All sense of time halts at that moment. The only thing you're remotely aware of is Baekhyun, and his lips, and his face, and his lips, and his voice, and just his lips, for goodness sake. 

He just kissed you. He just kissed you, this kid, this guy whom you've known your entire life, whom you've only started to have romantic feelings for just recently, feelings you're so desperate to conceal, so desperate to deny. He kissed you. It was short. A kiss so fleeting, so sweet, so tender, so, so short. But it had happened. You know it did, because your lips still burn at the memory of his touch.

He laughs nervously and takes a giant step back, as if all of a sudden, the pressure has gotten too hot to handle. From the corner of your eye, you see Min gape at you, her jaw slacked open as she tries to form coherent words. Chanyeol winks at you, as if he's known all along that Baekhyun would do this - and maybe he has. They did, after all, form a really quick bond over dinner. Maybe they conspired together. You don't know. You don't know anything. Right now, you just want to go home and bury your face in the pillow and try not to freak out.

"Uh, okay, night," you somehow stutter. You turn around and stagger home, almost bumping straight into a streetlight. You blush as you walk, your head filled with thoughts of Baekhyun, thoughts of his smile, and all you want to do is stop thinking. Just for one second, can't your thoughts just shut up? But they won't, and you realize you don't have the strength to stop them, or the will. You don't want to think about it. And yet, you could go on thinking forever.

You don't know how you do it, but you arrive home. You hadn't even been paying attention to your surroundings, but you don't question it. You're just glad to be home, to be behind the safety of these walls, to have the privilege of locking yourself in your bedroom, collapsing on your bed, and hugging your pillow to your chest as tight as you can.

Geez. How can you expect to sleep tonight? How can he ... stupid, stupid Baekhyun. Why did he do that? You don't want to face him ever again. You don't want to look at him ever again. You fear that, if you do, you'll crumble. Whatever walls you had built up over the past days, months, maybe years, will dissipate when held underneath the gaze of those eyes. 

You're not supposed to like him. But you are.

And he's not supposed to like you, either. Does it mean that he does, then? That he likes you? Or had he only done that due to the Contract, due to Min, due to, well, for whatever reason you might fail to understand?

You're really starting to dislike having signed the Contract. If you hadn't done that, if you hadn't agreed to the proposition, you wouldn't have been into this kinda of situation. And you would have never known what it was like to have his lips touch yours.

You could break the Contract. You could. It's not that hard to tell him that you don't want to do it anymore. You could go back to being your usual, invisible self, and he could go back to politely rejecting every girl. But you don't want to. Breaking the Contract means forgetting wha