FBF chapter 14 part 4

“I think of you every time I’m in the sky.”

As soon as I realized that this was the answer to a question he hadn’t responded to some time ago, Lee Jihoon closed his eyes and pressed his lips deeply together.

Our lips trembled lightly together. I couldn’t tell where the trembling started or who initiated it. It wasn’t a kiss where tongues intertwined, nor was it one where we swallowed the exchanged saliva. It was unlike anything I knew. Yet, strangely enough, it felt deep and moist. It was sticky and inescapable. The sensation of Jihoon’s lips gently suckling my lower lip, and the way his fingertips, which were holding my cheek, slightly trembled felt like a change occurring within me.

Jihoon didn’t rush. Instead, he was cautious. He didn’t even slide in his tongue, choosing instead to lick over my lips as if asking for permission to enter. Then he gently pressed upon the line where my upper and lower lips met. His chest leaned against mine at an angle. I could feel his firm muscles through his shirt. His left hand was gently roaming near my waist. Tap, tap. The seatbelt that had secured me in the sky came undone. It felt like the belt, having lost its place to anchor, rewound itself only to stop abruptly, the tip dangling between our bodies. I realized belatedly that I should grab it, and my fingers twitched in response. Jihoon paused and opened his eyes. Our lips separated at that moment.

But Jihoon didn’t pull away. He maintained an alarmingly close distance, almost brushing against my nose, and gazed into my eyes. It was a space where we could only see each other’s pupils, not our noses or lips. With an intensity that seemed to prevent him from blinking, he asked,

“You don’t dislike this, do you?”

It was a voice I had never heard from him before. Low and heavy. It felt more like a confirmation than a question. I sensed that Jihoon wasn’t just asking about my consent for this action. He anticipated that if I said I didn’t like it, he would immediately withdraw.

Everything rested entirely on me, yet I couldn’t move. I simply gazed at him, trying to process the tumultuous emotions swirling within me. I couldn’t push him away or voice any protests.

“…….”

“…….”

Jihoon scrutinized my face as if trying to read the unspoken answer. I couldn’t tell what kind of expression I was wearing. Sweat began to bead on my clenched fist. At the moment, with the breath I had been holding finally escaping me, Jihoon’s gaze fell to my lips. The grip of my hand around the headset loosened, and Jihoon’s eyes grew darker. He tilted his head slightly and moved closer with a feather-light motion. Our lips almost touched when our eyes met deeply.

Jihoon was searching for certainty. Something more solid, something tangible to grasp. That thought itself felt foreign to me since I had never possessed such assurance. The only thing I could be sure about in our relationship was that I had never shared a kiss like this with him, something typical between lovers.

The uncertainty gnawed at me, but unlike me, Jihoon seemed determined to discover it for himself. Through the gap as I exhaled, his tongue slid in. The soft intrusion brushed against the deepest parts of my mouth. As I felt a gentle pressure guiding my awkwardly halted hands down, I instinctively closed my eyes in response.

Our palms pressed together. Our tongues brushed. Our fingers tangled in a chaotic intertwining. Our tongues curled around each other. As we kissed, our hands moved in a similar rhythm. It felt like we were kissing with our entire bodies. It was slippery and damp. I couldn’t tell whose sweat or saliva it was. Each time our lips parted, a dull moan escaped.

“Ha….”

Jihoon tilted his head to breathe, but he couldn’t bear to part from my lips even for that brief moment. He seemed excited merely because I had opened my mouth. His breath against my lips felt rough. The microphone from the headset he had pushed away relayed the wet sounds of our lips colliding, entangled, and sucking. The warmth of his breath from his flaring nostrils and the mingling of our damp tongues grew hotter and more intense, approaching a boiling point. Jihoon’s upper body leaned halfway into my seat. Our hands unclasped, and his fingers gripped my waist, pulling me slightly closer. Our bodies shifted as if finding a comfortable position. With each transmission of his heated body, I could almost outline the shape of Jihoon’s physique under his shirt.

This was something we had never done before. I had kissed him in the hallway before he left, but this felt distinctly different. Jihoon wasn’t trying to obtain something through this act. He simply wanted to be in this moment with me.

The moment I realized this, I suddenly stopped. My mind went blank, and my tongue stiffened. Not long after, Jihoon also ceased his movements. Seizing that opportunity, I lifted my hands. I pushed against his chest with my damp palm, avoiding his eye contact.

Fortunately—though perhaps not so—I noticed a figure approaching in the direction I had turned to look. It was close to the management office where I had briefly stopped to sign some documents. Even though the plane had stopped for a while, someone must have wondered why no one had disembarked and was coming to check. It was an unexpected but fortuitous timing. I hurriedly opened my mouth, my excitement still evident in my breath.

“There’s someone… behind us.”

“…….”

“There’s someone coming from behind.”

However, Jihoon’s gaze didn’t return to where I had expected it to go. I could still feel his breath closely nearby. I barely bit my lower lip. Even in that moment, I felt flustered remembering Jihoon’s tongue that had just stirred inside me.

I raised my hand and removed the headset. I had to escape from the lingering wet sounds that still echoed in my ears. The airplane was quiet now. Besides the sound of us catching our breaths, nothing else could be heard. Still unable to meet Jihoon’s eyes, I quietly said,

“…I think we need to get off.”

Finally, I was freed from Jihoon’s gaze. The hand resting between my waist and hips withdrew, and the weight pressing down on me disappeared. After checking in front, Jihoon ruffled his hair and exhaled a shallow sigh. Even after composing himself, Jihoon nodded only when the approaching person from the management office became clear in the dim light.

“Okay. Let’s get off for now.”

I had left my phone in the car. There were quite a few missed calls that had accumulated during my time away. Seeing the name of our team leader in the list, I immediately called him. It seemed that while I had been absent, a drug offender we had previously caught had caused trouble again. Though he mentioned the situation had been initially subdued, I answered his question about the whereabouts of the related documents, then proceeded to call the seniors who were working late on similar cases one by one. My brain felt sluggish, and I was nearly grinding my teeth while struggling to recall the necessary information. Even while standing outside the car, intentionally showing my back during the call, I couldn’t focus because I was too conscious of Jihoon, who was waiting.

“Yes, understood.”

After finishing four consecutive calls, I felt like my head was entirely empty. A mild headache accompanied this sensation. As I lowered my phone from my ear and turned around, I froze momentarily. My eyes met Jihoon’s directly. I had expected him to be waiting inside the car, but I hadn’t anticipated that he would come out to watch. Leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed, he stepped away from the car. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face and instead averted my gaze downward. Unlike earlier, when his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, all the buttons of his shirt were fastened this time. It seemed he had been waiting for me. Jihoon halted just a step in front of me.

“Do we have to go back in?”

Even though something had occurred, it wasn’t urgent enough for me to return immediately. I thought Jihoon, having overheard my phone conversation, might have already inferred the truth, but instead of saying that I didn’t need to, I merely bit my lips in silence. I was not confident about being locked again in that narrow car with Jihoon, not with the thoughts of the earlier kiss still lingering. After getting off the plane, I hadn’t even dared to meet Jihoon’s eyes properly. Even now, with my gaze fixed on Jihoon’s formal shoes, I squeezed my phone tighter in an effort to desperately avoid the eyes that kept pouring upon my face.

“I hope not.”

The moment I heard his low voice, my breath caught in my throat. My gaze instinctively lifted. I met Jihoon’s eyes, which were fixed on me with both hands tucked into his pockets. Jihoon withdrew one hand from his pocket. The speed with which he seemed to wait for our eyes to meet was cautious, as his fingertips lightly brushed my right cheek. As he turned his hand over, he gently rubbed the back of his hand against my face while keeping his gaze on me.

“You look really exhausted.”

Compared to the cold weather, his hands felt warm, just like our locked gazes.

“We also need to talk.”

Jihoon effortlessly tied us together with a single word. A word that could be tossed around dozens of times a day, yet seeing him who had just shared that kiss and was now tenderly caressing my cheek made it hard to interpret lightly. I felt as if my heart had infiltrated my previously empty mind. Whether the erratic thump of my heart was due to excitement or anxiety, I couldn’t tell anymore. It was all territory I was unfamiliar with.

What in the world does he want to talk about? About the kiss we just shared? Despite knowing something felt odd, what was I thinking when I replied to his kiss? Whether Jihoon’s statement about thinking of me whenever he was in the sky transcended the boundaries of friendship? I found that none of those questions had a confident answer.

What was clear was that unlike me, who was barely holding back from wanting to escape at any moment, Jihoon had no such intention. I stared at the car behind him. It suddenly dawned on me that I would need to remain with Jihoon in that car for at least another two hours. Even when we got home, I would still be with him. Jihoon wouldn’t be flying until tomorrow…

Lost in thought as I stared at the car, I met Jihoon’s gaze, who was waiting for my response. It was as if my mouth moved on its own.

“Not now, later….”

“…….”

“Can we do it later?”

It was my best possible response, squeezed out of my vacant mind. Jihoon silently regarded me for a moment before slowly removing his hand. A calm question followed.

“Do you want that?”

I felt relieved that it lacked a mocking tone. My body, still tense as if we were in that cramped airplane, felt weary just from moving my head. I nodded in agreement, barely managing affirmatively.

“Alright.”

Jihoon nodded in agreement with me. He was still locking his gaze on me.

“But let’s make it clear when we should talk.”

“…….”

“How about the day I return from this flight? That’s four days from now.”

Jihoon took a step back, but he hadn’t backed down. His flexible attitude rather reinforced the necessity of this conversation. I sensed that this proposal was the best compromise he could offer while still expecting to face me in some way. Acknowledging that I had to confront him by any means possible, I nodded heavily. Only then did Jihoon completely step back.

As we made our way back to Seoul, it began to rain. Perhaps because of our silence, or perhaps an effect of the moment, only the sound of raindrops amplified in the quiet inside the car. The wipers continuously moved across the front glass, and right before we entered the tollgate tunnel, I noticed the tail light flicker chaotically, clustered near what seemed to be an accident by the guard rail.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself dozing off with my head against the headrest. The sound of rain persisted, but my surroundings seemed darker than before. I looked through the window at Jihoon, who was driving. In between the sliding raindrops, his complex expression flickered in and out of view. A heavy blanket rested on my lap. I could hardly breathe as I realized how far back the passenger seat was reclined, almost misaligned with the driver’s seat for comfort. When did I fall asleep, and when had Jihoon done this? I briefly pondered and then forcefully closed my eyes, wishing to avoid seeing Jihoon’s face reflected in the car window. This desire to escape reality easily led me back to sleep.