are you ready? (i'm ready to let go)

Minjeong wakes slowly to warmth.

Not sunlight, no, this was something heavier, solid, and breathing. 

For several long seconds, she remains suspended somewhere between sleep and consciousness, eyes still closed as the unfamiliar sensation settles around her. Warm breath against the back of her neck, an arm wrapped loosely around her waist, a steady heartbeat beneath her shoulder blades.

Then the memory hits her all at once.

Oh.

Right.

The room is quiet except for the slow sound of his breathing behind her. His arm tightens instinctively when she shifts ever so slightly, pulling her back against him with the unconscious ease of someone still half asleep. 

Minjeong stares blankly at the city skyline beyond the bedroom windows for a long moment, suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact between their bodies. Something about it feels infinitely more intimate than anything they’d done last night.

Sex was one thing.

This?

This was scary.

Because sex could be temporary and self-contained. A moment of weakness disguised as pleasure. But this kind of domesticity? That put Minjeong on edge. 

Minjeong had spent years convincing herself she preferred sleeping alone. The silence, the space, the entire bed to herself. Yet now, lying here with his warmth wrapped around her so naturally, the absence of solitude feels alarmingly easy to get used to.

A terrifying thought.

Behind her, he exhales softly against her neck before mumbling something entirely incoherent into her skin. Minjeong waits, wondering if she’d imagined it. Silence. A few more seconds pass before he mumbles something again, equally unintelligible.

Her brow furrows. “Were those words?”

His arm tightens around her waist again as a low groan vibrates through his chest. “Probably.”

Minjeong stares at the skyline. Still dark enough that the city glows more than shines. The buildings looked smaller from up here. Distant. Manageable. Unlike the situation currently unfolding in her bed.

Because this was becoming a problem. Not him. Him, she understood. Charming, attractive, and funny. Entirely too good at making her laugh.

The problem was how easy this felt. How natural it all was.

Behind her, she feels him wake incrementally. A shift of his shoulders, a quiet sigh. The way people woke up when they had nowhere important to be.

“Why are you awake?” he asks, as he brushes his nose against her back.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I was asleep.”

“You literally just spoke.”

“Yeah.” Another yawn. “In my defence, I wasn't conscious for most of it.”

A reluctant smile pulls at her mouth.

Silence settles again, comfortable in a way that Minjeong hates immediately. She couldn't remember the last time silence with another person hadn't felt like work. Usually there was something to perform. Expectations. The careful balancing act of making yourself desirable without becoming vulnerable.

But lying here, listening to his breathing behind her, Minjeong found herself doing absolutely nothing.

And somehow that felt even scarier.

“You know,” he says eventually, voice still half buried in sleep, “most people cuddle back.”

Minjeong closes her eyes. “Most people aren't me.”

“That’s true.”

“Thank you.”

“You're significantly meaner.”

She lets out a quiet scoff. His laugh follows immediately.

A moment later, she feels lips brush lightly against the bare skin of her shoulder. Not a real kiss, a sleepy one. The kind people gave when affection had become instinct instead of intention.

Minjeong immediately stiffens. Which, unfortunately, does not go unnoticed. “Wow, that bad, huh?”

“You just kissed me.”

“I know.”

“You did it very casually.”

Another kiss, and this one lands slightly higher on her shoulder. “Sorry.”

Minjeong closes her eyes, he doesn’t sound remotely sorry. Behind her, she feels him shift slightly closer.

“You called me baby while pulling my chain like a dog leash,” he points out reasonably. “I think we're past pretending now.”

“Shut up, you idiot.” 

His laugh rumbles softly against her shoulder. There was no comeback this time. No smug remarks, no teasing. Just a sleepy exhale as he buried his face slightly deeper into the crook of her neck. And somehow, that feels worse.

Minjeong finds herself staring out of the window again. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, the city still existing in that strange limbo between night and morning, all muted blues and scattered gold lights. Soon enough, Manhattan would wake properly. Phones would start ringing. Emails would arrive. Meetings would demand her attention, reality would return. 

For now, though, it was just this.

His voice broke through her thoughts. “Your bed is nice.”

Minjeong blinked. “That's really what you're thinking about right now?”