“Kyungsoo, I’m home” I shout habitually even though deep inside I know; he’s not home. Probably busy back in the restaurant, he’s the new master chef anyway.

Cold wooden pedestal greets my feet as I stride inside our shared apartment with bags of daily groceries inside my grip. I feel weary like always, coming back late from work before paying a little visit to the convenience store—buying everything Kyungsoo might need to cook the next morning. Yes, I’m tired but somehow I’ve never feel this blue.

Returning to an empty home almost every night is nothing close to comfort.

I miss Kyungsoo, that’s all.

But, I don’t want to bother him for my egoistic need of his presence around the house more often than he could possibly give. And what is left for me to do is nothing less than what is best; waiting till consciousness drifts away from my senses.

I place grocery bags above the kitchen counter and notice white, trapezoidal paper wrappings rest on its marble surface. It’s Chinese food. Correction! It’s a Chinese food with a yellow post-it note plastered on its bound lids saying;

Forgot the fortune cookies!!! Be back soon.

Relief surges within my pulsing blood and I giggle “Kyungsoo” I’m mesmerized by how a piece of manufactured paper could root such sensible ease within my ceasing agony.

Kyungsoo returns approximately 15 minutes after the discovery of Chinese food in the kitchen with another paper wrappings inside his hands “I’m home” says him.

I run to the foyer in devotion and partial needy expectation of seeing his face. After all day, finally! “You’re home!” I greet him before catapulting my arms around his slender nape, enveloping him inside my embrace. I feel grateful than the one man I dearly treasure finally comes home.

Kyungsoo’s hands runs down my lower back and pull my body even closer to him as he seal our comfort in immune lock “I’m home, Gayoung” says him while burying his nose upon my shoulder.

Somewhere down below within vary layers of my consciousness, a realization awakens by his sweet utters. I am his home as he is mine.

Soft inhalation samples the scent of my skin and Kyungsoo plants soft kisses down my surface ever so tenderly as if he had found wounds aching for the cure of his supple lips. Maybe I’m not the only one who misses each other terribly and seems like either of us are in desperate need of one another—Still, I’m glad I’m not the only one.

Kyungsoo pulls away and engage his eyes on me “are you hungry?”

I nod “of course I am”

Both of us walk hand in hand toward kitchen like we haven’t have such comfort in centuries long; feeling gripping warmth surrounding one another’s palm with each other’s hold. I look at my boyfriend, enjoying the bliss emanating through his stare as if sensibilities were concrete substances visible to human’s sight because the one happiness lingering in his eyes is real,  and I catch his plague.

Kyungsoo certainly knows how to make me happy even with the slightest form of effort there is to give; present by my side.

We both eat in quiescent yet with the right company. Smile stretch my lips into a crescent curve too naturally when he’s around and I can’t hold this lovely feeling from being expressed seeing Kyungsoo trying to finish his dinner. He looks perpetually adorable and I’m bewitched under his spell.

Kyungsoo savor his seafood noodle in complete delight and I can’t second his act, the meal sure is delicious. But there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask him.

“Kyungsoo?”

He eyes me thoroughly yet with his mouth occupied, the only respond he can manage to emit is a vocal ‘unh?’

I giggle as crimson blooms evenly on the apples of his tempting cheeks “So, Chinese? I thought you’d cook tonight”

Kyungsoo savors his dinner apace to its last bite then respond my question rather groggily, he stutters “well, ye-yeah, but I—um” he pauses for mere seconds seemingly thinking for an answer suitable enough, but what for? “I felt like eating fortune cookies, so—“ he shrug swiftly, somehow looking off of security and exceptionally nervous “you’re done with that Gayoung? Let’s have fortune cookies!”

I place my dinner down the counter as Kyungsoo places cookies by our front—a pair of fold, crisp crackers that holds ulterior forecasts believed by immeasurable number of people. It certainly establishes both pulsing excitement and nerve having your fortune lying within your grip.

“Can I pick?” I ask of him but Kyungsoo shakes his head a little too keen his copper brown hair bounces.

“No, Gayoung, I’ll pick” says him whilst swiftly reaching for the one closer to his side “that one over there is yours” I scoff in partial disbelief that Kyungsoo suddenly counts on his luck, but then again, fortune cookies are just cookies so I don’t really mind.

Both of us crack the cookies into their opening simultaneously and I’m astounded to find my reading turns out to be an uncommon, thick scroll of paper I’ve never seen ever nestling inside a fortune cookie, ever! It is slightly too big.

“Wow! that one seems long” Kyungsoo wonders “what does it says?”

I pull the scroll into revealing and find long sentences written in… It is hand written. Oh my God!

“Go ask your boyfriend for a blue box with white ribbon and say yes at the opportunity given. That way both of you will be lucky” I read the poorly, hand written words jumbles into several orders. Kyungsoo must’ve planned this “what blue box are we talking ab—“

Kyungsoo stand immobile before me with foresight radiating through his stare as he eyes me with deep, soothing stare “Gayoung” he fishes a small, blue box from inside his pocket. White ribbon crowns its lid and I can see the autograph of Tiffany Co. embossed gracefully on its cover.

Kyungsoo.

“Gayoung, do you believe in luck?”

My dear Kyungsoo

“I didn’t actually believe in luck, but that belief changed when I met you—” he smiles, pulling the ribbon off of Tiffany box within his grip “—and that belief was no longer existent the moment you became what I can always call as my own, my girl”

Tears prickle their ways out of my eyes slowly.

“I am lucky to be able to love and be loved by someone like you—I am the luckiest man on the planet” says him whilst pulling the box’s lid into its opening. I see white gold nestle between suppressing hold of deep blue cushions, a wedding ring.

“Park Gayoung, will you love this man until infinite forever? Like this man will always do for an endless age?”

I nod “I do, Kyungsoo, I do”and I cry.

 Kyungsoo takes my hand and rest the ring of eternal promise encircling my wedding finger, a symbolic bound of the vow between us—a vow I’d never break.

My fiancée reaches for my lips and kisses me tenderly, ever so delicately. His lips grazes upon mine, sweeping its surface smoothly like the touch of feather and tastes sweeter than any delight existent. There are no kneads, no pulls, no chews, nothing beside the comfort of absolute amenity that offers me the preview of ceaseless joy we’re bound to have. This kiss should never end until infinite forever, until endless age. Cause I’d be damned lucky to spend an eternity with Kyungsoo.