( @disconnectng / love me, this has been playing in my mind for weeks now, itâs a miracle that it got out tbh )
It was not a routine, but Insoo wouldnât mind growing into it. His apartment in the heart of Seoul had never been meant to be lived in as much as he did these days. Itâd been more of a sanctuary for when he was tired of planes, flights, when he wanted to rest, lay low. Play in the studio, give back to the small audience heâd acquired and jealously wished to keep awake at the odd hours heâd chosen to broadcast.
It was a secret between them, of sort. Things that occurred during those hours always felt like they were meant to never be spoken. Mornings had always felt more like the end of a segment, rather the beginning of a day for him. Yet, these days, heâd grown a habit. The habit of brewing two cups, filling his and leaving the other empty until he could hear Araâs footsteps.
Her quiet sighs, the ones she always had when he knew she was awake and did not want to be. They always made him smile, today, it was on the edge of his cup of tea. Coffee after a night lacking of any sleep was not a good idea, heâd learned early on. But coffee was more than necessary for the girl entering his kitchen now, hair disheveled but looking like theyâd been purposefully made to look as such.
Meaning, she looked just as good just out of bed as she did if sheâd spent an hour getting ready. A different level of stunning, but still nothing to debate on whether or not she would be turning a few heads. She was a natural at this. A little sad that she was stuck in an office, doing a job that most girl with her appeal would skip over the promise of cameras and the love of million of admirers.
She could easily dump it all and become a model. Or better yet, find a man who wanted to take care of her and never have to work for a dime in her life. But Ara was working, she also looked to enjoy working. In fact, that was part of her charm. That she hated waking up at these odd hours, but the one time sheâd been late to her routinely timed wake up hour, sheâd been frantic and disappointed and buzzing with the energy to head out as soon as possible.
Itâd taken Insoo to shout above her words to calm her down and promise her sheâd make it, so long as she stopped panicking over it and let him take her. Had that been the first promise heâd made to her and had felt more than proud to have been able to keep? No. But itâd been the one promise where heâd felt happy to be useful.
Where heâd noticed something change. A trust. A chip in the balance of it, the way sheâd heaved, looked at him in his driverâs seat, taken her belt off, been ready to leave but then had leaned in quickly, fervently and kissed his cheek with glee and then jolted out of his car. Insoo had to say, heâd do it all over again if only to see that relief replay over her face over, and over again.Â
This was a mellowed version of it. When she had her eyes open finally, blinking at him when she noticed him, then immediately moving to her empty cup to fill it with the freshly brewed coffee that actually only awaited her.Â
âSlept well?âÂ
She turned to face him, from opposite ends, he watched her take a sip first before she could reply. Almost as if the warmth of the beverage was necessary to undo the knots in her throat, to undo the mute state she seemed to always wake up in.Â
âYou know your bed is magical.â âNot me, but my bed?âÂ
Insoo knew the effect of the caffeine were working when she cracked a smile. He wondered often if she knew how easy she was to readâsometimes. When she didnât pay attention to what she wanted to say and it was jsut written there, all over her face. Especially when she had an idea and she knew it might not be conventional of her to voice it out.Â
âYouâre the bonus.â She was not shy per say, but she lowered her gaze to the floor and Insoo could tell the signs of her beginning to feel the rise of a blush. It sometimes mirrored his as well, but today he had the opportunity to watch hers only rise to the surface.Â
âI offer the bed and Iâm only the bonus?â âYeah, but see the bed is the usual paycheck, whereas the bonus is that extra that is exciting to have any time you get your hands on it.âÂ
Sheâd had more than a few sips now, he could definitely tell. She was thinking. Those gears, in her brain, working what made her probably choose the career sheâd chosen. She moved from the counter and as she came towards him, it struck him that Ara herself had been growing a habit.
One that was emptying his closet from some of his shirts, âThatâs mine.âÂ
âWhat?â She stopped, he pointed to the shirt she was wearing with his cup.Â
âThis? No way,â Ara held the hem, her fingers twisting the material, in the middle of his kitchen, about to close the distance between them but stopped by his words. She was in the perfect spot for the sun to come through and practically put a spotlight on her, a halo of her blonde hair and how it played against the pink of his shirt that she was apparently going to argue did not belong to him.Â
âYour nameâs on it, mine howeverââ âYour name is on it?â âWell, yeah! Look,âÂ
She seemed excited, this was the gaze, the one heâd thought about earlier. The one that read, Iâve done something that will speak of the mischief I can cause all by myself and get away with it. Ara unbuttoned her shirt without a second of hesitation, after sheâd carefully put her cup away of course.Â
Her hands working fast on those buttons so she could show him some handiwork. He was sure sheâd done something worth witnessing. That she felt no hesitation in undressing in his kitchen, despite the opened curtains or his eyes on her, spoke volume of that trust heâd gradually instilled in her.Â
That and the comfort she must have around him. It was warming. Heart warming, mind warming. A balm that had him chasing her fingers as they moved, revealing each expanse of skin like undoing the bow of a neatly wrapped gift box.
That was a fitting description.Â
âHold on a second, okay,âÂ
He was holding on, to his cup, to her body, moving around the kitchen. To the sight of pink, and the travel he caught of it on her stomach up to her throat and as quickly as heâd caught it, it was gone and she was next to him now.Â
His shirt sprawled on the counter, her fingers having found something, a lipstick he realized once she started moving it on the material of his shirt. Forgotten was everything else but the words she was quickly drawing too. Big sized, medium sized, small sized.Â
In various areas. Just writing and writing. All on the back of the shirt.
Red to pink and bold ; Araâs.
âYou see it right?â She looked up, leaning on her elbows, the end of her lipstick to her mouth. Pushing against her lip, the way his own found they enjoyed doing just as much.
Insoo could see it. He could also do nothing else but nod at her handiwork, at her eyes searching his, at how she was softly matching the color of his shirt. Red lips, rosy face and he couldnât help but be drawn in to get the warmth he knew it would give to his lips, to kiss her cheek.Â
How else could he win when the truth was not dormant in her searching and knowing eyes the halted steps of his heartbeats.Â
Insoo against the heat of her skin ;Â âLooks like youâre right and itâs yours.â ; agreed with the bold fitting words.











