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Half past midnight was a sorry sight. Beautiful and dangerous, that’s what evenings like these were in the drum of Anthony’s heart. They held everything he loved so gently, while suspending it over a cliffside. What Anthony loved. He loved many things, he loved youtube, and the beach, and Coy and Will. This midsummer night was soaked in cheap beer. One wrong slip-up on drunken moon-risings like these and it would all go to shit. That’s always how Anthony had thought. He stepped out of place, and the door swung open, and nobody was left. Except for one.
Constellations danced in her pupils, artificial light of the studio kissed her skin. Archangel of heaven, sent down to walk among us. Anthony wasn’t drunk. Except for when he looked at Hanbon. Then, he was out of his mind. Mousy curls slung over her shoulder, thick eyelashes flickered shut to rest against her undereye. As weird as the thought was, Anthony wished he was one of those lashes, so he too could sit so close to her skin. She glowed beside him, lovely and divine. Hanbon was one of those people he could see himself praying to. God never heard him. Hanbon did. Out of all the things Anthony loved, Hanbon stood in the center.
Curled on the sofa, wrists pressed to her chest. Her gaze found Anthony’s lazily, her white-toothed grin flickering. Her socks rested against his jeans, and she scooched herself forward, moving the hem of Anthony’s sleeve between her thumb and pointer finger. “You’re my best friend.” She slurred, far-gone. “Like, my real best”--she paused with a dopey smile–”Bestfriend.” No matter how intoxicated the girl was, hearing such sweet words set his heart aflame. In-fact, she could call him a dirty piece of shit, and he’d still swoon. He’d do anything for her. Maybe he was born for her.
His own grin betrayed him, overtaking his face. “Am I?” He teased. Her hair tickled his arm, her warm breath on his neck. Her gaze turned up with posthaste, two widened umber irises aligned with his. She nodded once, then twice. Anthony knew she meant it. When Hanbon meant something, she meant it with her whole chest. Her whole being. The same way Anthony loved her. Entirely, consumingly, absolute. Inseparable from his being. That’s what she was, from the day he met her, they were simply one.
A drowsy exhale came from her, and her shoulders slumped. Her cheeks were still tainted with a beautiful shade of roseate from the morning hours, Anthony remarked. He could examine every inch of her for decades, for centuries, and never lose interest. Her lips were a smooth carnelian. Her eyebrows were recently thinned. “Anthony,” She began, and he lost his breath. “If you, hmm, I don’t know. If you had to choose between one”-- she stuck up a number one with her pointer finger, her nails were hot pink, of course they were–“one of us, to stay with forever, and like choose them, who would you… choose?” Her voice was wavering, her smile could be heard even if Anthony’s eyes weren’t locked on her. Anthony knew she wouldn’t remember this when the sun rose. Still, he couldn’t resist his answer.
“You.” He said. Without hesitation, without missing a beat. Anthony’s already chosen her, a million times over. He’s chosen her so many times it’s like second nature. Couldn’t she see that? All the times he got down on his knees, loved her like angels love God, turned around over and over, so much like lovelorn Orpheus? “Always you.” It was more of a gasp than two words, rather a plea or a prayer. Always her.
She giggled high-pitched, scrunching her nose. She thought about it a moment, lips pierced and humorous glint in her eye. She looked magnificent at that moment. “You know, I’d choose you too.” She murmured against him, shutting her eyes. He breathed her in, pressing a kiss so light to her hairline it wasn’t intended to be felt. Simply to be done, to put an act of his love out into the sleeping world. “I’d definitely…choose you.” She nodded slightly. “I mean, like, who else would I choose? You’re like…everything. I’m glad you choose me.” She rambled through hiccups. Oh, if only she knew. If she knew what defined Anthony’s everything, there’d be no question of who he’d choose at all. If only she knew how bright his heart burned on a spit in his chest. If she knew, if she knew.
They sat in beats of silence, heat beneath Anthony’s skin. When he pulled himself back inside his body, convinced himself of his own sanity, Hanbon had begun to nod off. Her head drifted against his collarbone, slowly blinking as if it was painful. He huffed a laugh, how could anyone not love her? Loving her was as natural as living and dying, being born and being laid in the dirt. It came as a fact, it was a given. They should teach it in schools. “Let’s get you to bed.” He whispered, slipping out from her grasp against all his good reasoning. Her face scrunched up, she began sort of something between a groan and a whine, and Anthony laughed harder. With a swift movement she was in his arms, bridal-style, her whines turned to giggles as they rung off the walls.
He trudged down the hallway keeping her pressed to his chest, until they reached her bedroom. He laid her out in the silken white sheets, pulling the duvet up to her chin. When they were both satisfied with her comfort, Hanbon already halfway asleep, Anthony drew back. He stood there in awe as weak moonlight illuminated her skin, the strands of her hair and the slight part between her lips. Even if he never knew her, he’d still choose her. In holy oblivion and clandestine death, she’d still be his. In gruesome hurricane or clear spring skies, in a chapel of lovers or her bedroom alone, it did not matter. He would always choose Hanbon.