Ling stepped forward, hands firm on Rhea's waist, and turned her around without asking. Lifted her just enough to sit her on the hood of the car. The metal was cool now.
Ling opened Rhea's legs with her knees — not rough, not rushed — and stepped between them.
Close.
Rhea let out a breath that wasn't a laugh.
"So," she said again, slower this time, eyes locked on Ling's, "talk."
Ling didn't move away.
Didn't move closer either.
She stayed between Rhea's legs, posture relaxed, spine straight, as if this was the most natural place in the world for her to be.
"You want honesty?" Ling asked.
Rhea tilted her head. "I want whatever you dragged me here for."
Ling huffed quietly. "You don't miss anything, do you?"
"No," Rhea replied. "I choose what I ignore."
That earned a faint smile.
Ling leaned her weight into her palms on the hood, bringing her face closer — not invading, just narrowing the space.
"I don't know what you're doing," Ling said. "Some days you're ice. Some days you look at me like you're deciding whether to burn the place down."
Rhea's lips curved. "Maybe I like fire."
"I know you do," Ling said immediately.
That caught Rhea off guard.
Ling saw it — the flicker — and continued before Rhea could recover.
"You walk into rooms like nothing can touch you," Ling went on, voice steady. "But the second I stop looking at you, you notice."
Rhea scoffed. "Arrogant."
"Accurate," Ling corrected.
Rhea leaned back on her hands, deliberately widening the space between them. "You brought me all this way to psychoanalyze me?"
"No," Ling said. "I brought you here because when you run, you do it in crowds. I wanted to see what you do without one."
Rhea's jaw tightened.
"So what do you see?" she asked.
Ling didn't answer immediately. Her gaze traced Rhea's face — not lingering anywhere improper, just observing.
"I see someone who pretends she doesn't care," Ling said finally, "but keeps showing up."
Rhea's eyes sharpened. "Careful."
Ling straightened slightly. "I am."
Silence stretched.
Wind moved Rhea's hair across her shoulder. Ling lifted a hand, hesitated — then let it fall back to the hood instead.
Rhea noticed that too.
"You didn't answer my question properly," Rhea said quietly.
"Which one?"
"Why you were scared."
Ling's throat worked once.
"When you left," Ling said, choosing each word, "it wasn't rejection that scared me."
Rhea's brows drew together.
"Then what?" she asked.
"That you could walk away," Ling said, "and act like it didn't cost you anything."
Rhea laughed under her breath, but it cracked at the edges. "You think it didn't?"
Ling's eyes lifted instantly. "Did it?"
Rhea looked away.
Just for a second.
That was enough.
Ling stepped closer, knees brushing the inside of Rhea's thighs now, grounding her again in the space she was trying to escape.
"Say it," Ling said softly.
"Say what?"
"That you feel something," Ling said. "Not for me. Just—something."
Rhea looked back at her, eyes blazing now. "And if I don't?"
Ling smiled.
She simply said, "Then I'll still be here."
Rhea swallowed.
"That's a terrible strategy," she muttered.
Ling smiled — not amused, not victorious. Certain.
"I'm very good at terrible strategies," she said.
Rhea shook her head, a sharp exhale leaving her. "You think sitting there, looking at me like that, makes me weak?"
Ling leaned in just enough for her voice to drop.
"No," she said. "I think it makes you honest."
Rhea's fingers curled tighter against the hood.
"You don't know me," she said.
Ling held her gaze. "I'm learning."
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Rhea spoke, quieter, almost unwilling.
"You shouldn't," she said.
Ling's answer was immediate.
"Too late."
The word didn't sound like victory.
It sounded like acceptance.
And Rhea — proud, sharp, trained to deny herself — felt the ground tilt slightly beneath her, not because Ling had taken control…
…but because Ling had chosen to stay.
Ling leaned closer.
As if she were approaching something fragile she had already decided to protect.
Rhea didn't pull back.
Her chin lifted slightly, defiant out of habit, but her eyes didn't harden. They stayed on Ling's face—watching, measuring.
Ling raised one hand, slow enough that Rhea could stop her.
She didn't.
Ling's fingers brushed Rhea's cheek, knuckles grazing skin like a question. Her thumb rested just beneath Rhea's eye.
"Your eyes," Ling said quietly, almost reverently. "They're never empty. Even when you pretend they are."
Rhea scoffed weakly. "You talk too much."
Ling smiled.
"Only when I'm right."
She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Rhea's closed eyelid.
Barely there.
A pause.
Then another kiss to the other eye.
Rhea's breath shifted. Not broken—just altered.
Ling didn't rush.
She traced upward, her thumb smoothing the line of Rhea's brow.
"You frown like you're carrying more than you should," Ling murmured. "Even when you're winning."
She kissed one brow.
Then the other.
Each touch deliberate. Unhurried. As if Ling were memorizing rather than taking.
Rhea's hands tightened on the hood beneath her.
Ling's fingers slid lightly along Rhea's temple, pushing back a loose strand of hair.
"And this," Ling continued softly, eyes dark but steady, "the way you hold your head. Like you refuse to bow to anyone."
She kissed the curve of Rhea's temple.
Rhea let out a breath she hadn't meant to.
"Ling—" she started.
Ling didn't stop, but she did pause—forehead hovering near Rhea's, breath mingling, restraint obvious.
"I'm not crossing lines," Ling said quietly. "I'm drawing them."
Her thumb brushed along Rhea's jaw, stopping just before her chin.
"And I want you to know," Ling added, voice low, certain, "that I see all of this."
She leaned back just enough to look at Rhea fully.
Rhea stared at her—proud, shaken, furious with herself for how much it affected her.
Ling leaned again her mouth traced lower.
Intentional.
She pressed a slow kiss to Rhea's chin, lingering there just a second longer than necessary, as if grounding herself before she spoke again.
Rhea's breath hitched despite herself.
Ling smiled at that.
"And your lips," Ling said softly.
She didn't touch them yet. She looked at them—open admiration, undisguised.
"They're unfair," Ling continued, voice calm but weighted. "You don't even realize what they do to people when you're quiet."
Rhea rolled her eyes weakly. "You're exaggerating."
Ling shook her head once. "No."
She lifted her gaze back to Rhea's eyes before continuing, like she didn't want this to sound careless.
"The first time," Ling said, quieter now, "when we kissed… I couldn't breathe."
Rhea froze.
Ling didn't look away.
"Before that I prepared," Ling admitted, "and counted things just to stay still."
Rhea frowned slightly. "Counted what?"
Ling smiled, embarrassed despite herself. "Strawberry bubbles."
Rhea rolled her eyes. "You told already."
Ling smiled.
Rhea stared at her.
Ling shrugged faintly. "I needed something stupid and ordinary so I wouldn't go back and do something reckless."
That earned a reluctant smile from Rhea.
Ling's hand rose slowly, thumb brushing along Rhea's jaw again, stopping just short of her mouth.
"I don't think I've ever wanted anything the way I wanted to kiss you again," Ling said honestly.
She leaned in.
Eyes locked on Rhea's.
Just as their lips were about to meet, Rhea lifted her hand and pressed it gently—but firmly—between them, palm resting against Ling's mouth.
Their breaths mixed against Rhea's skin.
Rhea didn't look away.
"Not now," she said quietly.
Ling stilled.
Then—without protest, without frustration—she nodded once.
She kissed Rhea's palm instead.
A promise without words.
And stepped back just enough to give Rhea space—still close, still present—proving that restraint, for her, was not weakness.
It was choice.
Ling dropped Rhea at restaurant where Zifa was already waiting.
"Take care" said Ling.
"You are destroyed Kwong" said Rhea smiling.
Rhea disappeared long ago, Ling kept staring hand on her own chest she smiled foolishly.
I would love to be destroyed by you.