Chapter Text
In the middle of a cloud of warmth and coziness, you barely notice it creeping its way into your mind. Even though you try to dive back into the fluffy blissful nothingness of drowsy sleep, wakefulness comes in the little details you don’t have to work too hard to process.
A rosy glow from behind your eyelids,
the faint aroma of a gentle perfume and a complimentary waft of mellow coffee,
some kind of bitter graininess at the tip of your tongue, filling your mouth the more you try not to think of it,
the steady ticking of a second hand, going round and round,
and soft breaths that rise when yours fall, fall when yours rise, in and out, in, out… This fails to pique your interest until your thoughts and limbs catch up to the rest of you. You open your eyes – reluctantly, almost unwilling to confirm now, for fear of disappointment – to see that you are lying next to the dozing figure of one Jaehee Kang, whose fingers are still lightly interlaced with yours and whose ankles rest between your feet. You are each lying on your sides, facing the other. If her eyes weren’t closed and her breaths so soft and even…
It’s easy to imagine how this happened even if you can’t remember exactly right now. You remember the night before, some bits foggier than others. You must have dozed off first, but it feels like everything was only put on pause. If she woke up now, you could just lay here and listen to her talk for hours unto days, you think. You could do more than that, but somehow, it seemed right to listen first. She had told you she would have many things to say, and you would have been happy to report that she was not wrong about that at all.
When she talks to you, her eyes lights up so brilliantly. Is it in the dance her perfect eyebrows do, or the subtle changes in the shape of her mouth as she speaks, almost blurting out the words, or the way her eyes lock so firmly onto yours, and then dart away for flickering moments? Saying things behind the words? She was nothing a photograph could have shown you, this intensity that her entire person gives off when she gets going. When you met her eager gaze, that earnest, forward part of her hooked you instantly. How couldn’t you share her enthusiasm? She practically glowed, and for all the first impressions of her everyone in the RFA share, you know you will ultimately and always remember the burning passion and warmth of Jaehee Kang.
It’s hard to stop yourself, thinking about all this. A huge, silly grin splits across your face, so full of something unspoken stirring in your chest that it makes your cheeks hurt to just lie there and smile like a damned fool. You flex your fingers just a bit, shifting the hold just slightly deeper. It steals your breath away, this one long moment alone with her. But you can’t really say you mind the lightheadedness one bit.
You realize that you don’t actually know what time it is when she shifts suddenly, an intake of breath changing into a soft whining kind of groan, a protest against the loss of sleep. You’ve never heard her make a noise like that all before, so as she finally squints up at you, you must look positively ghoulish - beaming from ear to ear, glowing golden in glaring sunlight - the first thing she sees.
But all she says, though, and all you need to hear, is a soft “Good morning to you, too.” Her hand tightens its grip gently, and you add a little more pressure too. Suddenly, you feel your heart beating hard in your chest, the power of your pulse making your entire body feel the vigorous beat that keeps you alive and here, in the present, with Jaehee.
Your eyes fall to your interlocked fingers, glancing fleetingly over the details of her hands. They are wiry and strong, and you must say that they look very good this way. You consider saying this, but somehow, you feel almost embarrassed to lift your gaze again and say something so cheesy and out of the blue. But like she knows, like she read your face, in one fluid motion as she sits up fully and rolls the stiffness out of one shoulder, her other hand clasps yours fully, palm to palm.
“This way is nice, too,” she says softly in the silence after the sharp rasp of her movement across the sheets.
… Is the slight dampness between your hands from your sweaty palm? Are your palms starting to sweat over holding hands? Oh my God, you think to yourself. You have already internally closed your eyes to take deep imaginary breaths in the struggle to not let that idea kill the atmosphere. That’s not the point of any of this. And what is?
She’s sitting right next to you, of course, and looking angelically backlit by the sunlight pouring into a room you are only now starting to take stock of. It is not a familiar room, but this doesn’t trouble you in the least. There will be time aplenty to get familiar with it later, probably.
You relax that over-exuberant beaming expression of yours. The ear-stopping heart-pounding dies down a little, and you regain enough fine motor control to gently rub your thumb against the back of her hand. Surprisingly, her fingers are a little chilly to the touch, but the heat in yours, you think, will soon fix that.