WRN: There's a bit of bad language. 

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You should have put the picture away before he came over but you didn't. You assured yourself that he would be in and out of your apartment anyway. You 'd left your purse in his car last night. He was bringing it to you. Simple. Clean. Easy. The three words came to mind even though you knew they didn't actually apply to the situation, you just wanted to steady your nerves. You had put on a tank and and jeans after Youngbae called to say he was on his way. No point in dressing up, right? No point in make up or doing your hair either, it was bad enough that another man was coming to your apartment while your boyfriend wasn't home. Regardless, it definitely wasn't a big deal. He definitely wasn't going to be there long and most importantly, nothing was going to happen...definitely.

Still, the picture of you and your boyfriend sitting on the living room table seemed inappropriate for some reason. You stood with him in the park in the 4 x 6 frame, light surrounding you, small traces of wind shown in your hair, a couple strands blowing out of place. The two of you were mid-embrace smiling into the camera as if in a catalogue. That's what it felt like at first, the two of you had been so happy. He was so perfect it seemed like you ordered him out of a magazine, but now he partied too much and you were always busy working. You rarely had time for him and he rarely had patience for you. When you did go out together, like last night, you ended up getting into a fight and saying something you didn't mean to, then he ended up drinking all night, leaving you to find a ride home. It wasn't too different from any other night between the two of you nowadays, a fact Youngbae reminded you of while you rode in his car, the two of you almost at your house.

“You can do better.”

“Don't say that to me.” You stared out the window. It was easy for him to say because it wasn't him that was in your situation. For men like him, girls come as frequently as subway trains and love is a three letter word that comes hand in hand with contraceptives. You wanted to say that but you'd said enough tonight. It was time to bite your tongue. Besides, it took all of your composure not to cry. This was how the end starts and you knew it.

“You can tell-”

“He doesn't love me?” You finished for him. You could feel the tears but your resolve grew stronger and you fought the urge. “Yeah, I can tell... Now what, Youngbae? Do you feel better now that you've made it worse?” You kept your voice even. You were careful not to yell but you wanted to scream. Instead you focused on the neon lights and streetlamps of the street. This was a busy city. You moved here for him. Now what? How would you live here without him? You shook your head, warding off thoughts of defeat. You could do this city alone. You just didn't want to... and you didn't have to. The two of you just needed to... fix things.

“I'm sorry.” He said the words as he pulled up to your place. You wanted to bolt out of the door but you held back long enough to say “Thank you,” the gesture giving Youngbae time to stop you from getting up quickly, absentmindedly putting his hand on your thigh. “Kajima.”

His skin felt warm on yours and it occurred to you, you hadn't been touched there in a week. You wondered how long you hadn't been sleeping with your boyfriend and how bad it was that you didn't notice it was missing. He didn't lift his hand right away, staring at your face, looking for signs of impending flight. You returned his gaze, satisfying him so that he'd retract his hand. You felt your body become rigid. All of a sudden you were aware that he's not just a friend. He's a man. A couple thoughts ran through your mind that you immediately tried to shake, their very presence sparking guilt.

“I really am sorry. I just don't like seeing you argue with him.”

“I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Youngbae. Really,” You said facetiously, annoyed he had a comment on how you lived your life. He paused for a moment, staring at your mouth and you withdrew your lips from view, pressing them together, subconsciously aware of his gaze. A small smile crossed his face before he responded, looking down for a second at the steering wheel.

“It's not like that. I don't know what to say to make you stop being angry.” He looked ahead at the rainy street. It had been raining for days, water seemed to be everywhere, falling on window panes, flooding the streets... running down your face. You realized you were crying and you turned away from him to look out the window.

“I'm not angry. I just want to go to bed.” You opened your door and felt his hand on your arm this time, spurring your heart to beat a little faster. For some reason, despite how much was on your mind, you thought of how short your dress was. For a split second you wondered what he thought of you. Did he like the way you looked? Did he want to scorn you for the length of your minidress. It was strange to think of that at a time like this. You mentally bashed yourself for being so ridiculous.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated himself.

“I get it. It's okay.” You pulled your arm away and rushed out of the car, scurrying across the street and into the house, forgetting your purse behind you.

Now, it was the next day and you sit on your couch, staring at the wall in front of you, nervous about his arrival. Your boyfriend hasn't come home yet but you haven't noticed his absence, bigger problems on your mind. Was it always like this before? Did you always get this jittery feeling at the thought of Youngbae?

You subconsciously rub your hand on your thigh for a moment, remembering the sensation of his touch, imagining it being his hand before pushing him out of your mind and setting off to do some chores. It'd be better not to worry about him coming by. You clean your apartment twice over before you hear his familiar knock on your door.

“Hey!” Your greeting is over enthused but he ignores it. He's holding your purse in his hand and he presents it to you, holding it out as if it was dirty. “Don't leave your stuff in my car,” he says before handing it to you. Actually, practically dropping it and letting you catch it is a better description.

“Excuse you?” You say outdone with his attitude.

“I'm not the kind of person who has time to bring you your stuff.” He says folding his arms.

“You really don't have to worry about that. Trust me.” You resolve never to ride in his car again. That will fix the situation completely. You really want to slam the door in his face. Three minutes ago your stomach was doing backflips to meet him. Now he was standing there being a complete . If he were any taller he'd be literally looking down on you. The thought of his height putting limits on his attitude makes you laugh a bit. The image comes to you of Youngbae getting a step stool just so he can look down on you without standing on his toes.

“I called you last night. You were ignoring me.” Despite the anger in his voice, he says the words like a confession, immediately fessing up to the cause of his grumpiness, unable to put up the front any longer. He gives a side glance to your porch light, keeping his eyes on it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, avoiding your dumbfounded gaze.

“Youngbae, you need to calm down.” You reach inside your bag and pull out your phone. “You had my phone.”

“Oh.” He says, his face red. You realize he's shivering from the cold wind outside. Your front door's awning shelter him from the rain but drops of water stream down his face and clothes from his run to the door.

You sigh before stepping back, “Come in.”

You set your bag down and flop on the couch. Next to the picture. Of your boyfriend. Who you are in love with. You remind yourself. Youngbae joins you, choosing to sit closer to you than he should have. Then there's silence. A long bout of silence, filled with glances and deep breaths.

“What you said yesterday,” you start, making sure to look at the carpet instead of Youngbae's face, “I'm not mad about it, just so you know.”

“I don't care if you are anymore,” Youngbae said, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs. His stance nonchalant, as if he were bored.

“Why not?” You snap, glaring at him. All your warm and fuzzy feelings toward him were going extinct.

He twirls the ring on his index finger, “Because I'm right. I needed to tell you. If you don't like it, get a boyfriend that doesn't .” He looked at the wall, your boyfriend's painting mounted across it. It wasn't your style but you had compromised with him, putting it up anyway. Youngbae knew the story, he was making a point of staring at it judgmentally.

You look at him in disbelief. He's being different than usual. Usually, he'd let you lean on his shoulder and listen to you talk about your boyfriend for an hour. Usually he'd bring the ice cream and you'd bring the movie, facials and manicures included. You're suppose to be my friend but right now, you're just being an .

You think the words and two seconds later realize you've said them out loud. You feel bad for a split second when Youngbae turns to look at you, his brow furrowed but then you remember he deserves it. He's so stupid. He has this stupid look on his face, as if you hurt his feelings. His face itself is stupid. What's the point in being so handsome when you're so blunt and mean all the time? Better yet his haircut is stupid, combed to one side as if he were edgy and modern. He wasn't. You two had had many conversations about the proper way for a girl to behave. He definitely isn't the most forward thinking man in the world.

Come to think of it, why did you feel so nervous around him? It wasn't like you were even attracted to him. He didn't have much going for him except nice eyebrows and a gorgeous eye smile... and a perfect nose... and lips that seemed so soft... so amazing... they just begged to be kissed. You can feel yourself breathing harder, your heart beat growing heavy as if banging in your chest.

“What did you just call me?” He raises an eyebrow, his body moving ever so slightly closer to you as he sits up.

“An . You're an . You heard me.”

Somehow you see his movements coming and you brace yourself, your mind quick enough to put your legs in between you and him, slowing down his advance.

“I'm an ?” he asks menacingly, grabbing your arms, his body looming over you as your stature shrinks into the couch.

“I'm not taking it back. You're an and you owe me an apology.” Your voice is lower but you make sure your face is still just as defiant.

“You flaunt your boyfriend in front of me all the time, knowing how I feel and I'm an ?”

You pause, rewinding his words in your head. “How do you feel?” You ask quietly after you stare at him. His hands grip into your arms. He inspects your facial features and you feel his gaze hover over your eyes and journey slowly to your mouth. You want him to kiss you. You feel the desire fill you up, your pulse out of control, banging into your own ears. You can smell his cologne. It's thin and light, barely noticeable. Youngbae's grip loosens a bit but you don't break free. He turns his head, slightly embarrassed by his position but unwilling to give it up.

“How do you feel?” You repeat, lifting your head a bit, bringing your mouth closer to his. He turns his head back to you and you can feel his breath on your skin. His grip tightens again, as if he might lose you if he lets go.

“Huh?...How do you feel? Tell me.” Your lips are so close to his that they brush against them lightly as you continue. “Show me.”

**********TBC***********