We have been in a relationship for more than two years now. It was not at all a love at first sight hegemony, but rather I stumbled upon a stranger's sight. Just like the romantic heart has always fancied the beautiful roses, I fancied the intriguing personalities, or maybe I just fell for almost every enchanting person out there. As usual as that, I found him one day in July. At the first stages, I liked him as a stranger, a few months later he became my bench mate, later that year we used to go to the library together. Next year we thought 'why not try to be lovebirds' but failed horribly at that. Him being freaky geek and I being nerd- both shared first rank in most of the semesters. It kinda clicked- we are mostly like-minded- he is a feminist, a poet, and me a short story writer and obviously a feminist as well. It had it perks, as we later created our house heavily inspired by Virginia's Room of one's own. Sometimes I crossedressed like Viola and he, by love, became my Olivia. We became the Macbeth couple while conspiring about sneaking the tteokbokki his mom made or while taking the extra kimchi from the container. Never guessed how two years had run by just under our nose.

I opened my eyes, his over oversized pale blue shirt that he especially used for interviews, draped from my petit rather lean body. The white bedsheets smelled our daily detergent, the dusky sunlight seeped into my skin. My neck-length hair has always been messy; they brushed his nape as he hugged me tighter to smell the shampoo from my hair- though he does it every day, he never gets bored. A giggle rumbled in my chest, hollering over his huge body I kissed his nose. 'You are just so damn poetic' of course we replaced the word beauty with poetic... being a literature student seemed not too bad as of now when in the old college days I adopted dark eye bags effortlessly. Lilac hickey which I gave him yesterday right below adam's apple, teased like a tease, as I kissed the bob again. His natural curly black hair overshadowed his dark arched eyebrows, the bedroom eyes were glistening with stars, those thin pale pink slightly cracked lips formed my most favorite smile. He had a lighter complexion than mine; I could see how the earlobes instantly turned pink, reciprocating the pink curtains we brought from an online store a week ago. Our toes curled, pinching the cold bedsheet underneath our warm bodies when our lips sang a very personal love song with the lyrics of kiss. The distant neighborhood teenage kid played Bossanova on her player, but it was too distant and unlikely for us to listen to it despite Bossanova being one of our favorites. The smooches sounded prominent, even the wind chime couldn't fight us with their occasional rings by the spring wind. Down the road, few students were returning from school with their cheering and mutterings-some might be gossiping about the new boy by the window or some eating the flavor of potato chips, or some might be dreading to show their report card to her mother who worked hard to meet the two ends. While I slumped my back on the bed, he smiled for quite a time while looking straight into my eyes; we both have bad eyesight yet none of us blurred out from our visions. He traced my temple, my rather oily nose tip, my slightly cracked lips, my chin with one or two red pimples. Those large hands of his then sneaked in the unbuttoned huge shirt and made a way to my left breast. At his known touch heartbeats became louder enticing him to hear those heartbeats. Sincerely he came closer kissed my collarbones and leaned into my hug melting away with the rhythmic heartbeats. His curly rough hair tickled my nose, but I didn't bother. 'What are we having for dinner?' I broke the silence, pretending not to notice the grumbles from our stomachs. 'We can have carbonara, I remember there's still one packet of spaghetti left in the closet' said he pressing his lips on my little chubby belly, deep velvety voice echoed through my whole body. 'Okay, I will do the dishes and you cook. Cause as usual I would be horrible at it. But when are we gonna make it?' I asked, fondling his hair. Suddenly he jumped out of the bed, 'NOW', and grabbed my two knees only to skid all through the bed. I gave in to our little playdate; when my back touched the edge of the bed, he cautiously hold me in his hug, I wiggled not quite in a mood to cuddle again and have vertigo by sitting on his shoulder with an empty stomach. "Making love doesn't make your stomach full"- quoted another rumble on his hungry stomach as I went to the kitchen to clean my face. 'Hey, love, we have run out of muri, haven't we?' I answered with a hum while checking the expiry date of the sauce, and heard him sigh. 'I have always love eating muri, obviously thanks to your mom who kindly send them everytime we visit and in between, still I can't get over masola muri.' I could hear the nostalgic drool in his voice, ' that is not masola muri love that is either masla muri or masala muri... now don't try me in pronunciations.' I drank some water and gave him some while he scurried his way to the stove. I danced while bringing the eggs from the fridge, he smiled and kissed my forehead and after handling the eggs I kissed him tiptoeing on the right cheek. Never knew when the Bossanova changed into Yerin Baek but this time I heard the lyrics somehow clearly and she sang-

"You're the poet in my heart

The changes in my mind, pounding in my heart

You're everything in my head

You're the dreams I've always wished

A chance to be better

Flowers in my path, my love..."