SoEul Searching

One

With careful hands, she set down the thick bowl, its ceramic bottom landing noisily against the wooden table.
It was a beautiful piece, the brim thin and flared into a flower-like pattern, perhaps something that would grown
deep under the salty shores, flourishing and swooning against each rippling wave that pushed at its curving
petals. This one she had saved for the rice, with a metal spoon she scooped up a sphere of grains and lowered
them into the dish, thick rolls of steam rising towards her face, enveloping her nose with sweet perfume.

A little grin pushed itself against her cheeks and she sat for a moment to revel in the quiet pleasure of the moment.
The simple comforts of a warm, quiet home as it slowly filled with the warm aromas of a home-cooked meal. However,
in her young, foolish mind the meal wasn't special because it was cooked from scratch, nor was it unique due to the
fact that she had devoted an entire afternoon to a lonesome, yet somehow blissful companionship with a stove. No,
the only thing that crossed her mind was him. He was the driving force behind these thoughtful actions, the push that
no friction could halt.

She had forgotten all that was around her, and in a dreamy state she waltzed along the rugged wooden floors as the
world around her melted into her fantasy. The sun beaming trough the small windows became his warm kisses, his large
hands which were so quick to shield hers in times of cold. The long strings of pot vapor shed their smells and soon became
the scent of his clean linen, the spicy cologne which she often found herself yearning for, her body leaning in as her nostrils
took in little greedy whiffs of him. Hisses from boiling water softened, resembling no longer water but rather the quiet
whispers that formed from his lips on dark and private nights.

Her knees weakened, and her mind snapped from its dissolving state as she mentally punished herself for thinking
such thoughts. Shaking her head of long, dark locks she placed the finishing touches on the table she had so carefully
laid out. All cutlery and dishes set in pairs and she meticulously pushed and prodded at each angle of every plate,
more anxious for his arrival than the perfection she had fooled herself into believing was the reason behind her fidgeting.

It wasn't long before the large door swung open--He had a habit for being fashionably late for everything--she however,
wasn't as suave. Her feet rocketed her out of her chair, as her nervous hands smoothed over her hair and skirt.

"Gaeul..." Yi Jung eyed the outstretched table, his pottery dishes covered in what was obviously home-cooked meals.
Good girls were always so predictable. He set his coat down by the door and took a couple steps towards the fumbling girl.
They stood in silence for a moment and once again it was his usual smile which broke the silence.

"..Sunbae..."
Yi Jung strode forward, face lowered to meet hers. Her dark eyes stared up at him wide with anticipation as she proceeded
to bite her lip. He could see her round cheeks flushing as red blood rushed up towards her face, and could only imagine the
loud drumming inside her head, the resonating sound of her rapidly beating heart. He smiled again.

"Gaeul,"
An expert hand was quick to find its way to her slim waist, the silky fabric of her skirt rustling against his fluid move.
It didn't take much force to bring her close, and he could now feel her warmth against his, and feel the speeding heart
which he had imagined. A violent flame grew inside her, her stomach burning as his heat, scent and voice all twisted
together in a cruel yet inviting force. Gaeul opened her mouth, to say what she wasn't sure, but her words were quickly
pushed back by his hasty lips. Light as butterflies they rested upon her forehead in what she considered to be perhaps
the tendrest of kisses.

"it's lovely." he whispered.

--------------



_____________________________________________________________.2

Two

Today they had decided to do something different, though rather than a group decision it was more the pleading and
pushing from Gaeul that had forced her and Yi Jung out into the sunny beach, away from the extravagant clubs and
ravishing restaurants that they were often seated in. She was happy to be out and about in the glorious happiness of the day,
basking her pale skin under the sweet kisses of the sun's rays. Perhaps it was her background, the fact that she had been
born a 'commoner', but the brilliant outsides, thriving with green life and fertile soil could lift her heart and leave her radiating
joy, face glowing with smiles as if she were a bride preparing for her wedding day. Something that the air conditioned
rooms--who's extraordinary sizes and opulent decor seemed more fit for Gu Jun Hee's hotel lobbies--couldn't even forge.

Time passed by with astonishing speed, and the hours spent splashing around the cool salt water felt more like quick
seconds, like little daydreams that one would have when tired and bored during a school lecture. But however fast it may
have been, every detail of the day together had been engraved into her mind. She could now dip into her memory banks
and recall the lapping waves at their ankles and the complain-coated mutters of Yi Jung as the shore rushed at his pant-legs,
which he swore would never recover the accident. She could step into the hot sand once more and dig her bare toes into the
shifting ground in search for the cool layer hidden within. She could once again feel the strong sea winds caressing her face with
old tales of sunken ships and creeping sea-life, whispering of its travels through places long beyond the korean horizon, of times
long before her own.

All good things were rumored to come to an end, and it seemed like today wasn't an exception. The sun was tired, and it lazily
hung halfway across the horizon, a rich orange globe which tinted the sky around it and covered the darkening sky with a dazzling
spectacle of lights. In a similar fashion, the pair strode along the wooden walkways of the beach-front, shoes in hand, hand in hand,
as they conversed lightly of unimportant passing things. However, their conversation took a sharp turn as Gaeul spotted it.
Her mouth watered, eyes seemed to almost dilate as she caught a whiff of the upcoming odor, a smell so sweet and inviting that
it managed to cut through the thick fog of salty humidity. The tempting smells of a patisserie. Being the master of subtlety, or
rather quite the opposite, it wasn't hard for Yi Jung to catch onto the game she was playing, the reason why her gaze would
constantly wander far from their conversation. And so, with gentleman-like grace, he swept them into the little shop.

Her excitement was almost instant, with a few fleeting steps she had reached the glass display. Her small hands pressed against
the screen, the force field between her and a lifetime of content. Yi Jung grinned, and with handsome gait was soon beside her,
his observant eyes watching studiously as she frowned in indecisiveness.
"Just take what you want, I promise I won't tease you for being a pig."
she grimaced at this, body sulking above the sweets.
"I'll let you know, that I was properly raised. Don't believe for a second that I'd accept your offer just because
I was born of lower class."

The plate had been loaded with sweets, one on top of another. There were custards, all sorts of cakes each decorated more extravagant
than the next. Colorful fruits were glazed with sugars, and every kind of cream, flavor and color imaginable seemed to sit on that poor,
overloaded plate which she feared would crack at any moment. She nervously stared across her mountain of sweets at the small coffee
plate which sat in front of her beloved, a small square of Tiramissu lying poised below him. She flushed with embarrassment at this,
but none the less dug deep into her plate of what she assumed would either render her unconscious or house-ridden.
"Cheers." Yi Jung lifted his fork towards her, and hid the sweet inside his mouth. Gaeul giggled, covering her face with a hand as her
body quacked in laughter.
"What, what's so funny?" her asked, running his hands through his clothing and hair, covering his nose and cheeks.
"Do I have something on my clothes? My face?"
Gaeul smiled and stood up, leaning over the small coffee table,
"You've managed to grown a mustache." she commented, pointing at the powdered sugar that had collected above his upper lip.
With a careful hand she reached his face and wiped at the sweet, fingers brushing lightly against his lips.
"I'll be back with some napkins!" she beamed him a reassuring smile, and excused herself from the table.

Yi Jung sat stunned for a couple of minutes longer, his hand absentmindedly reaching up to brush the spot where her fingertips had landed.
Slowly, a ridiculous grin spread across his features which he was quick to hide, face turning towards the tall windows of the little bakery.
Outside a couple stopped by the shop, fingers wound together as they inquired to one another if the shop was worth their while. The man pulled
her close and snuck a quick kiss, which they both teased and laughed about.
Smiling, Yi Jung licked the remaining powder on his face, the sugar melting slowly and rousing on his tongue.

He paused and wondered, if Gaeuls kisses would be as sweet.

--------------

_____________________________________________________________.3

Three


He felt so out of place. It wasn't often that this was an issue, generally, he liked to stand out. It not only gave him
an advantage over any other men that might be lurking, hunting in a room full of new and perhaps interesting women, but
it helped distinguish him from the rest of the crowds, let others know that he in fact was not like the rest of them. He had
money, power, and status in their competitive society. Not to mention the added bonus of his ridiculously handsome figure,
and well sculpted face. It sometimes seemed that the only moments in which he felt--dear god--normal, was when it was
just him and the boys. At times he would even get a bit jealous, when he would remember that he wasn't the one with miles
of power in Korea, the one that would launch the Shinwa corporation into success, or perhaps he might mark the fact that
sometimes a vest and tie looked better on Ji Hoo than it did on him. But regardless of his short-lived envies, he was a well
rounded, confident individual who took pride in his peacock-like status amongst the many pigeons that flooded the streets
of Korea.

This, however, was a totally different setting. A new and unsightly world in which grouchy old ladies, runny-nosed kids and
frustrated under-groomed college students roamed. His world of lavish parties and eager, youthful women had been replaced
with a musty old building that reeked of all things ancient and decrepit. Why anyone would want to step foot inside such a
public squalor, and on top of it all find it an enjoyable experience was beyond the far corners of his imagination. But despite
his unwillingness to go, and slight hatred of the place, the little brunette had somehow schemed her way through his stubborn
will and had managed to drag him along for the ride. It was a skill she had been slowly perfecting, and he wasn't sure if it was
her cunning, or the luscious dark hair, or the sweet tender smile which so often hung on her face like a iridescent crescent
moon, perhaps the warmth that her smooth and rosy cheeks seemed to radiate or the---He stopped himself there. He wasn't
sure what it was about her that made him so soft, pliable and easily persuaded. She must be slipping something in his food...
Yeah, something like that.

His train of thought had been interrupted though, as the fingerprint smudged doors retracted and a waft of cool, stale air blew
unwelcome at his face. His features turned sour and he wrinkled his nose at what lay inside. Brown carpets lined with several
mismatching wooden chairs, desks covered in paperwork and slouching teens as they poured over a multitude of open books,
white fluorescent lights dimly illuminated the front desk which held two round middle-aged women busy stamping cards and flipping
through pages . He could see shelves upon shelves stacked with bound paper, his mind instantly scanning through all the possible
germs and diseases that each so called 'adventure' had lurking inside. It wasn't at all what he had expected, it was worse. Gaeul
set two large brown eyes at him, eyebrows twisting with sarcasm. "It's just a library, I'm sure it won't kill you." He scoffed at this
and took an uneasy step inside, trying hard to disguise his fright and distaste for the place.

Loud heels clicked ahead of him, "I'll only be a minute alright? I just need to search something up for tomorrow's class." Yi Jung
paused and quickly scampered towards her, legs antsy at the thought of being left alone amongst all of the unknown. He felt like
a kid again, his eyes scanned around the wide open area and trembled at small frightful things as his fingertips subconsciously
reached out and took a tight hold of Gaeul's soft and comforting hands. She had lead them through a maze of bookshelves,
she seemed to know exactly where she was going which only heightened his fear, now knowing that she had been coming here
often. Finally, after a bit of indecisiveness, she had sat down at a table and opened up the pages of what he believed should be
on the list of health hazards.
He tapped his feet nervously on the carpeted floor, eyes constantly shifting towards his wristwatch. Time seemed to be dragging on,
as if it was sluggish and injured and slowly inched it's way forward.

"Gaeul, can we go--"
"Shh, in a minute. Could you be quiet, it's a library" she was soft-spoken, and her forehead wrinkled in concentration as she sped
through page after page of her children's' book.

Yi Jung heaved a heavy sigh and shifted his weight on his legs. Dark eyes stared piercing at the group of small children that had
been running around the area which resembled more a pack of hungry preying lions than the sweet round-faced forms they
should have been representing. He hoped they wouldn't get too near. He stared down at Gaeul and sighed again, this time louder.
No response. Mouth sucked in a large gulp of air and once again forced it out in a loud, agonizing breath.

She turned around quickly, gaze narrowed and frustrated with his childish behavior.
"The quieter you are, the faster I'm done."

Ji Yung looked away, bashful as if he had been doing nothing wrong, almost tempted to lift a finger and point it at a nearby
child who sat and read with thick glasses a book that must have been twice her size. Unimpressed, Gaeul was quick to return
to her reading, legs crossed with grace and femininity under the chair.

The sighing had stopped but somehow, his tongue had found his teeth and it wasn't long before he was consumed with a
new activity. Hands in his pockets he began to click his tongue, the saliva resonating loudly inside his mouth to the new and
interesting beat he had managed to create. He grinned and continued with his rhythmic games. It wasn't long before it interrupted
the woman beside him, who was once again forced to rotate and face him. She said nothing this time, her piercing-dagger stare
was more than enough to startle him and make him quit his little habit.

He stood blank for a moment, and then a long, mischievous smile curled at his lips, mind plotting a horribly delightful new
interruption. He bent over and lightly tapped her shoulder, fingers playful on the pink fabric of her summer dress.
"What? What now?" she thundered, body half risen from her chair. "What possibly could you have to s--"

It only took a moment, as usual, but his hands were quicker than her words and with cunning and sweet speed they had her
pressed against his lean hard body, their hearts nearly bouncing off of each other as they rose with anticipation. Their heads
tilted in unison and his mouth came down hard on hers, her body trembling and frightened at this new and unknown world.
The books, little kids and library women had been replaced with a new landscape, everything around her had been blocked out
and all she could see where the darks of her closed eyes and all she could hear was the beating of their hearts, and the loud
breathing of the man that held her lips with a captivating spell. "say..." she mummbled, her words putty and eyelids heavy and
half-closed. Yi Jung put a finger to his lips and smiled.

"Shhh, it's a library remember?"


_____________________________________________________________.4

Four


He hadn't called back. She was well aware of his tight schedule. Being a wealthy son of a famous potter, and a talented artist himself made little time for him to dally around with her, this she had learned to both accept and understand. She knew they couldn't spend day after day together, and so she would treasure the little moments of time that he would reserve especially for her, and find the most pleasure in the little acts of love and tender care that he would at times clumsily and nervously perform. She knew that she could never be the most important thing in his life, nor did she feel the need to be, there would always be something else that would need more attention, something else that he needed to "finish up real quick."

Still, it wasn't like him to not call back. Despite his busy schedule, or heavy work loads he would always find time to slip in a quick dial, and exchange some sweet words of apologetic concern. But the time had passed by and the hours soon turned into days, the high sound of an incoming call or the beeping of a new message seemed lost, and her phone sat as still and undisturbed as a crumbling desert on a summer drought. Stubbornly she stood by it, hands gripping and constantly checking for any missed calls, hoping that if she wished enough for it his name would appear on the glowing screen and he would mention something about his phone breaking or a freak accident with the phone lines. She would laugh about it and forgive him, and smile a large smile, knowing that it had all been one silly misunderstanding. Her phone sat silent. Her forehead was creased with lines of worry and it was finally, on the third day since their last meeting, that she decided to take action. She had a eerie feeling that something wasn't right, and her gut churned and her palms sweated as her mind crumbled beneath thoughts of accidents, blood, and the dark cold end of a life she wished she could forever protect, the sudden stopping of the warmest broken heart she had ever known, that same heart which she had too often lain her head over to feel the pulse that seemed to almost harmonize with her own.

The whole day felt like a daydream, some kind of wretched new world which a perverse someone had managed to sneak under her nose. Everything she touched, all the smells she smelled and sights she saw transformed into a thought of him. But the man she saw was not the confusing, yet amorous lover she knew, instead he was some sick and twisted dark form that lurked behind shadows and little memories in the soft and weak corners of her mind. The smallest of things seemed to expand and mutate through a contortionist-like act, his deep, soothing voice would become a shrieking scream, the crushing blow of a bus plowing across a fragile human form. His dark hair a seaweed tangle deep under the depths of an ocean they had once pranced along, and the waves would echo with sounds of a struggling drowning voice, too deep and too smothered for anyone to hear.

Her panic was building and bubbling over even as her quick feet scattered across the path that lead to his door, even as her hand reached for the door-knob, even as she stepped in and it wasn't until she spotted him that her heart eased and her soul calmed the raging storm that had been building up inside her.

But the breath of relief was short-lived as her eyes adjusted to the dark surroundings. It appeared that his mind had undergone a similar storm, and she could already feel that dark clouds still lingered, pushing at his emotions and slowly tearing away at him. His pottery wheel hummed in the background, it had been left on, the clay caked and dried on it's rotating surface. The floor, table, and surrounding furniture had been splattered carelessly with the same earth, the bits dried and white upon the wooden surfaces from long exposure to the air, shapes splashed as proof that somebody had slung it across the room in desperate frustration. Her feet moved her forward only to dart back in fear at the feeling of something shifting below her. She looked down to see shards of broken ceramic, pieces of the pots that rested on the now empty window shelves.

Carefully, she stepped around the rubble to the dark figure that sat hunched over on a small bench. His head hung low, hands gripping onto one another tightly, his elbows on his knees. She could sense a dark energy, the air that hung heavy around him screamed and hissed at her, a loud yet silent warning to those that dared step over his shield of loneliness and anger. Gaeul stood stiff, body tightening as her muscles tensed under her prickling skin. Large eyes shifted nervously at the large door behind her, the escape from the thick emotions that curled around her and teased with gross torment, encouraging a long, cold shiver down her rigid spine.

No, she didn't come all the way here for nothing. She wasn't going to end it this way, she saw him, he couldn't hide forever in his mess and she wasn't going to let him go without an explanation. She knew he wanted to be left alone, but more than that, she knew that he needed a helping hand, a drifting board of rotting lumber to pull his tired and heavy body out of the raging storm that drowned him ever so slowly.

Her knuckles loosened their grip on the strap of her purse, leather now warm from the contact with her skin as it slipped from her shoulder and landed heavy on the floor. Her body soon followed, legs bending, feet tucked under her bottom so that her face was now at level with her knees. He said nothing. She took one hard, long look at him, eyes taking in every detail of his darkened features then slowly, her head tipped and rested a warm, flushed cheek onto his pant leg. Her hands ran up his calf, rubbing with comforting strokes, with loving and careful hands as if she were petting a delicate kitten. It was then, at that moment that she felt the trail of a hot tear beading down her face, the falling drops from his eyes, which had found their way to her and now followed the path down her chin.
"She's dead." he croaked, voice raspy and unused. "My mom."
"I know."
And then it happened. The black clouds bloated with water erupted, and spilled over out of his body releasing everything he had been holding back. His tears now streamed like flooding gullies, his sobbing cries loud as the rushing rivers and pelting scatter of heavy summer rain. His body quaked and shook and trembled as every heavy, painful wail ripped through him and echoed across the still and silent room.

Gaeul sat silently at his feet. The storm would pass, the crying and pain would ease, and after a while his heart would heal, they would be able to piece it back together, just as they would rebuild his ceramic pots. Each piece would be shaped different than the last and then when enough were made they would place them all carefully, expectantly into the burning kiln in which they would harden, and emerge with a new shine and personality. The pots would stand strong and stiff and beautiful, and they would once again decorate the window-sills, and display the hard work that each of them had put into making them. And passer-bys would smile and think just how beautiful each painted piece seemed, and the pots would sit proud, and elegantly against the harsh sun.

He would recover. She would help him mold a new heart, and their hands would intertwine around the new soft clay which waited impatiently to transform . Together, they would work hard and form the most beautiful masterpiece that either of them had ever created, and he would grow stronger and emerge with more wisdom than ever before. And then he could stand proud and elegant beside her, and strangers would walk by and smile and think how wonderful they were together, and how lucky they were to have each other.

And they would grin back, and know that they were in fact lucky to have each other.

_____________________________________________________________.5

Five


Gaeul stared, dazed at the mirror reflection of the polished tile floors. She could see herself from the bottom up, her new red heels made her look twice as tall, slender legs covered by a long cream dress which flowed in large, waving patterns at her knees. Her skin seemed paler than usual and the distorted reflection of her unsmiling, rosebud lips made her look even more dejected than she had imagined. She let out a sigh, she felt almost like a child, round, open face staring bewildered upon a troubled soul, confused as to what had lead them to such a state of distress.

Coffee hair spilled across her chest, a river of rushing waves. She delicately picked up a strand and inspected it, frowning at the change of style. An hour ago, each lock was a perfect curl, she had spent a grueling afternoon separating and pinning back her disobedient strands, carefully spinning them around the hot barrel of a curling iron. It had all gone to waste, she figured she shouldn't even check her makeup, God only knew what that had managed to morph into. She was sure the glossy sheen of her lips had now gone, or had managed to rub off somewhere on the creamy dress which sat over her now empty stomach.

Outside, heavy drops stumbled out of dark, grey clouds and formed large puddles on the runaway. She could see the silhouettes of little people; a couple of guys taking shelter under a tach roof as they shared a cigarette, men inching a plane forward with glowing red torches, a stewardess sharing an umbrella with what she could only imagine was a charming pilot.

It was silly of her, but she was bored out of her mind and for a moment she grinned as she created pretend lives for the little people, imagining what they must be like. The men under the tach roof, she concurred, were discussing their wives at home. They had to be underpayed by the airlines, since they were sharing a cigarette, and they spoke to the third person, who she decided was most likely a young adult about the responsibilities of being a man. The pilot was overpaid, of course. She imagined his house to be large, maybe a condo or a bachelor's pad like Woo Bin's, she giggled at this, now her mind was really starting to wander. Perhaps, she thought, Woo Bin had a secret life as a pilot. It would make some sense, he was quite the ladies man and there were all sorts of rumors about pilots meeting pretty ladies all over the world.

Gaeul smiled and turned back in her seat, for the first time she took a real hard look around her at the terminal. She was taken back by surprise, it seemed to her that the inside of the airport was far more gloomy and depressing than the thundering storm that grew outside. A janitor mopped the floors almost mechanically, the mop dragging soapy water back and forth. She spotted several other commuters; a businessman on a small laptop (typical, it was the holidays and he couldn't even take a break to nap on the chairs), a woman with sleeping child, and a group of teenagers playing cards on the carpet floors.

A couple of christmas decorations still hung on the walls, all kinds of reds and greens with pictures of a plump Santa, reindeer and talking snowmen. Americans sure had a weird taste in decorations, she wasn't even completely sure what most of the banners read, couldn't they just write them in Korean? 'Melly Chlistmas'? She was almost sure that wasn't right.

The coffee houses and small stores were all closed and uninhabited, lights turned out with a standoffish aura that sent chills down her spine. Maybe at night all the stuffed animals came out and had parties at the coffee houses, or played pranks on the people who fell asleep on the waiting chairs. She let out a yawn, her eyelids seemed a lot heavier than she remembered. Gaeul shook her head, vision blurry as she tried to read the large clock on the opposite wall. 1: 03 am.

---------------------------------------later----------------------------------------

"Gaeul....."
Gaeul groaned, stirring slightly in the uncomfortable pleather chair.
"...Gaeul..."
This time she felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her slightly in a notion to get up. She turned over again and let out a deep sigh, her hands and feet stretching tautly in opposite directions. Her long dress tumbled over the edge of the chair in smooth, satin waves as her legs shifted underneath the fabric.
"S-Sunbae?" she stuttered, a little confused and still only half awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, blinking several times to get a clearer look. "Sunbae." she repeated, more as an assurance to herself that it was really him, that he was really there.

There was no mistake about it, there he was, his slender face inches from hers, dark eyes staring intently into hers. And then there it was, his typical sly smile. It sat on his face as it always did, bright and playful as it hugged his left cheek.

"For a second there, I thought you might have been dead. I have to say, I was a little alarmed when I heard you snoring."

Gaeul frowned, blushing in embarrassment. She ran her hands down her hair, smoothening out her rustled locks, brushed against the top of her dress and ran down slowly to flatten out her rumpled skirts. His eyes followed her every move. Yijung sat there silently, his face had suddenly turned very grave and Gaeul felt more than a little uncomfortable as his hands reached over hers and cupped them gently. She hadn't completely regained her senses, and it wasn't until now that she realized he was crouching down below her on his knees. Unconciously, she turned her head sideways, eyes shifting nervously as they tried to avoid his determined stare.

"Gaeul... Please look at me."

She said nothing, all they could hear was the distant rain. Slowly, like an old creaking door, she managed to turn her head towards his. Her heart pounded and it suddenly felt blistering hot inside the terminal. She bit her lip, the sudden heat of the moment drawing a rose color on her cheeks. His hand tightened on hers.

"I'm sorry I missed New Years. I promised I would be there and I wasn't... I... I feel so stupid. I left you alone on your birthday, on Christmas, I told myself I wasn't going to miss it this time but I did. The meeting went a little later than I thought it would, then it started to rain and I knew the plane would be delayed, I wanted to do something... I couldn't, I felt... Please, forgive me."

Gaeul sat wide-mouthed, unsure as to what so say or what do do. Her fingers twisted together and as her mind searched dumbly for something appropriate to say. Her silence had settled uneasily on him, and he turned his head and began to roll up his sleeves. She stared at him curiously as he undid his watch, an exquisite piece of italian metal and then watched as his fingers worked rapidly and twisted at the little knobs on the side.
"I'm turning back time for you" he lifted the watch to her so that she could see his handiwork, the time read 11:59 pm.

"I could never stay mad at you" voice soft as ever, she leaned forward to take his lips in hers. The curve of his mouth bent against hers, she could once again feel his warmth and breathe his air, the familiar clean-cut scent of his cologne lingered around them, her hands freed from his and twisted through the thick jungles of his dark, sultry hair. Her heart beat faster and faster, working hard to pump blood through her system as his hands ran agonizingly slow along her milky thighs, around her hips and up the length of her body as if he was memorizing her every curve with his persistent palms. He brought her closer for one last climactic moment, then they parted and she leaned her forehead on his. They both sat in silence, breaths rapid and stifled as they both attempted to disguise their need to deeply inhale. Their lips were red, almost as if they were blushing from the company of each other. He tucked a loose lock of her hair behind her ear and grinned again. "Happy New Years."

The time on the wall read 4:15 am.