There was something about seeing Baekhyun occupy my apartment. Seeing him curled on my mahogany rug sent a warm tingle down my spine. I could be seeing way more into this than there is to see but it gave me a sense of possessiveness.

He was here. In my apartment. As my boyfriend.

If things didn’t go well for us, initially, I could’ve put this all off as a dream. Belonging to someone else. Another girl. Something that happened in his apartment. Those memories could be separated from my personal space. Yet, he’s here. And it makes it all the more real, giving me a sense of tangibility that, once again, hits like I’m seeing him for the very first time.

He was shirtless with long, wide flannel pants that dwarfed him. I get it. Call me crazy for fawning over how adorably tiny he looks there on my rug, meticulously scanning the first edition of a book released just this morning for any imperfections.

Sometimes, I wished he was ugly. It felt so pathetic to just watch him and enjoy watching him. Especially times like now. I should be catching up on the show I’d been attempting to binge for an hour, but all I could see was him.

He could’ve fooled someone into thinking that this wasn’t his first time here. In the way that he’d been so relaxed and familiar lying right there on my fur rug. It even ushered a sense of desire to leave the comforts of my couch and the warm blanket to join him.

Baekhyun takes a short break, glancing from the copy of Three’s a Crowd to my eyes. He lifts an eyebrow, waiting expectantly for a response. He was in his serious, professional analytic mode right now.

I grab the blanket, pulling it with me as I descend to the floor with him, unapologetically abandoning the episode of Peaky Blinders playing. Not even the handsome male protagonist can steal Baekhyun’s spotlight.

He lies back, reading my mind, when I climb on top of him, straddling his hips. But instead of doing anything about our scandalous position, I simply snuggle against him, allowing him to tangle our legs together.

Baekhyun fixes the blanket on top of us and then squeezes me. “Hi,” he whispers into my ear.

“Hi,” I murmur back and then giggle when he bites the cusp of my ear.

“What’s up?” He asks, running a gentle hand behind my back before settling on my lower back.

I hum, “nothing. You made it look really comfortable down here, so I wanted to test it out.”

Baekhyun chuckles. “What’s your verdict?”

“You’re absolutely right. No doubt there. You can’t pay me to get up from here.”

“I’m always right.”

“Just this once, Narcissus.”

“In the way that I’m godlike and perfect?”

“In the way that you’re self-absorbed and love yourself too much,” I deadpan.

He laughs, shaking us around to resemble turbulence. I groan, trying to pull myself away but there’s no luck there. His grip is proven time and time again to be gorilla-like. “I’ll say. There’s not enough love in this world. Who’s to say that I’m not allowed to overcompensate?”

“Okay, babe, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I’m sure your presence has its attributes.”

I roll my eyes. “I can’t decide whether to hate you or like you.”

“You can decide on that four-letter word—you know, the one that starts with an L, and rhymes with glove?”

“Haha,” I snort. “You must think you’re so witty.”

He takes no offense and continues to participate in our banter, “I also think I’m the most perfect human being ever. No flaws whatsoever. I put genetic engineering to shame.”

“Respectfully,” I avert, “die.”

“Will you be the one to kill me or…”

“In your kitchen because it’s uglier than mine.”

“Blasphemy.”

“So what’s your verdict? Honestly, I thought you’d gotten lost earlier.”

“I was snooping around,” he casually tells me.

I snort. “And here I thought that you were lead astray and some birdie stole your clothes.”

“I may have forgotten to pack a shirt, so it was either your questionable bathrobe or this.”

I harrumph, “hey! My bathrobe is cute.”

“It’s puny. I’m not sure it would even cover my .”

“Or—“ I let my words hang to . “You could just go home. We had dinner. Mission accomplished.”

Baekhyun does the opposite of my words, and in fact, he grabs onto me tighter like a baby koala. “I’m still comparing your place to mine. I think mine is drastically better. No competition.” He snickers when I shoot him a dirty look and cheekily adds, “no offense.”

“Like I said, your kitchen is still ugly,” I add, dangling a finger in front of his face until he decides to bite my finger like the little menace he is. “Did you find anything worth robbing, you snoop?”

He smirks, “I saw some manuscripts.”

I immediately wince, feeling all the embarrassment in the world hit me like a truck. “You didn’t look through them, did you?”

He’s silent as a cunning smile plays on his lips. I got my answer.

“You write?”

I scratch my nape. “No,” I weakly deny. “That was something I did in college.”

“You seemed passionate enough, cerise. What happened?” His question makes it sound like I settled, and when I think about it, maybe I did.

“Nothing, I just—“ My hesitation is apparent. Just like anything, I don’t like to talk about myself. But I didn’t need a therapist to know that dating someone that I really like and cherish means I need to at least try. “Writing doesn’t make any money.”

I’d been green-eyed once. Writing was therapeutic in the past for me. It was supposed to be an escape, but I found that after graduating college, there was the harsh reality of finding an actual, somewhat respectable job. My friends that once fooled around in their frats and sororities seemed to have gotten together once they received their diploma.

Once again, I’d realized that I was different, but not in a good way. Not even because my OCD was debilitating if left untreated. I’d gone as far as wanting to get an MFA, but I realized soon after that I’d be caught paying for that the rest of my life if I didn’t make it. The pressure to seem put together at only twenty-one years old was immense.

Baekhyun deeply contemplates my pessimism for a couple of minutes before he says, “I understand your apprehension. Writing is like any other career in the arts. You either make it, or you don’t. You won’t get any benefits as you do with our publishing job. You won’t have any real insurance. I can say with confidence that it’s scary out there without the safety net of a corporate job, and it’s easier said than done to leave when you’re complacent with where you’re at.”

“But?”

He sees the anxiety in my eyes, or he must feel the tightness in my shoulders because Baekhyun’s response is to kiss me. His hands tighten around my waist, and I let his mouth consume me until I have nothing left. Except, even I know that I’d find an excuse to give him more of me.

“But,” he whispers, pulling back. “Sometimes it takes enormous strength to take chances. This is a terribly biased example, but if I hadn’t chosen to be honest about what I want with you, despite having to navigate through the messiness of our past, I wouldn’t be in here on your couch. You wouldn’t be on top of me like this. A month ago, I could’ve never imagined that we’d end up here. I have an endless opportunity to commit gluttony that is kissing you. Call me a loser all you want, but when I wake up in the morning, I’m genuinely fulfilled. I like my job. And I really, really—“ He pauses, kissing me once more. “—like seeing you. So what I’m trying to hint at here, if you didn’t catch my drift, if you feel like there’s something more out there, you should take it. Be selfish, cerise. Because, at the end of the day, I’m here. I’ll be your safety net.

“I’m well aware that I haven’t done much in the past to make you feel like you can trust me, but believe me when I say that right now, I’m trying to become a person that—in the far future, when you look back, whether we’ve made it or not, you won’t regret the memories that we have.”

My lips part and all I can think about is how much he’s changed from the past. How reliable he’s become in the time that we’ve spent apart. I was looking at someone with an impressive range of emotional capacity. He was no longer a boy.

There was no longer any baby fat on his face or body. Instead, it’s now been replaced by beautifully carved sharp lines and golden ropes of muscles, and the crinkles in his eyes are aged indeed; yet, there’s this inexplicable optimism that is encouraging as it is commendable.

I continue to stare at him, feeling an emotion that bordered on love. It made me wonder if what I was really feeling could be love.

I thought about what Irene told me once about love. How it was far more complicated than feeling butterflies in your stomach or getting that fuzzy feeling in your chest. Because when you love someone, it’s a kind feeling. It’s dependable and comfortable like when you’re in the company of a long-time friend.

You can laugh without the fear of judgment. You show them intimate parts of yourselves without worrying about the potential of them bolting.

It takes over your senses, submerging itself in every crevice, rather than an abrupt dip in ice water. It doesn’t have to validate your ego. It’s not feeling triumph that, finally, someone reciprocates how you feel about them.

It was just…a feeling, but those words can never do it justice. Somehow, you just know. Because when it clicks, it’s there looming above the surface. It’s more than rose-colored glasses.

A feeling so cozying that you couldn’t imagine sharing it with anybody else.

“I—“ My words go unfinished at the sound of my door pounding. I spring off of Baekhyun, eyeing the door with caution.

He waves for me to open it as he disappears down my hallway, probably on the lookout for his clothes.

When I open it, I see Irene shivering.

“H-hey,” I stammer out, reaching out to grab her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathes out, staring ahead when her eyes catch onto something. More like someone. “Oh my god. Is it just me or is your high school nemesis right there?”

I turn around to see Baekhyun, fully clothed, waving with a tight smile. In hindsight, the sight of his wrinkled dress shirt untucked and barely buttoned properly adorned with pajama pants would’ve sent me into a laughing fit if it weren’t for this serious situation. And oh. He definitely heard her question. “Am I encroaching?”

Irene blinks at me and then back at him. “No,” she ushers out an incredulous laugh before fixing a very scary look on the two of us. “You two. Couch. Now. And explain.”

“You’re ing,” Irene announces, scrutinizing our body language.

I realize that it may look like that but honestly, it was platonic sitting. We were just—okay, fine. I was sitting halfway on top of him. To be fair, I have OCD, and cravings are ten times worse for me.

“Why does everyone always start with that? It’s not like we’re in freaking stone age time having like we’re deprived and it’s our livelihood. That’s insulting.”

Baekhyun thumbs my waist, and I immediately forget what I was ranting about.

Irene snorts humorously. She adjusts herself on the love chair. “Okay, I get it. It’s the honeymoon period. It’s basically paradise.”

“She’s pretty good,” Baekhyun comments offhandedly.

Irene rolls her eyes. “Tell me you know what you’re doing, Yun. Are you dating him?”

I nod. “Yeah, and, you know, on the bright side, he wasn’t the one who leaked our tape.”

Baekhyun attempts a smile, but it’s awkward and falls short. He gives up and instead tries, “we worked out our differences hence—“ He waves his hand, encompassing us. “This.”

Irene sighs, “okay.” I cross my fingers, and from all the years that I’ve known her, at least at this moment, she looks like she believes us. I’m not sure if it was because she was my only friend, but it would be nice to have someone on my side other than Baekhyun.

Then she proceeds to lay out the question to end us both. “Have you guys told anyone?”

I point to her. “You know.”

“That wasn’t my question, Yun. Other than people catching you guys in the act—have you deliberately disclosed your relationship to anyone?”

Baekhyun stares at me, waiting for my answer. Great, now I’m cornered. I let loose a breath. “No, but—“

“Yun,” Irene warns, holding up a hand to silence my excuses. “What exactly are you afraid of? You too, Baekhyun.”

“Why can’t we just date in peace?” He mumbles, feeling a little bitter that she was going all therapist on us both.

She shakes her head. “Because this isn’t healthy. What happens when something goes wrong? Are you going to further delve into that bubble you both created? You guys have a history of toxicity. What’s stopping you both from relapsing?”

Baekhyun and I are silent. We both know she’s right. Goddamn it. This is probably why your therapist shouldn’t be your best friend. “Because I’m happy,” I admit to her. “Hypothetically, what if I tell everyone and something does go wrong? I’m scared of losing this thing that I have with him.”

Baekhyun is stunned at my admission. He’s never seen me actually put myself out there and allow myself to be vulnerable.

I mean I do feel vulnerable, but his arms feel safe. His comforting presence exceeds my compulsion to run away.

“I see you, Yun,” Irene tells me with earnest. “I know your mother leaving has made you feel that your problems and emotions aren’t worth talking about. You try too hard to protect everyone that you forget to protect yourself. Your dad and brother want to know about this part of you. You don’t need to stop pretending that you don’t need anyone. One day when you wake up and you truly lose everyone, you’ll feel regretful of your actions. Pushing away people because you’re afraid of hurting them? You’re going to realize that all of this was for naught when you forget how to let people in. It’s going to be a slap in the face, Yun, and maybe I won’t be there to help you through it.”

Irene stands, grabbing her sweater. “Walk me out, Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun startles from his daze and stands to follow after her. I sit there alone, taking in her words, feeling the shame of the truth hit me like a freight train.

I’d always known the truth deep down. It was easier when I pretended that I didn’t. Easier to cope with my dead humor, but now, I’m not sure if a joke can encroach on this feeling of doom.

The sound of my door closing reverberates, and my eyes follow Baekhyun who sits across from me. His eyes are weary, and at that moment, I’d never been so sure about the one sole fact that I pretended not to notice.

We were more similar than I’d wanted to admit.

“Are you okay?” Baekhyun is the first to talk. He s several of the top buttons of his shirt, then he rests his head against his palm propped above his head.

I shake my head. “No. You?”

His smile is frail. “Not at all.”