And when he takes you in his arms, you see nothing but his eyes. You don’t think (thinking ruins it, thinking ruins you). You’re wasting your time because god, this is so useless but you need him, him and this stupid scent you grew addicted to as if it was the air you were supposed to breathe. Aren’t you tired of needing to breathe him?

You ask for one night and you’re so demanding. You hate having requests. You’ve always been a spoiled child. Being smart and pretty spoiled you. No, it didn’t. Thinking that only this amount of qualities would save you from falling ruined you (as thinking always does)

‘please, please’. You ask to spend time with him and you imagine staying in his arms, longer.

Please, please let me get what I want. You remember this song and you understand morrissey’s craze. You’ve always loved his songs. It speaks to you. You hate this expression: how can even music speak? Music that wasn’t written or sung for you, music that was meant for somebody out there, how the hell can it be for you? We never sing for ourselves, you believe so. However, everything doesn’t necessarily have to be explained. You cannot get the tune of a single song from him right. You’ve always had a great voice (those who listened to you sing said it was lovely) but no sense for songs that matter to you. When you tried, alone in your room, you ended up choking on your own words at the middle and slowly forgetting the lyrics. You’ve never attempted to sing for yourself again.

Taekwoon slowly nods his head, meaning yes, I’ll give you one night.

‘will you be alright?’, he asks and you smile at him. He’s always been sweet to you. You wonder if he ever felt pain or need. You hate yourself for being so different from him, or is he different from you because he has to make it balanced? You don’t know what ‘it’ stands for or what the two of you are.

‘I’ll teach you how to smile. I’ll make you laugh. It’s a promise”, you say.  

You beam at him, your eyes irradiating warmth. You like thinking that it’s not a situation where you’re using taekwoon’s kindness (was he kind? you can’t tell) but you’re doing something in exchange. You’ll make him smile.

‘let me just grab my bag, will you wait for me?’, you ask him to wait but you sense that he’s scared you’ll just leave (you’ve done it once).

 ‘I’m sorry’, you say as you remember but he doesn’t seem to understand.

If it was anybody else other than taekwoon standing next to you, you’d have felt embarrassed of checking in a hotel and sharing a room but you need him and he agreed to stay with you for a night (only one night). The way he looks at you makes you feel complete, new, un-ara, for whatever that means. You don’t want to bring up old memories but it feels like the right way to start. You admit that the nickname you like the most is fighter. You voluntarily omit that you like it because he’s given it to you and that it’s the first time you sense that the intentions behind a gift are genuine.

‘it suits you, you always look like you’re trying to get something from life’, he explains, his eyes not leaving you for a second.

‘what am I trying to get?’, you don’t understand what he means, you figured out long ago that you’ve always looked lost and confused and that people around must have noticed.

‘anything’, the distance between you is smaller, he takes your hand, his is cold and makes your body shiver.

‘the best out of life’, he adds his eyes looking straight at yours, ‘you always try to get what you can get’, his lips are inches away from yours, red and tempting, ‘but you don’t know that everything is yours’, his lips are warm and his hands have never been colder, exploring yours. You disintegrate because of his touch. He doesn’t let go of your hand when he pulls away. You breathe heavily and think even more heavily. Your thoughts are rain flooding inside your brain. (it ruins it, it ruins it all)

‘what you want is always so clear, yoo ara’

Don’t say my name, you want to warn him. Don’t say my name or I’ll be soon gone away. My name is shame, even in your lips, especially in your lips. Don't say my name. Please.

‘why me?’, you hear him ask and it strikes you how the person who says it first is at an advantage. You'd like to know as well why he agreed to stay with you. To you, taekwoon is the most flawless human-being you've come to meet. He could've been happy with someone else, or on his own but you figure out perfection and happiness aren't a good match. To you, he's art. No, he's what art lacks. He's a new form of everything that is so holy that it does not obey to such human concepts as happiness or misery. You understand that he doesn't need them. It's so low and abstract. Taekwoon was living on his own, isolated from the ersion of greed because, he could stand on his own and face everything. That's how you see him. He's the child who would wait for you at the gate of school when you're late so you can go in together, give you his own books when you forget yours and are about to get scolded for it, the child who's never accepted your 'thank you's. He always would say that it was his own choice and there was nothing to thank him for. He's also the boy you've seen singing his heart out, his eyes not leaving you for a second (it always seems like his eyes would never leave you), you felt so small in that crowd and he made you feel big. And the most important is that he's the man who agreed to stay with you for a night (because you asked for it). 

‘why me?’, you repeat, a bit lost, looking away. It disgusts you how you speak so easily of yourself. You always put your own emotions first (me, me, me)

‘I’ve never said that I wanted you’

You bite on your lower lip, so hard that you can taste your blood. Something has broken inside you. I’ve never said that I wanted you (no one wants you, ara). Your last escape is nothing but another trap. (your demons are coming to get you again)

‘You want me’, taekwoon says slowly, pulling you closer in a hug. He breathes you and you’re too weak to push him away.

‘you want me but I need you and it feels so unfair’. You kiss him, your lips are too busy to say that this is not true, you need him more, god, you need him so much! You suddenly want to explain but words slip away from you each time you want to say what matters. Words always betray you (and the thinking ruins you)

All these years, you’ve tried to preserve yourself from him, to save yourself for as long as you could stay away, because…

‘I’m so unfair’, it’s a statement he doesn’t deny although you sob in his arms, your heart about to explode from your chest. He’s steady. He’s always been this way. His body is a barrier between you and the world. You’ve always feared protection but today is an exception (only today)

You tried, you tried so hard to push him away because… because you're unfair and you always look for reasons to avoid taking responsibility for his love (your love), you don't want to think that you love him, it would make it real (and all that responsibility would be yours to take... you just want to make him smile) 

When you open your eyes, you want to close them again but he’s looking at you (it always feels like his eyes wouldn’t leave you). You can’t pretend to still be asleep to have him longer. He kisses your neck but you do not let him.

(It’s not over yet, do not kiss me to leave your scent on me)

‘another day, please’, you whisper so low that it’s barely a breath, your eyes are glowing as you ask, watery when he replies.

‘you can’t hide forever, ara, you have all these things to want and to get’, his lips brush against your hand that you’ve placed as an obstacle between him and your neck, ‘you have me and I’ll always want you back’ (you always want to make him smile).