A Breath Away

While he was struggling, inside, Luna splashed water on her face again and again, hoping it would wash away the storm building inside her. The cool water dripped down her cheeks, clinging to her jaw, trailing down her neck. She leaned on the sink, gripping its edges, eyes closed.

Get a grip, Luna. He's just… Hyunsu. 

Is she nervous about the experiment? No. She's nervous about him.

It wasn't the interview, or the dream project, or even the insane idea of replaying nightmares.

It was the way he looked at her. Like she mattered.

She stared at her reflection. Her cheeks were still flushed. Her lips parted just slightly.

Why do I feel so hot here?

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the towel but stopped halfway. Her fingers hovered, frozen, then dropped. Maybe the water would cool her down a bit longer.

She stepped out of the bathroom, her hair slightly damp, water still glistening on her skin and there he was. Waiting.

But Hyunsu, he froze, there was something about the way the light hit her face—soft, raw, unguarded. He had seen her smile, seen her hide behind laughter, behind stubborn pride… but this?

There was no armor on her tonight.And for once, there was none on him either.

His chest tightened.

God, she's beautiful.

Not in the way people casually throw the word around. Not in the perfect, polished, magazine-cover way. This wasn't about perfect hair or flawless skin. No, her beauty was quieter.

It lived in the way the water still clung to her lashes, shimmering like tiny diamonds under the soft kitchen light. In the way her cheeks were faintly flushed, as if the vulnerability of being seen had reached her skin.

In the real way. The kind that sneaks up on you and completely wrecks your balance. The kind you try not to stare at but fail anyway.

The curve of her jaw, the way a single strand of hair clung to her damp temple, the bare honesty in her face—he felt it all like a punch to the ribs.

This is the Luna I remember. The one I never got to say goodbye to. The one I still see in my dreams.

She wasn't dressed up. She wasn't performing. She was tired. She was real. She was here.

His mind went out of bounds as he stood by the hallway, leaning lightly against the dining table, arms crossed.

All the practiced restraint he carried—every line he told himself not to cross—blurred the moment she walked back in.

His gaze softened the instant it landed on her.

No sarcasm. Just… something quiet. Something almost vulnerable.

He watched her walk past him, brushing close, but not close enough, the scent of her skin, her bare face held a quiet kind of vulnerability he hadn't expected to see—and yet, it made everything inside him still.

His pulse picked up when he saw a droplet of water trailing down the curve of her jaw. His fingers twitched.

She's... undoing me.

"Your face," he said quietly, his voice low and rough around the edges.

She turned. "What?"

He moved, slowly, deliberately. Closed the distance between them in two short steps.

And now… he was inches away.

She could feel the heat radiating off his body. Could hear his breath. Could see the way his eyes dropped to the beads of water still glistening on her skin.

He wasn't thinking about consequences. Not about the past, not about the walls between them, not even about the ache in his chest.

Should I touch her?

He told himself no. He told himself to keep the distance. But his body betrayed him.

His hand moved on its own—not quite touching her, just hovering near her cheek. 

"There's water…" he murmured, his voice quieter now, more husky, like he was afraid speaking louder would shatter the moment. He could feel her breath hitch when he reached out—hovering at the edge of her skin.

Luna's breath caught in her throat.

His fingers were so close. She swore she could feel them, even if they hadn't made contact yet.

Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, the steady rhythm of his breath mixing with hers. The steam from the forgotten food curled between them like a veil, but neither of them moved.

Should I move? Should I take a step back? Why am I not moving? Say something. Anything.

But she didn't. She couldn't.

And then, as if the universe was holding its breath, he reached out and gently wiped a drop of water from her cheek with the back of his fingers.

His touch was barely there—featherlight—but it sent a ripple through her entire body.

Her skin was warm. Silky.

And suddenly, the room felt too quiet. Too intimate.

He met her eyes, and for a second, time suspended.

She didn't pull away.

And that wrecked him even more.

Say something. Say anything. Tell her you didn't come back for research. Tell her you came back for her. Tell her that you want her.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Not yet.

What are you doing to me, Hyunsu?

She stood frozen, breath caught somewhere in her throat, her body betraying her calm exterior. She could still feel it—his fingers ghosting across her skin, the heat of his breath lingering in the space between them. Every nerve was wide awake, tuned only to him.

And then he spoke, voice low and deadly calm.

"You never answered my question."

Luna blinked, dazed. What question?

He didn't move away. Didn't give her room to breathe. He leaned in, just enough that she could count the flecks in his irises—just enough to burn.

"Am I unattractive?"

Her mind short-circuited.

Mouth: open.

Mouth: closed.

Mouth: opens again… still no words. Not one.

Something is really wrong with this man...

Why did he say things like that—with that face? That voice? That calm confidence like he already knew what I was thinking?

This isn't fair.

She stared at him, narrowing her eyes like he'd just dared her to solve quantum mechanics with empty stomach.

It's illegal, Dr. Hyunsu, Roaming into someone else's house… looking like that. Talking like that. Touching me. Just...

But she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud—maybe she was afraid. Afraid that naming it would shatter whatever fragile thing was hanging between them. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't want to ruin the moment that felt too rare, too delicate for her.

Hyunsu never meant to get this close. He hadn't meant to lean in either, but there he was again—taking one more tiny step. 

He had told himself he wouldn't. That he'd keep the distance, maintain the walls, stick to the plan—be smart. But then again, smart had never stood a chance when it came to her.

He could see it in her eyes—confusion, heat, panic.

She was struggling, and for a moment, he enjoyed it. But not because he wanted her flustered.

Because she cared. Because for the first time, he was starting to believe maybe she really did see him.

Her expression—somewhere between disbelief and surrender—was the final push.

He wasn't thinking anymore.

His heart was hammering. His pulse was in his throat. His control was a fragile, fraying thread.

Hyunsu's hand lifted slowly—hesitantly, almost as if giving her one last chance to pull away.

She didn't.

His other hand came up, steadying her by the jaw, his palm cradling the side of her face like something fragile. Precious. Something he wasn't sure he deserved to touch—but did anyway.

Their foreheads now nearly touching. His hand still cradled her jaw like she was glass and fire at once.

God, what is she doing to me?

His pulse was a thunderclap beneath his skin. He hadn't meant to hold her like this. But now that he was—he couldn't let go. Not yet.

Luna...

And she—She was drowning.

Every nerve in her body fired at once, she hadn't expected him to touch her like that. Hadn't expected the softness of it, the reverence. Her skin tingled where his fingers rested, like sparks were crawling beneath the surface. Her heart pounded.

She should've said something. Should've pulled back. But she didn't.

Her gaze dropped to his lips without meaning to.

Why does it feel like the world just got quieter? Like the air between us is waiting for something to happen?

Her own hands twitched at her sides, like they didn't know what to do. Her thoughts were a mess—emotions spiraling between confusion, heat, fear, and something dangerously close to longing.

Why does this feel like we've been holding this in for years?

She didn't speak. Couldn't.

Everything inside her screamed to run, to cry, to lean in, to fall—and yet, all she could do was stand there, blinking, caught in his hands.

And then, his voice, low and raw, the words weren't planned, filled the space between them.

They were pure truth.

"I wasn't joking earlier."

"About what?" she asked, breathless.

He held her face a little firmer, his eyes locked into hers.

A pause.

His eyes didn't leave hers. Not for a second, he was afraid she might vanish if he blinked.

"That I came back for someone."

The silence that followed wasn't awkward.It was sacred.

She took a step back with fear of him—fear of what he made her feel. Fear of how one man, in one evening, could shake the ground she'd carefully built beneath her for ten years.

It was barely a retreat—more like an instinctual flicker of self-preservation—but he noticed.

Of course he did.

And before she could even inhale the distance, he stepped forward.

Closing the gap.

Again.

His presence was overwhelming in gravity. Like the universe tilted just a little more when he was near her—like the pull toward her was something he could no longer resist.

She tried to speak, but his nearness stole the words right out of her lungs.

He was thinking about how close he was.

And how it still wasn't close enough.

And if air had dared slip between them just now, it would've found no welcome from him.

Hyunsu looked at her like even oxygen was a rival, as if the space between them was an enemy, as if the air itself had no right to come between them.

Like nothing—not time, not reason, not even the goddamn atmosphere—had the right to claim what he'd waited ten years for.

He leaned in just a whisper closer, his lips a kiss-close away from hers, eyes burning.

She could feel it now—how he trembled just a little, holding back a thousand things he wanted to say, wanted to do.

His forehead pressed gently against hers, and in the stillness, she could feel the thunder of his heartbeat. Fast. Wild. Unruly.

"I shouldn't..." he breathed out, as if the words hurt.

But God, he wanted to.

And she… wasn't moving.

And then—

He paused.

"Don't pull away from me."