I would've let him touch me, gentle and cherished like i want to be. I would've closed my eyes and let his hands find way into my hair. I would've, I would've, i would've told him I loved him right there and then. I would've, could've done so much I couldn't for this heart is a bearer, it will bear you stepping in and it will bear you leaving. It is you, afterall. So instead, when you moved to let me breathe, I blinked and hid it with a smile. - Enigma. The word rolled around in her head like a bullet through the glass and it shattered completely when her eyes open. She fixates his pupils onto the fan in the center of the hotel ceiling and sighed in exhaustion. Minjae wondered how he ended up where she was despite all the want not to be. A weird dull ache is present in her chest and it only gr

One day, someone else will kiss me and feel a bitter taste on his tongue for mine spells your name everytime I part my lips.  - She stripped herself leaving just her underwear on and got into the tub first. Once she was in with her back against one side of it, Minjae opened her arms with a gentle smile spread across her face. Young-Jae slid his pants down and awkwardly got into the tub as well, trying his best not to hit her legs or something. Once he was inside, he rested his back on the opposite side but she frowned and beckoned him into her arms with two curved fingers.    "How will I wash your hair if you stay that far?", he crawled forward and turned around to lie between her legs. Minjae smiled and adjusted so his head was just below her left shoulder. She stretched her arm out and grabbed the bottle of strawberry-scented shampoo that was to her left. Young-Jae sighed in relax

The rain settles deep into my bones, I ache for things I do not know, things I did not know I could want. The door to my studio is open, you sit with your laptop spread out in front of you and I stare. I stare and find meaning in life once again. How much longer do I have to pretend that I do not love her?  - Minjae was standing in front of the mirror in her office bathroom, fixing her lipstick for the millionth time that day. She was feeling herself today and when she looked into the reflection, she felt good and happy. 'Why is today such a good day?', she thought to herself.    "Noona," Young-Jae whined from outside, his cheek pressed tightly against the door. "How long are you gonna take? I'm bored," he complained and she had to hold her breath from absolutely melting at his behaviour. She wondered if he was acting extra cute today or if he was actually this cute always. 

Sometimes I wonder what's the point of this, everything after her but then I see you smile, listen to your laughter and let u kiss me. That's when, for a brief moment, I see. I see the point.    - "No, YOU don't get it, Jess! There's nothing you didn't have in life but all of this hate in your heart made you lose it!", Young-Jae had never seen Minjae as vulnerable as she was right now and as much as he was insecure about Hyun he knew that she certainly didn't take anything from Jess.    "You had a functional family which loved you, an amazing man who was head over heels for you, and most of all you didn't have to go around taking loans at the age of sixteen to pay your fucking bills," her chest heaved up and down vigorously while Young-Jae and Jess could only watch her pour everything out in silence.    He was just

 Music had always been a way of reaching out for Young-Jae. His love for the girl, Minjae and the gratefullness that he had in his heart could not have been conveyed better than this. A dozen songs, written, produced, composed and all sung by Min Young-Jae himself. Minjae had to physically shake her head to check if she was hearing things correctly. Young-Jae had made her a mixtape with his own songs and sneaked it into the player as a birthday gift for her. "Being in love as an artist is so defeating, so deafening and so beautiful at the same time. My muse is in my head, in my bed, everywhere. In my clothes their scent stays and the walls of my house cave in with the echo of his voice. It's like a noose around the neck that's pulled tighter I write about her. Without even trying, everything I write is about her. Everything I imagine becomes with her, for her or she herself. She would call me crazy if she read all of it but in my mad