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The clouds opened their hearts to pour down their sufferings. She had seen it, standing bare by the window, the ivory cloth of a white shirt, a few sizes too big, hugging the delicate figure of her body. She had seen, too, the yellow thread of Hoseok's name sown into those spherical chests of the cotton clouds. The incoming thought of it, the very realization that it was his name, did not cross her mind until he rang her bell.
He stood tall, shoulders hunched in dismay, dressed in the rain. His eyes, which were narrowed into slits, unstiffened once she showed herself. They searched for her hurriedly and held them, held them in an intertwinement akin to a rope until he found his special little brown boba balls, as he called her eyes. The streetlights illuminated him from behind, casting a golden aura along the shape of him. The droplets of the cloud's tears trickled from the dark hair rounding over his forehead, gleaming and resplendent in that dimmed light. They left traces on the hard ground, keepsakes of small pearls of petrichor. The rest of the shadows hollowed out his wet cheeks and painted his clothes in mourning. What happened to you? her heart whispered. He was holy. Through and through.
Hoseok sucked in a breath, his thumb rubbing his forehead as he averted his gaze. Oh, her heart jumped a little bit. He heard her. She extended her arm until the tips of her fingers reached the soft skin of his forearm. Like a flower reacting to the sun's warmth, he twisted his arm and opened his palm to her. They lowered on their path to his wrist, collecting those pearls of raindrops, over the calloused valley of the inner surface of his hand, and she glided her digits between the gaps of his—her final destination. This little journey helped him face her once more, though he had but little strength to mask his pain. His lips were drawn tight, brows furrowed in the unspoken matter that troubled his mind. The hurriedness strengthened in his eyes, looking, longing for something. Behind him, the clouds continued their weeping.
She nodded, more to herself than him, listening to his internal language. Whatever the difficulty was that bothered him to the point that he sought to be broken loose from it, she would handle it. Come, her heart decided. It's me who calls the shots tonight. This time the voice of her heart remained within its corridors. She pointed her head towards her home, turning her body to walk inside. He squeezed her hand, crossing the threshold of the refuge.
She led him inside. He took off his green Jordans and kicked them to the club consisting of the rest of her shoes. He coalesced with the entirety of that dark hall and when he emerged, the light bathed him clean. She could now see the bags under his faintly puffy eyes as he made his way towards her with a slow, careful walk, his pale sickly complexion parallel to the color of his shoes, the fixed stooped posture. He wore dark cargo pants with an equally dark graphic T-shirt, wet, thick in material, a few sizes too big. She looked down at her notional dress, then back at his outfit. Black and white. Ying and yang. An intertwinement akin to a rope. A rope that tightened around her throat, seeing the state of him.
She had already prepared a can of Coke on the kitchen island for him. He wordlessly took it, with ease opened it with one hand and one finger, taking a long sip. He avoided her stare, opting instead to examine the brown floor tiles of her kitchen, leaning against the island in front of her.
I call the shots, she reminded herself, crossing her arms. Her heart decided. "So will you talk?"
Hoseok lifted his eyes, finishing the other half of the eye contact, connecting to her. "I don't wanna talk," he said, at last, his voice low, void of any life. His response came quicker than she had anticipated. She thought about how he must be cold in his wet clothes.
"You wanna drink?" she tried, nibbling at the small of her bottom lip. His eyes dropped to it.
"I don't," he answered her question, the coldness of it stinging her heart, his eyes remaining zoned out on the bottom of her lip. She shifted on her feet, her hands softly shaking in fists underneath her arms. Questions flooded her mind. Why is he here if he's unwilling to talk? What does he want? How was she supposed to help him, break him loose, if he was building a wall in the place he had desired to escape to?
"Well then-"
The sound of her voice snapped him out of his trance, and he took a quick sip of his drink. When he swallowed, he chuckled darkly, stopping her sentence. "If you're asking me to go, I can't. I can't go anywhere else, Lulu."
He let that fact linger in the air for half a minute. Lulu's breath caught in her throat, her name leaving his mouth so sweetly spread warmth along her cheeks, her heart thumping within her chest. He can't go anywhere else? What does he mean by that? He took in her shock and her confusion, taking some steps closer to cross the distance. He wrapped his fingers around her arms and untangled them, slipping his fingers into the gaps between hers identically like she did just a few moments before. The scent of rain, musk and the rosemary of his shampoo filled her nostrils as he found a way to her ear beneath the waterfall of her dark cherry hair, their hands forming a perfect knot between their legs.
"I'm not asking you to go, Hobi," she reassured him and he looked at her in soft disbelief. "I just don't like it when you refuse talk."
Hoseok's eyebrows knotted deeper on his forehead, his lips prolonged and tightened into a painful smile. Dimples resurfaced just above the thin line, asking for her attention, and Lulu kissed them, giving two taps of her lips to each cleft in his skin. Then she jutted out her chin to fondle his nose with the tip of hers, his eyes shut tight all the way through. It seemed as though her gentle love was replenishing him, dozing him to sleep, comforting him enough that he swayed in the drunkenness caused by her affection.
"I need you," Hoseok whispered. "I need you in ways I can't say with my own words. Not this time."
Hoseok sighed and so did Lulu, in unison with him.
Leaning the side of her face against his, she murmured: "Come to bed."
