Epiphany: A quest for love

11. Let yourself go

Mirae

We are quiet on our way to my apartment. There is a comforting silence between us, that somehow feels more intimate than anything. Jin even refrained from making dumb flirty jokes for the past five minutes and I wonder if he feels it too. The peace in this quietness. He doesn't say anything, but I can feel his eyes on me the entire time. He is watching me as I open the building door and as I press the button to the elevator. His eyes never leave me neither when we get off or when we're lazily crossing the corridor all the way to my apartment door. His gaze is heavy, scorching, burning my back like I caught on fire, yet he still doesn't say anything. I wish he didn't look at me like that. I wish he never stopped. My mind is a contradiction. I still don't understand how can I want and hate something so badly at the same time. Fishing up the keys from my bag, I unlock the door. One click. Two. Three. I open it wide and step inside first, making room for him to pass.

"Wow!" he exclaims, taking in the space. "Your place is..." he starts.

"Small, I know. New York luxury is not for the middle class." I said this as a matter of fact, but just now I realize my words might have come out stingy. Jin is a millionaire. He can afford living anywhere in this world, he earned it. If my remark insulted him, he doesn't let it show.

"I was going to say cozy and nice." He says. I try not to feel flattered. I did this apartment the way it is. When I moved in, it was completely empty, except the couch that I found here and kitchen counters that were already built in. But everything else, that was me. And now that I look at it, it really screams Mirae. At least this space doesn't look foreign to me anymore.

"Thank you." I reply.

I put my bag on the kitchen counter and motion to the couch, silently inviting him to take a seat, while I cross the room bring out a small portable heater that I bought just in case. I plug it and place his damp coat on it. It got wet from the splash. I now realize just how wet it really is and start feeling like an idiot for pushing Seokjin to wear it earlier. It wouldn't have done him any good, maybe only contribute to his future, certain cold.

From the corner of my eye, I spot Seokjin standing in front of the couch, hesitating. He runs a hand through his damp hair and tiny droplets of water scatter in the air. Right.

"Hold on," I say, disappearing in the bathroom and start looking through the cabinets. I return a few second later with two plushy white towels, and I hand him one. "Here, use this."

"Thanks." He takes the towel and starts rubbing his hair. I watch as the muscles on his arms stretch and contract with the movement under his shirt and I wonder how someone so delicate as him can be blessed with such a strong body. He is not buffed like Alex, all angles and rough muscle, ripped in the gym 5 times a week. Seokjin is lean and wiry, his muscles built throughout time, from years spent in the practice room dancing. I haven't seen him naked, but I can imagine how he looks underneath the shirt. I can picture his soft skin and delicate muscles extending on his abdomen and chest, in perfect proportions, just like the rest of him. I shouldn't stare, yet I cannot remove my eyes from him. What's wrong with me? I shake my head and start drying my own hair, gently tapping it with the towel.

If the silence was comforting earlier, now it's almost unbearable. I am feeling bare, awkward. I am afraid that my own thoughts will betray me and become loud. So, I grab the remote controller and turn on the tv, on a random channel. Thankfully, the button I pressed took me to a news channel, saving me from further embarrassment. I would've been died if I accidentally ended up putting music, as if setting the mood. From the corner of my eye, I see Seokjin dropping the towel, his hair a mess but almost dried up. I notice his hands struggling with the buttons of his shirt and my eyes grow big.