120 — My Insanity’s an Artist II
Su Ah's POV:
"Th—That won't..."
Su Ah's reply tapered off into silence.
"What I'm suggesting, and listen to me here, this is a loose possibility." Jae-il then brought his eyes level with hers. "... is that, and let's assume I agree to the first demand, what would stop us from going further, the more you end up getting entrenched into sexual content."
It was difficult to explain, the pure elation and the terror in which Su Ah's brain became the following moment after Jae-il uttered those words, but she could hardly keep her excitement within the confinements of her mind.
If her imagination had wings, then they were flapping right now, bringing up fantasies of all kinds.
He wasn't judging her.
Those weren't the eyes of someone who was disgusted, ashamed. Or enraged, because she'd stepped way past their unwritten line. They didn't seem annoyed either. There was a silent acceptance, as if he were truly a well of patience and, though not being a willing party at the very least, didn't consider the suggestion to be outlandish, insane, or impossible.
Which... was crazy, even to Su Ah.
Because as much as she knew Jae-il loved her—quietly, fiercely, the way he loved all his sisters—love had never looked like this before. She knew her request was nothing short of scandalous and crazy. No one would approve, that was a given, and yet Jae-il, instead of pointing fingers, of shutting it down with a frown and a string of curses, silently listened.
He merely wanted to know where she'd draw the line, how far she'd be willing to go, and if they should be going forward with the idea at all. It made her breath hitch a little. He didn't get mad or take offence. He took his time, weighed the options, didn't push back right away, and still hadn't even refused her outright.
"Noona?"
"Ah..." Su Ah snapped back, belatedly realizing she had been dumbly spacing out. "Actually, we wouldn't go that far. I know it's not right, Jae-il." Her fingers trembled as she twirled a strand of hair, shifting her gaze around his face and eyes, trying to read his poker-face for even the faintest sign of apprehension, but Jae-il was unreadable.
"Yet." He trailed off.
Her heartbeat stammered.
The tips of his lips slanted to the right. "I mean..." He huffed, and for a moment she heard a sound that vaguely resembled a chuckle. Her eyes widened. "If I think about the alternatives, for example, you making this request to a complete stranger..."
He let the sentence hang, unfinished, but the picture formed anyway: Su Ah in some dim university bathroom stall, or a cheap motel room, or the back seat of a senior's car, asking someone who didn't know her favourite band, or colour, or the way she ordered her coffee, to stick his tongue in her mouth, or put her hand down his jeans.
Just for some inspiration.
Just to get a clear visual.
Like a sad science experiment.
Someone who wouldn't care if she bruised. Someone who wasn't careful or kind. Someone who couldn't be trusted to listen to the word 'no'.
Jae-il's gaze dropped to the table, to the faint ring of condensation left by his glass.
"I'd rather it be me." He said, so quietly she almost missed it. "At least I know what I'm taking away. What I can risk. Where we draw the line. No matter how crazy you're acting..."
He finished with the tiniest hint of a wry, rueful smirk, as if admitting defeat.
The sensation that surged up in her was closer to hysteria, something dangerous that twisted together delight, terror, shame, and desire, into a nauseating rush. Su Ah let it sweep her up, fill her up completely. The mingling smoke and sweat smells of the bar, the clatter of ice and beer glasses.
There was a dark, sickly sweet degree of manipulation involved here, Su Ah's knowledge of what buttons she had to press and the way she was supposed to use them.
But in her mind's eye, all she could see was him.
Su Ah clicked her tongue, arms crossed, one leg over the other. She idly looked away. "I wouldn't do that with just anyone. I can be stupid, not insane." She corrected, sticking her nose up. "But you..." She hesitated, tracing the rim of the glass with her index.
Her pause was a beat too long.
But you...
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
Opened it again.
Closed it.
"I'm safe?"
He tilted his head, snorting.
"Yes."
No.
The word sat heavy in her throat, like a lump that refused to go down.
Because he wasn't safe. Not really.
Safe would have been him shutting this down. Safe would have been disgust, anger, a slammed fist on the table and a 'what the hell is wrong with you?'
Safe would have kept the world in its proper shape.
"You are." She lied.
But Jae-il still smiled, even if the edges of his eyes didn't quite crinkle with the motion. And there, beneath the quiet nod and murmured affirmative, was the same knowledge.
That he might not have been safe, or smart, or the best option, but there was no better. Not without hurting her, one way or another. He offered something close to what her desire had called for: trust, comfort, privacy. At least, that's what he might've been thinking. But Su Ah knew the truth. She wasn't asking this for inspiration. That was just an excuse to get her foot through the door.
"So… Jae-il…"
He quietly stared at her.
"......"
Her foot bounced up and down, restlessly. She wanted to drink something, to wet the following words, to make them slide out easier, but the glass was empty.
"Can we do that again?"
"......"
"Kiss?"
"Here?" His voice dropped even lower, rougher. "Now?"
She shook her head, quick, almost frantic. "No. Not here. Home. Or… somewhere quiet." Her eyes flicked to his mouth and away—that strange little stutter, the catch of her breath. The jittery, disbelieving exhale that rushed out of her lips.
This wasn't a dream. A figment of her nightly delusions, where Jae-il was vastly agreeable and the initiator of many encounters. This was… real. And she found her hands shaking a little. She smoothed them over the table, hoping the outlet would help calm her down.
She hadn't been this anxious back when they first kissed, but that was purely scientific and academic research. She hadn't done that with any ulterior motives.
Now?
What about now?
Her chest felt heavy, and something in the back of her mind buzzed.
You're filthy, Su Ah. You're going to destroy his world and everything he's building up.
That's not true. It was just a kiss…
But you won't stop with just a kiss, will you?
The voice came from somewhere behind her left ear, velvet-soft, amused, intimate.
Like a tongue tracing the shell of it. Su Ah shivered. Might've been the slithering voice, or Jae-il's eyes on her.
The voice rang from one ear to the other, as if it were playfully dancing around her.
It will. She wasn't asking him to fuck her.
But you want it~
She shifted, thighs rubbing and sweat trickling down her neck.
Look at you. Already wet from the thought of his mouth. Already cataloguing the exact pressure of his thumb on your neck, the way he'd swallow that pathetic little noise you make. You know what will happen, darling. You know the poison you're making him drink. You want him to fuck the last clean part of himself into you, over and over, until there's nothing left of either of you that anyone could recognise.
A kiss? Just a kiss? That's not what you're aiming for. You're more hideous than that, darling.
Su Ah's fingers curled against the tabletop, nails digging half-moons into her palms.
Purple eyes stared at her.
She felt sick.
He'll hate you for it later. Not tonight. Tonight he might hesitate, might kiss you gently, because he still thinks he's saving you from strangers. But one day he'll wake up next to you—your mouth swollen, his sheets smelling like the both of you—and he'll realise what you stole. The brother he is will die, Su Ah. You're the knife. You're the grave.
Her throat worked. No sound came out.
His eyes were still on her. The sweaty pallor of her face. The slight trembling of her bottom lip. He could see it all.
And the worst part? You knew the second he said "I'd rather it be me." You felt it click, didn't you? That little trap snapping shut. He handed you the excuse on a silver platter: I'm protecting her. That's how good boys justify the first slide into hell. They call it love. They call it mercy. They never call it what it is.
"Okay..."
Jae-il nodded, briefly looking lost, then found, all the while managing the perfect mix of reluctance, doubt and acceptance. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
She felt, deep under her own pulse, the reverberating tick-tick-tick. He stood up, adjusting his black windbreaker jacket and taking a hold of his cap, about to place it over his head.
He pulled out his wallet, dropped a few bills on the table without counting them.
Su Ah rose too, legs unsteady, the demon's laughter still ringing.
Your insanity's truly an artist.