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it’s past one am when she hears the first knock.
for a moment, na hee do thinks she’s in a horror movie and that the killer is going to call her phone and spook her before busting through the door and slaughtering her before she heads off to nationals. her mother is working late, it’s the only logical explanation. then, she realizes it’s one of her many elaborate nightmares and turns on the small light plugged into her outlet, curling back into bed.
the knock comes again, could be the wind causing the rain to patter against her door.
there’s another knock, she groans throwing her blanket off her body and shoving on her shoes. stupid fucking door, who the hell knocks on someone’s door at one am? she looks through the peephole and sees nothing because of course the rain is blocking whoever is standing there. she grabs the nearest thing, holding it behind her back. unlocking the door, she turns the knob gently and anticipates an attack.
legs parted, she holds the shoe in front of her like an épée. if she’s fucked at least she knows she went down swinging.
it’s not an attacker or a mass murderer.
it’s worst.
so much worst.
dropping the shoe, she forgets she’s supposed to breathe, all the time in the world couldn’t prepare her for this. her fingers are frozen in place, her legs shaking like she’s ready to cave.
his hair blocks his face but she knows that face. knows those slouched shoulders that drape and drag him down, bad for his back. knows the wrinkles in his shirt that clings tightly to his body. knows the slope of his nose and his hooded eyes that barely open as he leans against the doorframe.
baek yi jin.
how?
why?
when?
one year of radio silence. like he was shipped off to the end of the earth. and now he’s here.
standing in her doorway, barely staring at her as he sways forward, falling into her arms that slip too easily around him. rubbing his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply. she smells alcohol and rain off him and yet the dominating scent is honey-wilds. part of her, the younger girl who acted on impulsive wants to shove him back and scream till her lungs explode because how dare he disappear for a year. leave her to mend pieces of herself she thought was forever gone on her own, and then just come back. push his way into her space without a simple warning. while the woman who spent that said year learning, growing, and piecing herself together cracks open the plaster she so finely covered to not admit that she missed him. every part of him as the days stretched and what they had were just memories.
his touch makes her remember.
his touch sparks all the love she’ll never forget no matter how hard she tries. stepping, she pulls the door closed. hee do walks backwards into the hall, dropping his arms slightly. “you’re not supposed to be here,”
he reaches out for her again, the bile in her throat grows. “no.. i can’t lose you..”
you’ve already lost me, she thinks bitterly knowing how false it is. her heart might as well belong to man standing before her like he’s holding a key perfectly shaped for him and only him.
the tip breaking ever since they’ve walked away.
“you need a towel.” the words scrape against her throat, this is bad. she’s adult but her mother is not home and there’s a man—not just any man—baek yi jin standing in her home while she forgets all she’s thought about today.
her heart clenches at the memory.
it’s been a full year since they’ve broken it off.
removing his hands, she grabs three towels. drapes one of them on the couch and places the other beside it, and places the last around his shoulders. he shivers, but let’s her move him like marionette as she sets him on the couch.
if she knew any better, she’d kick him out on his ass. if part of her still didn’t scream for him she would’ve slammed the door.
her love is too loud.
with red-rimmed eyes, she pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to him. opening it and curling his fingers around it, he takes her hand, rubbing the back of her palm with the back of his thumb. “drink it. you’re drunk,”
“i only drank a bottle.. i’m not drunk,” he’s lying. there’s no way in his sober mind would he ever think of coming here. “i needed.. i needed to see you.. i need you,” he finally looks up at her and she refuses to meet his eyes.
she’ll break into too many pieces that can’t be picked up if she does. “you’re drunk. you’re out of your mind.”
“i’m not. one drink, i told you,”
“you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t drunk,”
“i can’t be anywhere else,”
“yes you can. you’ve done it for months,” one year. 365 days around the sun.
“no, my body may have been in new york but my heart and my soul was here with you. always with you,” a sob rakes in her throat. oh god, oh god. “why?”
“i should’ve never let you walk away. i should’ve ran after you. i should’ve fought to keep you. your support was a never a burden to me. you can never be a burden to me.”
he’s sitting and yet she feels so small. the only time she’s ever felt remotely this small is when they broke up. she promised herself that she would never live in this feeling, “we let each other walk away,” she says, reciting the words she’s told herself for months. her vision is blurry and it’s becoming impossible to not curl into herself and rock back and forth, waiting to wake up from this dream. this has to be a dream.
it just has to be.
he places the bottle down, holds her hips and rests his forehead against her stomach. “rainbows always come back. it’ll pour and pour but you’ll always see a rainbow when the sun comes.” our love peeks through the clouds. when the sun comes out, it will come back. she holds her hands awkwardly at her sides.
“you’re drunk.”
he’s not.
she’s seen him drunk.
he’s not sentimental, he’s painfully cute and cuddly. he can barely form coherent thoughts. “why did you come here?”
“i went to the tunnel first. you were so clear, standing at the end with your arms out. i came running from the other side, scooping you up, spinning you around. peppering kisses all over your face. i heard that melodious laugh and selfishly i needed to see you.”
“i needed to tell you what i should’ve said a year ago,”
it’s hauntingly familiar, she’s the same. in her imagination they’d be old and grey. hands clasped, walking into tunnel tougher fading as the light wrapped around them like a blanket.
she walked along the tunnel every day to get to training, nearly running late when she got lost in her thoughts. staring out at the emptiness imagining he was there.
“i lived without you and i can’t stand it. you’re an extension of my day, you’re the first thing i think about the morning and last face i see before i close my eyes.” yi jin’s shaking, she slips her hands to his shoulders.
he needs to get out of these wet clothes.
he’ll get sick.
“i tried to call,” she mumbles, “every day a for month, i wanted to hear your voice. i never got past two rings. what would i say when you answer? how would you react? could i tell you i still loved you? would you be fond of my recklessness..” she recited every growing thought like a script.
dropping the towel behind him, she runs her fingers down to his collarbones.
hee do opens the first button. “i would’ve answered,”
she knows.
or he’d at least call back whether he recognized her number or didn’t.
“i spent every day in new york wondering, dreaming about a life with you. it doesn’t matter if it takes centuries to build, i can only see you even if down the line, we meet at opposite ends of the world. i’ll still come back to you. every word you’ve ever said to me. every way you’ve looked at me, it reminds me just how much i love you..” she undoes another button and another, his neck red under her living room light.
she sucks in a sharp breath, slipping the shirt off his shoulders she tosses it off to the side. draping the towel over him again once more.
he’s warm even though he’s shaking when she presses her palm against his heart. she feels every beat play across her palm.
he’s real.
this is real.
“you’ll go back. i’ll stay..”
“you’re not listening,” she runs her fingers through his hair, missing the soft strands she grown used to falling asleep too. “i’m not going back,”
“yi jin..” he needs to live his dream.
“don’t. don’t do that, take the blame out of your voice. were you a major factor of my decision? yes. but, i wasn’t happy, i was destroyed and hallow like no part of me deserved to be happy. i was rehashing unbendable pain while trying to allow voices be heard. i forgot what mattered to me. who mattered to me and i’m sorry.”
he’s not the only one at fault. they both.. “what i said at the tunnel, i didn’t mean it. i know you loved me even in the bad. i wanted walking away to be easier,”
“it wasn’t,” she adds, tears pooling in her eyes.
he feels so warm and real and fuck, she’s missed him so much and it terrifies her how much she missed him because what will possibly losing him a second time bring?
she isn’t capable of letting him slip away again. she can’t let him fade.
“you need dry clothes.” she runs off to her room, rummaging in her closet and pulling out a piece of clothing that’s forever too baggy for her. it was her father’s. she presses her nose to the fabric. finds a pair of old sweatpants as well, he stares down at her fingers. his eyebrow slightly raised, he’s seriously jealous in a time like this.
“it’s my father’s and those are mine but i took them front the men section.” his mouth falls open. she stands off in the kitchen as he changes, she hears shuffling.
god, what is she doing?
what are they doing?
every wall she built around her heart sinks like it’s under quick-sand. holding the counter-top, hee do tries to remind herself to breathe when he enters the kitchen. the shirt fits him loosely. in and out.
it’s too hard.
too shaky.
she shatters and sobs like the tears will never stop when he wraps his arms around her. pressing her flush against him.
she’s so fucking tired of crying, but for the life of her she can’t stop. it comes in crashing waves, knocking her off every lie she’s been feeding herself.
he rocks her back and forth. when her breathing slows, she leans away. sniffing every last emotion sitting in her nose back and reaches her hand up this face.
this isn’t a dream.
this isn’t a dream.
“we don’t have to rush.. we’ll go at your pace. as long as i have you i don’t..” she shuts him up, slams her lips against him like she’s did all those years ago when she thought the world was ending but with more force. he’s on autopilot when her lips touch his, leaning down and with the way he feels she forgets the time that has passed for a moment.
don’t stop. she whispers and when he moans, she takes the chance and slips her tongue into his mouth. kissing him with fervor, self control must be lost on him as well when he lifts her onto the countertop, making home in between her legs. cupping her face, he pulls away, dragging her head down and kissing her forehead.
“tell me we’ll be fine. tell me we won’t give up on this. tell me we’ll try. tell me we can do this,”
his voice trembles as he repeats everything back to her. there’s so many pieces to pick up and repair. so many untied knots to redo.
she gets it, his timing is stupidly perfect. a rainbow will come out tomorrow.
it won’t be the answer to their problems but it will draw across the sky and it will shine down on them. kissing their skin with the reminders of a promise to try.
a reminder to build and rebuild as they’ve done away from each other and now with each other.
“tell me you love me,” he says, her attention still drawn to the way the shirt sits on his body.
“i love you. i never stopped loving you,”
“say it back, please,” she craves to hear it, fresh off his tongue.
“i love you even if nothing else makes sense.”