If You Could See the Sun

by Ann Liang

I hate him. I hate him and his flawless, porcelain skin and immaculate uniform and his composure, as untouchable and unfailing as his ever-growing list of achievements. I hate the way people look at him and see him, even if he’s completely silent, head down and working at his desk.

Sometimes the universe offers us the things we think we want, but which turn out to be a curse,”

“Well?” Henry leans forward. His dark eyes are alight, his chin angled up a few degrees, the sure, sharp lines of his body tense with something like anticipation. I realize he’s waiting for me to give my opinion—no, for me to compliment him, like some kid proudly holding up his artwork for a class show-and-tell. My lips twitch. “I didn’t know you had such a praise kink.”

“You know,” I muse out loud, “if it weren’t for the fact that we hated each other’s guts, we’d probably make an impressive power duo.” I expect Henry to raise his eyebrows at me as usual or make a cutting remark, but his footsteps suddenly slow beside me. “Wait. We hate each other?”

Yes, is the obvious answer. I do hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate you so much that whenever I’m around you, I can barely think straight. I can barely even breathe.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” For some reason, he sounds weirdly excited.

We could kiss like this.

God, his accent. His voice. Him.

Henry, whose head is resting against my shoulder, the soft curls of his hair brushing my cheek, his features smooth and unguarded in sleep. And everything about this moment is so lovely and so fragile in its loveliness that I’m almost afraid to hold it.

“Well, what else are we supposed to do?” I snap. “Netflix and chill?” His brows rise higher. And suddenly my face is burning too. Hastily, I add, “I meant in the literal sense, of course.” “Of course.”

Some emotion I can’t name passes over his face. He reaches out, his fingers forming a warm circle around my wrist, and I stop walking. Stop everything. “Then tell me,” he says, very quietly. “What exactly do you feel toward me now?”

Dimly, I think: He really is good at this whole distraction thing.

“For one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met, you can really be quite oblivious sometimes.”

“Is this the part where you kiss me?” He leans closer, and even in the dim hotel lights, I can make out the silent laughter in his eyes. “That was not my intention.” A pause, teasing. “Why? Did you want me to?”

“Are you...dating my daughter?” Oh. God. I definitely should’ve made Henry hide under the bed. “No, no, of course not,” I hurry to tell Baba, the same time Henry says, “Yes.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped hiring people to kidnap your classmates...” Chanel mutters.

“I bet the members of BTS could just call each other to help out with that kind of stuff.”

I push Henry against the closest one, bracketing his body with my own.

Omg

Then, before I can lose my nerve, I seize Henry Li’s collar and kiss him.

“This—this was meant to be a very serious, touching moment, and you were meant to fall desperately in love with me on the spot and discover how good I am—”

“Be the nation’s greatest power couple?” he offers. “I was going to say conquer the world,” I admit. “But sure. I guess we can start small.”