I'm pretty downright, I have always been. Professors used to despise me for my remarkable candid responses. Since adolescence I have never changed. And that trait of mine has given me the liberty of supremacy. I have ever since felt like I can make things always follow the route I want. And that superiority made me think of my possessions. I believed I could possess anything I asked, demanded or wished for. 

Then, why was I afraid to look into his eyes?

I took notice of none but him. A flock of men and women girdled him, but they appeared all blurred to me. 

He met my eyes for a split second, and I knew at that moment…I became his. 

There was just something about his face, about his eyes that lured me to him. I wanted to know him more and more, until it is more than he does about himself, or I know about myself, or anyone about themselves.

It was because I could see myself drawn on his face. The same austerity, that same persistence, his impotence, pride, anguish, everything, everything spoke of me. He was me. 

I wanted to touch him, I wanted to feel him under my perfervid skin. I wanted something more I didn't know about. 

"Sleep…"

He murmured, I heard him perfectly fine but I wanted to hear him speak to me again. 

It was an excuse to hold him in my arms.

He didn't quite feel my presence around him. But, I took note of how his chest rose and fell. He shut his eyes close so much like a trance. And he left his lips in a small part, he breathed in from there. He kept his hand curled up behind his right ear, whereas his left palm put on his apron near the chest, his pinky raised upwards instinctively. 

Both his legs were stretched to the very end of the cot. 

He slept for forty five minutes. 

Yes!! Those littlest things were the ones I wanted to know. Every little thing involving him, I wanted to know. 

I…wanted him. 

Even before I touched him, I felt my lungs expand with briny air. I couldn't forbear anymore. My hands caressed him. His jawline was a perfect fit in my modest hands, almost like they were created for these hands and these hands alone. 

Then he woke up. I thought he would be taken by surprise, he didn't. 

I thought he would accuse me of harassment, invasion of privacy, making the most of my chance and whatnot. He didn't. 

Although I wanted all of what I aforementioned. He could do anything with me, I would welcome anything from him with open arms, anything. 

"Sleep," I stood up, my feet numb from all that squatting. 

As soon as I headed to leave, I felt a haul at my wrist. 

"Minhyuk."

I should be angry, indignant that he addressed me by my name, when he's my inferior. I should have taught him proper honorifics.

But, I was content. His own lips uttered my name. All the bitterness this name might have beheld, turned to divinity. 

I was afraid to meet his eyes, but I looked at him, his lips, his face as a whole. 

"Untie my apron, please."

Be it to untie an apron, at least you need me. I found another excuse to be closer to you. 

My breath hitched at our closeness when I drooped to take off your apron. I wanted to take off each layer of you like that, and I would wait a thousand years waiting for you to accept me. 

"Why did you listen to me?" 

The query I didn't want to come in contact with, he knew how to provoke me. 

I retreated myself, still worried to look into your eyes. I feared the power of your eyes. 

"You really want to know?" I asked, looking down. 

He nodded. 

I made him trail behind me. He didn't ask anything. 

When we were downstairs, I showed him his coworkers, fatigued and wanting to be in his shoes. 

"If you want, you can save all of them."

"What?" 

I rummaged through the closet and returned with a revolver in one hand and the most serrated blade in another. 

"Why are you giving me these?" He asked. 

"You can do whatever you want with those," I took some steps back and spread my arms, "I will surrender if you want me to. Then you can be the hero and take all your colleagues back to the bar as if nothing ever happened. Now is the time to make your choice."

He put the gun on my head, his index on the trigger. It was evident he knew how to operate a gun. 

I kneeled, a smile etched out of my face. My hands upwards. I'm ready to surrender to him, even if it costs my life. 

-•☆•-

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