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“So, did you meet Rosé?” Love asks, twirling her fork in the creamy layers of her blueberry cheesecake.
“I did, Nong,” Milk murmurs, her voice softer now as she burrows into the plush hotel bed. “Met a lot of people at the after-party, actually.”
It’s already 8 a.m. in Bangkok, and Love is seated in her CEO office at Twenty Wendy, her makeup empire. The floor-to-ceiling windows frame the bustling city below, but her attention is elsewhere—on her laptop screen, where Getty Images has just uploaded high-definition photos of Milk from the YSL event.
Love’s eyes linger on the shot of Milk in that sleek suit, tailored to perfection, as if exuding an effortless kind of confidence. The sharp angles, the mysterious foxy gaze; there was no doubt about it—Milk was stunning.
‘Damn her for looking this good halfway across the world.’ Love thought to herself.
“You look hot in that suit, by the way,” Love says nonchalantly, taking a slow bite of cheesecake.
Milk perks up immediately, her pout and puppy eyes directed at the young CEO through the video call. “Really?”
Love hums. “Mhm. Too hot. Should’ve worn something less attractive.”
Milk gasps dramatically. “Nong Love! Are you saying I should’ve dressed badly for Paris Fashion Week? I am deeply offended.”
Love smirks, clicking through more photos. Her amusement falters slightly when she sees the next set—Milk smiling beside Kiko Mizuhara, their shoulders close, Milk’s hand lightly resting on Kiko’s arm. Then another photo, Milk laughing with some French model, their faces much too close for Love’s liking.
She swipes past them a little too quickly. “You were getting real friendly with everyone, huh?”
Milk immediately catches the change in her tone. Her lips curl into a teasing smirk. “What do you mean, Nong?”
Love sips her iced Americano, eyes narrowing slightly at the screen. “You know exactly what I mean.”
Milk giggles, rolling onto her stomach, feet playfully kicking in the air. “Ah… You mean Kiko? She’s really nice, you know. And so pretty in person.”
Love clicks her tongue, stabbing her fork into her cheesecake a little harder than necessary. “Is that so?”
“Mhm,” Milk hums, dragging out the sound, knowing exactly what she’s doing. “We got along really well, actually. Maybe we’ll do a campaign together soon. Who knows? We might have to spend weeks working closely.”
Love exhales sharply through her nose. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Milk grins, resting her chin on her hand. “Maybe a little.”
Love glares at the screen, unimpressed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Milk giggles again before her voice softens, her teasing fading into something more genuine. “Nong… you’re not actually mad, are you?”
Love exhales through her nose, shaking her head. She’s not mad—she knows Milk is just doing her job, networking, being the social butterfly she is. But still. Paris feels far, and so does Milk.
“I just miss you” Love murmurs, so quiet it almost gets lost in the space between them.
Milk’s teasing dies down instantly. “Oh.”
A beat passes. Then, in the softest voice, Milk whispers, “I miss you too, Nong.”
Love leans back in her chair, glancing at the clock. “Go wash up. Sleep properly. I’ll call you after work.”
Milk lets out a little whine. “You’ll be busy…”
“I’ll still call,” Love reassures, gentler now. “So get some rest, P’Miw.”
A tiny smile curls at Milk’s lips as she nestles deeper into the blankets. “Okay. Sweet dreams—wait, no, good morning.”
Love shakes her head, exhaling a quiet laugh. “Sleep, dummy.”
And for a moment, neither of them moves to hang up, as if holding onto the silence is enough.
………………
Milk leaned against the sleek leather seats in the airport lounge, her suitcase at her feet, exhaustion creeping into her bones. The whirlwind of Paris Fashion Week had left her exhilarated, but she was ready to go home.
Her phone buzzed.
Nong Love: Stay safe and stick next to P’Johm at all costs.
A smirk tugged at Milk’s lips as she read the message. Typical Love. Even from halfway across the world, she was still watching over her.
P’Milk: I won’t get lost, Nong. Unfortunately, Kiko did not kidnap me and stuff me into her luggage just like I said she would last night.
She grinned to herself, fully expecting a dry remark or a light scolding in return. Instead, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Love.
Milk’s playful demeanor wavered slightly. ‘Did I tease her too much?’ Milk thought to herself. Her fingers hesitated before answering. Love never called without a reason.
“Nong Love?” Milk greeted cautiously, shifting in her seat. “Why did you call?”
Silence.
Milk frowned, glancing at her screen. The call was still connected.
“Nong…?” She tried again, voice softening. “Are you there?”
The line crackled slightly before—
“P’Miw.”
Just her nickname. Low. Neutral. But Milk could hear it—the undercurrent in Love’s voice, that measured calm, the kind that made her sit up a little straighter.
Her throat went dry.
“Ahh, ehh…” She scratched her neck, suddenly feeling like a kid caught red-handed. “I’m sorry, Nong. I won’t do it again. I was just teasing you.”
“Trust me, P’Miw…” Love’s voice was smooth, laced with quiet authority. “I have no problem with you teasing me—once you’re back in Thailand.” A pause. “But while you’re still in France, please behave.”
Milk exhaled sharply, biting back a grin. She could hear it now, the subtle shift, the edge of possessiveness under Love’s polished CEO demeanor.
“I see,” Milk mused, letting her voice drop just slightly, just enough to test the waters. “Well, wait for me then. I’m coming home to you soon so I can tease you again.”
A beat of silence. Then—
“Bring it on.”
Milk wasn’t prepared for how easily Love flipped the game.
“I just know a way to shut you up then.”
Milk raised a brow, tilting her head. “Oh? How will you shut me up, Nong?” She teased, fully expecting something tame, something safe. “I doubt you can ever tease me back.”
Then, Love hummed.
Soft. Languid. Like she was considering something dangerous.
Then—
“Mhm…” A slow inhale. A pause just long enough to make Milk’s stomach tighten. Love’s voice dropped, dripping like honey, smooth and sinful.
“Then I’ll just shut you up with my mouth.”
Milk’s brain short-circuited.
She stiffened, phone slipping slightly in her grip, her entire body heating up in the middle of the crowded airport.
What—
The world around her blurred. She barely registered the sound of P’Johm calling her name, telling her they needed to board.
“N-Nong—”
Love let out the softest chuckle. Dangerous. Amused. Knowing.
“Go on, P’Miw…” she murmured, her voice silk against Milk’s ear. “Board your plane.” A deliberate pause. “And think about what I’ll do to you once you’re back.”
Milk’s heart stuttered, her fingers curling around her phone as a shiver shot down her spine.
“Y-You—” She couldn’t even form words.
Love’s voice was velvet when she spoke again, her tone shifting from teasing to something firm, something that left no room for argument.
“Let P’Johm drop you off at my place once you’re back.”
Milk swallowed. Hard. “I’ll… I’ll let him know.”
“Good.” A small pause. “Bye for now.”
The call ended before Milk could even process what had just happened.
She sat there, frozen, the echo of Love’s voice lingering like the ghost of a touch against her skin.
One thing was certain.
She was about to spend the entire flight back to Bangkok thinking about a specific pair of lips.
Hopefully, on hers.
………………
Milk and Love had been going steady for almost five months now. It still felt surreal sometimes—how something that had once been a playful, unspoken thing between them had turned into this. A secret they held close to their hearts, hidden from the world.
They hadn’t told anyone yet, not even their closest friends. Only their families knew, and even then, it had taken time to work up the courage to say it out loud. For now, it was safer this way. They weren’t ready for the complications that came with being out there, exposed to the scrutiny of others.
Letting the world in meant opening the door to complications. It meant scrutiny, pressure, and expectations neither of them were ready to face. They were still figuring out what being together meant for their future, and the last thing they needed was the world dissecting it before they even understood it themselves.
Yet, despite the secrecy, Love found herself changing. The way she acted around Milk had shifted. She was more comfortable with skin ship, more open in ways she never used to be. She no longer thought twice about reaching for Milk’s hand in private, about stealing glances during photoshoots, or about instinctively taking care of her in the smallest ways. It wasn’t something she decided—it just happened, like gravity pulling her closer.
Love had never imagined she could be this down bad for one person.
And perhaps she had been in denial, because when had it started? Was it during one of their late-night conversations, when Milk’s voice alone was enough to soothe every worry away? Was it in the way Milk always knew exactly what to say, how to make her laugh even on the hardest days? Or was it the little things—the way Milk would instinctively place a hand on her lower back to guide her through a crowd, or the way she always made sure Love had eaten before any long day of work?
Not even in her past relationships had she felt this way. If she compared, it almost felt like she had never truly loved before.
Love never used to let herself think about it too much. But the way she was acting now—how she found herself planning a Paris-themed dinner in her penthouse just to celebrate Milk’s recent milestone at Paris Fashion Week—it was becoming more and more obvious.
She was completely, utterly gone for this woman.
And it terrified her.
…………..
It happened on a night that neither of them could have predicted. It had been a long day, but the fan meeting event was a success. The team had gone out to celebrate afterward, and Milk—never one to turn down a party—had inevitably ended up drinking too much.
By the time she stumbled back into their shared hotel room, she was gone. Her steps were clumsy, her laughter a little too loud as she struggled with the key card before finally making her way inside.
Love sighed, shaking her head fondly. “You’re hopeless, P’Milk.”
Milk only hummed in response, lazily flopping onto the bed. They had been forced to share one due to a hotel room mix-up, and right now, Love was more concerned with making sure Milk was comfortable than the logistics of their sleeping arrangement.
It wasn’t the first time she had taken care of her Phi like this.
“Let’s take your makeup off first,” Love said softly, reaching for a cotton pad.
As Love gently dabbed at Milk’s face, she suddenly felt a hand grasp her wrist. Before she could react, Milk, still half-drunk and hazy, pulled Love’s hand to her cheek, pressing it there. She nuzzled into the warmth, her eyes fluttering shut as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
And then—softly... Milk’s lips pressing the faintest kiss into her palm. Love’s breath hitched. The room felt too quiet, too intimate.
Milk’s face was flushed, her features relaxed, but there was something else there—something deeper in the way she held onto Love’s hand, like she was afraid to let go.
“P’Milk?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Milk’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, yet somehow, her gaze was heavy with something unspoken. Love was about to say something—anything to break the moment—but then she saw the tears.
Milk was crying.
Love panicked. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Milk didn’t answer right away. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, but they kept coming, unstoppable.
“I can’t tell you,” she choked out, her voice raw.
Love frowned. “What do you mean? Of course, you can. We’re friends and partners, after all. You can tell me anything.”
Milk let out a small, broken laugh. “And that’s the problem,” she said, her voice trembling. “That’s all we’ll ever be,.”
Love’s stomach dropped.
She hadn’t expected this.
They had always understood—without ever needing to say it—that whatever they felt had to remain unspoken. It was safer that way. They had agreed. So why was Milk breaking their unspoken rule now? Was it the alcohol talking? Would she forget all of this tomorrow morning?
As if reading her mind, Milk spoke again, voice steadier this time. “Nong Love, I may be drunk, but I will never not feel this way for you.” Her face was still flushed due to the alcohol but her eyes were serious and her face looked as if she was already bracing herself for rejection.
Love felt like the air had been knocked from her lungs.
The confession settled between them, heavy and irreversible.
“P’Milk…”
Milk swallowed hard, then forced herself to sit up. Her face was much too close now—so close that Love could see every detail, from the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears to the way her lips trembled, as if she was about to say something she might regret.
And then—
“Just tell me, Nong,” Milk whispered, her voice desperate now. “Lay it straight. I’m 28 years old… I can’t keep pining over some made-up reality where you feel the same way. Her voice cracked, but she pressed on, her eyes searching Love’s desperately. “It’s been years, Love. Just tell me I’m wrong. I promise, it won’t change anything between us. I just need to hear it from you—that your actions don’t mean anything. That I’m just your Phi and your friend, nothing more. That whatever I feel for you is wrong, and—”
And Love—Love, who had spent years ignoring her own feelings, who had built walls so high that she could no longer see over them—shattered.
Love kissed her.
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t careful.
It was instinct.
Milk’s entire body shut down. Love was kissing her. It was real and it was happening.
Her breath hitched as Love’s lips pressed against hers, soft yet firm, like a silent confession poured into a single touch.
For a moment, she forgot how to move. Forgot how to think.
And then Love kissed her again—gentler this time, as if coaxing her to respond.
Milk’s breath caught, her entire body going rigid. But then—slowly, cautiously—she melted.
The kiss was warm. Terrifying.
A shaky exhale slipped from her lips as she reached out, fingers gripping Love’s waist as she pulled her closer. Her head spun, not from the alcohol, but from the overwhelming sensation of finally—finally—being this close.
When they pulled apart, both of them were breathless.
Milk tasted mint and strawberry.
Love tasted something heavy and intoxicating—maybe the alcohol on Milk’s lips, or maybe something else entirely.
“P’Milk?” Love murmured, her forehead resting against Milk’s.
Milk blinked, as if still trying to process what had just happened. “Nong Love?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
Love didn’t respond—not with words, at least.
Instead, she buried her face in the crook of Milk’s neck, her arms wrapping tightly around her.
And that was when Milk felt it—hot, silent tears against her skin.
“Nong…” Milk’s voice softened. “Why are you crying?”
Milk stiffened, her heart pounding against her ribs. She had never seen Love cry before—not like this, not in a way that felt so raw, so unguarded. Love always carried herself with an air of confidence, always in control of her emotions, always with a sharp remark or a teasing grin to hide whatever she truly felt.
But now, Love was holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
Milk hesitated, then carefully ran her fingers through Love’s hair, soothing her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, thinking she had pushed too far. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”
Love smacked her shoulder weakly.
“Hold me, you dummy,” she muttered.
Milk’s heart stuttered, but she obeyed immediately, wrapping her arms around Love and holding her close.
And then—just when Milk thought her heart couldn’t take any more—Love lifted her head slightly and placed the softest, briefest kiss against her lips.
Milk stopped breathing.
“Stop apologizing,” Love murmured against her lips. “I just kissed you, and your first instinct was to apologize.”
Milk opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Love rolled her eyes, her brows furrowing as she pouted. “Do you really not understand?”
Milk swallowed. “I—I don’t—”
“I like you,” Love said simply. “I’ve always liked you.”
Milk’s world tilted.
Her mind short-circuited. “Wait, wait—like me? Or like like me?”
Love stared at her, unimpressed. “Really, Phi?”
Milk laughed, breathless, as she wiped the lingering tears from Love’s cheeks. “I like you too.”
And just like that, the weight of the world lifted.
They spent the rest of the night talking—about the past, about the times they had almost said something, about how ridiculous they had been to keep pretending.
For now, they didn’t know what the future held. But in this moment, in the quiet of their shared hotel room, there was nothing more freeing than this.
………..
“Remind me again why I am dropping you off at Nong Love’s place straight from the airport?” P’Johm asked, raising an eyebrow as their driver pulled up in front of the luxurious building.
Milk pretended to check her phone, not meeting his eyes. “I told you, Phi—I left something important. Nong Love already prepared it for me to take.”
P’Johm scoffed, unimpressed by the excuse. “Uh-huh. You two think I don’t notice things, but I do. Just tell me when you’re ready.” He leaned back against the seat with a smirk. “And make sure you actually sleep tonight. It was a long flight.”
Milk rolled her eyes. “Yes, Phi,” she muttered before stepping out of the car.
As soon as she reached the penthouse and raised a hand to knock, the door swung open, and she was yanked inside by soft but firm arms.
“Wha—” Milk barely had time to react before Love threw herself into her arms, wrapping her legs securely around Milk’s waist.
Caught off guard but reacting instinctively, Milk wrapped her arms around Love, using all her strength to hold her up. She felt Love’s warmth press against her, the familiar scent of strawberry and something sweet filling her senses.
She had never seen Love this excited to see her. But four days had been too long indeed. And she missed her orange cat too.
Love’s face was buried in Milk’s neck, her breath hot against her skin. “God, I missed you,” she murmured between quick, desperate kisses—her lips landing on Milk’s cheek, her forehead, and finally, her lips.
Milk chuckled softly, her heart swelling at the sudden affection. “I missed you too, Nong Love,” she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
Love suddenly went rigid, as if realizing their position, and looked down. Her ears turned pink. “Uh, you should probably—”
Before she could finish, Milk smirked, her troublemaker instincts kicking in. She took a step forward, pressing Love against the wall. She placed her hands on either side of Love’s head, trapping her.
Love let out a small gasp, instinctively tightening her grip around Milk’s neck. “P’Milk—”
“You’re trapped,” Milk teased, eyes twinkling with mischief.
Love swallowed, her flush deepening. “Put me down.”
“But I just got here,” Milk countered, tilting her head as if contemplating. “And I haven’t had enough of my girlfriend yet.” She let her forehead rest against Love’s, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you have any idea how long four days could feel?”
Love felt her stomach flip. “It’s only been—”
“Four Days,” Milk repeated, exaggerating the words like they were some great injustice. Her lips brushed against Love’s ear, making her shiver. “I missed you so much.”
Love felt her resolve slipping, her fingers unconsciously threading through Milk’s hair. “Then—” she cleared her throat, trying to regain control. “Then you should’ve come home sooner.”
Milk chuckled, but her voice was more serious now. “Can I kiss you?” she asked, brushing her lips along Love’s jaw, testing.
Love’s breath hitched. “Why are you even asking?” she whispered. “Just—just do what you want.”
Milk grinned, her heart pounding. “Do what I want?” she echoed. “That’s impossible, Nong Love. I want you to want it first.”
Love, already caught in the moment, didn’t hesitate. “I want to kiss you.”
That was all Milk needed to hear. She closed the distance between them, capturing Love’s lips in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was needy, deep, and unapologetic—four days' worth of longing poured into it.
Love melted instantly, her fingers gripping the back of Milk’s shirt as she kissed back just as eagerly. Milk tightened her hold around Love’s waist, pressing her further against the wall.
It wasn’t like their usual kisses—this one was desperate, hot, something neither of them was willing to break away from. Love felt her heartbeat in her ears as her tongue brushed against Milk’s, seeking more.
Just as things were about to spiral further, the loud ding of the oven timer cut through the air.
Love gasped, suddenly remembering the chicken. “Shit!” She pushed herself off Milk, stumbling slightly as she rushed toward the kitchen.
Milk, left standing against the wall, ran a hand through her hair, exhaling heavily. “…That was rude.”
Love didn’t respond, too focused on turning off the oven. But her hands trembled slightly as she touched her lips, still swollen from the kiss. “That was…” she swallowed hard, feeling her heart hammer against her ribcage. That was the most intense kiss they’ve ever had.
Before she could process it further, she felt warm arms wrap around her from behind.
Milk pressed a soft kiss to Love’s shoulder, resting her chin there. “You ran away from me,” she pouted, her voice carrying just the slightest hint of teasing.
Love swallowed hard, her lips still tingling. “I—I didn’t run,” she argued weakly, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her.
Milk hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Mmm, are you sure? ‘Cause it kinda felt like you did.” She nuzzled closer, her lips grazing Love’s skin. “Almost like you got flustered or something.”
“I—” Love cleared her throat, trying to ignore how her body betrayed her. “Dinner’s ready. You should eat.”
Milk grinned against her shoulder. “I’d rather eat you.”
“P’Milk!” Love’s voice pitched embarrassingly high, and she felt her entire face ignite.
Milk giggled, finally pulling back, looking far too pleased with herself. “Fine, fine. I’m hungry, Nong Love.”
Love turned to face her, still catching her breath, still feeling way too warm under Milk’s gaze. “Go sit on the couch,” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “I—I’ll serve us dinner.”
Milk nodded but didn’t move right away. Instead, she lingered, shifting on her feet. “Um.”
Love frowned, finally looking up. “What?”
Milk hesitated, her fingers brushing over her lips before she spoke. “…Whatever just happened earlier…” She paused, looking anywhere but at Love. “I hope it happens again.” Her voice had softened into something shy, something hesitant.
Love felt her heart do an embarrassing little flip. Why does she have to say it like that?
Her ears burned. She quickly turned away, busying herself with the plates. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered under her breath, though the redness on her cheeks gave her away.
Milk chuckled, but she let it go, retreating to the living room.
Love exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the counter. Her legs felt wobbly, her chest tight with something she refused to name.
How is it possible for one person to be so painfully attractive one second… and then make me feel like this the next?!
She shook her head, pressing her cool palms against her face. Milk could be the hottest woman in the YSL event, someone who turned heads wherever she walked, someone who could make people weak with just a glance…
But with Love? She’s just a baby.
And Love wouldn’t want her any other way.
………….
Milk let out a surprised yelp as Love’s hands suddenly covered her eyes. “Nong Love—what are you doing?” she asked, laughing as Love gently guided her forward.
“Just trust me,” Love whispered close to her ear, making Milk shiver slightly. “And don’t peek!”
Milk grinned but kept her eyes closed, allowing Love to lead her carefully across the penthouse. The scent of something delicious filled the air, mingling with a faint floral aroma.
“Okay, ready?” Love asked, excitement evident in her voice.
Milk nodded.
Love removed her hands.
Milk’s eyes fluttered open—and her jaw dropped.
The dining table was beautifully set with elegant candles flickering softly, casting a warm glow over the pristine white tablecloth. Rose petals were scattered across the surface, and fairy lights twinkled like stars around them. There was a plate of perfectly prepared food, a bottle of wine, and even soft French music playing in the background.
Milk blinked, speechless. “Nong Love…”
Love, looking both proud and slightly shy, gestured dramatically toward the table. “Mademoiselle, votre dîner est prêt,” [ Miss, your dinner is ready ] she said in her best French accent, then pulled out a chair for Milk.
Milk burst into laughter, walking over to her seat. “Wow, N’Love speaking French? This really is a dream.”
Love huffed playfully. “I studied hard for this moment.”
Milk let herself be seated, watching as Love poured them both a glass of wine.
“This,” Love said as she lifted the bottle, “is a 2016 Bordeaux. Rich, velvety, and perfectly aged… just like me.”
Milk giggled. “You’re not even thirty.”
“Exactly,” Love smirked. “I’m aging like fine wine.”
Milk shook her head, still amazed. “It really feels like we’re in Paris right now.” She sighed contentedly, swirling her wine.
Love’s expression softened. “Good,” she murmured. “I wanted to bring Paris here. I wanted to be there with you, but I couldn’t, so this is the closest thing I could do.”
Milk’s heart swelled. She reached across the table and squeezed Love’s hand. “You’re amazing.”
Love grinned, but then her eyes narrowed playfully. “Not as amazing as Kiko, though?”
Milk immediately choked on her wine. “Wh—what?”
Love tilted her head, faux innocence lacing her voice. “Kiko Mizuhara. The model from Paris Fashion Week. The one you took a picture with?”
Milk chuckled nervously, her face heating up. “You know I don’t even know that person,” she joked.
“Liar,” Love teased back, smirking as she took a bite of her food.
Milk groaned dramatically, covering her face. “I hate that you saw that.”
Love only laughed, pouring them another glass of wine as they continued their meal, chatting about Milk’s time in Paris.
After dinner, Milk sat back with a satisfied sigh. “That was amazing.”
“Of course it was,” Love said smugly.
Milk suddenly leaned forward, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Nong Love… I have a craving.”
Love blinked. “What kind of craving?”
Milk grinned. “Banana milk.”
Love deadpanned.
“P’Milk, you just had an expensive French dinner with wine, and now you want banana milk?”
Milk nodded eagerly. “I’ve been craving it for four days!”
Love sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if we go out now and someone sees us looking like this—” she gestured to their matching hoodies, her pink one and Milk’s green one—“I’m blaming you.”
Milk beamed, grabbing Love’s hand. “Let’s go!”
And just like that, they were sneaking out into the quiet streets, hand in hand.
The streets were almost empty, save for the occasional passing car. The cold night air nipped at their cheeks, but neither of them minded.
Milk sighed happily, swinging their intertwined hands. “Anywhere with you feels right.”
Love, half-hiding under her hoodie, glanced up at Milk with a small, secretive smile. “The moon looks the same anyway.”
Milk blinked. “Huh?”
Love pointed up at the sky. “The moon. No matter where we are, as long as I’m with you, it’s going to be the same moon looking back. It’s going to be the same butterflies in my stomach.”
Milk’s breath hitched.
She looked around—left, right—no one else was there.
Under the glow of a streetlamp, she took Love by the waist and kissed her.
It was short but fervent, filled with all the emotions four days apart had built up. Love melted into it, gripping Milk’s hoodie tightly, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
But too soon, it ended.
Love blinked, dazed, then suddenly gasped. “P’Milk, what if someone saw?!”
Milk chuckled, tugging Love’s hoodie down over her face. “Then let’s go before they take a picture.”
Before Love could protest, Milk grabbed her hand and ran.
Their laughter echoed through the empty streets as they dashed back home, out of breath and completely exhilarated.
By the time they reached the penthouse, they were panting, grinning like idiots.
Love plopped onto the couch, holding up the banana milk. “This better be worth it.”
Milk eagerly took a sip, sighing in satisfaction. “Perfection.”
Love rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile as she snuggled into Milk’s side.
On the TV, US: The Series played in the background, but neither of them were really paying attention.
Milk wrapped an arm around Love, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’m so happy right now.”
Love hummed, melting further into the hug. “Me too.”
For a while, they just stayed like that—Milk tracing soft circles on Love’s arm, Love breathing in the familiar scent of Milk’s hoodie.
“P’Milk?” Love whispered sleepily.
“Hm?”
“…I love you.”
Milk's face was flustered at the confession, but she held Love closer, squeezing her tighter. “I love you more.”
A beat of silence. Then—
“Even more than Kiko?”
Milk groaned dramatically, burying her face in Love’s hair as Love burst into giggles.
And just like that, they drifted off to sleep, tangled in each other’s warmth, under the same moon that had watched over them all along.