ree ree

Her sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floors, briskly making her way out of the building, down a few steps and onto the pavement.

The sun was already sinking into the horizon and she had to be at the subway station before nightfall. If she had time, she might've appreciated the way the bright yellow marigolds and the pale blue chrysanthemums swayed as she rushed past them, nestled in carefully tended flowerbeds. But she didn't have time. She had to catch the subway. More importantly, she had to catch him.

Soon, she reached the station and scrambled through the open doors of the train. It was oddly vacant that day, apart from a granny that dosed off on one of the benches, the train was empty. She whipped her head around, hoping to find a glimpse of him. Heck, she knew he wouldn’t sit anywhere else other than his favorite seat – the one right across from hers. But he wasn’t there.

Disappointment withered her. With tiredness that suddenly seemed to weigh heavily on her shoulders, she sat at his favorite seat. A part of her had hoped she’d be able to sense him as she closed her eyes and rested her head against the windowpane, that from merely taking his position, she’d be able to take in some part of him along with it.

Of course that wouldn’t happen. She didn’t even know his name.

Instead, she allowed herself to be accompanied by the ghostly memory of him. She cast aside all the worldly worries and let herself indulge in thoughts of him alone. And once her shoulders relaxed, it was this: the way his turtleneck hugged his torso, the way the tangle of his curls sat on top of his head, messily, as if he had just rolled out of bed. It was the way the sunlight dappled on his face and caught the hazel of his eyes. It was the way he’d glance at her, and she’d pretend she didn’t notice, and the way she’d glance at him, and he’d pretend he didn’t notice.

It was the fleeting moment when their eyes met, and then—

She opened her eyes.

He stood in front of her, chest heaving as if he had run. If she thought his hair couldn’t look any more unkempt, she was wrong. They were windswept, wild.

With a chime, the doors to the subway closed and the train jerked forward. He sat down beside her.

She wanted to savior this moment, the brief seconds after which they wouldn’t be strangers anymore. For how long, she thought, for how long could have I delayed this conversation, I wonder. When she turned to face him, he was looking at her already.

And then what happened was something that wasn’t happening to her, it was some far off version, some fantasy, some delusion. It was the cold wind and the hitch of breath. It was the scent of woodsy cologne. It was the warm hand on the side of her neck and the chaste press of lips.

His to hers.

She did not breath.

She did not think about the lusciousness of them, or the firm hold against her neck. She did not think about the swarming intensity in his hazel eyes, or the way he seemed to breathe her in.

And then, before the granny woke up from the sound of their smooches, they parted.

“I mean,” he smiled bashfully, “why beat around the bush when the beauty is right in front of you?”

“Did you actually do that just now or–” she blinked.

He laughed, really laughed – all set of white shinning teeth, “Why? You want to test it again?”

She considered this, and after swallowing her smile, she shook her head no. She noticed how his hand loosely held her arm, the gesture delicate, petal-soft.

He swallowed, and he wasn’t his carefree self anymore. “I’m sorry if this surprised you, it’s just that – “

“That?”

“That I couldn’t resist you anymore. To not touch you after having you inches away from me. To barely see you here once, and never again the rest of the day. I couldn’t.”

He had a way of being unexpecting. A thought floated in her mind then. She thought of how she had always assumed she was the wolf girl - strong yet vulnerable, mysterious yet simple minded, but she wasn’t.

She was the moon and he was the wolf. He was a wolf who’d climb mountains for her, conquer territories, only to stand before the majestic beauty at night, and howl praises of affection to her.

And she’d listen.

She was the moonlight to his turmoil, the soothe to his soul.

Mia now stood outside the boys’ room. The room number was etched in shiny steel: “069”. What are the odds of the men getting a room number that’s sixty-nine. The silvery 069 stared at her as she thought of the possibilities of what could happen once she crossed this very door. She was pissed when mim kept snatching the blanket and kicking her off the bed but a part of her had thought of this from the beginning.

Her and Him.

She knew it was wrong, she shouldn’t just barge in. What if they’re all asleep, what if TAM is awake and he smirks when he sees her, knowing what she’s thinking, or what would she do when they find her sleeping alongside him in the morning? What would SHE do, all cuddled up and nervous - GOD, it would be so embarrassing.

Just shoot your shot, she thought. What’s the worse that could happen? I’ll just say I couldn’t sleep.

And so, inside she went.

The door shut with a light click. The room was dark, and it took time for her eyes to adjust to it. It looked exactly like the girl’s room: two queen beds with a nightstand and a balcony which let in a stream of radiant moonlight, curtains that danced from the wind. It was chilly. Of course these idiots left the window open.

She noticed, on one bed two bodies huddled together. A blanket sprawled over, arm thrown over his head. This was tam, face turned towards the side. Fast asleep. Besides him was hyo, who was sleeping….weirdly. He was on his side, but arched his back so he was a sideways U. If anything it was like an arrow. Or something.

Finally, she took in a breath as her eyes drifted to the bed closer to the window. One person. He was looking at something. He was looking, head turned…oh shit, he was looking at her! He was awake!

Quickly she put one foot to another and reached his bed, he looked up from his half-sitting, half-lying position. A laptop open in his lap, casting his face in an iridescent glow.

“Hi?” he muttered.

“You’re not asleep?” Mia croaked. Her heart was hammering as if she’d run a marathon. Calm. Down. She told herself.

“I could say the same,” and he smiled. He smiled. And it was all kind eyes and kind lips and one bed and one blanket and him.

“Mim didn’t let me sleep the whole night,” mia whispered. When she saw him arch his eyebrow, she realized another meaning of her words. She flushed, heat emanating from her face. “I- I mean she sleeps weirdly!”

She flinched at her tone rising, and gestured towards his bed. He nodded. She sat down beside him. One bed, one blanket, one pillow.

From here she could see he was watching anime, thank goodness it wasn’t porn ohmygod. He was close, so close, that he turned his face towards the front as if he knew the possibility of their proximity. Slowly, she turned her face towards his ear, she could scent the hotel’s shampoo on him. “I meant mim took the entire blanket and kicked me off the bed. I couldn’t sleep after that so I assumed you might be awake.” She paused, “I- mean you guys.”

He bobbed his head and slightly turned it but immediately looked straight ahead again as he realized her hair were basically in his nose. This time, mia turned her head ahead, and he smiled as he breathed in her ear “yea- yeah I get it. I’m awake.”

For a moment he stayed like that, breathing close close to her ear and then said “well, can you sleep now?”

She shook her head. He took one side of the earphone and placed it in her ear, his fingers brushing her helix. He retreated his hand and adjusted the two of them until they sat in the middle of the bed, arms touching, a blanket over their lap and up their torso, laptop on him and connected together by the hand-free cord.