“Do you believe in stuff like destiny and soulmates?” Karina tastes like bitter cherry and purpled framboise against his tongue. He deeply inhales her woozy, gourmand parfum de toilette like an asphyxiating drug. Pulsating, drifting palms betray the honey dripping from his sickly sweet gaze.

I believe in us.

Like unraveling a ribbon, he tenderly slips gauzy straps off her shoulders. “We’re similar so we understand each other.”

“You’re my only one,” Tilting back, her neck bares open for him, littered in careless mauve love bites. His fingers dotingly waltz over the dirtily periwinkle watercolors, inspecting his painting — his sublime masterpiece. Through the starlit bedroom wall, the glitzing city lights bathe her in a halo of forbidden temptation and celestial ethereality. “If it’s not you, it’s no one else.”

Keep my love locked down.

He dons a casual smirk. “Yeah?”

Don’t let anyone else have me.

“You were made for me. If I can’t have you, no one can.” Venusian eyes run over him possessively, arms thrown over his flushed neck. Something stirs within him, feral wilderness shimmers in his silver-dappled irises. Iridescent teeth graze into the blooming pink apple of her cheek.

Indecent arousal.

“Do you feel me here?” His ticklish hand wanders down her shivering curves.

A luminous champagne horizon bursts behind her closed, smoky eyelids.

“And here?” He purrs, fiery touch teasing low.

Sequins of sweat sparkle along her sumptuous thighs.

“What about here?” And lower.

A silent cry punctures through Karina’s rosé-soaked lungs, pretty feline eyes gleaming with teary ecstasy. Her stiletto nails claw angry half-moon crescents into his chiseled, diamond carved shoulders. Euphoria under you, darling. Jeno grabs her by the jaw, tongue tracing slowly over the outline of where he smears his saliva like lipgloss. So drunk on you. She meets him in a sloppy french kiss, wet fingers petting at his tousled, freshly bleached hair. The friction from Jeno rubbing up against her has her sighing blissfully — dizzy and breathless, overheating — into their languid kiss.

Fluttery heartbeat, ornamental butterflies. “I love it when you treat me like this. Like I’m the only one who matters.”

“You’re so cute,” He coos, almost mockingly as he bunches her satiny hair into a messy ponytail and pushes her down (— into saccharine oblivion, flower in , lascivious saltiness). “You drive me so damn crazy, It’s your fault I’m like this, baby.”

I don’t want to ever stop.

After each encounter ends, every time he departs, there’s nothing more than his smell on her body that Karina loves. Falling prey to relief washing over her sated limbs and nicotine kisses that leave her all fuzzy and lightheaded, she wonders if maybe all lovers are addicts. She misses his skin. A night without him is torture, hours, minutes, seconds are insufferable emotions that leave her sickened in restless longing. She pictures his distant, glazed expression in her drowsy mind. Then imagines his shy face b with smitten reverence.

Sometimes when she’s lost in thought, he reaches over and rubs his thumb delicately into her chin and pulls away, mischievous eyes twinkling as if he had just scored a point. Scene: trojan horses breaking through crumbling defenses, pained cries of warriors piercing the sky. An involuntary smile beams on her lips, deciding that him exploring her, conquering her, and being interested in the details of her body made her equally delighted — even more so. A hopeless romantic, a traveler in wanderlust, a never-ending surrealist embarking bon voyage. Godspeed. Countervailing sensations that race across roseate skin similar to ghosting whispers:

Thick, creamy vanilla ice-cream glides down the constricting throat, spilling over the corner of a mouth slicked with drool, cold shivers jolting along the spine in invisible marbles. Being tipsy from the sweetness on the tip of the tongue and struggling to avoid the warmth of oncoming sleep. In his lips, in-between his lips, just melting and melting continuously over squeaking bedsprings. Eliciting a giggle to smother nervous habits, playing tricks behind the back to act coy. Experienced. Mature. Stay cool. A shirt brushing against shoulder blades feels good, fingers entangled in hair feel better. Seeing the champagne horizon countless times, ing sighs hidden in pillowcases, taking in more because they’re both adults dancing to their heartbeats. The smooth, cooling lotion of secrets that kiss down her legs, silent command to open your mouth. wider. And more rich, decadent helado pouring in. Music dripping down the walls. The bittersweet fragrance of coffee-flavored cigarettes from the half-full ashtray on the nightstand. The refreshing menthol iceball bursting in . Temperature rising in each turn of the page. Pulling a modest expression is too unfair. Naughtily smiling away the awkwardness after crude interpretations? Unforgivable, heart’s a wreck. A different high from alcohol. A feeling that can’t be bought with pills or explained in thesis. Gratitude? Acceptance? Safety? A feeling that remains after soap and shampoo. Yeah, Karina gives in to sleep, Lovers are no different from addicts.

. . . What? Karina’s eyes flash, torn between icy moonlight and calculating horror. I lost? She lifts her troubled frown to her opponent across the table — the calm and collected exchange student  Ning Ning, who already coveted most of her pawns and most dangerously, her queen — in simmering regret. She had never lost so early in a chess tournament before, always tasted victory until at least semi-finals. Now, now, she could only sink in a whirlpool of devastation and confusion. Karina releases an impatient sigh as she studies the scattered gold and silver pieces, trying to formulate a speedy comeback. Her fingers itch for a cigarette, drowsy mind desperately craving caffeine. Even the watching spectators appear flabbergasted at her uncharacteristic blunders, unsure if their reigning champion’s anticlimactic defeat is from frayed nerves or maybe from the simple fact that she’s met her match. After an excruciating delay, Karina begrudgingly ends up laying down her gold-plated king against the clear quartz chessboard, sunshine hitting through the grid which reflects a scintillating rainbow. A gorgeously condescending example. “I resign.”

A nuclear frisson of disbelieving gasps and thunderous applause erupts. No matter how hard she tries to dissect the board, mirages of a phantasmagorical Jeno mists through her cluttered brain. She can’t even pinpoint which wrong move was the deciding factor in her humiliating defeat. However, she’d be lying if she wasn’t missing his embrace right now. Missing him longingly like this makes her wonder where he is now. Perhaps, the person he’s holding in his arms at this moment is. . .

“Good game,” Ning Ning holds out her hand expectantly in good sportsmanship conduct. A subtle disgust stencils Karina’s stormy grimace. She can’t let it be obvious, not when dozens of cameras and people are looking.

“Good game,” Conjuring a vague smile, she tightly shakes Ning Ning’s hand.

“Unnie!” Karina whips around to Winter and her mother approaching, both sporting twinning expressions of skepticism. Now the ebony haired girl feels truly embarrassed, had she known they were coming she would have escaped away right after the match ended.

“What are you guys doing here?” She sends a hateful glance towards the ranunculus bouquet in her mother’s hands.

“To support you, loser,” Winter exclaims in a duh tone. “Now I know it was a waste of time coming.”

“Winter, it’s not nice to tease your sister,” Their mother disapprovingly scolds much to a pouting Winter’s dismay. She directs her gaze towards her eldest daughter, concern brims in her warm eyes. “Karina, sweetheart, is something wrong? I never seen you so unfocused. Has something been bothering you lately?”

It’s your fault I’m like this, baby. Karina blinks rapidly. “N-No, yeah, I’m fine?” She sighs in exasperation. “I’m good, umma. It was an unlucky game, I won’t lose again like that next time.”

“What a load of crap,” Winter snorts. “You’re all over the place — a hot mess. I bet you don’t even know what day today is.”

We’re similar so we understand each other. Her face darkens in a glare. “I’m not an idiot, it’s April 11th.”

Sensing more to this, uncertainty plagues her colliding thoughts at her sister’s arched brow expectancy.

“Dear, today’s your birthday,” Her mother reveals in glass-stained apprehension.

Karina flinches.

“I bet you feel like an idiot now. Why do you think we came all the way out here? Umma wanted us to go out for dinner tonight,” Winter harrumphs righteously. Then, a siren-alarming grin threatens her features. “Unless, you already have plans with your boyfriend — oh wait, I forgot. He’s not really your boyfriend since you’re just the side chick.”

“Shut the hell up!” Enraged, seeing red, she ruthlessly yanks her sister until she’s stumblingly forward. The younger juts her chin up defiantly.

“What are you gonna do?? Hit me!? Is it my fault you’re pathetically chasing after Wendy-sunbae’s man!?”

Karina seethes, venus flytrap unfurling. “How dare you say her name to me?” Iron fingers coil in Winter’s knit cardigan collar. “What the hell do you know!? Who are you to judge me!!”

“Girls, stop it!” Their mother wedges herself in between their fighting bodies, sweltering beneath the unwanted attention of prying glances and furious gossip. “What are you doing in public!? Karina, how could you put your hands on your sister like that?? What’s all this talk about you dating another woman’s boyfriend!?”

I love you, Karina.

“Just leave me alone!” Her vision blurs in indigo tears, his opium cologne, foggy mirrors, black swan feathers, glacial magnetism, gems glistening in dark caves. Withdrawing to tormented infatuation and wilted royalty.

Descending into mysterious, hooded eyes.

She doesn’t even realize she’s outside until —

“Karina!”

Pulse accelerates at a platinum blonde Jeno leaning against his sleek black Ashton Martin car, trap hip hop murmuring low in the background. Suddenly relieved, she rushes through brusque gusts of spring-scented breeziness right into his waiting arms. “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” All the previous turmoil vanishes in mere seconds.

“I wanted to surprise you,” She hears a lazy smile in his sultry tone. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

“Really?” She slightly pulls away and tenderly brushes the hair out of his half lidded gaze. A nasty lavender bruise circles his right eye (dyed hair, leather bomber, and scars that screams rebellious heartthrob aka every parent’s worst nightmare). Why are you hurt? Who would dare hurt whats mine? “What happened to your face?”

“It’s nothing,” Their heated stares meet, and sugar whiskey explodes through her burnt organs.

“Tell me,” A glimpse of pain shimmers in her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, love.” He peppers her hand in slow kisses. He has to know already — just how electrifying he is, the dizzying effect he has on her. She swears he does. “C’mon, let’s go for a ride.”

Des singularités qu’il faut voir à la loupe…

The day dwindles down to a night where his car overlooks the distant edges of skyscraper Seoul that sparkles like russeting jewels. Karina can’t even remember the events before Jeno came and rescued her, doesn’t even bother to. A half empty carton of chocolate-covered strawberries, sushi takeout, six-pack of beer, and fifteen missed calls is the perfect ending for her 21st birthday. The soft praline notes of Jeno’s cigarette smoke and the noir ambiance gets her in her feelings.

“Jeno,” She starts, taking a swig of pink Hoegaarden before setting it aside and climbing effortlessly over the gearshift into his lap. He hums, lazy fingers drumming on her denim clad thighs. He’s incandescent, an epitome of supernova tragedy and galactic heartache. She just needs some love, tired of playing around. She could never say she fell in love so bad, so hard before. But it’s different with Jeno, she doesn’t need a reason for wanting him 24/7. She wants to reside in his daydreams, wants him to walk through fire for her, to bring the sky, ocean, stars. Smiling slowly, she cups his cheeks. “Don’t you ever think about our future together?. . . We never really talked about it.”

He keeps quiet before looking at her meaningfully. “Mmm, rather than thinking about the future I’d rather live in the moment.”

“I get that, it’s just. . . I’m just hoping this thing going on between us isn’t temporary.”

“Babe, I know I got a lot of issues, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” His piercing black orbs an infrared camera through her soul, “In the past, whenever I committed to someone, it ended up messing me up real bad.”

“. . . Then what’s different about Wendy?” She numbs at how his intent eyes soften hearing his girlfriend’s name. Wonders if maybe that’s how he got that ugly bruise mark. Maybe someone offended her, catcalled her or came on too strong, and he lost it in uncontrollable rage. She heard stories of his blunt temper getting him in trouble, popping off like fireworks at the slightest hint of disrespect.

“Wendy is. . . She’s . . I don’t know.”

“Do you love her more than me?”

“Don’t,” He inhales heavily from his black cigarette before stubbing it into a glass ashtray. Exhaling transulcent tendrils of silver, he opts to interlock their fingers together, a hardened seriousness spreading across his handsome face. “You know I belong to you. Why worry about others?”

“Not others — your girlfriend.”

“I know,” He breaths, “You’ve been so good to me. And I know it breaks your heart because I haven’t left her, but. . . You not being around anymore kills me even more.”

She’d rather him stab a knife through her. “So what are you going to do about it? I don’t want to be someone you keep in the shadows. Do I have to ghost you for you to break up with her?”

Jeno gently brushes the pad of his thumb against the flushed petals of her cheekbone. “Stop it, it’s difficult enough trying to navigate through all of this. What more do you want—”

“I want you to pick me. Choose me.”

“Karina,” He sharply inhales through his nostrils. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? On your birthday, no?”

Her snowflake obsidian pupils waver. “You knew?”

He groans heatedly and runs a hand through his messy hair. “You didn’t make a big deal out of it so I didn’t either. Is this really how you want to spend it, though? With us arguing?”

Gosh, I hate this so much. She surrenders in a sigh, forehead resting softly against his chest. “No, I’m so sorry, baby. I just love you so much it scares me — I-I don’t know what to do, I can’t even think straight, can’t do anything properly—”

“Shh,” He soothes soft kisses into her hair. “It’s okay, we’re good. It’s my fault, I’m putting you through so much more than you deserve but I can’t help it. Can’t get you out of my damn head.”

She weakly sniffles. “That makes two of us.”

“Tell me you love me again.”

Radiating heat, goosebumps raise all over her blushing skin. “Does that turn you on?”

“Don’t act so innocent,” His condescending, caramelized tone seeps into her ear, slow hands hiking her flimsy shirt further up her torso. “You get off on me, you’re such a freak.”

“You love that about me.”

“So say it.”

Open zipper. Straddled hips. Elated breath.

“I love you, Jeno. I love you so much.”

vulnerability in the deepest places.

Two lovers.

(— on ne badine pas avec l’amour.)