“Your crimson lips always look so tantalizing

A juicy, pillowy cherry that tempts me to bite
  Should I bite it one day, my dear?

My sharp teeth ache for a bite, maddeningly

   Will the soreness bewitch you? 

If you let me, I will soothe the pain away

   with my tongue, slowly and tenderly.

If you let me, I will make use of every second

   of your time.”

Without realizing, Ryujin crossed her legs tight and bit her lower lip, giggling softly at this vulgar letter. She had imagined and could even feel the faint sensation on her lips as she read this. Her not-so-secret admirer never ceased to make Ryujin’s heart flutter, knowing the right words to drive an arrow right through the short-haired woman’s heart, knowing the precise line to cross gracefully and tactfully. 

The curves of the words was so elegant, written with a loose and confident wrist, would fool anyone into thinking this was something else -- like a poem written by the best wordsmiths of the past, holding the most formal and wholesome thoughts. Instead this was written by a slender pair of fingers, lively and young, but overtaken by carnal desire and deep adulation that could not be subjected to control sometimes. Dainty fingers, immaculate in each move, hugged the stainless steel pen with such gusto and led it to its addicting dance, creating then romantic words only for Ryujin’s eager eyes. Written on a small piece of paper, inconspicuous, a little someone Ryujin knew well wrote their feelings and painted a vivid picture.

That little someone was living under her same roof, and was in this very backstage as well. Ryujin laid recumbent on those leather couches as she watched her team wait patiently for their turn on the stage. Everyone minded their own business, while Ryujin just watched quietly. Lia was finishing up her make-up and chatting with the stylist and Chaeryeong was busy playing thumb wars with Yuna who was far too energetic today. And then there was that enchanting woman, slightly taller than Ryujin, slimmer than Ryujin, hiding tremendous power behind that sweet smile and -- despite her clumsy words -- held a fine vocabulary that put the company’s songwriters to shame.

Hwang Yeji fervently watched herself in the mirror, adjusting her tie, tucking her shirt into her leather trousers, reaching down to make sure her boots were strapped, obsessively making sure the movements were perfectly precise and that the microphones would not jump away from their pouches. Every little detail was accounted for, every movement was refined. So dedicated to her work, eyes like a lioness fixated on herself without a care in the world. She was trying to make someone proud today.

Ryujin wondered privately if this was the same focused look she had when writing these tantalizing letters, nuzzled in the corner of her bunk bed, feeling her sweaty palms taint the paper she rehearsed on. And she wondered, in between soft quick giggles, if Yeji truly believed that Ryujin didn’t know who this secret admirer was. Ah, what an lovely fool.

To Yeji’s credit, she tried her best to make it confusing. Slipped onto an inkigayo sandwich was the first letter, brief but sweet (far more wholesome than this last iteration),