Owning You - A Na Jaemin Fanfic

18. Mine

He tastes of popcorn and longing and hunger. Everything is heat and beat. His hand slides under my sweater, searing my skin. His mouth trails down my jaw, following the curve of my throat. My head falls back and my fingers dig into his arms, exposed under the sleeves of his jumper. I feel heavy, aching, my insides all soft and runny like melted butter.

Dimly, I hear a buzzing sound.

He drags his mouth away. His hands fall to the sides. I take an unsteady step away. I lean against the wall, limp and shaky, trying to catch my breath.

"Ah, hell,' he mutters.

He rakes a hand through his hair. He is breathing hard. His face is shadowed with blue and green neon, the colours pulsing to the rhythm of my heart. I will never again see blue and green neon in quite the same way again.

His hair has fallen tousled over his forehead. His face is sombre, eyes bright with reflected neon. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his phone. He reads the message, frowning, drags a shaky hand over his forehead. He types something. Stuffs the phone back into his pocket. Looks at me.

"Girlfriend?" I say casually, as if we hadn't been kissing like starving animals a moment ago. He nods curtly. Inhales.

"Haeri..." He sighs.

"Your lips are red," I say.

"So are yours." His eyes are a little wild.

I touch them. They are throbbing. "I think they're swollen." His eyes are black as darkest night. "You kissed me too hard." He swallows. His jaw flexes. For a moment I think he's going to kiss me again.

"Haeri..."

"We're sharing the same lipstick," I say teasingly. "How about that?" He inhales. "Do you have a handkerchief?" I brush my fingers lightly against his jeans pocket. He goes rigid.

He closes his eyes. Grits his teeth. "God, Haeri." His voice is thick. "Stop doing that." He almost glares at me. "I can take care of it myself."

I unlock the stall, and step out. Twilight sifts down from the high window.

"You'd better wait a while," I say. "And you might want to do something to your hair." He doesn't say a word. Just leans against the door of the stall watching me. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. I look like a witch. My waterfall of crazy black hair pours over my shoulders and halfway down my back. I wonder what he did with my black rubber band. I linger at the sink to wash my hands and pat a dampened paper towel across my face. I fix my hair, freshen my lipstick. And all the while, he stands there watching me. I walk to the door and open it. I feel his eyes on my back. I step into the passageway.

I make my way to Hall A, slip quietly into my seat.

Yuta takes in my hair with his eyes, smiles knowingly, whispers, "You okay?" I nod, Yes. It's true. I've never felt better. "Jaemin had to take a leak as well. Right after you." He smirks. I give him a tiny little smile. "You're a sly one, slugger." He is grinning. Carol stares at me. At my hair. She fidgets, looks down at her phone, types something, and five minutes later, Jaemin is back. I am sitting half-sprawled, my legs stretched out casually in front of me. I see him out of the corner of my eye, and stick out my legs, all ready for him. When he squeezes past me, I make sure to brush his leg with my knee. He jerks away like he's been burnt and I smile in satisfaction. "Sorry," I murmur, but I'm not, obviously, since I planned this, and then he's back in his seat. Carol leans in, whispers something; I can't hear what she says, and I don't really care. Jaemin mutters something. I turn my face away, back to the screen. The credits roll. It's the end of the show.