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"He is the thought behind the feeling, the swelling in my chest; the starlight in the evening, the yearning when I undress.
He is the sound behind sighing, the song of every bird; the tears in all my crying—the ache in every word" - Lang Leav
*****
Jimin had returned.
Finally.
But together with him the feeling of insecurity came along.
Something wasn't sitting right.
I thought of talking to him on our drive home. But the whole ride he was quiet, his mouth shut. His eyes only focused on the road before him.
What had happened in Busan and why was he acting so weird?
I had no idea.
Arriving at home, we didn't do a lot besides unpacking his stuff. Again there was no talking. Just silence.
Then we laid in bed.
Like drifting up to the surface of a quiet pool to float. Feeling safe and lazy in our own comfort.
Facing each other. Looking and tracing and sculpting. Just tranquility, and the nagging feeling as it should be every night.
I couldn't look away from him. It had been quiet a while since I had last laid next to him.
Jimin laid on his side, face softly smushing into the pillow. The man was asleep, tenderly breathing against the sheets. His chest rising and falling in rhythm. Drifted to somewhere in the clouds.
He smelt like amber. His proximity feeling like the safest place on earth.
I couldn't help but want to stay there forever. In his vicinity.
On a sigh, I glided my hand up the sheets. And froze.
Not the sheet, but skin. It felt like a volcano. Hot and glowing. His heart beating enormously fast under my palm. His breathing becoming more heavy and blistering with each passing second.
Sitting up and checking, I wanted to make sure that everything was alright. But it got even worse.
Tears welled up in his crescent eyes as he snuggled into the sheets. A frown spread across his face. The man was panting and sweating like crazy.
