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Gunwook knows she shouldn’t be jealous.
She knows that, but Matt’s on the other side of the room glowing in the sunlight, barely visible with the crowd swarming her, and her blood turns from a simmer to a boil.
She and Matt have been together since they were sixteen. Their families celebrate Chuseok together. They're basically married—so maybe it isn’t jealousy that turns her volcanic, but possessiveness. Matt is hers. She knows that, and Matt knows that, but right now that isn’t enough.
Gunwook needs the world to know. She needs neon signs and matching rings and their bodies constantly intertwined.
This is a legal history conference, of all things. There's no reason for people to flock to Matt when she doesn't know shit.
Although maybe that's why—nerds and their need to show off. Put a confused pretty girl in the room, and it's game over.
Gunwook pushes her way through the crowd, not caring about how many conversations she interrupts as she storms across the carpeted floor and makes a beeline to Matt's side.
“Gunwook!” Matt beams when she comes over, and Gunwook preens under the attention.
Smug satisfaction curls in her stomach as she watches the people around them exchange glances. She links her arm with Matt's and presses a kiss to Matt's forehead just because she can.
Matt's wearing this horrible tank top that keeps riding up; Gunwook spent the morning stroking the sliver of revealed skin and reveling in the contact, but now she scowls and tugs at it until it meets the waistband of her jeans.
Matt nudges her with her elbow, grinning, before turning to someone else. She always thinks Gunwook's jealousy is hilarious.
Gunwook pouts and lets go of Matt so she can hug her from behind instead. Her possessiveness settles a little—it feels like she can surround Matt entirely, and she knows anyone even glancing in their direction can see the two of them pressed together.
Still, she can only last a few seconds of Matt's attention turned elsewhere before she gets antsy. Most of the crowd has dispersed, but there are still several people orbiting Matt like they can't take the hint.
Even if Matt isn't paying attention to them, they're paying attention to her. Gunwook glares, but none of them even notice.
Gunwook waits for a lull in the conversation before she squeezes Matthew's side and ducks her head to whisper, “Can we leave?”
Matt stills, then slowly turns to look at her from over her shoulder. She keeps a hand on top of Gunwook's, her back still pressed to Gunwook's chest, and all the contact makes her relax. Just a little.
“The next panel's starting in fifteen minutes,” Matt says, confused.
“Not when everyone's staring at you.” There's no point trying to lie. “I'll be distracted the whole time. I don't want anyone else flirting with you.”
That makes Matt turn around fully, twisting in Gunwook’s arms so she can wrap her own arms around her neck. Gunwook’s hands settle on her hips, scowling at the people around them until they finally get the message that Matt’s taken and done entertaining them. Took them long enough.
“Baby.” Matt’s laughing as she gets on her tiptoes to kiss Gunwook’s nose, successfully grabbing her attention. “You’re my girlfriend, not my guard dog.”
“I can be both.” Gunwook yanks her in for a hug, hands splayed over Matt's back and squishing Matt's face into her shoulder.
Muffled, Matt says, “You don't need to be both. Just be the pretty femme hanging off my arm. Don't worry about anything else.”
The casual way she says it makes Gunwook blush. She squeezes Matt tighter so she won't be able to see her burning cheeks.
“I'm way bigger than you,” she says weakly.
Somehow Matt manages to squirm out of her grip to grab her face, squishing her cheeks together and forcing her mouth into a pout.
“Pretty femme,” Matt repeats. She's smiling, but with that edge that means she's willing to turn it into an argument.
Gunwook just sighs, squeezing the back of Matt's tank top and leaning down to knock their foreheads together. Like this, close but never close enough, Gunwook lets the rush of voices and the blasting air conditioner whip away into nothingness. It's just them.
“Okay,” she mumbles. It's the best response she can offer.
Matt beams, eyes crinkling and the little mole by her eye shifting, and Gunwook wants to kiss her so badly—so she does, giving a soft little peck that she tries to deepen, but Matt puts a hand on her chest and pushes her away.
“Let's stay for the next panel,” Matt says, half suggestion, half command.
When Gunwook hesitates to look around and survey the room for threats, Matt's quick to drag her back; the eye contact is dizzying, and Gunwook clings tighter to keep steady.
“Geon-ah,” she says gently, “no one's going to take me from you. I'll fight ‘em off.”
Gunwook gets a hand around Matt's bicep and squeezes. Yeah. Matt could probably fight off a bear.
Then Matt snorts, says, “Okay, c'mon,” and drags her all the way to the conference room.
They go to the first row—Gunwook's go-to, although it means everyone can look at Matt—and Matt shoves her into a chair so she can plop down beside her and throw a leg over hers, the heat of her thigh searing through their clothes. Gunwook reaches for her hand again on instinct.
“I'm yours,” Matt promises, wiggling closer.
Gunwook swipes her thumb over Matt's bare ring finger and nods. “I'm yours, too. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Matt repeats, laughing. She's practically on Gunwook's lap now.
They have fourteen minutes until everyone files in and the panel starts. Fourteen minutes to kiss Matt again, to whisper I love you against her mouth, to let Matthew remind her of what she already knows.
Gunwook plans to take advantage of every single second of those fourteen minutes. Better start now.