Hye-jae - Book 1: New Beginnings

New Music Part 43

Seon-jae woke first and took a few moments to get his bearings.  Hye-won's leg was flung across his midriff and her hand lay on his neck, as though she had been stroking it in sleep.  It was an inexpressible pleasure to have a quiet moment like this, feeling her completely-relaxed body melded to his and to be free to drink in her beauty without the fear of making her self-conscious.  As he gazed upon her divine features, it occurred to him, not only how beautiful she looked - her eye-lashes sooty against her cheeks, the straight lines of her nose leading to that captivating mouth - but also how well she looked.  She somehow doesn't seem as painfully thin as she did when she arrived or am I just more used to seeing her?  She really does look full of health now.  

His perusal continued as he gently moved her hair a little back from her face to get the full effect of her features in sleep.  The gentle, rose sleep-blush of her cheeks against the creamy, pale tones of her neck and shoulders off-setting dark eyes and brows was a show-stopping combination. He remained still, taking in every part of her visible to him.  He was almost sorry when she stirred, until those indescribable eyes flickered open, took in his loving regard and instantly softened.  His heart rose in his chest at her unguarded effulgence and his own loving look transformed into a huge smile.

'Good morning, beautiful,' he joined his lips to hers by way of greeting, then moved back to admire her again: 'I was studying you like a beautiful painting until you woke and looked so lovingly at me.'

'Good morning, yourself.  Can I guess what style of painting I am - maybe, an impressionist one - lovely far away but a mess up-close?'

She laughed at her own expense and he rolled closer to scold her.

'The opposite actually - the closer I get to you, the more heart-stopping every detail of your beauty is - here...here...here.'  

He stroked her eyebrow, her nose, the top line of her lip.  She didn't laugh, or turn her face away.  She was remembering her panicked waking in the night and her deep reassurance to feel Seon-jae's body beside her and hear his calm breathing.  The memory took her to the suffusion of love which she had felt run through her and she felt something almost as strong take hold of her again.  She took a breath: 'last night, during the night, I woke...'

She paused and he probed: 'ok...and...'

'Well, you know I woke on the couch yesterday and I was...a bit freaked out.'

'Yes, you said that you dreamed you were back in the prison.'

'That feeling - of being locked in, of being in a bad place - was hard to shake yesterday but when I woke with the same thoughts last night, the second I felt you beside me and heard your breath, the feelings transformed immediately...'

Seon-jae regarded her closely, trying to read between the lines of what she was really saying.  He could see from her gaze into the middle distance that she was visualising her memory as she spoke it and he gave her time to bring her gaze back to him.

'My first feeling was fear, then relief, but all of that was swept away so quickly - I lay my head on your chest to hear your steady heart, I felt your warm body against mine, I looked at your beautiful, sleeping face - and I felt the most powerful surge within me.  Just the most single-minded, intense feeling...of love, Seon-jaea, love for you, who you are, what you are, everything that makes you you seemed in that moment so crystal pure to me.'

'Hye-wona, I'm...I'm so touched, words fail me.'

His words had failed, so instead, he kissed her achingly slowly, pulling her lips gently into his mouth, tasting them in pulsing sucks, which set up a throbbing in her core.  When he lifted his head to look at her, his expression was so tender, she fought to control a lump in her throat.  She swallowed before answering him: 'that's the point, though.   Putting such powerful feelings into words seems to diminish them, as though it's somehow rude and crass.  The only thing I can compare it to is what Victor Hugo said about music expressing what can't be said but about which you can't be silent.'