intertwined

credit: @beatmyheart825

His name resembles the prayer I won't mind saying out loud. His presence smells like fresh-from-the-oven ginger bread and sweet apple pie every house serves to welcome the family member home from the run on Christmas.

And his smile, the smile that carries the beauty this whole universe has, a smile that is able to make me float around, no gravity is needed, but if there is, I wouldn't mind falling. Since it's him. It's his.

His lips parted, let my name out. The two syllables word I never thought would be this endearing. He slips out a smile in between, wishing to be captured and put inside the jar. 

Not today, boy. Not today.

"Yes?" I tilt my head and fix the gaze on him.

He insists the smile. Blame my silly mind, but I think I see the corner of his lips lifts a bit. 

"Going home already?" He strokes his hair messily, and I have this urge not to intertwine my fingers on top of his, helping him.

"Yeah, wait, no, I mean no," I shake my head and he sees me in confusion. I let out a giggle and he follows as well. "I need to do some shopping..."

"For Christmas?" he cuts off my sentence. This bastard. But soon when I realize his voice is raising excitedly and his eyes are sparkling like a little boy who is promised new toys by his parents, I’m lost.

"Yes. Why are you excited it's not like you're going to do that with me, aren't you?"

He shrugs. He pulls his arms as strengthening his bag straps. "What if I am? What if I say that I'm going to do Christmas shopping with you?"

"Seriously? Yoon Dowoon?” I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. I know him, my high school mate for years and technically coworker for God knows when. We work at the same building but different company. He is not that kind of shopping guy—I mean he prefers playing games at home instead of going out, especially at nights, specifically at holiday nights. This shopping stuff just isn't his thing. “Are you expecting me to buy you video games or something?"

"No," he chuckles. I remain silent. I know he’s not done yet talking. “But you know chocopie will always do.” Then he laughs after putting an unnecessary stress in the word always.

“See, I know it,” I use a fashion magazine I’m holding to hit him and he lets out the hiss regardless how soft the hit was. I walk pass him toward the door and he walks faster trying to catch up with my steps. Seconds later, he is walking beside me.

“I’m serious, though,” he puts his skullcaps hoodie on and turns his head to me. As a reaction to his act, I murmur a soft yes and I’m not sure whether he hears that or not. But I don’t care and keep walking straight until he’s a step ahead of me and turns his body around.

I gasp and stop immediately. He is standing right in front of me, facing me, blocking my way. My height is as equal as his chest. How many years have passed again? Since when has he become taller? I can smell the perfume he's been wearing since high school. The one with citrus and masculine scent. My kind of perfume. I clear my throat and as soon as I lift my head to confront him, I see him pouting his mouth and I find myself burst into laughter a moment later.

“Hey, what the hell was that?” I asked in the middle of the laugh, one hand on my stomach and the other one cover my mouth. He can’t help but also giggle.

“I’m serious,” he says, still laughing. “I volunteer myself to do a Christmas shopping with you and a chocopie will do.” He now shows his teasing smile. "I know you're always alone."

"Look who's talking," I almost hit him using a magazine I used earlier but he was faster, he crosses his arms covering his head to chest to prevent me from hitting him. Knowing my effort will never work, I stand on my toes trying to reach for his skullcaps covered head to lock my another target. I know he was way taller than me because at the time I'm trying to, I find it quite hard until I lose my balance and stumble onto his broad chest. 

The scent of his perfume is the first thing I inhale, let alone the oxygen. 

Screw you, self.

Dowoon is also in shock, I can tell, but his response is always in time. He immediately grabs my arms preventing me—preventing us—from falling. We keep silent for a solid 5 seconds and during the silence, I can hear thumping heartbeats. Is it mine? Or is it his? I can never tell but feel it getting faster and faster. It sounds like the beat of drums of his favorite song to jam during his day-off to release stress after work, and I can't tell which chest is holding a concert right now.

"Knock-knock, are you still there?" Dowoon pops up the silence bubble that's covering us by patting my left shoulder. I get startled and soon enough realize that I have to get my head off his chest. Too soon. 

"I'm sorry," I mutter softly. The cold December wind breezes and I have a reason to tell myself why my cheeks are getting red. Not because of that.

He gives out a soft smile. He steps a bit closer to pats my head and fondles it softly, and I'm all ready to get down on my knees, starting to feel like melting snow at the end of the season. 

"That's alright," had I never been so sure, but his palm feels surprisingly warm on top of my head. It radiates his heat beneath me. "But you should have realized that I'm taller than you, though. How could you do that?" 

I roll my eyes. This bastard. 

An effortless hit lands on his arm. Effortlessly, yet he keeps making the hiss. "Alright alright, I'm sorry. Geez, stop hitting me, will you?"

I shake my head in disbelief but also with a small laugh as a neutralizer. We both know we can't stay mad at each other no matter what. Later on, Dowoon suddenly gets on his knees and keeps his head down while getting the skullcaps off his head. 

"Now feel free to hit my head because it's reachable now."

I blink once. Then twice.

He lifts his head up upon me. A silly smile slides from his lips, mouthing a come on. Bumping a fist on his head, he's now impersonating what a hit on the head should be like.

I blink. Thrice.

The question is, am I really going to hit his head? After all this time? He's annoying, yes, but am I really going to do that? 

Not today, boy, not today.

So instead, I incline my body an inch closer and intertwine my fingers on top of his head, fondling that messy hair. 

We're even now. 

"Come on, get up." I get my hand off top of his head and hand it to him. He looks at me with those sparkling eyes for a while. I lock my gaze on him and I can see ocean in his eyes. Deep. Serene. Endearing. The kind of ocean I wouldn't mind drowning because I know it never betrays. It's an ocean full of caress. It's an ocean made of him. 

He then reaches my hand and pulls himself to get on his feet again. "Let's have dinner first, then have chocopie as the dessert, and do your shopping stuff later. Shall we?" 

//

And in case you're wondering, no, he doesn't let go of my hand during the walk.

//