Your first kiss happens backstage, long after rehearsal has ended and the last echoes of laughter have faded down the hallway.
You are supposed to be stacking props.
Instead, you are standing far too close to Yujin behind a curtain that smells like dust and old velvet, both of you pretending you still have something to do.
The stage lights are off except for a single dim bulb near the wings. It hums softly, casting everything in a warm amber glow that makes the world feel smaller, softer. Like it has folded in on itself just to hold the two of you.
Yujin is still half in costume. The cardigan she is wearing slips off one shoulder, sleeves a little too long so they swallow her hands when she tucks them into the fabric. There is a faint smudge of stage makeup near her jaw.
You notice it immediately.
You notice everything about her.
“You were really good today,” you say.
She wrinkles her nose. “I tripped over the couch.”
“You tripped gracefully.”
She laughs under her breath. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.”
She looks at you like she wants to argue, but the smile that spreads across her face is too soft to be convincing. There is something different about her tonight. Less teasing. More careful. She keeps smoothing her hair behind her ear even though it is already perfect.
The air between you feels full.
Not heavy. Just full.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Yeah?”
She steps closer.
Close enough that the hem of her cardigan brushes your wrist. Close enough that you can smell her shampoo, something clean and faintly sweet. Close enough that your heart forgets how to behave.
Her hands hover uncertainly for a second before she reaches out and lightly grips the front of your hoodie, like she is making sure you are real.
She looks up at you.
Not playful. Not mischievous.
Just open.
There is something fragile in the way she holds your gaze. Like she is offering you something precious and hoping you will take it gently.
“Can I?” she asks.
Her voice is barely louder than the hum of the bulb.
Your throat goes dry. You nod.
You do not trust yourself to speak.
Her shoulders relax at that. Just a little. As if she had been bracing for something.
She leans in slowly.
So slowly it feels unfair. You can feel her breath first, warm against your lips. You can see her eyes flutter closed at the last second, lashes resting against her cheeks.
Her lips touch yours.
Soft.
Careful.
Like she is asking a question she is almost too shy to finish.
For half a heartbeat, neither of you moves.
Then you answer.
You tilt your head just slightly and press back, gentle but certain. Your hand slides to her waist without thinking, fingers curling into the fabric of her cardigan.
She makes the tiniest sound into your mouth, a soft surprised exhale, and it makes your knees feel weak.
Her fingers climb from your hoodie to your shoulders, then to the back of your neck. She is tentative at first, but when you do not pull away, her grip tightens just a little.
She steps closer.
There is no space left between you now.
The kiss deepens by the smallest degree. Still sweet. Still careful. But warmer. Surer. Like you are both learning the shape of each other in real time.
When you finally pull back, it is only because breathing becomes necessary.
Her forehead falls against yours immediately.
She lets out a shaky laugh.
“Oh.”
You smile. “Oh?”
She nods against you. “Okay. That was… okay.”
You laugh softly. “Just okay?”
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