ephemera 一 baek dohwa.

xiii

After Dohwa calms down, you get your revenge on him by making him read a whole passage of your novel. It spans a whole three quarters of the page.

Dohwa stares at you grumpily, refusing to acknowledge the book shoved into his hands.

He stares at your eyes in particular, noticing how your irises look like they’re flecked with amber in the light. He likes you. He can say that for sure to himself. But he won’t tell you yet, because he wants you to be able to concentrate on midterms first.

‘Read,’ you order.

Nothing works to dissuade you. No amount of preening or charm will sway you.

He sighs, and opens the book.

He begins, ‘Human一’ he knows that one一 ‘pouch.’

‘Touch,’ you correct lightly.

Dohwa repeats the word a few times aloud. ‘Why doesn’t it rhyme with pouch?’

You smile. ‘Everything’s an exception in English.’

Scowling, he continues. ‘Our first form of com… communication.’ He stumbles through the next list. ‘Safety, security, comfort, all in the gentle cares…’

‘Caress. The noun. Say it with a soft ‘s’. Cares is from the verb ‘care’.’

When you translate the word into Korean to ensure Dohwa knows its definition, he wonders if you picked this paragraph on purpose, or if it’s genuinely a coincidence.

He continues at the same sort of pace through the passage. You guide him through his mistakes in a way that doesn’t make him feel ashamed. And when he reaches the end, you take the book from his hands and read the entire paragraph aloud, translating into Korean as you go. He leans his head on your shoulder and admires you for the ability to process both languages.

Human touch. Our first form of communication. Safety, security, comfort, all in the gentle caress of a finger. Or at the brush of lips on a soft cheek. It connects us when we are happy, bolsters us in times of fear, excites us in times of passion... and love, we need that touch from the one we love almost as much as we need air to breathe.

Dohwa struggles with himself to find an excuse not to turn his head right then and there and press his lips to your skin. Instead he draws little swirls on your arm, fingers working their way down until your wrist, then your palm.

He feels you set the book down, but he’s actually staring at your hand.

He feels you adjust your arm by pulling it back slightly so that he can interlock his fingers with yours. Dohwa closes his hand around yours first and says nothing.

‘Please don’t look at me,’ he hears you say at last. Your breath tickles his hair. ‘I think my whole face is on fire.’

He smiles. He doesn’t admit that he feels exactly the same way right now.

But he’s being selfish. He shouldn’t overstep the line too far. He squeezes your hand once and then lets go.

‘I liked that,’ you say a little morosely.

He doesn’t look at you quite yet. ‘I liked it too,’ Dohwa says. ‘But you should concentrate on your exams first.’

You sigh, and he sits upright. True to your earlier words, you’re both burning pink. You look pretty with blush spreading across your cheeks.

‘Five feet apart,’ you say, ‘until the end of exams. Just like in the book.’

‘Except neither of us have cystic fibrosis,’ Dohwa adds.

You smile. ‘Yeah. We’ve got to be grateful for that, I guess.’

And yet Dohwa feels that despite that glaring fact, there are more similarities between the two of you and Stella and Will than you think.