Boundless

제 3 장

"Here it is," Jae said softly, gesturing around his apartment.
But my eyes never left him.

There was no eagerness in his gaze, no desperation lurking behind his smile—just a quiet calm, a confidence that didn't need to speak loudly. He took my hand gently, and my heart reacted like thunder on an open racetrack, crashing inside my ribs. The moment our skin touched, I felt like a match had been struck in a room filled with gasoline.

He pulled me closer, guiding me against his chest. I looked up, caught in the pools of his eyes.

"Relax," he whispered, and led me to his sofa like a wave pulling driftwood to shore.

I sank into the cushions, wrapping my arms around myself, not out of discomfort, but to hold the chaos inside.
"Would you like some water?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"I'm alright," I replied in Korean.

He nodded, disappearing into the kitchen, while I let my eyes wander across the apartment.
It was earthy—warm woods, soft browns, amber lights. Everything seemed like it had been handpicked by someone who understood the art of quiet living. But it was luxurious too. Branded touches whispered their presence, labels I couldn't afford in a year of teaching. He belonged to a different world, one I could only admire from a distance.

Suddenly, I felt out of place.

Unworthy.

When he returned, his lips touched the rim of a glass before he set it down on the coffee table, now seated beside me.
"Can I ask," he began, voice soft, "why didn't you want to go home tonight?"
I hesitated, staring at my fingers, unable to ignore how close he sat.
"I didn't want to be alone," I admitted, not out of weakness, but honesty.
His silence was a comfort, and when his gaze found mine, it melted my insides like cream left in the sun.

"Well then," he said, "you won't be alone tonight. I'm here."

The words wrapped around me like a blanket.
I studied his face, suspicious of how easily his kindness found me.
He felt too gentle to be real.
Too considerate to be true.
"Let's play a game," he offered suddenly.

"What kind of game?"

"Truth or dare."

I laughed—quiet, disbelieving.
Childish, wasn't it?
But the word slipped out before I could stop it.
"Sure."

"Truth or dare?"
"Truth," I said with a smile at the corner of my lips.

"Why did you move to South Korea?" he asked—in Korean this time, and the shift surprised me.
"To teach," I replied. "Because I thought this country was breathtaking. And I needed to breathe again."

He studied me like my answer was a painting.
Then his turn came.
"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

I tilted my head.
"Why are you so kind to someone you've only just met?"

He didn't pause.
Didn't stutter.

"You didn't know your best friend before you said hello either. What's stopping me from wanting to know you?"

"Why?" I pressed, but he only smirked.

"Ah, ah—my turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."
His eyes glinted as he leaned forward slightly.
He ran a hand through his midnight hair, making his skin look almost porcelain in contrast.

"If I told you I was attracted to you, would you believe me?"
"If I said seeing you earlier today made the skies tilt, as if God had let an angel slip by—would you laugh?"
"If I told you that even through the sadness in your eyes, I saw something worth holding onto... would you believe me?"

My soul ached. My chest cracked open like porcelain dropped from a shelf.
This man, this beautiful stranger I had barely met... and yet.

His words undid me.
Undid every wall I'd tried to mortar between myself and this world.
His voice crawled under my skin and made a home in my heart.
I couldn't believe him.
I wanted to.
But my heart was still bruised from every lonely night it had survived alone.

Tonight, I told myself, just tonight, it didn't matter if it was real.
I could be his, and he could be mine—even just for a fleeting moment.

"Truth or dare?" I asked again, my voice trembling.

He looked puzzled, maybe even a little disappointed I hadn't answered.

"Dare."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, then climbed into his lap, hovering close enough to feel his breath.
"I dare you to kiss me."

—

In a heartbeat, his lips were on mine—soft, sure, slow.
His hands cradled my face like something fragile, something holy.
I buried my fingers in his hair, thick and dark like night water, letting myself drown.
Our tongues tangled, curious and hungry, and I slid my hands down to the buttons of his shirt.
But he stilled me, wrapping his fingers around mine gently.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice unsteady.

I bit my lip, unsure now, vulnerable.

"Athena, I'm not asking you for sex. You know that, right?"

His voice trembled, too.

"And what if I'm the one asking?" I whispered.
His eyes darkened.
He inhaled sharply, and then he kissed me again.

This time, there was no restraint.

He carried me to his bedroom like I weighed nothing at all.
Laid me down like a prayer.
Undressed me like I was precious silk.
And when his shirt fell away, revealing the pale beauty of his frame, I gasped.
His body against mine, his hands and lips—
we moved like we were painting something eternal on the canvas of his bed.
My dark skin against his fair one made art from contrast.
He held me like he knew every ache.
He rocked into me slowly, deliberately, whispering my name like a hymn.
I called out to him, moaning, gripping, unraveling.
He wiped my tears as I wept without knowing why.

"You're so beautiful. Don't cry anymore, darling. I can't bear to see you cry," he whispered into my skin.
And I believed him.

Our bodies chased release together—grinding, trembling, gasping.
And when it came, it was stars and storms and silence all at once.
We clung to each other, shattered and whole in the same breath.

—

Jae pov

She lay on my chest, her breaths soft, even.
I watched the rise and fall of her back, my fingers tracing the curve of her spine.

This woman—Athena—was everything.
A storm with a soul.
A warrior carved from loneliness and light.
She carried herself like she didn't need anyone, but her eyes begged to be seen, truly seen.

She wasn't fragile.
She was forged.
And I wanted to be the man who eased her burdens, not added to them.

She wasn't mine.
But tonight, I could pretend.
Tonight, she was safe.
And that was enough.

I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, whispered softly:

"You are truly amazing."