21. You're My First and Only

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I have not written to you for a long time.

So much has happened, and I am still floundering, bewildered.

So today, I put pen to paper, and write my first words. 

Like most misery, my words will start with apparent happiness. So, be warned.

The words are sluggish, and stumble a little, but trust me, they are on their way, and when they arrive, I will hold them in my hands like the clouds, and I will wring them out like rain.

The colours of the sky are fiercest and brightest at the beginning and the end of a day. But really, a day flits through a myriad of shades and tones with every passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. 

Waxy yellows, misty blues, or the colour of lemons - like the first time we slept together, that night on the farm.

The moon was coming through the window, lighting the dark bedroom. 

The first thing I felt was you pressed against my back. The second was a chill on the rest of me that wasn't tangled with you. I did my best to turn and face you, but I had to go slowly, so that I wouldn't wake you, but mostly because your arm was heavy, flung on top of me, and I had to lift it with both of my hands in order to move. Once I'd turned over, I burrowed into you, pressing my body close to yours. I rubbed my face against your neck, and you stirred.

"What're you doing?" you asked, your voice heavy with sleep.

"Getting warm."

"The tip of your nose is cold."

I smiled against your throat. "Any part of me not touching you is cold."

You answered by sliding your hand down my spine. 

"What about this?" you asked, pulling me snug against you. "It's not touching me."

"Shit." You pushed up. "Shit, Mina."

"No," I said, trying to bring you back to me. "I don't want you to stop."

You got off the bed, going pale as you looked at the sheet and then down at yourself. 

"You're bleeding. Oh God, you're bleeding." You paced the room. "Oh, God."

"I-I'm sorry. I just wanted it to be perfect." 

Things had moved so fast. I didn't care - I didn't want to slow down. 

Junnie has done it with her boyfriend. "No big deal," she had grinned. 

I felt exposed and childish. I pulled the sheet around myself and sat up. 

"Please don't go," I whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Stay right there," you said, anguish on your face. "Don't move."

You left the room. 

Mortified, I kicked the stained sheet away. 

You returned to the bedroom with a damp cloth.

"Let me clean you up. Oh, shit." You looked miserable.

A sudden panic seized me.

"Don't leave, Jaemin."

"Leave?" You knelt at the foot of the bed, looking up at me. "Mina, I'm not going anywhere. Lie back."

You wiped me gently. It stung. I flinched, and you swallowed.

"I need to go slow, otherwise I'll destroy you, and I'd like if we could do this more than once before I die."

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