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Inertia Noun 1. a tendency to do nothing or to remain unchanged unless acted on by an external force
But what I know and what I do are often two completely separate things.
Simkung. It’s Korean for that throb you get in your chest with some people.
“To me,” he says quietly, “it feels like I’m the most obvious person in the world. I leave you Post-its because I selfishly want you to think about me.”
“You’re surrounded by so much. People are drawn to you because you have so much life. I don’t have that. Things are . . . empty. I’m empty. And I don’t want you to see that.”
“You look even sexier when I’m on my knees.”
Kepler Quinn is holding my hand.
“Are you sure?” he asks, so much concern lacing through his eyes that I can feel it heating my skin. “Yes.” “Then we tell him.” He nods once, resolve streaming off him. This is what it’s like to have someone support you.
“Because I like your words,” he says simply. Like it’s obvious. Like he’s not completely blowing my mind. Like it’s normal to read two dozen college essays just because you like someone’s words.
His gaze moves to the barbell through my nipple, his teeth scraping over his bottom lip. “I’m going to suck on that.” Holy shit, yes. “Promise?” I ask gruffly. “Absolutely.” I run a hand up over my pecs, the metal scraping lightly against my palm. “You don’t mind the tatts?” He laughs. “No, Jin. I’m going to suck on those too.”
“Because you once told me what the hangul meant.” I pause, trying to read everything I can on his face. “Treasure,” I say. “It means something like treasure.” He squeezes me tighter. “Exactly.”
“You don’t know how many firsts you’ve given me.” “Name one,” I challenge him. He picks up his toast, bites the corner, chews slowly, then swallows. “Love.”
Hope is like this tiny flower bud in my palm. I don’t know if I’m ready to let it bloom yet. It’s been smashed and obliterated so many times.
“You fill up so much of me. And no matter what happens, no matter what the consequence, I’d make all the same choices again.”