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His hand cups my jaw as our lips crash together like waves on a shore, sending a network of sensations through my body. The kiss is soft, yet determined; gentle, yet urgent. It's nothing like I ever imagined, and yet it's everything. I feel everything: all those subtle moments between us, all those lingering smiles and weighted gazes hinting to something more beneath our intricately woven friendship, something instinctive yet unspoken.
This moment was inevitable, and so is its end.
The separation is slow, our cheeks blooming with rosy heat. Our breaths mingle as we exhale, a simultaneous sigh signifying the unanimous moment. His fingers graze my ear as he loops a string of hair behind it, letting his fingers linger there as he presses his forehead to mine. My heart is a frantic caged bird that cannot be consoled, while my eyes remain closed in their reluctance to confront him. But then he lets out a throaty chuckle, and I finally snap out of my reverie.
I hit his arm. "Yah, Kim Taehyung! Why'd you do that, huh? Are you crazy?"
"Crazy for you," he murmurs, smirking at me and I scoff.
"Idiot," I mutter, but I can't stop the smile from spreading.
"Hey, if I get sick, you have to take care of me now, Aria," he leans forward. "Remember?"
"Yah, when I said I would repay you, this isn't what I meant," I glare at him as he leans forward even more until our noses are basically touching.
"Aw, but wasn't it romantic?" He bites his lip as he grins, and I feel the caged bird flap her wings violently within me as his eyes drop to my lips again.
"I think you watch too many dramas," I shoot back, swallowing thickly.
"And how is that a bad thing?" he questions, that sly smile never slipping.
"Because they're not real," I reply simply.
"Aren't we real, Aria?" He pouts slightly, puckering his brow. Dammit why is he so cute?
"Aria, are we real?" He rephrases his question with a steady serious gaze that steals my breath away for a heart-stopping moment.
How do I answer him?
"Aria," he takes one of my hands and raises it to touch his cheek, and then does the same with his own hand on my cheek. "Are we real?"
I feel myself nod as my voice is barely above a whisper. "Yes, we are real."
"And you are real," he caresses my cheek with his thumb, his gaze profound and unwavering. It's like he's taking me in for the first time, and so I take him in too, and it occurs to me in that moment that I could stare at him forever. I don't think I could ever get sick of taking him in.
In fact, I don't think I could ever get sick of him.
