Anywhere but home

“So can you tell me why you decided to stop by here, out of all places?” you ask, intently gazing at your uninvited guest.

The thing is, you’re also an uninvited guest.

You’re inside a hotel room, not your home.

The woman leans back on her chair, smiling radiantly, mirroring that same deep stare back. She takes a moment to ponder through her answer, let her eyes linger on you a little longer.

“I missed you.”

“Do your members even know of your wheareabouts?” you say, worried. She should be anywhere else but here.

She strongly shakes her head, waves it off as a non-concern. “No, but you shouldn’t worry about them at all.”

“So they—”

“They’re too busy having fun by themselves.” Kang Seulgi has this dour expression on her lips, as if you’re asking beyond what you’re supposed to. “Again, you shouldn’t worry about any of them.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t caught on about our secret— yet.”

Seulgi chuckles, running through fond memories in her head. “I keep my promises, remember? And you haven’t.”

It’s not easy to defend your case to Seulgi, even if the reasons are justified. Back then, you were both young and reckless, and based on how she acts and sounds now, she still is. Of course you still remember the promise you made, much clearer now that she’s suddenly back in your life again than when you first spoke about them years ago. Life really finds a way to make sure you hold up your end of the bargain, pursuing you even as far as the ends of the earth.

“You know very well I couldn’t stay longer than a year,” you say, sitting on a dinner chair across from her.

“Then why did you promise me that you would come back then?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Look— ” you pause and catch a breath. Note the sudden lump suddenly stuck in your throat—a byproduct from years of pent-up feelings from a lack of closure. “Life happened. Shit happens. I didn’t willingly forget, I just didn’t get any opportunity to see you again.”

“Sure, sure. Willingly forget, right.” Seulgi scoffs at your answer, as if you weren’t going through difficult circumstances like she had, as if you had no battles to fight. “I bet you were doing better once you left me to go home, like they always do.”

“Did you not hear anything I just said?” you reply, raising your voice. “I told you life happened!”

“Okay, let’s remove the part where none of us could fly for a year, maybe two. How about the rest?” Seulgi retaliates with another question, and it leaves you in utter disbelief at how stubborn she is. Perhaps that’s the one thing that brings you two together: just how headstrong you both are. “Did you even try to reach out at all?”

Your eyes immediately stray away from hers, much to her audible disdain. No words required to imply anything else.

“Okay, I guess I did forget about you,” you say, and it’s a half-truth, primarily because you want to avoid any more of this unnecessary drama resurfacing, especially when you’re on vacation out of all times. A nice five-star hotel in Los Angeles, a place you don’t have eager thoughts to travel to, apart from the occasional leave and maybe the multiple team playoff games in the spring. “What do you think happened when I tried to get another visa?”

“Should have asked me for help. I could have vouched for you,” she replies, as if that’s going to improve your chances whatsoever. It doesn’t help in the slightest now. “But what’s the point in talking about that now? I’m here now, so we can catch up on what we missed out on.”

You let your annoyance be known in the form of an indignant sigh. After a brief pause, you quietly retort, “You should have led with that to begin with.”

“Well sorry I’m not the same girl I was four years ago,” she says, tone miffed. “I mean, just look at yourself.”

You fall back on the chair, covering your mouth, preventing more damage. Point heard and taken. Your appalled reaction elicits a quiet giggle out of her.

“So unserious. You’ve always been like that,” she adds, clenching her hand into a fist, observing as you crumble and fall apart before her. “We’re both stuck in the past, but at least I grew; became a better person out of it. And you?”

“Seul,” you say, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she stops this personally charged attack on your character, but she doesn’t stop; she lets her mouth run every thought, every unspoken word built up from four years of waiting. It’s almost comical how she talks about you, like she has an audience listening to her, you included, and you can imagine all the laughs and jeers as she talks. She knows how to charm anyone with the right words and a dash of charisma added in between. Most of it, both insults and playful jokes alike, obscured behind those cute eyes and puffy cheeks that capture your attention whenever she smiles, having lost her anger somewhere in that impromptu rant.

And it ends like it always has. A show of affection, a little kiss, then you’re both back in each other’s arms, as if the passage of time was a mere afterthought. It’s the oldest trick in the book that you know.

And it works as it always has. To a fault.

—————

“Gotta say, I hate it when you do that. It’s like cheating and I really fucking hate it,” says Seulgi, between impassioned kisses, tasting each other’s lips like water in a desert. “That’s the one thing I don’t miss about you.”

“Yet you’re still kissing me,” you reply, pecking her lips rapidly, like you have a point to prove. You caress her bare shoulders, while your fingers play with the spaghetti straps holding her shirt together. She mirrors you with your own shirt, tugging at its fabric, itching to undress you as much as you.

Kang Seulgi can complain all she wants, but she falls for it every single time.

“Shut up.” Seulgi rests her warm palms against your cheeks. With a tight press, you’re puffed up, blushed as bright as the sun.

You make out with each other hungrily, urgently reaching for the bedroom, where you end up pushing her onto the mattress. It’s only then you remember just how hot Seulgi looks when she’s at her simplest: in a pink camisole and really short jean shorts. She really had this all planned out, knowing she’d be traveling the States all summer long, and California isn’t the most inviting place to wear her typical clothes.

Or maybe she learned a thing or two from Joy about wearing skimpier clothing in public.

“You’re staring,” she comments, snapping you out of your lust-filled daze. Seeing this, she spreads her toned, slender legs apart, as if inviting you inside them—an offer you absolutely won’t refuse. “I don’t have all night to wait, baby.”

“Hm, how long are you here then?” you ask as you undress right in front of her.

She doesn’t give an immediate answer; her eyes linger on the growing tent on your bulge, before she scans up to your face as you hover above her on the bed. “Gonna have to be more specific. We’ll be here for a month before heading home.”

“Here. Los Angeles, I mean,” you quickly comment as you lift her slinky arms over her head and kiss down from her temple to her neck.

“Mmm—” Enraptured by your soft lips, her words crumble into nothing but a whine against your ear. “Five days. Practice tomorrow and on Thursday, then two shows the days after.”

“And do you have any free time in between schedules?” You whisper against her neck, slowly lifting her shirt over her head, leaving only a simple pink bra to cover her. You sneak a finger between her shorts, dig between the fabric to brush her folds, wincing at a newly wet sensation.

“Oh.” Seulgi says, voice deep and breathy, shuddering as you press into her slick. Her thoughts go haywire, your long-forgotten touch so fresh and foreign to her, even though you’ve had her in this position countless times.

“Between practices maybe?"

”God.“ Seulgi sucks in a gasp of air, chews on her lip, and says what you’re both thinking: "I need you to fuck me so fucking bad."

“Answer the question first, Seul,” you tease, stroking her sensitive clit with your digit, then placing a second one to overwhelm her. “I really want to know so we don’t waste whatever time we have left.”

Much to her chagrin, the moans and quivers she releases do just that. It’s not primarily her fault when you’re the one instigating. Still, she can’t help but become helpless beneath you.

“Mm—mm—please—just—fuck—” she cries out, tilting her chin as her words are reduced to nothing but helpless mewls and moans. It’s almost cruel to watch, but you’re enjoying every moment of this, relishing the sight of a pleasure-laden Seulgi squirming as you finger her. Part of it might have something to do with the brief argument you had earlier, but as she said, you never really became a better person out of your brief little fling.

And perhaps for your sex life, it was all the more better for it.

She really had no time to waste, hectic schedule and all, but you had all the power and freedom to pin her down like this as long as you wanted. You hated Southern California as much as the day job that allowed you to vacation here in the first place, but you’d happily request a transfer here if it meant you could fuck Seulgi like this as often as you could. You certainly know that this isn’t the reality, but at least for one night, and God willing, the next few days, it is.