Whisper Room
Sam's POV
A sudden, cold fist seemed to clench around Aryang's heart, squeezing the breath from her lungs as if she'd swallowed a stone of unspoken grief.
What is it?I asked, my voice laced with concern. She hesitated, then murmured, "Im going home." The quiet plea in her words was unmistakable, so I simply nodded and led her out.
I, too, miss Aryang's place, though the neighbors could be noisy. As we neared Aryang's house, a curious sight greeted us: a cat trotting purposefully, clutching a greasy bag of barbecue. Aryang's gaze, sharp and watchful, followed our approach. Then, just as we turned, a wave of foul-smelling liquid cascaded down upon us.
Right before our eyes, Ale – hot on the heels of that barbecue-thieving cat – lost her footing. The fetid water sloshing in her grasp cascaded over us.
Ali's eyes snapped wide with horror. "I'm sorry! So sorry!" She babbled, the words tumbling out as the putrid assault hit us full force. Aryang and I reeled, gags rising in our throats. Without a word, we turned and fled into the house, stumbling in our haste towards the sanctuary of the shower.
Beneath the stinging spray, I scrubbed furiously, soap scraping over every inch of skin as if I could scour away the lingering foulness. I worked shampoo into my hair until it foamed thick and white, rinsing again and again. Only when the last trace of the stench vanished beneath the clean, chemical scent did I pause. My hands stilled. Steam swirled. And there, in the shared cascade, the reality struck me like cold water: Aryang and I stood naked, backs pressed against the slick tiles, exposed beneath the relentless stream.
Then, arms encircled me from behind, pulling me close. I turned, heat flooding my cheeks as my gaze met Aryang's bare chest. The steam, the closeness—it ignited something undeniable. Our lips met, hesitant at first, then with a hunger that consumed all thought. Reason dissolved; we were lost in the kiss, unable and unwilling to stop.
With deliberate slowness, I guided Aryang backward into the waiting water of the bathtub, our lips never parting. Submerged in warmth, we surfaced only to reach for the soap. Lathering each other's skin in slow circles, our gazes locked—silent smiles blooming like secrets in the steam.
The warmth of the bath still clung to our skin as I lifted Aryang gently from where she rested. Settling her against me, I began with the softness of her lips, a slow, seeking kiss. My mouth journeyed downwards, savoring the delicate skin along her jawline, finally reaching the vulnerable curve of her neck.
But the fire within me only burned brighter. Drawn back irresistibly, I reclaimed her mouth, my kiss now possessive, demanding. Her response was a breathy moan, her hands rising to hold my head fast, surrendering to the moment.
1,2,3,4,5 𓈖𓈖𓈖𓈖𓈖𓈖
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Aryang's POV
The peak surged within me, inevitable and consuming. As the world dissolved into pure sensation, my gaze locked onto Sam beneath me. Her skin glowed, flushed and dewy, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Then, in that suspended instant before release, I moved – a sudden, instinctive shift of weight, claiming the space above her. Her eyes flew wide, surprise etching itself across her features just as the wave crashed over us both.
"Are you hurt?" Sam breathed, her voice soft as brushed silk against my skin.
I met her gaze, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around us. "Sam," I murmured, tracing the line of her jaw with my eyes, "I hope our day doesn't end."
A low, rich laugh escaped her—a sound warm and promising. In one fluid motion, she shifted, her weight settling into mine as she straddled me again, her eyes alight with renewed intent.
She lay down suddenly beside me, her gaze distant, lost in contemplation. I drew her close. "That's the deep thought you're thinking," I murmured into her shoulder.
Sam's words caught me off guard, a tremor in her voice as she spoke. "Will you marry me, Aryang?"
For a heartbeat, I could only stare. The air itself seemed to still.
"They say some souls cross paths only to find fate had other plans," she continued, her gaze unwavering. "But our story felt different from the start. We truly met. And though I don't know where this path leads, or when our journey might end..." she paused, her voice softening like worn parchment. "Life feels fleeting here in this small village. So brief. All I want... is to spend whatever time I'm given loving you."
Tears blurred my vision as Sam's words hung between us, delicate as spider silk.
Joy—not sorrow—split me open, saltwater tracing paths down my cheeks.
"Sam," I whispered, voice knotted in my throat, "I cried when you said this to me. Not from sadness, but from the sheer weight of this joy."
I hesitated, fingers twisting in the fabric of my sleeves.
"Do you trust me, Aryang?" Her voice was low, urgent. "If you marry me... so much will change. Especially with my family. My mother... my grandfather..." A shadow crossed her eyes. "I couldn't bear it if you got hurt just because of me. It wouldn't be worth it. Not if the cost is your pain... or mine."
Without hesitation, I closed the distance and kissed her—a sudden, silencing answer to her fears. When I pulled back, my voice was firm, my eyes holding hers. "Everyone faces trials, A love that never weathers storms grows weak without roots. Support?" I cupped her face, my thumb brushing away the uncertainty. "We build it. Together. My answer isn't just yes—it's a thousand times yes.
A sudden rip sounded as the fabric tore in her hands. Before we knew it, she'd twisted the frayed strip into a rough, makeshift ring. For a heartbeat, we simply stared—then laughter bubbled up between us, warm and unstoppable, washing away the last traces of tension.
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Liam's POV
Sam's words hit me like a physical blow. The air caught in my throat, a sharp gasp leaving me dizzy—stars blooming at the edges of my vision as if I might truly faint. My hands flew to cradle her face, fingers trembling against her temples, anchoring myself in the storm of shock her declaration had unleashed.
"Sam..." The name was a ragged breath, barely audible. "Are you sure?" My eyes searched hers, desperate for certainty in the whirlwind. "Please... think about what you just said. Not once, not twice—a thousand times over. Be utterly, completely sure."
Sam's fingers closed around the stem of her wineglass, lifting it slowly as if weighing more than liquid. She stared into its ruby depths, the silence stretching taut between us. Finally, a soft, decisive breath escaped her.
"Yes," she murmured, the word landing like a vow in the quiet room. "I am sure." Her eyes lifted, meeting mine with a clarity that cut through the lingering shock. "If I don't fight for Aryang now,.. that regret will haunt me forever. My life?" A wry, almost defiant smile touched her lips. "It's already a beautiful chaos. But living in fear of what's here—" she pressed a hand over her heart— "that's a cage I refuse to inhabit any longer. I won't let fear steal this."
My hand rose almost involuntarily, fingers scraping through my hair in a gesture born of pure, restless anxiety. As Sam's defiant words still hung in the air between us, a single, treacherous question coiled in my mind: Just how far could she truly go for Aryang?
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Aryang's POV
Sleep still clung heavily to my limbs as I forced myself upright. Then, a jolt of cold awareness shot through me – Sam was gone. The space beside me was empty, cold. She'd left while I slept. A wave of sharp annoyance surged, hot and sudden; I snatched the nearest pillow and hurled it across the room.
Annoyance quickly sharpened into urgency. I scrambled from the bed, rushing through a shower and dressing with frantic haste. As I moved towards the door, a stark white rectangle on the table caught my eye: a letter. My name, scrawled in Sam's familiar hand.
The paper crackled as I unfolded it. Her words were blunt, final: "Don't look for me. I'll find you when .Forgive me, but I've been wearing your clothes. My own carry a scent I find unbearable now, a stark absence where yours should be. So I took them... a fragment of you to hold onto. I love you."
A sudden, unexpected smile touched my lips as the memory surfaced—last night's strange, solitary moment. Almost absently, my fingers rose and pinched the flesh of my cheek, a soft, testing pressure. Was it boredom? The thought flickered and died instantly. No. The lingering sting was too real, too present. My gaze drifted down, settling on my empty hand. And there it was—or rather, wasn't.
My eyes widened, just slightly, as the truth landed with cold clarity: the ring was gone. Vanished. Leaving only a faint, ghostly impression on my skin and a hollow space where it should have been.
I darted into the room, my eyes already scanning every surface in a desperate search.
Or, for slightly more internal feeling:
Panic tightening my chest, I rushed into the room and began frantically searching.
The sound pulled my gaze toward the window. There he was—the cat, a silhouette against the gauzy afternoon light, pawing playfully at the edge of the curtain. Fabric rippled like water beneath his questing claws as he batted at the fluttering hem.
I almost turned back to the room, dismissing it as another of his whims, when a glint caught my eye. Sunlight flashed against something small and cloth ring around his front paw.
My breath caught.
Sam's ring. The delicate band she'd forged for me with her own hands.
"Ming ming," I murmured, the soft syllables hanging in the still air as I took a cautious step toward the window. The cat, a shadow against the light, froze. Its head swiveled slowly, fixing me with eyes like chips of cold jade.
Then it happened: a ripple ran through its sleek fur, lifting it along the spine like dark lightning. The playful creature of moments before vanished. In its place crouched something low and feral, muscles coiled beneath the puffed-up coat. Lips peeled back in a silent snarl, revealing needle-sharp teeth. A low, guttural vibration filled the space between us—not a purr, but a warning thrummed deep in its chest.
My hand, outstretched in tentative invitation, froze mid-air. Cold washed over me. He wasn't playing. He wasn't curious.
He was ready to bite.
A desperate idea struck me—food. I spun toward the kitchen, moving on instinct. Seconds later, I was back, clutching a scrap of fish snatched from the icebox. Heart hammering, I thrust the door open and lunged into the room, the offering held out like a peace treaty.
Too late.
The cat was already a coiled spring on the windowsill, muscles bunched for flight, Sam's ring still glinting like a shackle around his foreleg. His wild eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, green fire blazing with panic. He launched himself backward into the open air.
Instinct screamed louder than thought. The scrap of fish fell from my fingers, forgotten, clattering onto the floorboards. My arm shot out, not toward the window frame, but through the empty space where the cat had been—a blind, grasping lunge driven by sheer terror of losing that ring forever.
My fingers closed not on fur, but on something hard and cool beneath it. I caught him. Not by his body, but by the very limb encircled by Sam's ring—his paw, pulled taut in the instant before he vanished.
A searing line of fire scored my hand. I gasped, snatching it back as the cat twisted free—a shadow vanishing over the sill. Crimson beads welled instantly along three razor-straight scratches, burning like lit coals pressed to the skin.
But the pain was distant. Secondary.
For there, clutched tight in my stinging palm, lay Sam's ring.
The cool, familiar cloth ring pressed into my flesh, I uncurled my fingers slowly, half-afraid it might have been a dream.
Sunlight caught the cloth ring, A tremor ran through me, not from the wound, but from the sheer, flooding relief.
Safe.
I closed my fist around it again, pressing it hard against my chest, letting the bite of the scratches fade beneath the fierce, quiet joy of its return. The blood smeared on the cloth ring didn't matter. Only the weight of it in my hand did. Only Sam's memory, held close once more.