have to say, and I'll already know. I just do.

"You want to ask me...you want to ask me why I suddenly changed my mind." I state, quietly. "You want to know why I never asked you to try to love me before, why I never asked for a chance before...but now I am."

He doesn't answer. Although his breathing remains steady, I hear his heartbeat quicken near my ear.

"The truth is, I don't want to hide it any longer." My voice trembles a bit as I muster my courage. "I remember you said before, that with my personality, I would never let myself fall in love with you. You said, I'll protect myself, because I know I'll be hurt in the end...but I've always made an exception for you, Jungkook, because I...I've loved you since my youth."

Silence fills the room.

I hear the blood rushing to my ears, my cheeks prickling with warmth.  The heavy weight in my chest thuds against my ribcage.

When he finally speaks, his voice is slightly muffled.

"When did you...?" he begins, trailing off at the sound of traffic outside.

I think a bit before confessing, "About seven years ago, when I also went abroad to study at a university. That year, you were pursuing your master's degree. You were twenty—I was nineteen, and I happened to be in New York for long enough to visit you midway from Ithaca. We agreed to meet up at a public library where you were studying—I arrived a few minutes before the time I'd told you, but when I saw that you were really busy in that moment, I decided to wait in the corner for a little bit. In that time, there was a young woman who kept tapping on your shoulder to ask you questions, asking you to help her reach a few books on high shelves...and in the end, when she asked you out to coffee, you said: 'I don't drink coffee, but that's not what's important—there are people here who are more suitable for you than I am, and I hope you can use that coffee on someone who can truly make you happy.'" I whisper, the recollection warming my cheeks as Jungkook registers this quietly.

"Yerim, you don't seem like the type to become interested in someone just because of the challenge..." he finally says.

"You're right, I'm not that kind of person." I affirm, "I liked you then, but not because you rejected her—neither was it because you're more difficult to pursue than others."

"Then..." Jungkook starts, hesitating.

I trace circles on his chest with my index finger. "Would the incredibly intelligent Dr. Jeon like to take a guess?" I giggle. "What did I, Kim Yerim, see in you that day?"

He settles into thought for a moment, before expressing his lack of answer.

"The truth is," I my lips, "I liked the manner in which you rejected that woman..."

Jungkook chuckles in surprise at my answer. "This is also something that can be liked?" he asks, clearly expecting anything but.

I nod, explaining: "I think the way a person rejects another is very important, and that it also reflects on who that person is. Think of it like this—one, even though that woman bothered you countless amounts of times while you were studying, you never held it against her, and neither did you make an effort to embarrass her in public. This shows that you don't place your time above everyone else's. You have empathy and respect for even strangers, knowing that their feelings also matter. Two, when you responded to her invitation, even though you were very gentle, you were also very straightforward. You didn't leave room for negotiation or guessing; it was clear where you stood and what you felt. This shows that you're mature—you understand how to deal with relationships, and you establish relationships in a way that is clear and avoids misconceptions. You don't keep women around who are attracted to you, simply for the self-validation, and it's unlikely that you will find yourself in a situation where your significant other should be worried about your relationships at work or outside of home. Three, you placed the fault of the lack of possibility on yourself—you said, it's because you were not suitable enough for her, not that she is not suitable enough for you. By placing the blame on your own incompatibility, you believe she is worthy of someone who treats her well—and that we all are."

He conveys his amusement, his voice filled with the beginning of a smile. "Why am I starting to get the feeling that you're better at analyzing that I am..." he mutters jokingly.

"Of course! I'm Kim Yerim, mind you..." I snort, adding, "Plus, it's hot when you speak English, and when I finally walked across the room to greet you, there was still pink on your cheeks, so cute..."

He laughs.

The sound of his laughter really is beautiful. I often catch myself thinking, that if I could hear that sound every day, then everything would be okay. I often find myself hoping, that the reason for his laughter is me.

"You know, a lot of people think I'm a cold person..." he murmurs, quietly. "Ever since...then, I think my dad knew that I blamed him for it all. We pushed each other away so much that I was often alone. My brothers are a lot older then me. By that time, they'd already gone to university, so I had no one at home...so I studied hard, I skipped grades—not because I felt like I didn't belong in my own classes, but because I wanted to leave my father's house sooner. I wanted to find my own place, somewhere where I belonged. Once I was out there—I guess you could say I was used to being alone. After all, eating, studying, and doing experiments were all solitary interests, and I never really felt like I was missing something. Before I knew it, I was starting my doctorate."

As I listen to him speak, I nestle closer to him, my chest filling with a dull ache—for the younger Jungkook who seemed a lingering shadow—even in the Jeon Jungkook before me now.

"That's when something changed." he says, gently brushing my hair behind my ear, "I had this roommate, who I was splitting the costs of our apartment with back then. He was an intern at the same medical center my lab was located at. It was strange, because his room was extremely different from mine. It was so colorful that I could not find anything void of color, save for the walls, which even then were a deep beige. The bed, his closet, the furniture—not one, and I never asked why. But he told me one day—it was because all he ever saw at the hospital was white. He never wanted to see white when he didn't have to. White wasn't simplicity or purity to him, it was the death and suffering of humanity. And he said, 'Jungkook, sometimes I think I'm paying the price for what I do.'

"And then I thought to myself—thinking of my lab coat and laboratory—'Is my life not also filled with white? Now that I've chosen this path, to turn the odds of illness in my own way—shouldn't I also bear the consequences of fighting with fate? Everything that I do...prolonging the life of a single species, changing the course of survival—it's against the will of nature.'

"Now that I think about it, it's kind of funny." he says as I lay still beside him, quiet. "As a scientist, I shouldn't believe in superstition. But more and more, I began to feel my roommate's saying was true. At odd hours in the middle of the night, as I sat in the lab—when the mouse for the night died in my hands, when it blinked at me for the last time. I began to think I was born this way, for a life like this—cold and all alone.

"As I grew older, when I began seeking marriage, I only did so because I wanted to fulfill what society and my parents demanded. At different points in life, I was told by my dad, a man should have different ambitions. At twenty, it should be transforming the world, wandering wherever the endless skies and depthless sea would take you—to carve a name for yourself, he said. But reaching thirty is the time one returns to their roots, to grow their own—to leave the only thing that can transcend time on this earth: bloodline—and to pay back the soil for which you owe for your life, the family which has raised you.

"But, no matter the circumstance, I didn't think I could give a person love. And I knew it would be unfair to ask someone to love me, if I couldn't return that degree of love in return.

"So when you told me—that you'd be happy in a marriage without love—I began to think I had hope—that maybe, if I prepared everything well, if I gave you the best of myself—of what I could—you would agree to marry me. I bought the house, took over the company from my dad...I knew you had a few previous relationships, so I did my best to learn from what I could remember of their mistakes. I remember you told me that your last relationship ended when he asked you to love him. I promised myself that I wouldn't make the same mistake. I knew that, if you agreed to my proposal, there'd be no going back. We just wouldn't be able to be friends anymore, and I never, ever wanted to lose you. More importantly...I didn't want to hurt you."

By now, his voice was slightly raw.

"Then...you accepted me. I was so happy, that I couldn't bring myself to contact you for two days. I was prepared to give you the rest of my life, Yerim. I was so sure everything would work out exactly the way I wanted it to. There was nothing I felt could go wrong—until...until I began to go against my own promise."

Gently, he rises from the mattress, guiding me to sit up as he turns his body to face me. The room is quiet except for the sifting of the bedsheets.

"Yerim." he says my name, his eyes wide as his hands reach out and cup my shoulders. The dim blue light casts onto the side of his cheek, the rises of his face bathing in indigo. "Sometime, at some point, I began to realize that you were more to me than I was admitting. I thought, for a while, that everything I felt was only because of our friendship or my status as your fiancé. I felt a responsibility towards you, to comfort you and protect you, that was only natural. It didn't seem to make sense to me when what I felt...became more than that."

His eyes glisten in the dark. I reach out my hand to brush his hair from his eyes, and when my fingers threaded through the silky strands, I deduced I wasn't dreaming. My shoulders shook slightly as my lips parted with each breath.

"It's like I've lost my mind—I can't stop thinking about you, missing you. In the past few days, when I didn't have work to distract me, it only got worse...I don't know, Rim. In front of others, I don't like to say more than necessary, but in front of you, I can talk forever—I like listening to you laugh, listening to you talk, listening to the sound of your voice...in the time I spend with you, I'm happy, even if they're only simple moments. I admire you and your stubborn bravery, your blunt honesty, the way you insist on taking matters in your own hands—the way I really don't know what to do with you sometimes...and I still don't know what to do most of the time." he tells me as my eyes widen, my breath leaving my lungs.

"I don't understand myself right now." he says, the creases between his eyebrows deepening as he confesses, "I just know...that I want you. So today, when I asked you out on a date, the truth is...I wanted to confess to you...that I like you. I like you, Kim Yerim."

The truth is...I wanted to confess to you...that I like you. I like you, Kim Yerim.

He...likes me?

He likes me.

I don't know when the first tear had rolled down my cheek, but when Jungkook finishes speaking, my chin is wet, my sleeves stained on the edges where I'd unconsciously wiped my face.

"Kookie..." I suddenly wrap my arms around his neck, trembling as scalding hot tears wet my eyelashes. "Do you know how much you hurt me?" I murmur happily, croaking, "You can't say these things and expect me not to cry..."

"Yerim, I was wrong." he apologizes, holding me tightly. "I'm just so scared...that one day I might hurt you, just like my dad hurt my mom. I'm not as good of a person as you think I am. Sometimes I'll lose control of myself—and then you'll realize one day, that there's nothing good about me."

I pull back, raising my head to stare him in the eye. "Jungkook, I remember you told me once, that 'anger, sadness, and regret are all a part of us'. If that's true, then I don't wish for you to be a perfect person. I know that a lot of people will say, 'Love will make you blind to someone's flaws and mistakes'—but that isn't the way I want to love someone. To me, love is holding someone's hand, telling them: 'You messed up, but we can fix our mistakes together, you aren't perfect, but we can accept the flaws of each other. I want to be with you, to walk beside you, and share your pains and sorrows.'" I slide my hand against his cheek, "Jeon Jungkook, no matter where we end up tomorrow, the day after that, or the year after, remember that I'm walking beside you. If you hurt me, if we grow apart, I'll wait for you—maybe not for long, but I'll wait, and if you can think of me, then take my hand, and don't look back."

He reaches his hand behind my neck, our noses bumping. I tilt my head to give him access to my lips, a warmth fluttering in my stomach as he kisses me softly.

"Yerim..." he murmurs my name, our breathing interchanging in the dark, every movement of our bodies instinctual. His kisses are gentle, yet assertive as his tongue runs over my lower lip, my muscles practically turning into jelly.

Jungkook's phone lights up with a vibrating buzz on the nightstand.

He places a final kiss on the corner of my lips before reaching over to pick up his phone, the screen alighting his face in a pale blue glow.

His brow creases as he glances at the contact displayed, before he glances up at me.

I nod, and he rises from the bed, leaving the room to take the call in the hall outside.

—

Jungkook returns later than I thought he would.

I tilt on the brink of slumber when I hear his footsteps entering the room, the light scent of him filling my nose when he settles back into bed beside me. My back is pressed against his chest as I hear him speak.

"Some bad news." he tells me, voice low. "I'll have to go to Japan soon. An important collaborator in one of my large projects has had a heart attack, and I'll have to oversee the transition of a few assets in person."

"Are they okay?" I mumble, drowsily. I place my hand atop his, threading our fingers together.

"I hope they will be, but regardless, I'll be leaving tomorrow, and I'll back in a week. I won't be able to spend much time with you before then...and I won't be able to go with you to pick your roommate up as I promised." he begins, guilt lacing his voice.

"Don't worry about it," I say, "There's plenty of time for you to make it up to me."

"I still don't want to leave you." he chuckles as he kisses my bare shoulder.

"I'll miss you too," I laugh as I hum, "Now that you're going to be gone, I'll probably just invite Seulgi to stay in the house with me—just for a few days before she goes back to Ilsan. That way, I won't miss you nearly as much."

"I'm glad." Jungkook murmurs against my skin, "I'm sure any friend of yours is interesting company..."

"Interesting is an understatement." I say, drifting into sleep with a smile on my face.