Even with dinner being rescheduled and a couple of days where I had ample opportunity to make a decision, I still found myself staring in the mirror debating the third outfit I tried on. My cheeks were pink from the heat of constantly taking off and putting on items, switching between feeling under and overdressed.

Faye would have scolded me if I didn't put as much thought into my shoe selection as I'd done every other piece of clothing, regardless of the small moment that Seokjin would see them on before being discarded by the door.

He met me by the entryway into the house after hearing the rolling of the garage door, clad in dark jeans and a lightweight cable-knit sweater. I'd just closed the trunk when he swooped in to take the clear container of soup tucked in the crook of my arm and duffel bag hanging on my shoulder all while leaning down to greet me with a kiss.

"Stay right here." He moved to the living room, placing my bag on a wide single chair before returning to the kitchen and setting the soup on a shelf while acknowledging, "I'm overdoing it as always."

It didn't surprise me that he seemed a little nervous. His extreme disappointment while he was sick was evidence enough that tonight felt important to him.

"Okay, now let me look at you." He took over removing my coat, hanging it on a small rack next to the door before standing in front of me again with his hands reaching out for mine. He was taking his time, making small observations as his eyes trailed down my full body. "You cut your hair." His finger reached up to twirl around a lock, tugging at the slight curl.

"Just a few inches yesterday when I was at the salon." I replied with a nod.

With one hand still in mine he pulled me to him again, his lips against my cheek. "Look at you." He breathed as if there wasn't a descriptor to fit his compliments.

He led us to the stairs, my eyebrows raising at the empty kitchen and smell of food that grew stronger with every ascending step. Even more than downstairs, this part of the house seemed untouched, doors closed and walls bare.

"I forget you haven't been around the house yet." He noted when I slowed, my head turning back and forth to take in every inch of the space. I suddenly wanted to see everything, behind every door and into every drawer. I imagined they were mostly empty, but wondered which parts of the house held pieces of him. "Let me check on the sides and I'll show you around." He added to reclaim my attention, pulling us farther toward the back of the house.

The side dishes went ignored by me as we entered a small opening that was a half kitchen, double doors propped so my eyes were instantly drawn to the view from the balcony. The floor warmed against my bare feet, Seokjin hunched over the countertop while my nose nearly pressed to the glass that led outside. I took in the sunset, fading into the lake so that burnt orange and yellow distributed across miles of water, reflected onto every surface my eyes met.

I'd been so consumed by the view that I didn't hear the pop of a cork or glug of wine being poured. It felt as if Seokjin materialized beside me, handing over one of the stemless glasses before pressing onto the door handle to allow us outside.

There were two small heaters that warmed the balcony even as I stood right at the railing, leaning onto the wood so that part of me was met with cool air. I sipped at the smooth, fragrant blend and turned to let him fall into my sight with the lakeview cast in my peripheral.

We'd long forgotten the notion of personal space, mere inches away from each other as he pressed his glass lightly against mine with a barely audible ting. "I'm going to kiss you a lot tonight." He warned, the edges of my mouth curving up in the millisecond that existed before his lips were on mine, tasting of that first sip of wine.

Sometimes I still felt it, a knot in my stomach that told me that there was still a small part of me holding on, refusing to acknowledge the gravity of my feelings for him. I wondered if he sensed it from the way my body tensed and I became lost for words. If he did, it didn't keep him from bridging the quiet.

"Should we start downstairs?" He asked, the question rhetorical as he guided us back into the house. There was a small elevator that I hadn't noticed, Seokjin explaining that his mom insisted he have it installed in case he were ever too tired to take the stairs.

The basement was one open space, another half kitchen and full bar on one side of the room with a gaming area on the other. There was a room that Seokjin referred to as a small theater before he opened the door, though I couldn't move on from the fact that there was a theater in the house at all.

He held up to his word, kissing me while I sat on the edge of the pool table with soft emerald slate beneath my palms as he leaned into me and again upstairs, after which he confessed that his resistance was wearing thin.

The timer ringing on his phone twenty minutes later urged us back to the second floor kitchen. I satiated myself with another glass of wine while he seared steaks over an open flame, pulling his chair so close that our knees touched and to give him the opportunity to feed me at every chance he got.

I ate just enough so that I was full without discomfort, though I could have easily overindulged, nightfall creating a crisper chill in the air that made goosebumps rise on my arms and legs. Seokjin noticed mid-kiss, his lips spreading into a smile against mine as he rubbed at my bare arms.

"Let's get you inside." He never let an opportunity to reach for me pass, reclaiming my hand even as he balanced dirty plates and utensils on our descent to the first floor.

I leaned my backside against the counter above the bar, watching as he dropped dishes off in the sink. "There's a reisling on the bottom shelf that'll pair well with dessert if you want another glass." He was gentle with the porcelain cake display he placed on the counter, leaving it to join me by the bar.

He reached past me to the cabinet above that held more glasses and I huffed, pulling it away from his hand as soon as he had it lowered from the top shelf. "I can handle pouring it myself." I teased as I'd done a few other times through the night. If he'd been able to feed me every bite of food and brush away every crumb or piece of lint that fell onto my clothes I'm sure he would have. I hardly lifted a finger since I arrived.

Instead of responding he continued, unscrewing the top and filling the chalice with a bubbly, white wine. The sweetness wasn't overpowering, a subtle compliment to the slice of coconut creme cake we shared.

We sat next to each other on the floor across from the fireplace, our shoulders brushing against one another like magnets that pulled until we gave in to dessert-tinged kisses.

"Okay." He exhaled, letting his back rest against the couch as soon as he scraped the last bit of frosting off the plate.

"Okay," I repeated, shifting so that it was easier to face him, "what's next?"

He chuckled, able to sense my growing impatience. "Now we talk." Even as he answered he pulled me close so that his lips grazed against my ear. I tightened my thighs to conceal the slickness between.

"About?" I asked, pressing my arms closer so that his eyes would be drawn to the way my chest was shaped by the rounded neckline of my top.

His eyes dropped right where I wanted them, the smirk that crossed his lips making me think he was on the edge of giving in. He had other plans, intent on testing my patience.

"About the things we've been putting off." He replied. "Your love life, my love life, my family–"

"I thought you didn't have a love life." I wondered, recalling his sentiment that I was the only.

Apparently my tone changed. He was amused by it, smirking with his response. "Not really. I've never been in love." He confessed, meeting my eye with the last word. "When I returned from the military my father was quick to immerse me back into our company. My mother was quick to speak to a matchmaking service."

"A matchmaking service?" I questioned, imagining him in one of the dramas I watched where an unlikely pair met through such means.

He nodded. "At that point, I'd been avoiding my parents for so long that I just wanted some sort of relationship with them. So I followed what they wanted for me, thinking that I'd end up happy in the end somehow. I was set up with the daughters of corporate leaders and seriously dated two."

"Two?" I blurted, covering my mouth with a giggle at the instinctual reaction.

"The first only lasted a couple of months. She really hated me." He shook his head at the memory. "But being with the second, Jian, was different. We tried at first but there were never any real feelings between us. I figured we'd get married since our families were pushing us toward it and we could tolerate each other enough to live in the same space, but I got sick. I didn't expect her to stay and she didn't offer." There was a twinge of pain in his concluding statement.

I noticed that once he finished telling a story, he was quick to move on to the next with an off topic remark. "You have questions about my family."

"There's just one thing." I claimed. It was mostly true, curiosity resounding in my head every time they became a topic of conversation. "I get that they haven't been here while you've been sick, and it seems like some stuff with them stems from money but it also feels deeper than that." I rambled, wishing we could go back to making out and teasing when the corners of his mouth turned down.

He was quiet, two small lines between his eyebrows as they pulled together in thought. I started to speak, to apologize for wondering at the same time he found the words to articulate the rift between them.

"It's complicated," he started. By the end I understood so much more about him. He learned to function by himself early, often left with staff members around the house who had little time between other duties to entertain or keep him company. It was easy to imagine him as he described, a kid who preferred walking to school alone and eating at a small, local restaurant run by an elderly couple to the town car and private chef available to him at home.

I'd grown up ransacking the attic for family secrets and climbing through my best friend's window while Seokjin started learning the ins and outs of his family's company before he even hit puberty. He realized being close to them was dependent on his involvement in the business.

"My parents value money over everything. Most people actually do." He let out a sound that was a mix of a laugh and scoff. "That's why I assumed your question would be about our money."

"I don't care about that." I shrugged. "Hell, I barely touched the money you sent me yesterday. I'm still trying to think of a way to make you take it back."

He chuckled. "Buy what you need, buy something you want, and then give the rest away." He spoke as if it were a mantra.

"Give the rest away?" I repeated, giggling at the idea I was struck with. "Faye's birthday is coming up. I could give it to her. She'd probably pass out."

There was a short pause in our conversation as I finished my glass of wine, tilting my head back with the last drop.

"Okay, how do you give your money away?" I was still considering the sum waiting to be transferred. "I could buy this lens I've been wanting, but I should probably put some into a savings account."

"For your camera?" He questioned. I nodded and he extended his hand to take mine, pulling gently until I moved closer to him. "Come here." His other hand moved to the back of my thigh and I lifted it to swing across his lap, reading his every gesture.

He was studying me again, just as he had when I first arrived. My chest rose and fell higher as his eyes moved over the swell of my breasts and down to where my legs parted.

I waited for his cue, allowing his hands to cup my hips like an anchor to hold me to him. "Send me a link to the lens and I'll get it for you." There was no use in protesting as he sealed his lips over mine, silencing me from any reply. "And you don't need a savings account."

I was too caught up in wanting to kiss him again, the single deep peck not enough to quench the desire that called to me so loud I'd forgotten my earlier question when he finally answered.

The sudden pink hue of his ears told me he was bashful, evidence that he was hesitant to discuss philanthropy. "There are a lot of ways I give away money." His voice lowered.

"Your favorite way then?" I wondered, attentive to the way he responded to my hands on his shoulders. He held onto my wrists, controlling the way they moved a little lower on his chest and back up.

"I do a lot to help at the treatment center." He was vague.

My lips pursed in question. "Don't worry. I promise I'll still think you're incredibly humble after you tell me about how much money you donate to the center." I taunted, aware that much of his disdain toward his parents came from their need to be publicly acknowledged for their gifts.

"There's grants for funding research and academic programs, and a good amount of scholarships to fund patient treatment." He admitted.

One word stood out among the rest as I was brought back to a conversation between my dad and I in the first couple of weeks after my arrival. I'd been so concerned about the medical expenses that were surely piling up with treatment and appointments. Even among the piles of information packets and sheets with instructions for care I'd been unable to find a single bill. I never felt more relieved than when my dad revealed that any costs after insurance were being covered by a private scholarship he received through the clinic.

My hands dropped from where they settled against him with the revelation, his expression confirming that he was the donor at the same time.

His face blurred in front of me as my eyes filled with tears but somehow my lips still found him, pressing onto his with every emotion I'd been holding inside. He moaned into my mouth at the heated way my tongue brushed against his, drawing his lips into mine and bringing my hands to both sides of his long neck. I kissed him so hard that his head tilted back to the sofa cushion, barely receding to speak.

"I love you so much."

I didn't spare a single second, returning to his lips with the same aggression and until we were both breathless. "Seline," he sighed as we pulled away, "you don't have to say that."

"I do. I should have already said it. At the wedding, when I first saw you. I was in love with you immediately and I felt like I was losing my mind. Everything I felt was too much." I babbled, shaking my head. "It wasn't even just you and dad. I didn't know I'd feel that way about you so fast. I knew there'd be something but it hasn't always happened like this. I felt so guilty and was still heartbroken about my last relationship. I couldn't carry it all so I shoved it down, ignored it."

He moved forward to meet me where I distanced myself amid my ramblings, his hands gripping onto my thighs so that his fingertips settled just under the hem of my bunched skirt.

"I still don't get it either." He empathized, an unintentional reminder that there was still one thing I needed to share with him.

"Okay, my turn." I spoke between puckering my lips against the smooth skin between his jaw and neck. "I have things to tell you about, but I think I should sit away from you." I grinned with the last connection of my mouth to him, a low groan sounding from the back of his throat with my absence.

I could feel his eyes on me as I shuffled to the single chair where my heavy overnight bag still sat, tugging at the zipper to access the widest compartment.

The bin inside held together the tattered box I'd been dragging from home to home over the years, memories organized chronologically. I pulled the loose page penned by my mom from where it was tucked into the old journal that recorded my family's soulmate history.

Seokjin was careful with the thin paper, only glancing at the neat cursive before setting it on the coffee table while I took a seat across from him, letting my legs stretch under the modern wood.

"I guess it's easier if you read that first. Then I can show you some of the journal entries." I opened the notebook to point out the initial entry from 1802, turning it toward Seokjin to slide across the table. Without skipping a beat I was digging out the two historical texts I'd been gifted by Namjoon, thumbing through to the tabbed pages that were marked for being relevant to my ancestry.  "There's more background here that'll help it all make sense."

Seokjin looked from me to the documents again, his expression pensive as he briefly scanned without actually reading. "What is all of this, Seline? Just tell me what it is." He shifted away from the table, ignoring the more concrete evidence in front of him to hear the story from me.

I was unsure of where to begin, settling on the first thing I remembered rather than the events before my time. I started with two curious kids in an attic, watching disbelief etch on his face until he pulled the documents back to him. He flitted his eyes across pages that confirmed the truth, that my soulmate revelation had been more literal than he interpreted.

He interrupted me only once, at the beginning with a reply that was an imitation of my own when he mentioned his former romantic interests.

"Seven?" He exclaimed dramatically, a resounding laugh that I couldn't help but echo. "Where do I fall in the lineup?"

"You're the last." I felt myself relax again as I answered.

He nodded, appearing a mix of relieved and pleased, prompting me to continue. I gave him a basic overview of my other six soulmates, detailing how we met and the timeline of each relationship before they ended. I focused more on the lore, recanting the story my mom told and the additional pieces I learned during my time in school, keeping things at a surface level until the end.

I waited for him to react, never having given my story so formally other than with Namjoon. Even then, it felt more educational to share with him. Telling Seokjin intentionally felt intimate, vulnerable.

His features were coated with questions, eyes narrowing, plump lips pursing and head tilted to match the sheer amount he posed. I did my best to answer every one he had though some led me to think deeper, until he'd fulfilled every curiosity: whether the feelings were the same with each of them, if I kept in contact, and based on my earlier sentiment that falling in love was always imminent but not always instant them, who was the other that was.

By the end of my explanation and his inquiries the sky was changing color, pitch black lightening into dawn so that a sliver of yellow dissolved into a rich violet. Hours seemed to pass like minutes with him so that no time was long enough.

"What a bunch of idiots." He snarked. I was attuned to the way his hand rested where my legs crossed at the ankle, rubbing back and forth up my calf and down to the top of my foot.

"Idiots?" One of my eyebrows rose with the question.

His hand on me was distracting and the entire reason I moved to sit on the other side of the table. "How could anyone let you go?" He clarified. "You're perfect."

That, I laughed at. "I'm a mess. I called Faye on Christmas because I was panicking about how perfect you are." I flushed at the memory.

He waited to reply, giving a short shake of his head in disagreement before gazing through glass doors that displayed a perfect portrait of morning. "Let's go to bed. The sun's coming up." He suggested. I wasn't tired and based on the way his hand curved around my leg, giving a subtle squeeze, he wasn't either.

He cleaned up the dishes while I freshened up in the restroom, splashing a little water on my flushed face and pulling my hair up using the extra tie on my wrist. With the door open I caught Seokjin's reflection in one of the mirrors that lined the wall before I stepped out into the hallway.

There was a charge between us, so demanding with our inhibitions lowered and hearts exposed that we moved toward each other with urgency. We became a blur of body parts, his lips on mine feverishly, a leg pulled around his hip, and my back against the wall so that I was supported by him on the tips of my toes. Our hands brushed past each other as he reached for my skirt, lifting it at the same time that I pinched the button of his pants between my fingers. His grazed over the string of my panties to the front, tugging the damp fabric to the side while I pushed his jeans down so that they pooled by his knees, returning to reach beneath the band of his boxers to feel the thick weight of him in my hand.

Before I could use the other to feel all of him he was groaning into my mouth, pressing his entire body into mine to hold me up while he adjusted himself. I'd never experienced the fullness I had with him, gravity pulling me down onto him so that he was as deep as possible.

He cut off the curse that slipped from my mouth with his tongue, lewd sounds mixing together as he fucked me against the cool wall.

Every one of my senses was triggered, hands groping the soft parts of my body so that every sensuous touch sent me higher, a faint scent of cologne in the crook of his neck, the taste of sweet coconut on his lips, leftover from dessert, the intense look in his eye as his forehead rested against mine, and finally, the sound.

Seokjin was loud. His voice rose an octave with every moan, calling out my name and using more foul language than I ever heard. He drowned out the ragged, breathy mewls that tumbled past my lips. I only heard myself in the moment he quieted, his fingertips pressing into my hips and low whimpers by my ear that told me he was at the edge.

The audible transition was enough to push me over, too far gone to come back from the orgasm that shook through me. "Wait." Seokjin uttered to himself, pulling out so that my arousal dripped onto the ceramic flooring.

We kissed between panting to catch our breaths.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to finish that quick." I giggled, self-conscious at the little time that passed and crossing my arms at the back of his neck.

His lips smacked as he pulled away, brushing away the tendrils of hair that fell loose to hang over my eyes. "I almost did too." He chuckled, closing his mouth over my shoulder and balancing with his hands cupping my ass to kick his pants off from where they'd fallen to collect at his feet. "We're not done."

He turned to carry me to the bedroom, making it only a couple of steps before he stumbled from being caught in the leg of his jeans. I yelped, holding onto him tighter as we fell to the floor.

I was grateful for his quick reflexes, catching himself on a knee and pressing a hand to the ground to keep me from hitting the solid floor too harshly.

"You okay?" He hovered over me, eyes a little wider as they bored into mine.

My answering nod was subtle, already tittering at the blunder before I could ask the same of him. "Are you?"

My chest rumbled with humor at the image in my head of him holding me up, naked from the waist down, both of our asses out and tumbling over like a tilted plank. At the confirmation that he was we leaned in, laughing so hard that my cheeks hurt. The sound only broke when our noses brushed against each other, Seokjin closing the miniscule space between us once again.

Giggles and chuckles turned into grunts and drawls of satisfaction as he pushed my bent leg higher around him for my legs to spread more. I sucked in a breath when he reentered me, pausing and parting only to pull his sweater over his head. He'd pushed my top up past my breasts, tugging at the cups of my bra so that they were exposed and accessible.

Even without the pull of gravity I could feel him at the hilt of my core, deep and slow thrusts that made every reactive noise catch in my throat. My curved finger moved between my teeth to bite down in an effort to keep me from screaming in pleasure.

As much as my first climax took me off guard, the second was just as sudden, set off by the galvanic feel of every erotic nerve ending being stimulated.

He made observations, resonated with a slight tremble in his tone. "I feel it." He noted, letting his nose brush against my collarbone with a nod. "You're shaking." His hand ran down the length of my leg, feeling it quiver from my hip down to my toes.

There was an intention to the way he pressed his mouth together, swallowing sound to tune into mine. My lips grazed the cuff of his ear, exclamations of his name and love leading to the sudden still of him inside me.

He rode out his orgasm in a frenzy, breaking into erratic, sloppy thrusts and reaching for me frantically. He couldn't get enough, touching and kissing as many places as possible with his lips vibrating against my skin through deep moans.

We waited until our breathing evened, every exhale accompanied by soft whines. He lifted himself to look down at me with a final examination, parts of my body slightly swollen and puckered from the way he sucked at my skin, coated with a dewy afterglow.

His comment combined the two descriptors we used for myself earlier in the evening as if it were a fact. I was, as he put it, "a perfect mess."