night study date with Park Woojin.

Filipino, Japanese, Korean

“A quarter pound, large fries, two large cups of Sarse, and a bucket of five pieces of chicken.” You ordered at the counter to which the cashier gave you a look. Gently placing the cash on the counter, you carried the tray to your table; a young male engrossed in the music of his headset sat at the other side.  He was Park Woojin, a classmate of yours but most people prefer to call him your lover.

You settled the tray in front of him, and immediately he tried to reach out for a piece of chicken when you grabbed the chicken part that he was aiming for and bit into the skin. You said, “Woojin, I don’t have all day for you to just eat.”

“We came here to study and eat like you said,” Woojin pointed out. Thus, you replied, “Study and eat, not just eat.”

Woojin stared at you a little longer before shaking his head and grabbing your notes from the edge of the table. When you sat across him, he instantly kicked your leg causing you to throw a piece of french fry at him. The male only let out a chuckle at your reaction. You proceeded to lecture him on the history of the French; however, he paid more attention to your hoarse voice; it was firm yet soft at once and managed to steal his focus instead of the content of what you were trying to explain.

You kicked him on the kneecap to redirect his attention to your eyes. He glared at you before uttering, “I have a genital right down there and it will hurt like hell when you hit it.”

“Want me to?” You questioned with a sly smirk to which replied, “No. I want to feel pleasure not pain.”

You chuckled softly at his sudden outburst. Maybe lovers wasn’t such a foreign term for you, but you didn’t quite see the fitting chemistry between you. You thought silently, it was mostly sexual tension or random flirting hours.

Thereafter, you crossed your ankle over his legs and caught him tense at your closeness. He didn’t dislike it, but he didn’t want to look pathetic in front of you so he didn’t say much about it or tried to. You joked, “Do you have a fetish for ankles or something, Woojin? It’s all right to tell me the truth.”

“You do have beautiful ankles, not going to lie.” He admitted, slowly trailing his finger over the bone making you gape at him. You weren’t oblivious, because you had an idea of what your relationship with him was. You knew he hated giving to his own desires and losing to you, but that’s what he wanted to be exact.

Woojin admired the smoothness of your skin, it had a few bumps and bruises but it was still part of you.

You confirmed with a grin, “So you do have a fetish for ankles.”

Woojin uttered, “I have a fetish for you and that’s the truth.”

You snorted at his remark as you tugged on the wrapper of the quarter pound. Woojin watched you in amusement until your foot started moving to the beat of the store. But what really caught his full attention was the charm bracelet around your ankle. It was the one he gave you when he tried to ask you out for lunch, but he never saw you wear it until now. Somehow, it seemed to ease him, since you wore it for his eyes to admire.

“It looks good on you,” he said, “it was really made for you.”

“You measured my ankle for that charm; I was in the infirmary sleeping that time when you sneaked in with a measuring tape in hand.” You described to him. Woojin ignored you and repeated, “It really looks good on you. Your ankle even compliments the meringue charm.”