Breeze was the rose. And she was worth any thorns she carried. Even if they pierced him, he’d still hold her close, cradling her lovingly in his arms. She was worth the pain. She was more valuable than any sacrifice he’d have to make. Sleep. Time. Money. Ambition. Fame. It was all worthless without her anyway. Now that he had found her, he couldn’t turn back the clock. He couldn’t pretend that his heart still beat in his own chest. It was securely rooted within hers now.
He stood, unbreathing, waiting for her response.
It didn’t seem to be forthcoming. He couldn’t take it. He spoke again.
“Breeze.”
Nothing.
So he touched her.
He reached out those long, nimble fingers and grasped her by the shoulders as he began to turn her to face him. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Her face was a wreck. Awash with tears. Even her nose had begun to run.
Unconsciously, his hand fished in his pocket for a Kleenex. That he didn’t have. But she needed one!
Then he watched as she covered her face with her hands and turned away from him again. His heart sank.
“Don’t look at me, Joonie!”
He didn’t say anything. A few moments passed. Still nothing. He wasn’t touching her. He wasn’t speaking. Had she gone and done it now? Had she offended him to the point that he had left her? She peeked out from behind her fingers and turned to look behind her. Her heart fell. He was gone.
And he’d left her book on the bench. She began to sob.
Namjoon saw her crying from a distance and wondered if he’d collected enough toilet paper. He should have taken the entire roll. Why was she sobbing again? He ran the remainder of the distance between them.
“Breeze, what’s wrong?”
She looked up in surprise, shocked into abandoning her tears in mid-sob. He hadn’t left? What was he carrying? Was that…toilet paper?
“Here.” He came to a stop directly in front of her. He took several linked, white squares and reached up to wipe her nose. It was the most embarrassing and awkward moment of her life. His hand came down on top of her nose while his palm, clothed in toilet paper, slid along the space between her nose and mouth, wiping her free of all the consequences of her tears. Why did she suddenly feel like she was three years old?
He turned abruptly and went to throw her makeshift Kleenex into a nearby trashcan.
She was so mortified. She couldn’t look at him. She practiced staring at the ground. Suddenly, she was engulfed by two strong arms and hauled up against a muscular chest. She had always suspected Namjoon was hiding some amazing goods underneath his shirts. She’d been right. Had he been keeping them all for her? She shook her head. Silly thought.
“Breeze, why are you crying? Did you not hear me?”
“Hear what?” Her voice was muffled by his chest.
“I was answering your question. The one you asked a while ago.”
“I asked a question? What was it?” Voice still masked, she hid inside the folds of his shirt, feigning innocence.
But he wasn’t going to let her get away with that for long. He pulled away from her, and she was suddenly adrift. Until she felt his hands descend upon her shoulders. Then as she stared up at him, her tear-stained cheeks glistening in the bright sunlight, he leaned his head towards her and reached up to trace her cheek with his finger. She stopped breathing. She didn’t even blink. She couldn’t. He was staring deep into her eyes. And his finger was doing delicious things to her as it whirled and twirled along her skin, sending darts of electricity throughout various regions of her body.
Calm down, heart! Be still! He’s just a boy!
No, he isn’t! He’s a man!
Her inner voices warred with each other.
Fine, he’s just a man!
No, he isn’t! He’s Joonie!
He was Joonie. And he was touching her with the wings of a butterfly, sending her heart into palpitations. It was dancing with her stomach right now. Her heart was twirling her stomach round and round before leaning over to dip it backwards, making her head spin.
Namjoon softly caught a tear on the tip of his finger. He broke his contact with her eyes to glance at his upheld fingertip. A small clear globe was perched upon it. She had cried this tear for him. He just knew it. Precious tear. He drew it to his lips and kissed it.
She stared in wonder at him. What had he just done? Kissed her tear? She reached up to touch the cheek that was already missing the feel of his skin brushing along it.
“I want to be yours.” He whispered it, his eyes connecting with hers as he spoke.