We split the coming months between our most desired travel destinations. There was little to complain about outside of the sometimes extensive travel times to get to our next stop. Still, when you're sleeping under the Northern Lights in a glass igloo in Kakslauttanen or in a bungalow over the crystal waters of Tahiti there's no room for a moment's dissatisfaction.

I could bask in the peace of sleeping with the arms of my soulmate around me, the night's sky visible above or the sound of gently lapping waves forever.  Then there was the exhilarating thrill of dog sledding with my own little team of huskies and close-up encounters with several species of shark, nerve wracking in the open water and without any barriers.

My favorite memories were in Lisbon, on the streets of the Bairro Alto district. An early dinner quickly turned into hopping between a few bars that caught our eye.

His pick was set in a former chapel, cozy candlelit seating and soft jazz that made for a more relaxing start to the evening. I was entranced by my choice, our next stop providing me with a museum-like experience that started with a red painted door and bell that granted entry. Antique furnishings, vintage artwork and figurines lined the walls, pulling me from piece to piece. Seokjin followed behind me with an old camcorder attached to his curved hand, a relic that reminded me of my childhood, of my dad recording holidays and celebrations as if I were the star of a movie.

We ventured into the nearest club, the rhythm of house music a thumping that coursed through every nerve. I bounced along with the sea of bodies until my skin was coated in a sheen of sweat, lightheaded from the alcohol I consumed through the night but so alive.

Seokjin was practically carrying me through the crowd, not that I was too intoxicated to walk independently, but my feet ached in the strappy heeled sandals I wore.

We spilled out onto the street behind other patrons, locals and tourists in search of another serotonin boost, Seokjin's head bopping higher above the crowd to give a better view of our surroundings.

I let him guide me alongside him, an arm wrapped around my waist so that I was secure among those dancing and people-watching. He led us to a small booth, allowing me to spin out from his hold while he ordered, my hips moving along to rhythmic beats from the musicians playing on the sidewalk between kiosks.

There was too much noise for the man who approached to ask for a dance verbally without invading my space, his signal given in the smooth steps he took toward me. He grasped my one free hand and nodded toward Seokjin, moving in tempo patiently to see if I'd accept his invitation.

"Baby, I want to dance." I kept my hand in the stranger's, giving Seokjin a squeeze to capture his attention. He was handing over cash to the vendor, waving off the need for any change.

"Stay in my sight." He acknowledged the man who was eager to pull me onto a makeshift dance floor of the cobblestone pavement.

With Seokjin's approval I lost myself in dancing with someone unfamiliar and new, but even with hands on my waist and a firm body that pressed against mine to capture each whine of my hips, I remained drunk on him.

Seokjin took a seat amid the few tables set near the section of food merchants, taking up too much space on the tiny stool so that his legs bent and spread with too much emphasis.

It was his eyes that held me, leching after each movement. We stayed set on one another, my eyes fluttering over my dance partner's shoulder to meet his. When we spun so that my back was to Seokjin I turned around, my rear against the stranger's front so that he became a prop, my dance a show for the man with the carnal eyes and kebabs.

The walk back to our hotel provided enough time for me to sober up a bit, my footsteps less sloppy though I remained tipsy, unable to keep my hands and mouth off of Seokjin even as he worked to scan our keycard against the door.

I left bubbly giggles against his skin, impatience laced in the way he groaned as my hands found the waistband of his off white pants. There was no button, our expressions swapped when I huffed in frustration and continued searching the lining of the fabric to no avail.

Our feet nearly got the best of us as we stumbled through the living area of our room, shoes discarded in a trail and clothes tugged from where they'd been secured for a flush fit.

His skin had deepened a shade from hours spent oceanside, but I could still make out the smears of my lip tint marking the places I couldn't resist kissing. The linen button-up that he'd left open over a contoured tank slipped down his arms, looking down on me from my seat at the edge of the bed.

I wished to see myself through his eyes, past the worn off makeup and ruffle-lined sundress that hung halfway off my body to whatever enchantment I carried.

Seokjin leaned down, curving his body and pulling an arm around my back so that I arched up toward him. We were already flushed, exchanging the leftover taste of flavored alcohol until our lips were left glossy and full.

"Get the camera." My request stopped him in his tracks, fingers pausing from where they'd been sliding the only secured strap of my dress down over my shoulder.

The first shot of the tape became his face, off kilter as he returned to the foot of the bed, focused on finding the poorly placed record button. He then turned it on me, looking through the tiny screen that opened on the side. I watched him angle the camera, leaning in a little more for a closer shot as he scanned down the length of me.

His eyes flickered from the monitor and it took only that second to lose himself in kissing me again, seconds of the corner wall captured while he tasted of me without regard for the salty tang from sweating throughout the day. He peeled my dress down as he went, lips peppering behind each bit of revealed skin.

My chest rose and fell slowly, low and breathy moans punctuating each exhale. "You forgot the camera." I stammered over the words as he reached a particularly sensitive spot, just at the rim of my belly button.

"You're distracting." He grinned against me, tugging my dress past my pantyline. I taken to wearing the barely there style he loved most, for moments like this when he sank his teeth into the material. My body was fuller from indulging in as much food as I pleased while vacationing, impressions left behind from where the strings bit into my skin.

His hands and mouth worked simultaneously, stripping my dress far enough that it slid over my feet into a ball. Trailing behind were my underwear, tugged from my pelvis to the tips of my toes until they hung from his lips, parting so that they dropped to the floor.
I was propped on my elbows, head lifting to follow him as he stood. He pulled his sleeveless shirt off from the collar, a few strands of his recently cropped hair askew from it washing over his head.

It would have been a shame to not have him like this on film.

A mess of sheets fought with my hand that reached out into the bed for the camera, feeling around for the bulky machine. I rushed to get a proper hold of it, Seokjin's eyes alight as he teased me with the slow removal of his trousers.

The camera caught the perfect moment of them sliding past the top of his hips, catching over the curve of his erection before piling at his ankles. From the camera's view below, he looked even bigger than usual and I smirked at the thought of years I'd spend rewinding the tape to this still. My pale pink nails extended into view, palming over the bulge with my intention set on freeing him of his last garment of clothing.

His hand covered mine, coaxing me to a leisurely, more appreciative revealing of every inch. The playback would highlight the whine of my voice, words carried in a drawl. "You're going too slow."

"Too slow? We have five hours of tape left." He said, taking over the taping of him filling me, so tantalizingly slow.

We lost ourselves in hours on and off, minutes paced with those torturously languid strokes tacked with curling toes and breathless recovery. And then he gave me everything he claimed I wanted, groaning into my ear that I'd asked for it, that he'd show me, mocking me with a question that I could only answer with broken words, tumbling out between thrusts so constant that I couldn't tell where we ended or began.

"No, it's not too slow."

In between we recorded one another, me cross-legged with breasts that hung like teardrops while I answered convoluted questioned posed only so that each answer was a compliment to him and him, legs stretched across the bed, his stomach and chest countering the other's movements as they worked to even his breath.

By the end we'd completely discarded the camera, lost to the floor with most of the frame covered by the darkness beneath the bed and a peek of aqua ruffles. Still, it captured sound, the last of strung-out climaxes and pleading until we could take no more.

Our shared list of ventures was dwindling, even with the new items we added in each city we visited and detour we took, writing them down just to cross them off. We hadn't yet worked past our fears of skydiving and Seokjin hadn't quite mastered the guitar, but we'd get there. He still carried enough skill to play for me with silly jingles that made me laugh until my sides hurt.

We'd been in and out of hotel after hotel, through airports that blurred together, juggling treatments and scans, and having the absolute best time of our lives. And when we landed back in Los Angeles, right at the edge of returning home, he surprised me again.

I slept through the majority of the day following our return to California, tucked beneath billows of blankets that felt more familiar with our repeat stay at the Mondrian. Each time my eyes fluttered open it was to Seokjin, snuggling back in next to me with a peck to my forehead or chattering away on the phone.

"Seline," he sing-songed, finally drawing the curtains so that sunlight spilled into the room, "aren't you ready to eat?"

My mouth watered in reply and perfect timing to our food's arrival, the same spicy chicken sandwich I previously declared myself addicted to, having it three days in a row during our last stay.

He teased me for the way food perked me up, a quick transition from groggy to brightly alert as I dug into the truffle parm fries he ordered for my side. "I booked a couple of spa treatments for you while I go pick up the car from the garage."

"I can go with you." I wiped my mouth, taking a swig from the glass bottle of fruit-flavored seltzer he opened.

There were only a few bites of his burger left. Seokjin took an extra big one, leaving me the last before brushing the few crumbs on his fingertips onto a napkin. "Get the facial and manicure." He stood, tapping his pockets to make sure he had his phone and wallet. "You'll have plenty of time in the car with me on the drive back home. Plus, I have an agenda."

He checked his watch, moving quickly as if he were short on time and pressing a chaste kiss to my food-stuffed mouth on his way out. "An agenda?" My question was smothered against bits of chicken and breading, unheard with the latch of the closing door.

I'd have plenty of things to mark myself grateful for on that day: lazy mornings in bed, my favorite chicken sandwich, deep massages, pretty nails, and Seokjin. Always Seokjin.

That night, there were even more. We didn't meet again until that evening, when I was prompted to dress comfortably and join him at the hotel entrance.

Somehow he looked and smelled as if he'd just finished getting ready for the night out as I had, leaning on the side of a Rolls-Royce in the patchy denim jacket we picked out in Omotesando.  He stood by the backdoor, one arm held out to pull me into him before accompanying me on the oversized back seat.

"Where are we going?" I tried asking one last time. I'd become used to him treating me to nights out where I could never predict our next move. He gave me slow dances under the stars, fully nude dives into dark bodies of water, and now Snoh.

He left my query unanswered as he did every time before, eyes alight with knowledge and biting at his lips to keep from spilling the secret.

Snoh Aalegra was one of my favorite artists that we'd adopted as ours. We spent the most time listening to her albums around the house: singing into wooden spoons while we cooked, on weeknights when we wanted a little background music over meals, and rousing one another awake with her vocals to accent morning showers. Her lyrics and sound were woven into us.

(Little Author's Note Insert: If this is the sort of thing you're interested in feel free to check out the video below for a little audio of the music that inspired this part of the story. Honestly I've probably listened to this more than any other music while writing this story. Specifically the last song that she sings, Find Someone Like You, is one of my Seokjin and Seline songs. That one begins at the 12:20 mark.)

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

My enthusiasm grew with every moment, the first glimpse of her name and face plastered on the doors of the Youtube Theater, after snagging matching tees with her name printed in bubble letters, and all the way to the front row.

Seokjin laughed at my insistence to see the tickets, checking that the numbers correlated with our seats four times. "They're the right seats. I picked them out myself." He mused, reclaiming his phone and gesturing for me to pose for a photo near the stage.

I was all teeth, the smile on my lips perhaps the biggest I'd ever seen. We took more, a few selfies in a range of expressions, a full body shot taken by the couple seated next to us, and of the plastic cups filled with beer he grabbed to toast with just before the lights lowered.

The show left me feeling so raw, the intimate atmosphere and her powerful vocals lending to the emotional depth felt in the performance.  Maybe it was because my pure love was in the room, but each lyric became a lifeline, a personal note of devotion.

Things were drawing to a close much too soon, small hints spoken in between tracks Snoh and the accompanying band blended into the next verses. The opening keys of the final song had Seokjin gravitating to me as if he were the bee and I the flower.

His hands slipped around my waist, urging me to face him just as the pre-chorus began. Mine rested on his shoulders and then moved to rest at the nape of his neck as we sung the words, drowned out by the soulful tone of Snoh.

I've been waitin' my whole life, to find someone like you

I was overcome, the tear that fell from my lashline caught by his thumb. My head angled and heels slightly lifted from the floor as his lips descended onto mine for a single, high-inducing kiss.

Baby I, I want this, I want this to last forever

I wanted that more than anything, to hold on to this bliss forever. I'd make it last, at least through the night and the near two-thousand mile drive back to the garage door of our home in Rochester.

We took shifts to shorten the drive, initially agreeing to swap seats every four to five hours. Seokjin didn't exactly adhere to that deal. I woke after my first bout of sleep seven hours later, forcing him to pull over to switch and recommit to the arrangement. He didn't wake me from my next sleeping shift until six hours passed.

Seokjin stirred awake from the sudden stillness when I parked, groaning with lingering tiredness at each heave of our bags from the trunk.

"We could have gotten those tomorrow." I said, reaching for my purse. It was tucked into the bend of his arm, whisked from my grab in favor of him carrying every bag.

"It's okay, I need to wake up a little." He shrugged the last duffel over his shoulder, letting me lead the way into the house.

I turned on the lights using the control board on the wall, the air still fresh from the light maintenance cleaning he had done the day before. He dropped our bags off at the edge of the couch, my bare feet cool against the floor as I removed my sandals.

We both made showering a top priority, needing to wash that grimey, post-travel feeling off before anything. I finished before him, spending a few extra minutes on skincare before heading back to the kitchen to sort through mail.

By the time Seokjin joined me I'd moved on to setting up the calendar that stuck to the refrigerator. There was enough mail to remind me about the trial, that we had a slew of appointments to attend before its start in a couple of months. I sat on a barstool with a notepad, the magnetic calendar and an assortment of pens across the marble, the lights dimmed to avoid overpowering the night.

He was still damp, rubbing a towel across his hair to dry, another tucked to loosely wrap around his waist.

I recapped my pen in the middle of jotting down the date of his pre-treatment counseling, diverted by his lips on my shoulder. His chin rested there, allowing him to peer to the steadily filling calendar.

"We need a day for the last thing." He reached for a red marker, moving to my side so that he had a better view and pressing one hand onto the countertop. He used the other to scan dates with the tip of his finger, landing on a Saturday four weeks out. "Do you think Faye and your dad will be able to fly out that Friday?"

The responding smile could be heard in my tone. "I'll ask them." I traded the marker in his hand for a pencil, watching him scribble an oversized heart around the date.

"Stay right here." He nodded, tossing the pencil down, a finger held up to enunciate his request.

I giggled, sure that we shared in our sudden burst of anticipation and laughed even harder when he returned, one hand tucked behind his back and still a single piece of cloth away from nudity.

"What's funny?" He questioned, a tinge of humor in his voice despite not knowing the trigger of mine.

"I can't believe we're doing this with you in a towel and me in this horrible t-shirt." I attempted to stifle my laughter.  "It's kind of perfect."

He chuckled, eyes directed toward me to assess my every reaction. "It's also not the first time." He teased. "I've just been waiting to get this."

I recognized the round, emerald velvet of the ring box instantly. There'd been a time when my mother found it empty after I decided to play imaginary wedding as a kid. Her ring was several sizes too big at the time, falling off sometime between my vows with the poster of Nick Carter on my wall and the snack cake I sliced into with an Easy-Bake Oven spatula. It took two weeks to find it, matching the length of time I was grounded.

Now, the ring sat centered in the cushion, the oval diamond glistening as if it were brand new and gold band resized to fit my finger. 

It wasn't the first time he asked, my answer always the same. Every time, with the view of our highest hike as the backdrop, staring up at the Northern Lights, in the middle of the most crowded restaurant he could find. The first time, soaking in the tub with his notebook full of ideas and experiences spread between my fingers. I'd pulled him into the tub, the notebook becoming his first proposal and my agreement to fulfill every item my first, resounding yes.