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The motel room stayed quiet, but it didn’t feel calm anymore.
It felt like something had been set in motion and neither of them was interested in stopping it.
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Miyeon barely had time to close the door fully before Hayoon was already there again.
Level 8 or not, she still moved like she didn’t ask permission from space.
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“You keep doing that,” Miyeon said, breath already slightly uneven.
“Doing what,” Hayoon replied.
“Appearing right in front of me.”
“I’m standing still.”
“That’s not the point.”
Hayoon tilted her head slightly.
“…You’re thinking too much again.”
“I am not—”
Miyeon didn’t finish.
Because Hayoon kissed her.
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Immediate.
Certain.
Like it was the most natural continuation of the sentence.
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When she pulled back, Miyeon blinked slowly.
“…You really don’t give warnings anymore.”
“I did once,” Hayoon said.
“When.”
“Earlier in life.”
“That is not helpful.”
“It is accurate.”
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And then she kissed her again.
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Miyeon made a quiet sound of protest that didn’t last long enough to matter.
Because Hayoon didn’t leave space for hesitation unless she chose to.
And tonight, she clearly wasn’t choosing it.
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Second kiss.
Third.
Fourth.
Each one a little longer than the last.
Like Hayoon was adjusting something only she could feel.
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Miyeon’s hand found her sleeve again, fingers tightening slightly.
Not to stop her.
Just to keep her close when everything else felt like it might drift.
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“…You’re enjoying this,” Miyeon muttered between breaths.
“Yes,” Hayoon answered immediately.
“That was fast.”
“It’s true.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is to me.”
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Fifth kiss.
Sixth.
Seventh.
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Miyeon finally caught a full breath for half a second.
“…You’re Level 8 now.”
“Yes.”
“That’s supposed to make you more serious.”
“I am serious.”
“This is not serious.”
“It is for me.”
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Eighth.
Ninth.
Tenth.
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Miyeon’s thoughts started losing structure somewhere around then.
Not from panic.
Just from repetition that refused to let her mind settle into anything else.
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Eleventh kiss lingered longer.
Twelfth came immediately after.
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Miyeon exhaled against her.
“You’re not even giving me time to think.”
“That’s the point.”
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Thirteenth.
Fourteenth.
Fifteenth.
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At some point, Miyeon’s fingers shifted.
And she caught Hayoon’s tie.
Not pulling harshly.
Just holding it lightly between her fingers like an anchor.
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That made Hayoon pause—just barely.
Not stopping.
Just noticing.
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“…You’re holding my tie,” Hayoon said quietly.
“I noticed.”
“Why.”
“So you don’t disappear mid-sentence.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You do emotionally.”
Hayoon hummed softly, almost amused.
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Sixteenth kiss.
Seventeenth.
Eighteenth.
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Miyeon’s grip on the tie tightened slightly as Hayoon leaned in again.
Not controlling.
Just keeping her there.
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“You’re worse now,” Miyeon muttered.
“Worse how.”
“Confident.”
“I was always confident.”
“No. This is different.”
Hayoon didn’t argue.
Which somehow made it worse.
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Nineteenth.
Twentieth.
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Miyeon let out a shaky breath.
“…I outrank you now.”
“Yes,” Hayoon said.
“That should change something.”
“It doesn’t.”
“…You’re impossible.”
“I know.”
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Twenty-first kiss.
Twenty-second.
Twenty-third.
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Miyeon’s head tilted slightly as she pulled Hayoon closer by the tie, just enough to close the space again.
That earned a faint pause—just a fraction of a second.
Then Hayoon continued like nothing had changed.
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Twenty-fourth.
Twenty-fifth.
Twenty-sixth.
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Miyeon gave a small breathless laugh.
“You’re going to get me in trouble.”
“With who.”
“Headquarters.”
“They’re not here.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It is to me.”
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Twenty-seventh.
Twenty-eighth.
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Miyeon’s grip on the tie loosened slightly, then tightened again when Hayoon shifted away for a second.
Not far.
Never far.
Just enough to breathe.
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“You’re still with me?” Hayoon asked quietly.
Miyeon nodded once.
“…Barely.”
“That’s fine.”
“It is not fine.”
“It is for tonight.”
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Twenty-ninth.
Thirtieth.
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Miyeon stopped counting again—not because she couldn’t, but because everything had turned into one continuous thing that didn’t need numbers anymore.
Just proximity.
Just warmth.
Just Hayoon.
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And when Hayoon leaned in again, Miyeon didn’t hesitate.
She met her halfway, still holding the tie, pulling her back in like she had decided she wasn’t letting go of anything tonight.
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Thirty-first.
Thirty-second.
Thirty-third.
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Hayoon finally paused just long enough to rest her forehead lightly against Miyeon’s.
“…Better,” she murmured.
Miyeon huffed softly.
“At what.”
“You
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Thirty-fourth kiss.
Longer.
Slower.
Like neither of them was in a hurry to return to anything outside that room.
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Miyeon’s voice came quieter this time.
“…You’re still annoying.”
“I know.”
“But you’re worse now.”
“I know.”
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And she kissed her again.