9:15 p.m.
The lights in 1501's living room faded out.
Beyond the window, Seoul's lights drifted above the autumn fog.
"You starting it now?"
Celeste's voice broke the quiet.
"Mm. Gimme a sec."
Noah hooked the old projector to the socket, threading the reel like it was glass.
Whrrr—
A quiet spin.
A black-and-white image bloomed on the wall.
"You shot this yourself?"
He didn't answer—just pressed the remote.
A brick path appeared on the screen.
An old campus.
London. Autumn. Faded light.
No dialogue—just faces.
Eyes that spoke before mouths could.
"…Made it back in college," he said at last.
"London. I wasn't even a film major, but—"
A faint laugh.
"—back then, I wanted to direct. For real."
Celeste turned to look at him.
"No one gave a damn," he went on.
"No cheer. No 'you can do it.' I think all I needed was one thing. Someone saying—'I want to see what you made.' That would've been enough."
"So you quit?"
"Yeah. Back then… life felt kinda pointless. No plans, no goals.
Scared me, honestly. And I didn't have anywhere to say it out loud."
She slipped her hand over his.
Now, he glanced at her.
"Things are different now. No one has to ask—I'll just say it myself. 'Yeah, that's how it was.' And now…I'm not alone anymore."
Silence stretched.
"It feels like I should've said this sooner…"
Celeste said softly, eyes on the screen.
"But I still want to back that dream of yours. Crew, planning, space, budget—whatever you need, I'll help. If you really want to shoot a film…I'll be your first audience."
His fingertips traced her cheek, resting under her jaw.
"You're like… my rescue," he said.
"Just show up and hand me everything I ever wanted to hear—like it's nothing."
He leaned in.
A kiss—light, brief.
Then his eyes locked on hers.
"When you smile. When you're out cold. When you pout.
All I hear is—
'You've been through enough.'
'Something better's coming.'
'Don't quit, Noah. Stick around a little longer.''"
Another kiss.
Slow. Certain. Like water after a long thirst.
The projector's flicker danced across the walls.
Their shadows swayed long.
Breaths spilled into the dark.
He lifted her.
A startled breath escaped her.
Arms looped around his neck.
He carried her into the bedroom.
The moment she sank into the bed, his fingers found the edge of her collar.
One button at a time—slow, like replaying a song he'd missed for years.
His lips trailed down her neck. Her breath caught.
Time slipped quiet.
Clothes fell away.
Skin met skin. Heat soaked in.
When his mouth brushed her side, a tremor rippled across her.
Like sparks gone in a breath.
His lips skimmed under her collarbone.
Her eyes fluttered.
A breath shivered out.
His hands slid to her waist.
His mouth traced the curve of her ankle.
Her breathing changed.
Tension cracked under the weight of touch.
He didn't ask—just lifted her leg.
Looped it around his waist.
Stillness. And then—he eased into her.
The first moment—deep, raw, burning.
Her lips parted. Sound spilled before words could form.
Their bodies curved into each other.
Slow. Seamless.
He moved with her.
Deeper. Closer.
Breath burst.
Names broke apart in the air.
Sometimes clipped.
Sometimes drawn into trembling gasps.
Every movement pressed heat into the sheets.
The bed creaked softly, swallowing the rhythm of the night.
A thrust drove deep.
Her fingers dragged down his back.
Her breath hitched.
"Right there… God, that's good…"
He looked down at her.
Eyes damp.
Truth, hunger, fear—buried under want.
She gripped his shoulders.
Pulled him closer.
Lips. Breath. Heat.
Spreading from shoulder to spine.
The pace built.
Pleasure cut into pain.
When even that pain turned to need, her body shook.
"Noah… I… it's—ah—too much… I can't—"
Her voice cracked on his name.
He drew in a sharp breath.
Hands gripped her tighter.
Then his body locked.
He broke inside her with a low, rough sound.
The world went still.
Breaths rose and fell—slow.
Noah rested his forehead to her chest.
Quiet. Heavy. Like he might stay there forever.
"…Sorry," he murmured.
"Was gonna hold back. Couldn't."
Her hand stroked through his hair.
Slow. Gentle.
Then she laughed softly.
"What? Don't say that. I loved it… every second of it."
His shoulders shook.
Even through uneven breaths, he smiled.
And at the edge of the wave that had taken them, they drifted back—into each other's arms.
Into heat.
Into the quiet of a night that felt like theirs alone.