Jihoon let out a surprised laugh at that. And they fell into a fit of mirth together, holding each other up as it quieted into hiccupping chuckles.
“It’s your fault, you know,” Jihoon pointed out. “Why in the world would you come up to Namsan, the capital of romance, alone?”
She shrugged, and her eyes fell to his hand still on her arm. He dropped it quickly and a tension rose between them.
“I guess it’s always been on my bucket list, and I figured it was a good time to start working on that.” She looked out at the city.
Jihoon frowned at the idea of an immortal gumiho having a bucket list.
“Listen, I accept your apology,” Miyoung said, her back still to him. “You can go home with a clean conscience now.”
Jihoon didn’t know how to reply to that. He’d come here to apologize and she’d let him. That was all he’d wanted. Except the guilt that had sat on his chest all day had congealed into something heavy in his stomach. Like he’d done something wrong again.
Still, he could think of no reason to stay, so he started to make his way through the crowd toward the cable cars. Out of habit he pulled his phone out, unlocking it as he walked. The photo of him and Miyoung filled the screen. He stopped and a young couple accidentally bumped into him. He mumbled an apology, his eyes never leaving the photo.
In it, Miyoung looked at him. Her eyes soft, her right hand gripping the front of his jacket. He hadn’t even felt it at the time.
The look on his own face felt foreign. He couldn’t quite peg the expression at first. Then he realized it was contentment. In that moment, caught up in her arms, caught up in his memories, he’d been happy.
Jihoon wasn’t sure what to make of the realization. He knew in his gut that he should still be angry at her. Miyoung kept secrets. He couldn’t fully trust her. But he was finding it harder and harder to stay mad.
She’d been honest with him about who she was, what she was. She’d told him she ran when things got hard. But she’d come back this time to help with Halmeoni. That should count for something, shouldn’t it? And after all he’d been through, didn’t he deserve to be happy?
Jihoon wove back through the crowd. People packed together as they milled the space. Couples holding hands, children running with shouts of laughter. The March air was crisp with early spring, and it felt like the whole city was on Namsan, taking advantage of it.
It took too long to reach Miyoung, when all Jihoon wanted was to be next to her.
When he reached her, he pulled on her shoulder so she faced him.
“Jihoon-ah?” His name was a question that died quickly, eaten by the mountain wind, when she saw his face.
“I’m done.” Jihoon let his fingers run through the hair at her temple, soft as down.
“Okay,” Miyoung said as he lifted his other hand to cup her face. “Done with what?”
“All of it.” And Jihoon let go of the anger, the tension, the fear. He breathed it out in a sigh of relief.
“Okay,” she said again. Whispered it, so only he heard.
He leaned in.
She stood still.
He sighed out her name.
She sucked in air.
Jihoon’s heart pushed against his ribs, like it needed to be closer to her and didn’t care if the rest of him came with it or not. He let his hands slide down her cheeks, ran his fingers over her smooth skin. Her breath shuddered out.
It made him giddy, her show of weakness at his mere touch. It made him feel powerful, a boy who could make a gumiho shiver.
Their lips were a centimeter apart, and Miyoung’s eyes filled his vision, dark pools that captured his reflection. He felt like he could get trapped in there and didn’t care. He’d welcome the cage.
There was a pull in him, urging him forward. He lowered his head slowly, sliding his hand over her nape.
Then he laid his lips against hers, softer than the brush of wind across skin.
She linked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
And the kiss he’d meant to be gentle became heated in an instant. He swallowed her gasp. His hands tangled in her hair. Her teeth scraped against his bottom lip as she pulled it into her mouth. And now he was the one gasping.