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Yeah, this scene. The end of the date. I love that Song Ji Na has this ability to infuse one simple scene with several layers of meaning. So in this double-shot, I take that one scene, and try writing it two ways. Tell me which one worked better?

AT THE ENTRANCE, V.1.

.

The lights came on, and Young Shin felt the cruel dissipation of the magic. Movie magic, gone. Date with the stunning presence behind her, done. The lights were harsh. Time to get up, exit in an orderly manner and no leaving trash behind. With a sigh, she stood up. She couldn’t resist a look around the empty theatre - she wasn’t breaking any promises to him because she knew he was gone.  The lights were on, leaving no chance for any more magic.  

As she reached the door, she stopped. It was a mental game. If she stepped over the line of the threshold, that was the official end of the date. Dates had food. It had movies. And it had good night kisses. Check, check, no check. 

Her lips curled at her own pettiness as she glared at the offending line. She’d already gotten more than she expected. 

She felt the air change and knew he was right behind her even though his steps had been completely soundless. She froze, staring resolutely in front of her, with every bit of self control she could muster.

Her heartbeat tripled. 

He stepped closer behind her to tuck himself well outside her field of vision, and she felt his warmth edge up her back. It was impossible through her winter jacket, she knew, yet she could feel her skin on her back prickle as if waking from a numbing stupor. 

“What’s wrong?” A voiceless whisper reached her ears. It was hardly sound, it felt more like shifting air.

“Nothing.”

“You stopped.”

Young Shin bit her lip and looked down at the threshold again. Perhaps if she stepped over it, it wouldn’t count as an official end. 

Jung Hoo peered over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. Perhaps there was a bug on the floor? A trap? He stepped forward to see and he bumped into her slightly from the back. 

It was his turn to freeze. Between their thick winter coats there was no chance of actual contact, but his front was burning like she had a fever and it was radiating into him. 

There was no telling how long they stood there, thumping hearts and racing minds frantically pinwheeling with what-ifs and dare-Is. 

She stepped back first. Literally retreated into the curve of his torso. His arms lifted, of their own accord, to accommodate her. He was about to complete the action, and envelop her in his arms, when he realised she shouldn’t see his hands. 

He stopped. Now they looked like the very opposite of the Titanic couple, except that he had his arms up and she was curled up in front of him. 

Ahjumma groaned at the gorgeous debacle on the security cameras. In four angles. She thumped her forehead. Repeatedly.

Jung Hoo heard the groan in his ear piece, along with the muffled thumping. It spurred him into action. One arm quickly went up, and his hands covered Young Shin’s eyes lightly. The other arm went down and wrapped snugly around her waist. He pulled her in. 

Again, they both stiffened in shock. Young Shin because she’d gotten what she wanted. Jung Hoo because he never knew hugs could feel this good.

In a few seconds the awkwardness melted away and they both relaxed into the backhug. By degrees, they leaned into each other, finding the position that perfectly fit his front to her back. He rested his chin onto her shoulder and they cuddled. She squirmed from the sensation of being completely engulfed in his arms, his broad back shielding her. 

Dopey grins spread across their faces.

“That feels wonderful,” she confessed.

He just nodded, knowing she could feel the motion.

“That feels wonderful,” came Ahjumma’s sarcastic mimic in his ear. “Car’s here, lover boy.”

Reluctantly, Jung Hoo loosened his grip. He shifted his hands to her shoulders and squeezed, almost too tightly, while he struggled to find the words to end this evening with her.

His throat worked, and resentment clogged his thoughts. Why wasn’t it his right to kiss his girl goodnight? To see her face and to tip her chin up like every other man was allowed to?

“Don’t be sorry,” Young Shin spoke up. “I’m not.”

“I…,” Jung Hoo swallowed. “I am beside you.”

His hands fell from her shoulders and he retreated back into the shadows of the theatre.

Young Shin raised one hand to her shoulder, where he had last touched her. Then she let her hand drop. 

She raised a foot, and quite deliberately put it squarely on the line of the threshold. Then she took a deep breath, lifted her chin, made herself smile, and walked on.

———————

And now, another version of the same scene.

———————

AT THE ENTRANCE, V.2

The lights came on, and Young Shin felt the cruel dissipation of the magic. Movie magic, gone. Date with the stunning presence behind her, done. The lights were harsh. Time to get up, exit in an orderly manner and no leaving trash behind. With a sigh, she stood up. She couldn’t resist a look around the empty theatre - she wasn’t breaking any promises to him because she knew he was gone.  The lights were on, leaving no chance for any more magic.  

As she reached the door, she felt the air change and knew he was right beside her even though his steps were completely soundless. She turned to look. She caught a fleeting impression of floppy hair before the lights went off again with an electric snap.

“You’re here!” she gasped into the wall of black in front of her eyes. In the theatre corridor, there were no windows to let in the city lights. No emergency exits glowed green in the corridor, even though those were mandated. 

He didn’t move at first, shocked that he’d taken the risk. He’d run to her before he could convince himself not to. Somehow he had to say his farewell.

He shifted around the door jamb, turning to face her as he’d wanted to all evening. Eleven seconds, he counted, enough time for the irises to enlarge, and those trusty rods and cones to sensitize; so he couldn’t just throw caution to the wind. He edged nearer, putting his face out of easy view for her. Her forehead, he knew, was at the level of his chin.

She might scent him, he realized, as he scented her now. Still, although women were better at smells, he knew that humans rarely paid attention to that sense. He did, but only because he had made the night his home. 

Her light scent, something spicy and warm floated up to him. Like the coffee she served, spiced with nutmeg and cinnamon but deeply, darkly satisfying, with a warmed cream center. 

He took a deep breath and imbibed. That alone was worth the risk he was taking, being this near. 

He nearly passed out. 

In the dark, with his eyesight almost gone, his sense of smell had kicked into high gear, and now he’d taken full measure of not just her perfume, but her innate feminine flavors. The fragrance gutted him, ripping him out and and filling him with one word: want. 

He took a chance. “I need…” he breathed, just barely moving his lips, a wisp of sound. 

She lifted her chin. “Me too.” 

Her scented melted into her taste, and he pilfered both along with what little breath she had. Then he returned the gift of breath and lips, and teeth. She took it, greedily making off with all that and more.  Taking turns, they shared what they could of themselves in the dark. Only taste. Only scent. A long shuddering breath was traded. A laugh bartered with the air long stolen from their lungs.

Young Shin felt warm fingertips trail down her cheeks, and he pulled away gently. 

“Thank you…” came the whisper.

A second later, the lights came back on with a sorry click. Young Shin didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to forfeit the darkness.

It took five trembling breaths before she gave in, and opened her eyes. She didn’t even bother looking around this time. She turned and walked, down the corridors, bright and empty, out the doors, into the frosty night. 

—————————-

END. 

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