Epiphany: A quest for love

Chapter 12

Mirae

The sand is soft under my hands, as I stare at the infinite mass of water, blue and calm as if the ocean took a moment to breathe and rest. With the wind nipping at my nose, I trace small circles in the sand with an empty shell I found earlier. It's peaceful today. I feel peaceful, contempt. For the first time in months, my dreams don't haunt me. Instead, there is this stillness, as if the whole world froze. The air bears an addictive scent of cedar and cotton and traces of fresh rain, although there are no clouds on the horizon. I find it funny to be on a beach, next to the ocean, and not feel salt in the air, but dreams ceased to surprise me long ago. They have their own logic. I smile and try to get up, but something is holding me down. As if a pair of strong invisible arms lay wrapped around me. Before I can figure out further the machinations of the dream I'm currently caught in, the angry accords of a guitar mixed with loud drums disturb my peaceful moment. I look around confused, expecting to find a bunch of teenagers having an impromptu rock concert on the beach, only to be dragged out back to the reality of my bed. Blinking against the morning light, I'm almost kicked out of bed by a strong male body slamming into me, as he reaches for the phone on the nightstand next to my head.

"Crap!" I hear him swear, brows furrowing but not making a move to retreat from where he was hovering above me. I blink again, mesmerized by the beautifully perfect profile. As if sensing my stare, his almond-shaped eyes slid to mine, a strand of dark hair half obscuring his view. I wonder what God thought when he created something so perfect. Then suddenly all the memories of last night come rushing in, making me finally realize where I am and with who. The date, my apartment, him coming back and kissing me until the whole world was swept from under my feet. And what we did after-. Panic raised into my throat, heart beating out of my chest.

"Really? System of a Down?" I ask instead, lifting a brow in a pitiful attempt to mask my terror.

"I-" he says, lips parting and eyes slightly wide, as if the same thoughts rushed through his mind. "I have to go" he tries again, swallowing. "I'm late for sound check and everyone is out of their minds, trying to reach me." The reality of our situation hits me in the face, and I don't know what to say. I just nod. As if remembering where he was, he finally removes himself from above me, rolling to the other side of the bed. The lack of his weight on my body and the warm breath against my cheek doesn't go unnoticed, leaving me cold and miserable. I stare at the ceiling and give myself three seconds before I sit up.

Seokjin already put on his pants and he's now struggling with the belt while his long legs carry him across the bedroom and into the living room where the rest of his clothes lie discarded on the floor. Red creeps up my neck and into my cheeks, remembering how utterly wild last night was. There weren't many places we didn't touch, given how small the apartment really is. Mortified, I wrap the blanket around myself and follow him into the living room.

"Fuck! Fuck!" he keeps repeating and I watch him silently from the door frame.

"On a scale from one to ten, how fucked are you?" I ask, finally finding my voice. His eyes snap to mine, his hands working on the buttons of his shirt but failing to hoop the buttons through the holes.

"Twelve." He replies. "They moved the sound check early in the morning because they squeezed some interviews in the afternoon, before the first concert." I look back at the digital clock on my nightstand. 9:15 AM. I am used to sleeping in when I don't need to work from the office, but for someone like him it must've been as late as lunch.

"Let me." I say, crossing the room where he stands and started hooping his shirt buttons into place. My hands work efficiently, while his fall on either side of him, watching me in silence. I can feel his warm breath against my forehead, his body towering over me with at least a head. I'm surprised at how steady my hands are since my insides are trembling like twigs in the storm. The weight of his stare is scorching me and when I finally finish the last button and dare lift my gaze, his eyes capture mine. I find longing in them and a spark that wasn't there before. Then his eyes leave mine briefly and fall on my parted lips. I feel stripped bare and not because my only piece of clothing is a blanket. The magic is disrupted when his phone rings again. Without taking his eyes off me, he answers the phone and brings it to his ear, frustration now aggravating the fine lines of his face.