85 — Sketches

"I really wanted you to come inside, though." Mia said, out of the blue. She scooped up some of the semen that had pooled on her stomach with her fingers, and then, very deliberately, spread her fingers apart, observing the sticky, translucent strings coming undone. "Just once. To see what it really feels like..."

"Be glad I was thinking with my brain and not my dick, Noona." I was already halfway dressed. The shirt, the coat. My jeans were back on. "I don't think it would have been a good idea."

She pouted, looking like a kitten that had been denied its favorite treat. "You're no fun."

"I'm plenty of fun. I just also happen to be responsible."

"Responsible." She scoffed, but there was no real heat in it. She sat up, the cum on her chest dripping down her stomach in thick, pearly rivulets. "What a boring word."

"Boring words keep you out of boring trouble."

Mia hummed, watching me for a moment. "Stay..." I turned towards her. She looked away, rubbing her arm. "For a bitty."

I stopped. Just for a moment. The temptation was a physical force, a pull in my chest. "I can't..."

"Right." Her shoulders slumped, just a little. "The golden boy has to get back to his gilded cage."

"Mia Noona..."

"It's fine." She forced a bright smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I get it. Big dreams, big responsibilities. You've got a world to win, and I've got to... well, I've got to figure out what to do with all this." She gestured at the mess on her chest, her voice light, but her eyes were heavy.

"......"

Whenever a woman says she's 'fine', she's usually not. I'd have to be a complete idiot to not understand what she was trying to convey.

"I mean, it's totally fine, you're the country's prodigy, while this Noona is just the pervy sister who wants a bit more of her brother's attention, it's fine."

A sigh escaped my lips as I walked back towards the bed. "I'll stay until you fall asleep, then I'll leave."

Mia's expression immediately softened. "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

A beaming, genuine smile finally graced her lips, her eyes lit up. "Okay." She whispered, then hopped up on her feet. "Wait here for me, I'll go take a quick shower." She wagged a reprimanding finger at me, eyes slightly narrowed above a genuine smile. "Don't move, got it? Don't even think about leaving."

I just shook my head.

Mia giggled. She got dressed as fast as possible, giving me something akin to a personal fashion show, which was more than a little distracting.

She grabbed a set of clean clothes, and with one last, longing look at me, she walked out of the room, leaving me completely alone, and quite messy myself. Though I had long decided that my own shower would have to be taken back at the camp, as staying any longer than necessary was pushing my luck.

I walked over to the gifts Mia had knocked out of my hands when she jumped me. I picked them up. I walked over to her desk and placed both boxes. I grabbed the one that was for her and decided to leave it there. I didn't know how long Mia would take, and lingering in the crime scene made me more self-conscious than the act itself.

I stared at the soaked sheets, rumpled and disheveled from how tight Mia had clung to them. It still felt like a fever dream of sorts, getting it on with my sister. The accusing word usually didn't register in my mind when we fucked. It was almost as if my brain refused to acknowledge that word, instead focusing on the more physical and emotional aspects of our... relationship.

Now I even had to deal with the fact that Mia wanted me to come inside her.

I took a deep, steadying breath.

I never thought we'd get this far. Maybe I was a fool. Maybe I just liked to think of myself as a man in control, a man who could separate his base desires from his long-term goals.

But that was a lie.

I was just as weak as any other man. Maybe even weaker, because I knew the risks, I understood the consequences, and I still dove headfirst into this abyss. All for a few moments of pleasure. For the feeling of her skin against mine, for the sound of my name on her lips, for the way she looked at me as if I was the only man in the world.

It was a powerful drug. Damn if it was.

I walked around her room, to take my mind off of it. Her room was certainly a reflection of her personality. Bold, a little chaotic, and unapologetically feminine.

Her desk was a clutter of makeup palettes, skincare products, and fashion magazines. Her closet was slightly ajar, revealing a riot of color and fabric.

It was a space that was so quintessentially Mia.

I found myself smiling.

Then my eyes fell upon a particular notebook that was lying face down on her desk. It was familiar. I had seen it before. As I approached, I remembered Mia oftentimes drawing a few things in her spare time.

A strange pull, a proprietary sort of curiosity, compelled me to pick it up.

The first few pages were filled with quick sketches of outfits, abstract patterns, and architectural details she found interesting. They were good. Really good. She had a good eye for detail.

More importantly, I didn't know she was this good at drawing. Like, actually professionally good.

Then again, I wasn't any expert to judge this type of stuff, but to a completely normal person's eye, she was clearly at a level that went beyond it being a mere hobby.

Then I flipped a page, and my breath hitched.

It was a sketch of a man.

A man who looked suspiciously like me.

It was just a bust, a quick study in charcoal. But the artist had captured the sharp line of my jaw, the stubborn set of my mouth, and most tellingly, the intense, focused gaze in my eyes. It was me. There was no doubt about it. I just knew it.

I turned the page.

Another drawing. This time, it was a full-body sketch. Me, in my football kit, mid-stride, the ball at my feet. Mia had captured the lean muscle of my legs, the tension in my shoulders, the fluid grace of my movement.

It was a stunning piece of work. I was impressed.

She dissected and rebuilt me, stroke by stroke.

I kept flipping. A pattern emerged.

Page after page, it was all me. Me, laughing. Me, looking serious. Me, clothed. Me, naked. Me, in the rain. Me, in the sun. Me, me, me.

The final pages were worse.

Here the lines turned savage—charcoal gouged into paper as if she'd tried to carve me out of it. Naked. Sprawled. Aroused.

The pictures were very well done, but still quite eerie. The lines were dark and jagged.

'I love you!'

'I LOVE YOU'

'I LOVE YOU!!!'

The words were scrawled across the bottom of a sketch of my sleeping face. The letters were big, messy, and desperate. A stark contrast to the delicate, precise lines of the drawing itself.

"......"

I snapped the sketchbook shut. Okay. My bad for peeking. This was likely a side of Mia I wasn't supposed to see.

I placed the notebook back where I found it.

The bedroom door softly clicked open. Mia emerged from the hallway. Her hair was wrapped in a fluffy white towel, and she was wearing a pair of tight, navy blue dolphin shorts. They snapped around the swell of her hips and ass, and they were very, very short. She also had on a small white tank top. The thin fabric was clinging to her damp skin, the dark shadows of her areolas faintly visible.

Her face was clean, her skin flushed from the heat of the shower. She looked... soft. Domestic. The predatory vixen from earlier was gone, replaced by this... woman.

"All clean." She announced, with a cheerful little hum, slowly unraveling the towel from her hair, letting her damp, butter-yellow locks fall over her shoulders. "You're still here, huh?"

"I'm still here." I chuckled, eyeing her up and down before locking back on her eyes. "I kind of feared for my life for a second there, but I survived."

She tossed the damp towel onto a chair and sauntered towards me. "You survived because you're a good boy who listens to his Noona." She stopped in front of me, her hands on her hips. "Now, are you going to tuck me in or what?"

I sighed dramatically, but a smile was playing on my lips. "I guess I could do that."

Mia beamed. She climbed into bed, slipping under the covers. She patted the empty space beside her. "Come on."

"Just for a little while, Noona." I said, switching off the lights.

And then I sat next to her.

"Hmhm."

Mia nodded, shuffling around with the pillow until she found a more comfortable position, her knees curled up.

And she stared at me.

Blinking slowly.

Breathing softly.

And staring at me.

I could've sworn that her eyes kind of glowed in the darkness of the room. That her pupils were like a black hole. Can eyes be beautiful and terrifying at the same time? Maybe. Hers were. I loved it all the same.

"What?" I asked softly.

"Nothing." She murmured back. "Just... looking."

"I'm right here, you know."

"I know." She reached out and her fingers brushed against my cheek. Her touch was feather-light. "I'm trying to memorize you. So I can keep you with me, even when you're gone."

Her words, so simple, so direct, hit me with the force of a physical blow. My heart hammered against my ribs. A warmth spread through my chest, a feeling so intense it was almost painful.

Fuck.

"Don't say things like that." My voice was a low rasp.

"Why not?" Her thumb stroked my jawline. "It's the truth. I'm scared, Jae-il. I'm scared that this is all a dream. That I'll wake up and you'll be gone. That you'll realize this is all a mistake and you'll leave me for good."

I exhaled. "Why would you think that, Noona?" I tilted my head, holding the hand that was holding me. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that now." Her voice was barely a whisper. "But you're going to be a star, Jae-il. A real one. You'll have the world at your feet. You'll have women throwing themselves at you. Beautiful, famous, women who aren't... your sister."

"You're selling yourself short." I laced our fingers together. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Mia Noona."

Her breath hitched. Then she chuckled. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious." I insisted. "I'm not just saying that. I mean it." And I did. In my two lives, I had seen my fair share of beautiful women, and none of them held a candle to her.

Maybe there was some unseen, cosmic force at play here that influenced, kneaded my thoughts in that direction, because beauty alone shouldn't have been enough to justify my current actions, but whatever.

"What if you fall in love with someone else, Jae-il?" Mia whispered, not breaking eye contact, but certainly the question broke something within me. "What will happen to us then?"

I didn't have an answer for that. Because the honest answer was that it was a possibility. A very real one. I was fifteen. She was in her twenties.

Our lives were on completely different trajectories. Two stars that briefly crossed paths. The world was my oyster, while hers was... here. In this city. In this house. With this family. Not that she couldn't be more—but she was an adult, with a more grounded reality. She'd likely never have to deal with the same attention I would.

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about a future without her.

I couldn't promise her forever.

I couldn't promise her anything beyond the next few weeks, months, maybe a year if all the lies held up.

Damn, though, if part of me didn't want to promise her everything.

"Then I'll..." I started, but I didn't know how to finish.

"You'll...?" She prompted.

"I'll try not to." I settled with that. It was a weak answer, but it was the only one I had.

Mia's gaze softened. A small, sad smile touched her lips. "That's good enough for now."

She let out a soft sigh, then tightened her grip on my hand, pulling me down. "Then stay with me, until you have to go. Just lay with me, Jae-il. For a little while."

I didn't resist. I lay down beside her, my body fitting against hers like it was made to be there. She was warm, soft. Her soapy, clean skin filled my senses. Her still wet hair damp against my cheek.

We lay in silence. The only sound was our breathing, and the rain.