nightfall || minsung

Chapter 16

"So... we're boyfriends now?"

I was spaced out and happy, staring into his eyes. I felt like I'd been through a hurricane. We were sitting close in the flowery grass, holding hands. His were so beautiful — soft brown and stubby. I held them tighter.

"We are anything you want to be." Paraphrased, I give up and you're everything.

"Boyfriends." He smiled, triumphant. "I guess my wooing worked after all."

"Enough with the wooing, your wooing is excessive, concerning."

"I woo naturally, it's just how I am."

"It has to get tiring."

"It's worth it."

I smiled. "I'm happy you're still here. I was scared you would really leave. Terrified, I mean. I wanted to keep you around without... taking the leap. Without letting you fully into my world. You know my world is..."

"Complicated," he said.

"Right. We can figure it out together."

"Exactly what I wanted."

"Can you forgive me? For all... that?"

"You'll have to earn it."

I pulled his hands up and kissed them. The half-second my lips pressed to his skin was too short.

"You're forgiven," he said immediately.

"I'll try harder."

"Are you gonna call me nicknames now?"

"What would you prefer — honey bunches or angel eyes?"

"Honey bunches."

"I was joking."

"I wasn't."

"I will not call you that."

"You know you want to, boo."

"You're not calling me that, either!"

He smiled at my outburst. His expression slowly became something else — bashful, unsure.

"Do you, like, want to go on a date sometime?"

I rolled my eyes, showmanship getting the better of me. "We're on a date right now, Minho. And Port Angeles was a date, too."

"I KNEW IT," he yelled. I laughed. And then there was quiet. His smile waned and his eyes shifted down to my mouth. My stomach did a somersault.

"Can we...?" he asked.

All I could say was "Yes." His reply was a winded "Oh, my God."

I scooted closer, held his face between my hands. Good Lord, I'd thought about this before. At length. His eyes were switching back and forth between mine, lips already puckered, waiting.

I inched forward so carefully, so slowly, and my entire body froze as our lips touched. I focussed on holding my breath, paying attention to the risks, every variable. And the way his fingers shook lightly on my shoulders. Did he like it? Was I doing well enough? How could I make it better?

Minho suddenly gasped for air, and I flinched back, panicking.

"I'm — sorry," he panted, "I wasn't — breathing."

Oh, thank God it wasn't something worse! "It's okay."

"You're really not — short of breath?"

"I don't have to breathe at all."