You Infire Me

Chapter Nineteen: Cherry Blossom Confession

". . . within the souls of the awkward and the overlooked often burns something radiant."
— Jo Ann Beard, In Zanesville

In your mind, the defining factor of spring isn't its beauty. Instead, it's notorious for the three p's of misery: pressure (with finishing up a year of school), pouring (as in rain), and pollen (and, by extension, allergy-induced colds). No amount of warm breezes, melted snow, or blooming flowers has ever made up for the pain spring usually inflicts upon you, physical and mental.

But when you and Yoongi step out of the restaurant you'd stopped at for lunch in the heart of DC, you notice them. Pink. Soft. Floating. Ubiquitous. Effervescent.

The petals from the city's peak cherry blossom season take flight on the crisp April breeze. You'd completely forgotten about them until now.

Your and Yoongi's reunion after a three-month period of separation was a happy one. You waited for him inside the airport, and when he saw you, he dropped his bags and ran into your open arms. He smelled like stale coffee and sterile hand sanitizer after a long flight from Seoul, but you didn't care. With eyes like those, looking at you like that, you'd have accepted him into your embrace no matter what.

But, you consider as you walk along the noisy, busy street, he hasn't kissed me yet. Surely it's just because he's waiting until we have privacy. Surely he's just waiting for the right time. Surely his feelings haven't changed.

Right?

Another brain battle begins to brew inside you, but Yoongi's deep voice pulls you out of it before you encounter the eye of the storm. "Do you mind if we walk around a bit?" He asks. You somehow hear his soft, gentle words above the street noise. "I'd like to stretch my legs before the car ride back to Hunsaker," he explains with a smile on his perfect lips.

I want those lips on mine, come an angry whisper in your mind. It's as if your romantic side is bearing its teeth, demanding sacrifices of affection.

"Of course," you respond, your rational side taking the wheel. "We're really close to the mall. The national mall, that is. That's where all the monuments are."

"Oh, I'd love to see that," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans. Three months have gone by, but his fashion choices have remained the same. Thank God. You blush at how much you enjoy seeing him in those pants.

The national mall in DC is miles long—it'll provide a walk lengthy enough to make Yoongi grateful to sit in a car for a four-hour drive. You begin at the capitol building and walk towards the Potomac River, passing the Smithsonian museums, Washington Monument, and WWII Memorial. You end up at the Lincoln Memorial, which Yoongi and you both enjoy. "Beautiful architecture," he notes. You nod in agreement.

The walk is mainly silent, until Yoongi asks, "What's your favorite monument here, Y/N?"

"It's actually . . . a little bit off the beaten path," you tell him. "Kinda far away, especially on foot."

"We have time, don't we?" He checks his watch. "Yeah. I mean, I don't mind walking if you don't."

________________________

This is underwhelming, you think as you and Yoongi walk side by side in complete semi-awkward silence. Perhaps it's because I had this beautifully painted picture of what our reunion would look like. But this is disappointing. Abysmal, even.

You reach the Jefferson Memorial soon enough. Pristine blue sky sprawls overhead, not a blemishing cloud to be found. The sun makes the white marble of the memorial sparkle while simultaneously casting a spotlight on each and every cherry blossom bloom. They dot each of the trees lined up along the edge of the reflecting pond; and they float through the air, nonchalantly letting the spring breeze carry them wherever it may.

"It's beautiful here," Yoongi observes. "And peaceful, too. Much less crowded than the actual mall."

Despite your annoyed state, you allow a weak smile to creep onto your lips. "Yeah. Jefferson is not a popular man these days. And rightfully so. He did some terrible things."

Yoongi's eyebrows draw together. "Then why is this monument your favorite?"

"For the reasons you've just pointed out," you answer, crossing your arms and looking at the beautiful park around you. Clear, blue sky reflected by clear, blue water; white marble steps descending to meet the pond; the only audible sound the wind gently lifting the cherry blossoms off of their perches to send them gliding through the air between you two. "It's peaceful."

"And beautiful," Yoongi adds, but his enchanted eyes do not roam around the area. They focus on a singular, fixed point. A person standing five feet away, facing him.

Me.

"I'm sorry I'm not very talkative today," he hangs his head, the sun reflecting off of his black hair. "I'm truthfully very tired from the flight. This time change is a beast."

"It's okay, Yoongs. I understand."

He runs to close the gap between you, grasping both your hands with the eagerness of a child asking for candy. "But that's just it," he chokes on his words a little. "You shouldn't have to understand. You're amazing, Y/N, and so you deserve someone amazing. Someone who can give you everything you need—and everything you deserve—no matter what. No matter how they're feeling." He swallows, trying to relieve the tension in his throat. But it builds right back up as he begins to speak again. "But I . . . I get like this, sometimes. I'm sure you've noticed. I get quiet, despondent. Weird and undependable. I let my feelings infiltrate my thoughts, and then my actions. In other words . . . I shut down."

You can't stand it. The guilt in his eyes. The agony in his voice. You'll do anything—anything—to end it.

"Yoongi," you chuckle a bit, placing a hand over your mouth. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I get like that sometimes, too. All the time, actually."

"I . . ." he trails off, expression changing from disagreement to realization. "I suppose that's true."

"We're both like that sometimes, Yoongi," you look down, reaching to entwine the hand you freed to be with his again. "Which means it'll be hard for us, sometimes. But I . . ." you take a deep breath, gathering courage piece by piece. "I think it'll be worth it. I still want to be with you."

Cherry blossom petals flitter through the space between your face and his. And they swirl around you, slow dancing with each other in little spirals, creating a bubble between you and the outside world. It's like something out of a fantasy novel. Or a Japanese drama, you realize, giggling to yourself. There will never be a better time than this. It's as if the universe is telling me to . . . to say it.

Say it, stupid girl. Say it. SAY IT.

You close your eyes, thinking that'll make it easier to say the words. "I want to be with you no matter what, because I–"

"I love you."