Where We Stand

Chapter 1: Suspended

It’s 3 a.m. and we’re in her dimly lit room, with the TV casting the only light on our faces. She’s still playing online, but I stopped about half an hour ago, hoping she’d follow my lead and take a break. Every now and then she clings to my arm to share her progress or ask me how many new features she should add to her character, keeping me awake. Sitting beside her as always, sometimes staring blankly at the screen, sometimes just watching her profile, I realize I’ve reached the point where I can’t say no to her anymore, even when I should, even when I could.
I know the reason all too well.
Sometimes we kiss in her bed before we fall asleep, like two teenagers. Then cling to the illusion that sleeping right after will make us forget everything. But in the morning, she's the only one who wakes up and acts as if nothing happened, while I remember every detail: her lips, her taste, her pace. There's something in the way she kisses that works so fine for me. Her kisses are slow, wet enough, sensual, yet delicate. Quite different from how she kissed me when we were filming. I am definitely a bit like Hwan, but she's not much like Kimhan: in public, she's social and genuine, but deep down, she's burning with insecurity, holding back strong passions, unsure of who she wants to be and how she wants to express herself. Yet she shares something with Kim: she knows how to kiss with such intensity it leaves you breathless. My lips know what that means, and they don't regret a single kiss. Yes, I believe May knows how to kiss very well and I wonder how she learnt to kiss this way. Sometimes I think I should pull her close, stroke her, touch her where I am not allowed to, play my cards all at once hoping she won't push me away. But aside from kissing her, only when she commands me to, I never go further, I don't dare to.
Tonight is Thursday, and she invited me over. I told her I didn't have class tomorrow, so she insisted I stayed. Usually, if I have classes, she makes me stop playing games by 1 am, maybe 1:30. But tonight, she knows we can stay up until dawn, she knows she can have me by her side until our eyes close from sleep.
I agreed to sleep over, secretly hoping that maybe by morning, finally in bed, I would get the kiss I've been waiting for all day, every day. At dinner we had a few beers, her a couple more than me. We talked about work, mutual friends, my university, future projects, games she wants to try, places she wants to go and the ones she wants to show me.

Her phone, resting between her legs barely hidden under a light cotton blanket, suddenly lights up. My eyes catch the screen: a green notification. A message on Line. She doesn't move to read it, but the thought of someone messaging May Yada at 3 a.m. unsettles me, clouds my thoughts and dulls my senses. A wave of nausea hits, followed by a tight knot in my stomach. I go to bed because I can't take that feeling laying on that sofa. I slip out of her semi-embrace, leaving her to play, I brush my teeth and change into a clean t-shirt and shorts.
After a while, maybe twenty minutes, she joins me in bed, checking if I'm still awake. She hugs me from behind, but I can feel the embrace is different tonight. She pulls me close, she brings her hips closer to mine, she guides me to turn and face her, then starts kissing me with a passion that makes me lose my bearings. She presses my shoulder down with one hand, her thigh between mines, touching me. I feel like I might die from wanting to keep this contact, to be touched and to touch her, to explore every curve. But instead, I hold back, pulling my hips away and loosening my grip. Just thinking about it drives me crazy because I want to devour her, yet I come to my senses. I know she wouldn't want us to go that far. She is kissing and touching me because she's alone. She's maybe fascinated by my persistence, flattered by my attention, she likes my humor and my stupid jokes; maybe sometimes, she even feels something magnetic between us. But to her, I'm just her partner in crime, her co-worker, the other half of the pair who is shipped together by fans, someone she presumes to know deeply because we've spent months together, side by side.
I know it has been months since she has been with anyone else, least of all a man. The thought that I can't have her that way, the thought of her someday being with someone else, stabs me every time. But I can't help respecting her this way.

My strength starts to fade. When I break contact, I feel empty. I pull back, gently caressing her face, resting my cheek on hers for a moment, catching my breath. After a few minutes, I go to the bathroom to splash water on my face and calm down. Sitting on the toilet, I realize I'm as aroused as I rarely get. I like it, I like her, but I know there's not much I can do about it. I clean up, dry off and return to bed.
She's not asleep, I know that. But I won't hug her, because I wouldn't be able to resist her scent if I did.
Before falling asleep, as always, intrusive thoughts catch me off guard, keeping me awake. I think about that Line message and the fact that May had a life before me, that she existed in a world before knowing me. The idea of her having lived fully, independently, sometimes drives me crazy. Who knows how many people she met, what her schools were like, places she visited, emotions she felt over victories and losses, the taste of food she loved, the feelings she had after drinking too much or after being intimate with someone.
I can't stop my mind from picturing her being with someone else from her past, probably a guy. I know May longs for a partner who truly appreciates her, who compliments her natural beauty, her ability to make things work even in chaos, her talent in music and singing, her social skills when needed... I could easily be that person. But I also know I'm not enough. I'm younger than she is, I'm not always consistent, I lack experience, I have my own weird personality, I'm intimidatingly smart... and I’m a woman.

She's sobbing. I know she is.

Once, I caught her silently sobbing at 5 a.m. after we played games all night. A similar situation. At that time, I thought it was just because she was physically exhausted, drained of energy. That kind of tiredness makes anyone cry their soul out. That time, I caressed her, worried about her, and it was the second—no, the third—time we kissed in bed, but the first time I tasted her tears. They were less salty than I expected. I felt bad for focusing on the taste of her tears, but I was, and still am, so taken by everything about her that I can’t help it. I’m mentally attracted to her, but I can’t deny the strong physical attraction I feel for her and her body. I feel like I’m in a second adolescence with her.

Her being tiny, smaller, and shorter than me helps me create a stereotypical fantasy of us as the perfectly matching couple.
Except for the fact that we are not, and she has just received a Line message in the middle of the night from an unknown person, and now she’s sobbing. Is she sobbing because I pulled away from her, or because she can’t be with the person the message is from?

I put her in my embrace. I know I told myself not to do it because of the pain it would cause me, but it’s more painful not to hug her while she silently cries like this. I hug her back. She’s stiff at first, but then she relaxes and takes my arm, bringing my hand to her stomach. And this is how we miraculously fall asleep.