Boundaries

1. Vista

The camera hangs around your neck, the rough strap grating the weight of responsibility into your exposed skin. 3 years of intensive photography study, and you have finally landed an internship at the prestigious studio of your dreams. This gig is the beginning of your experience with the professionals. You are not yet allowed to handle all the heavy equipment. Your shots aren't going to make it into a magazine. But you are on set, and that is a start.

You shelter yourself behind the majestic telephoto lens and search for a worthy subject. Your viewfinder focuses on set designers scrambling frantically to secure last-minute details: a group clusters around a small circular table arranged with fake flowers, a throng repeatedly tests the stability of a pergola set up in another section of studio, and an entourage of gray-vested stylists half-shrouds a lean figure. The attendants suddenly part and all the production designers practically fall to their feet. You guess this is the main attraction.

Moving quickly, you find the perfect angle to capture your first glimpse of the model. His features are so unique through the lens, you find yourself letting the camera fall back to your chest, curious as to whether or not the convex glass has added some strange effect. His beauty is unconventional, built around a deviously curled mouth and long, limpid chestnut eyes. But he is undeniably pretty. You find your breathing fluctuating strangely the longer you look at him. His face turns towards you as he scans the faces of those welcoming him to the studio. Your breathing stops altogether when the warm brown irises run over your features.

Much to your excitement, the handsome boy does a double-take, his eyes meeting yours again with a shocked expression. An exhilarated thrill tingles in your stomach. Your heart stumbles over itself and your lashes flutter with anticipation.

NO, you scold yourself. You have the most wonderful boyfriend in the world. You don't need the attention of some wannabe model...you almost say "stranger," but the word doesn't sound right on your mind's tongue. In any case, his approval of your appearance isn't a requirement for you to feel confident in yourself.

But before you know it, without a backwards glance at his company, he starts towards you, purpose driving his steps forward at a rapid pace. You are momentarily bewildered at the sudden shift in his attention, but as you watch the corner of his mouth twitch into a cat-like smile, watch his long eyes and lashes blink with vain passivity, you understand.

"Jongdae?" you gasp, your voice cracking on the second syllable. "What—" You are interrupted by the taste of the shoulder of his handsome black suit in your mouth as he throws his arms around you.

His hands have grown. They envelop a large tract of your back with ease. He is taller, too. Your head fits just underneath his now sharply defined chin in a comfortable cradle. His arms are suddenly strong with age. He holds you tightly. Too tightly. Your chest squeezes, and you lose your breath. But maybe you would have lost it even if he lightened his grip.

Would you want him to loosen his hold on you, though?

10 years of friendship and 10 years of separation...the physical contact seems to be the only way to bridge that gap. Still, the shock of the moment pins your arms to your side. The sound of your name from his mouth is as natural as the seasons changing.

"Kalani! It's so good to see you! I've missed you."

"I...I've missed you, too..."

He finally releases you from his chest but keeps hold of your arms, anchoring you to him.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, bewildered. Elementary school placed you on an intersecting track with Jongdae, a track inlaid with playdates, childish competition, and pure joy. Familial job placement forced your roads to diverge in that long forgotten wood.