YOUTH. | JK | COMPLETE

let go

PASS YOU BY
ALAINA CASTILLO

Don't let this moment pass you by
One day your heart might lose it's mind
You're scared you don't deserve to smile
Don't let this moment pass you by

When Jeongguk wakes up the next morning, light is filtering in through the curtains. He can hear the sea in the distance, and for a splitsecond, he feels like he's young again, waking up early in the morning to go work in the fields. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and looking around the room. He forgot where he really was for a moment, but the second he sets eyes on the record player in the corner of the room, he remembers. Not only where he is, but what happened last night.

Jeongguk remembers his dream, which lasted longer and went further than it ever has before. He remembers the pure panic he felt as Haneul's hands clamped down on his shoulders and shook him awake. He remembers the concern on her face; her beautiful features accentuated by the shadows of night. He remembers the smooth, sweet music from the record player and Haneul tucking the blankets up under his chin—and, vaguely, he remembers the featherlight touch of soft lips against the skin of his forehead.

A small smile blooms on his own lips, holding the tender memory of last night dear. Haneul never ceases to amaze him in how kind she is, how selfless, how understanding. Jeongguk smiles and rolls himself out of bed. He feels light—as opposed to how he normally feels when he wakes up in the morning: like his limbs are made of lead and like his feet are attached to cinder blocks. How long has he slept? He stretches, taking a quick glance in the mirror to check and make sure his hair doesn't look like he stuck a fork in the toaster (a mistake he made once and never made again. The fire department is not very fond of him. He just wanted to retrieve his toast.)

After smoothing the messy black locks, he ventures out into the the main part of Haneul's apartment, a living room connected to a kitchen. The pleasant aroma of bacon and pancakes fills his nose, and he hums in delight as he approaches the kitchen. There at the stove stands Haneul, spatula in hand, wearing an apron over an oversized t-shirt that comes down to the middle of her thighs. Jeongguk can't help but lean against the doorframe for a moment, admiring the sight of her in such a comfortable environment. Modern music plays, and she sings along, flipping pancakes and dancing like an idiot. A perfect idiot, in Jeongguk's eyes.

But then her somewhat spastic arm movements go a little too far, and the bowl of pancake batter slides precariously off the edge of the counter—and Jeongguk lunges forward, catching the glass bowl before it can hit the ground. Haneul's gasp dies in her throat as she looks up at Jeongguk, a relieved smile on her lips. "Thanks for saving our breakfast." She chuckles, blushing a little.

"My pleasure. Nice dance moves." He says, teasing her a little. Haneul's cheeks warm even more, and she rolls her eyes, flipping the remaining pancakes.

"Like you can do any better, old man." She snarks back, and Jeongguk chuckles to himself.

"You underestimate me. I can dance. Not—modern forms of dance, but, still." He informs her, and she raises her eyebrows at him, putting the pancakes onto their plates.

"Oh, really? Like what?" She asks. Jeongguk holds out his hand, which she looks at skeptically.

"Basic ballroom—waltzes, mostly. I tangoed one time, though. And some swing dancing from the '50s." He grins, and she lets out a breath in awe, still not quite used to the man who looks twenty having hundreds of years of life experience behind him. "May I have this dance, m'lady?" He teases her some more, extending his hand. Rolling her eyes, Haneul sighs, taking Jeongguk's hand.

"You may, but we've already established that I am an awful dancer." She warns him, and he smiles, bringing her closer to him and resting his hand on her waist. She places her free hand on his shoulder, glancing up at his chocolatey eyes, full of fondness and mischief. "And good luck waltzing to rap music."