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“Alright, Covey,” Min Ho sighs, pressing down on the pause button before turning his full body towards Kitty. “What’s got you so stressed?”
“Stella— Esther— whatever, she said she could tell your heart was never in it.” Kitty admits, hands twisting up the fabric of the blanket they share.
True to his gesture, Min Ho had let Kitty tag along on his world tour adventure— and it was at this hotel that they’d walked into the most unfortunate (and classic) trope there’d ever been. Their two queen beds had been swapped for one king, and due to overbooking, they didn’t have any choice but to share it.
She breaks her gaze from the k-drama on screen, shifting until she looks her enemy (friend? Crush?) in the eyes. He looks like he’d been on the precipice of sleep— but that this conversation had snapped him back to reality.
“Oh.” He blurts dumbly, and it’s the first time in a long time— or maybe even ever, that Min Ho doesn’t have a quick witted reply ready. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t comment further, and the silence is answer enough.
And as the warm winds of August have come and gone, cementing Kitty and Min Ho closer together— it’s like there’s a piece of the puzzle she’s still missing.
Maybe its the one where she finally lets herself admit that she sees him differently now— and that even in this moment, as their thighs barely brush under the hotel sheets, there’s a weird pit in her stomach where her dinner should be. It’s warm, and it spreads through her body in a way that becomes almost painful when she thinks about it too intensely.
“Okay.” She merely replies, and everything about the conversation is so unlike them that she can’t help but worry that maybe they’ll never be the same Kitty and Min Ho again. “Yeah.”
In the dim light of the room, Min Ho’s fingers find the remote again and soon the sounds of the story surround them once more.
Eventually, Kitty’s head finds its way to the soft notch against his shoulder, and she sinks into him. She tries not to pay too much attention to the way goosebumps appear on the exposed skin of his arm where his hoodie is rolled up, and she definitely does not pay attention to the way he lets out a soft sigh before dipping his head so his cheek can rest upon her head.
And as the night begins to trickle into twilight she plays stupid when he presses a soft kiss to her forehead before restoring their pillow wall.
Because Min Ho and Kitty are a lot of things, but she’s beginning to think straightforward may never be one of them.
As twilight trickles into daylight, it’s in the same moment that Kitty and Min Ho find consciousness. They lay in silence together, each pretending to be in the warm and heavy grasps of sleep when they realise the state of their bodies.
Like puzzle pieces reunited after being lost in a couch cushion, like two ships passing in the night, like an empty cup and viscous honey— they’ve moulded together in the night.
Boney elbows and pointy wrists— they lay there, warmth spreading between and their bodies mingling in the silence. Her face is rested on his chest, an arm tucked under and around his waist with her left leg hooked in between his.
His hand has found a nuzzling spot beneath her, palm rested pliantly on the dip in her waist. His left hand cupping her right, rested on his abdomen and face tilted towards her frame.
“Min Ho?” She breathes into the silence, as if daring to disturb the universe. As if to implode the foundations that they’ve built in the past year-or-so of knowing one another. “I need to tell you something.”
He lets out a soft sigh, swallowing hard as he nods. “I think I know what you’re going to say.”
“I think I-“
“You’ll never be able to love me.” He speaks it in such a way that Kitty’s heart falls out of her butthole. His voice catches in a way she’s only ever heard when they stood near her ancestors graves. “And that’s okay— but can we just lay here for a little longer and pretend?”
“Min Ho, no.” Her heart plummets when he begins pulling away from their peaceful arrangement, and she doubles down, tightening her grip and stopping only when his dilated pupils meet her own. “You don’t understand. I think I have feelings for you.”
He freezes, all movement coming to a half as he blinks down at her like a deer in the headlights. And in all of his glory, he blurts back, “what?”
And while she thinks about replying, approximately a million and one of LJ’s useless poetic moments floating around in her skull she finds herself swallowing hard instead.
There’s no words to explain this feeling— and that’s coming from someone who loves to yap into the void.
And so, as golden morning light melts over them from the cracked open curtains— Katherine finds herself resting a hand on Min Ho’s cheek, and leaning in.
And when their lips meet, it’s different.
Min Ho sucks in a surprised breath— as if he couldn’t fathom that she’d closed the gap between them in the first place. He recovers quickly, pulling her waist in further than before as he moves his lips against her own.
He’s so in love with her, he thinks. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure that if he had to he’d be capable of falling out of love with her.
Because that’s the thing about Katherine Song-Covey, she’s addictive and infectious in a way Min Ho has never experienced.
They break— staring at one another for a long moment. Thin fingers find loose tendrils of russet hair, as Min Ho tucks the loose strands of hair behind her ear.
“I’ve dreamt about this,” he murmurs, more to himself than to her. He takes in a soft breath, licking his lips as his warm ebony eyes settle upon her lips once more. “God, Covey, you do something crazy to me.”
And within moments, their lips are connected once more— her legs finding other side of his waist and his finding the dips of her waist. Together they mind the wreckage of who they used to be, and the people they’ll build together.
Because if there’s one thing that Kitty is sure of, it’s that lost pieces always find their way back— and one day, she’ll be able to echo the words that describe the feeling that wells up in her chest.