she leans against him like he’s the only thing holding her upright, and he might well be at this point, solid as he ever is. then his hand comes down, his fingers touching hers, sending a jolt through her of surprise, because she did not expect him to actually take hold of her. his fingers curl around hers as he gently pries her hand off him, and then he shifts, starts to turn, and she does her very best to bring all of her weight back to her own feet, to carry herself like she’s capable, to present herself the way she always does; untouchable.
she can’t help the way her eyes first flicker to her daughter, instinct making her check the girl is alright, is still sleeping, but then they move to lock on his, and once they do, she stands like frozen. she feels vulnerable under the scrutiny of his golden eyes, feels like he’ll be able to see right through her, to look into the very depths of her, to uncover every little piece of her insecurities, the things that eat her alive inside, the way she’s barely kept together by the threads of her willpower, straining to keep all of her from falling apart into a million little pieces.
but the man looking down at her is not the usual captain, not the yang jaewon with his sharp edges and his instant rebuffs, because he brings her hand to his chest, lets it settle there against his shirt, lets her feel the steady thud of his heart beating. she holds his gaze still, but all of her is aching to look down, to let her eyes take in where her hand rests, to immortalise this moment in her memories, to make sure she will never forget this particular moment, will never be able to live a single day without remembering that there was once a time, if only this short moment within it, when the walls between them were not made of rock and stone, were not wrapped in barbed wire and reinforced with solid concrete.
he speaks then, voice but a whisper, and her eyes are still locked with his, stinging because of how little she’s blinking, trying not to miss a single thing of what is unfolding in front of her, and it feels like all of her is balancing on the edge, like all it will take to ruin everything is a single word, a single look, a single breath. he leans in, closer and closer until their personal bubbles seemingly have become one, and she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even in the slightest mind this breaching of her space. doesn’t mind that if he wanted to he could do whatever he wished to her, he could do much worse than anything that had been done to her only a year ago. because she trusts him. with her brother. with her life. with her daughter. with everything.
he speaks words that hit her like bullets, ricocheting in the confines of her chest, like her ribcage holds nothing but emptiness, like they’re playing tag with her insides. when his hand lets go of hers, she mourns its loss instantly, feels like her fingers freeze within seconds once the warmth of him has gone from them, even if she keeps them solidly pressed against his chest, desperate to feel that steady beating, anchored to it as she is, to this little bit of proof that they’re alive, that this is real, that she is here in this very moment, and has not fled inside the confines of her mind again, trying to escape a reality that is much, much worse.
his fingers brush past her face, moving some strands of hair, and she is caught in a timeless moment, unable to breathe, unable to blink, unable to do anything other than drink in every detail of this moment like a person parched, like her memory holds a gaping hole and she’ll never be able to fill it unless she catches ever single second of this. he tells her he won’t hurt her and her automatic first thought is of course. of course not, and she wonders if there has ever been a doubt in her mind about that, if she has ever looked upon yang jaewon and doubted the heart of him, the soul of him, the core of him.
then he speaks again, even softer than before, not much more than a breath, but she’s so focused on him and him alone that she hears it just fine, understands it just fine, and her heart breaks for him like crystal, into a million little pieces, sparkling and shining as they catch the light, the tragic beauty of destruction. she curls the fingers of her hand ever so slightly into him, as if she’s about to take hold of him by his shirt, but her hand never really closes quite far enough. and her eyes never leave his, never even flicker away from the gold of his, not right now.
“i never tell someone i love them without meaning it,” she says, almost breathless, the barest minimum of air used to give sound to the words filled with so much softness. where she was on the verge of falling apart before, she now suddenly feels more solid than ever, except even more careful, because this is a side of jaewon she has never been allowed to see before, a side she might never see again in the future, and she dreads doing the wrong thing, dreads doing to him what he has just asked of her not to do. still, there is only one way forward here, and that is to speak, no matter how terrified she is of saying something that will make him slam up all his walls again like a trap closing on an unsuspecting rodent. and so she lifts her other hand finally, brings it up until her fingers nearly touch his cheek, but then she never closes that last bit of distance, and instead just lets it hover right there in the air next to his face, for him to accept, reject or ignore as he wishes.
“the last thing i want to do is hurt you,” she finally manages to speak again, just as quiet, just as soft, but she makes sure he’s listening, makes sure he understands. “but you’re an enigma, yang jaewon.” she uncurls her fingers, lays her hand entirely flat against his chest again, covering his heart, as if her hand could be a substitute for the way she wishes she could take care of all of him, keep him safe from any of the harm the world may bring him, even whatever pain it is she herself has inflicted on him. “i do not know what hurts you." she wants to tell him that she’d rather get shot in the kneecaps, that she’d rather go through a whole year of what has been done to her already than risk causing him any such pain, but there are no words to voice something like that, not even in this bubble of theirs, not even in this moment where it seems her heart is laid bare and all it will take is a single, thoughtless word to ruin it forever. but she’s never been afraid of the risk of that, she’s never been afraid of getting hurt.
“it was not a kiss goodbye,” she admits softly instead of anything that could have been said instead. “but i admit it was a selfish thing. that if i would not succeed in what i set out to do, and if the black were to take me before i made my way home, at least i got to kiss you once.” she sees now, how much worse it must have been, how much impact it must have had, when she’d been convinced he would brush it off like he’d brushed off every single one of her touches before. and both the regret and apology seep into her eyes, stinging not only with dryness but with tears as well, and she thinks he’s right, she thinks she should not have treated him as she has, should not have treated many people the way she has. “i am sorry if that hurt you,” she says, regardless of her own emotions, her own feelings. a genuine apology, because pain is the last thing she wanted to cause him.
