Lifetime

Choice

We became more acquainted with each other's bodies between lathering in the shower and moisturizing after. I fought against heavy eyelids, Seokjin's chest rumbling under my palms with a chuckle.

"Sleep, Seline." His fingertips trailed up and down over my nude back.

I shook my head, still letting my eyes close with a soft, mumbled reply. "I'm listening. You were telling me something about fried chicken when you were a kid." My partial memory of his story evidence of my need for rest.

Despite wanting to hear the ending that would tie back to the two inch scar on his forearm, thin skin that I traced back and forth, I fell asleep within the next breath.

With the sky slightly cloudy so that it blocked the sun from its full appearance and the consistent patter of rain the next day, I didn't wake until mid-afternoon. I'd moved into the spot where Seokjin formerly lay, his scent still pressed into the sheets without him there.

I heard his laugh first, loud and then halting suddenly as if he remembered I was sleeping. The massive size of the house made it more challenging to heat, the cool air making me shiver as I crawled from the bed in only my underwear.

There was a brand new toothbrush waiting by the sink along with a cloth for washing my face. Imprints from the night had been left on my skin, small and pink in the crook of my neck that would be easier to cover and burning with violet in areas designated for our eyes only. I laughed to myself at the memory of him wiping his brow dramatically while I played with the various spray settings in the shower. He claimed that mopping the hallway floor of the mess we'd made was the most cleaning he'd done in months.

I was pulling up my shorts when he turned through the door frame, reaching for me before I could tug the oversized t-shirt I wore to fall over my hips. "I made lunch." He muttered at the same time that he pressed his lips to mine, a now instant greeting.

"We still have food left over from last night." I chided, sure that he'd continue cooking for every meal so that we never ran out.

"I repurposed it." He replied and I was all too aware of the way his hands refused to leave me, comfortable as they spread around at my sides.

Steam still rose from the open sandwich he plated, peppers and cheese melted over the sliced steak he made the night before. He involved himself in every move I made, pulling out my seat and cutting my sandwich in half after putting on the lid.

"You're kind of clingy." I said, fighting the urge for my eyes to roll back with the first buttery, flavorful bite into my sandwich.

His head tilted to the side in question. "You don't like clingy?" He wondered aloud, an elbow leaned onto the countertop as he took a bite of his sandwich with one hand, not shy about the pleasant response to the taste. His other hand gripped tighter onto my thigh, as if the satisfactory taste was connected to his touch.

"I do." I confirmed. "You got your appetite back." My attention moved to the large bites he took, mouth full and puffed out as if he hid acorns in his jaws.

He wore a smile filled with mischief. "And my sense of taste."

The sound of rainfall picked up, the crack of thunder that followed assuring me that we wouldn't be leaving the house. I looked around, suddenly curious about how he spent days stuck indoors and how we would spend them.

"Do you have plans for today?" I asked.

"Finish your food." He nodded toward my plate, nothing left on his but a few crumbs. He wiped his mouth, pushing away from the table. "I'm going to make the bed and then I've got something I want to taste."