yoyeolears - Tumblr blog

yoyeolears · 1 year ago

Text

consort vi | minho

pairing: lee minho x reader

word count: 17.1k

genre: historical au, arranged marriage au, enemies-to-lovers

warnings: period-typical sexism, a boatload of family issues, a rapidly increasing amount of sexual tension, like reader is starting to go the tiniest bit feral about it

summary:

Minho paused, the lingering traces of cheer disappearing before your eyes. The shift in his mood was almost tangible, and it felt as if you had made some sort of misstep in a dance, thrown yourself and your partner out of rhythm.

His gaze flickered upwards, so very briefly, to look at you, before moving downwards. Down to your notes, down to where the space between your bodies was at its narrowest, barely a few fingers’ width between your skirts and his thigh. He took a breath.

An uneasy sleep must have reclaimed you in the night, because you awakened to soft morning light streaming through the windows – and chambers entirely devoid of Minho.

You sat up, unsteady, the beginnings of a headache already forming. Your thoughts were scattered, muffled as if wrapped in cotton, barely intelligible under the dull throbbing.

An empty bedchamber. Did that disappoint you? The sheets beside you seemed undisturbed, indicating that he hadn’t joined you at any point in the night, hadn’t risen from the couch he’d been sleeping on last night when –

Embarrassment – hot, ugly flashes of it – flared within you, so violent that you physically shuddered in an effort to suppress it. You wouldn’t be so careless again, risking something so mortifying and so vulnerable as being caught in a position like that.

A tiny voice in your mind uttered thanks for Minho’s order to keep servants out of his chambers without specific request. You didn’t want to imagine having to untangle these awful thoughts in front of an audience waiting to dress you for the morning.

The more you dwelled on the situation, the more you could feel something in your chest twist. Shame, perhaps. You couldn’t help but picture last night again and again, your awful thoughts painting over your memories, imagining Minho’s eyes open instead of closed, imagining the curl of his lip as he watched you in disdain, maybe even in disgust–

No.

You felt your expression harden, breath expelling from you in one sharp burst. You hadn’t realised how much anger you could summon at merely an imagined Minho. Already, even at just the thought of him, you found yourself itching to rebuke him, to challenge the contempt you had imagined yourself.

There was a danger that you could spend the whole day in this bed, imagining all the ways in which you could argue with Minho.

So, instead, you forced yourself out of bed, determined to focus on the rest of your day and leave last night firmly in the past.

It was strange to realise just how quiet these chambers were. They were so far removed from the bustling of the palace’s lower floors that even now, as scores of nobles and servants alike rose from their beds and began their days, you could almost mistake the palace for being empty.

The spring morning air was no longer a shock of cold, but pleasantly mild. Perhaps you should make use of the weather today, you thought. It would be good to get some fresh air.

And then, you came to a sudden halt – as a flash of orange caught your attention out of the corner of your eye.

You turned your head, startled, to find a tabby cat perched on the low table of Minho’s chambers, staring you down.

This was not the pampered sort of housecat you had seen in the houses of your mother’s friends during your youth. While this cat seemed well-fed, there were tell-tale signs of the fights it must have gotten into. There was a pea-sized chunk missing from its left ear, and a faint scar on its little orange snout.

Perhaps this was a kitchen mouser? But how had it wandered so far into the palace, all the way into Minho’s chambers? How had it gotten past those heavy wooden doors, not to mention the guards stationed nearby?

You dared to take a step towards it – to no response. The cat continued to stare. Its tail twitched from one side to the other, slowly, almost lazily.

It didn’t move as you approached, instead continuing to eye you with an expression so distinctly unimpressed for such a tiny face.

Of course, the second you lifted your hand towards it, it jumped away from you in the blink of an eye. There was no panic to its retreat, just a vague sense of disdain as it withdrew from your reach.

For one brief second, you were bizarrely reminded of Minho.

To your own surprise, laughter bubbled up in your chest, slipping out between your lips. It lifted a weight off of your chest, leaving you feeling just a little lighter as you observed the way the cat shot you what could only be described as the feline equivalent of a scowl before it padded over to the bed and disappeared beneath it.

Deciding against following the cat and disturbing its hiding place, you chose to head for the door and request breakfast be served outside.

It seemed only right that the lingering worries of the previous night’s events would disappear in the light of a warm spring day.

There was something so calming about the palace grounds in the morning. At your request, a table and chair had been set up at the base of a hill, just by the long winding steps back up to the palace itself, in perfect position for you to gaze out at the huge expanses of land in front of you.

Morning dew budded on the still blades of grass. Clouds slowly drifted across the sky above, the sun hiding behind them, only reappearing at just the moment the air grew too chilly. In the distance, a light layer of fog lingered amongst the trees of the royal forest, retreating further and further with each moment.

There was nothing but peace and quiet.

You breathed deeply, savouring the morning air, as you reached for the last slice of bread. Beside it, in a tiny porcelain dish, sat a little pat of creamy butter. You scraped the last of it up with your knife to carefully spread onto the bread.

Your plans for the day were the same as always. Studying, mostly. You were eager to crack open the most recent council records you could find, already making plans to note down the stances of each member, the factions that might have formed, anything that might be useful.

How soon would Minho talk to his father? How much time did you have to prepare? You should have pressed for more details.

You could ask him at dinner this evening, you realised. It was still such a strange idea, to think that you and Minho could talk to each other so…often, now.

Because you shared a bedchamber, a voice in your mind – one that sounded suspiciously like your mother – reminded you. You should be doing so much more than just talking.

A mouthful of bread lodged itself in your throat mid-swallow, making you cough and splutter as you reached for your tea.

Not that you were particularly eager for that, of course. Last night had been a brief moment of insanity, a sudden break from rational thought, brought on by returning to the bed that held so many strong memories. It had infected your dreams, and even seeped into your sleep-addled actions in the dead of night, but now you had recovered.

Now, once again, you were just as uninterested as he was. Moving to his chambers was good enough to mend your image as a successful, stable pairing. It didn’t matter what happened behind closed doors, because you had gotten what you wanted.

But before you could make an effort to divert your thoughts back towards the day ahead, the peace of the morning was broken.

You watched as a group of palace guards marched into sight, descending the palace steps – and you stilled when you saw the person they were accompanying.

Her Majesty, the Queen.

You sat up a little straighter, as your eyes met across the wide-open space of the palace lawns. She always seemed so perfectly put together, her long dark hair twisted and braided neatly into a bun, the soft and sweeping fabrics of her dress somehow spotless even when brushing against the ground.

In her fine features, there was so much of Felix. You almost wanted to look away.

Instead, you followed protocol to the letter, rising to your feet and bowing your head at her arrival. “Your Majesty.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she replied, and there was a genuine soft note of surprise to her voice that reinforced her words. “If you’re finished with your meal, would you like to accompany me across the grounds?”

You blinked, lifting your head in shock. You’d barely spoken to this woman in weeks. You’d half-expected her to ignore you. You’d half-given up on the affection the two of you had grown for each other during your childhood.

“Y-yes,” you replied, and cleared your throat. “Yes, I’d love to.”

She gave you a smile – one so deeply familiar that it made your heart ache for just a second – and inclined her head, silently offering you the place by her side.

You moved quickly, almost without thinking, barely retaining the grace expected for a lady of your position, as you tried to join her before she could change her mind.

Before the two of you could start walking, however, she first turned to glance at the guards behind her. With a firm, clear voice of a queen, she told them. “I trust I’m accompanied by guards possessing the respect of allowing two ladies some privacy while they talk. Am I not?”

The nearest guard’s eyes widened slightly in understanding, and he hurried to nod at her. “Yes, Your Majesty. Of course.”

“Delightful to hear. The usual twelve paces behind will suffice,” she said, her voice so casual that the comment could almost be described as offhand, before she finally set off. You had to quicken your steps slightly to catch up with her.

And, sure enough, the guards waited until you were twelve paces ahead before they followed – at the perfect distance to remain out of earshot.

This was the woman you remembered from your childhood. Always polite, always charming, and just a little cleverer than she seemed.

You fell into step beside her, searching for something to say to start the conversation. “I heard a delegation from the Lakelands are on their way.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding with a warm smile. “Most of the delegates only came to their position after I left, but I know a handful. Among them is a prince I last saw as a young boy. I look forward to seeing the man he’s now grown to be.”

“That will be nice,” you remarked, looking for something else to say. Something clever, or funny, or charming. It used to be so much easier to talk to her. “Do you miss the Lakelands?”

“Occasionally. Especially in the winter. I’ve never developed a taste for the cold that sets in here,” she said, but there was no trace of sadness in her voice. Nothing wistful. “But what about you? Are you keeping well?”

“Yes,” you replied – but it felt like a half-truth at best. “As well as can be.”

“I’m sure you’ve had so many pleasantries asked about your marriage,” she said. “That’s usually all people can think to talk about, with women like us.”

Her words struck something in you, hooking something strange and raw and tugging it out into the open.

“That’s usually the topic of conversation, yes.”

Her lips twitched, the briefest flicker of a smile. “Then we’ll speak about something else. Are you still keeping to your studies?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, unable to keep your excitement from rushing out. “Practically every day. Mostly, I’ve been focusing on my histories and geography, but I like to brush up on my languages every so often.”

“You did always love studying your histories,” the Queen nodded, and for the first time in your conversation, you picked up on the slightest hint of sadness in her tone.

It sparked a vaguely familiar feeling. An old desire to cheer her, the feeling so ingrained that it felt like slipping on an old favourite coat.

“My new tutor has helped quite splendidly,” you said, with a smile just a touch forced. “I hadn’t realised how much more I could learn with someone following me in my interests, instead of just telling me what I should be interested in.”

The Queen smiled back at you, and hers seemed entirely genuine. “There seems so much to catch up on. I’ve been meaning to talk to you sooner.”

Her words, as light and carefree as she had offered them, managed to hit something deep within you. Your expression faltered, as you felt the words dig into you, like claws gripping your flesh, piercing you.

You blurted out your only thought. “Why didn’t you?”

The question came out in a rush, an outpouring of emotion that you had tried so hard to keep dammed. You watched the way she paused, caught off-guard by your sudden harsh words.

You swallowed, trying frantically to recover some sense of manners. “I mean, I…it’s just I’ve been…I’ve been so alone since…”

“…I know.”

Her gaze grew so soft, as she watched you sadly. There were moments, occasionally, when her eyes were so expressive, just as Felix’s were.

For a moment, you pictured what it must have been like for her, all those years ago. Newly married to a stranger, not just alone but alone in an entirely different kingdom. A kingdom that her father and her father’s father and his father before that had been at war with. A kingdom with a people who mistrusted her, who still mourned for her husband’s first wife, the beloved wife, the wife she must constantly be compared to in public and in private.

You wondered how long it took her to learn to hide those expressive eyes. You wondered if it saddened her to look upon her son, and see those same bright eyes shining back.

“I missed you,” you confessed. “I miss how it used to be.”

“So do I, sweetling,” she murmured. There were only two people in this world the Queen called ‘sweetling’. One was standing in front of her. The other was half a kingdom away, quiet and aching by the coast. “But that’s precisely why I’ve stayed away.”

“What?” You asked, sharp in your confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“There are whispers at court,” she began, before pausing. You detected the faintest of eye-rolls as she continued. “There always are. Right now, they are centred on you.”

“Me?” You repeated. “I haven’t heard anything.”

“Oh, the subjects never do,” she said, her tone sharpening just a touch. You knew she’d had her fair share of experience with court rumours. “It’s no fun for them if the rumour gets dragged into daylight and exposed for the nonsense that it is. Better to whisper in secret, and give their empty brains something to spin from nothing.”

“What are they saying?” You asked. You’d half-expected something like this to happen, but you’d always thought your first reaction would be worry, or fear – and yet, right now, the news filled you with nothing but anger.

“They’re harmless, for now. Idle gossip. But if any fuel is added to them, they could prove dangerous–”

“What are they saying?” You repeated, cutting her off. You needed to hear it. You already had an inkling, but you needed it in words.

She sighed. “…You and Felix. I’m afraid my son will always be a subject for scandal in your future.”

Felix.

You turned away, eyes searching for the horizon, for something to fix on in the distance.

You hated that this didn’t surprise you. You hated that your paranoia, your constant insecurity about how you were perceived, about how your issues with Minho were perceived, that constant nagging feeling of your marriage being forced under a magnifying glass, was partially justified.

“Anything in particular?” You finally managed to ask when your voice returned to you.

“The stories change every week. Nothing has truly taken hold, which is a good thing,” the queen reassured you. “But until you and Minho…well, when your marriage seemed on shakier ground, I thought it was wise to keep my distance. I thought it would make things easier for you.”

Easier.

Right.

A lump was forming in your throat. You did your best to swallow it down.

“I thought you were angry at me,” you admitted. “For marrying Minho, instead of your son.”

“You did marry my son.”

There was such strong feeling in her voice that it forced your gaze back to her. The queen’s jaw was set, her mouth curved downwards slightly. Years and years of learned authority, of power however scant it might be, radiated through her as she stood firm.

“Minho is my son. In every way that counts.”

You stared, silent, as the faintest hint of guilt began to warm your cheeks.

The queen continued to walk, her gaze softening as she fell back into old memories. “He was so tiny when I entered the palace. I helped him take his first steps. I helped him learn his letters, I selected his tutors and I watched him grow.”

She slowed her steps, as you reached the edge of the forest that surrounded the palace. The two of you would have to turn back soon, but you took a moment to observe the quiet of the trees, the way that sunlight filtered through the newly-grown leaves.

“I might not be called his mother, but he is my son,” she finished, quietly. “And I’m very proud of him.”

She blinked rapidly a few times, clearing her throat, and turned to flash you the briefest of knowing smiles. “As mule-headed as he can be sometimes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh – albeit quietly, softly, as the emotion of the conversation still kept its grip on you.

There was a pull in you – that familiar one, the one that urged you to please others, the one that pushed you to say exactly the perfect thing – to praise Minho to the Queen. To call him a good man. You knew she would want to hear it, she would want to hear how happy you had turned out in spite of it all, that by pure serendipity, your marriage to Minho was just as splendid and happy as the marriage with Felix you had been awaiting your whole life.

But the words stuck in your throat. You practically choked on them. Not just because they were untrue.

Because for a second – for such a brief, unthinking second – you had wanted them to be true, just as badly as she did.

Something cold began to take hold of you. It started in your gut, unfurling his long icy fingers, grabbing and twisting and squeezing as it slowly dragged the rest of you into its grip.

Betrayal. In that moment, you felt – you knew – you had betrayed Felix.

Did it show on your face? The queen was watching you now, and you couldn’t imagine the expression you must have had.

You swallowed, trying with all you had to shove that awful pain away.

You needed to say something. Anything.

“Minho…he’s always…he never seems to care when people believe the worst in him,” you said, the words stumbling out of you, as if your mind was two steps behind your mouth. “It’s almost like he prefers it. I don’t understand it.”

The queen took in your words. After one long pause, in which her eyes studied you so intensely that it felt they were about to burn through you, she turned to look up at the palace on the hill. Even from this distance, it seemed to loom over you, waiting so impatiently for you to return.

“This place…” she trailed off. Her jaw tightened - and in that one instant, as her eyes flashed, you saw the teenage girl that had first stepped foot into this court, so far from home and facing such a nest of vipers. “It pulls something out of the people here. A way to protect themselves. My husband already had his ingrained when I came here. I felt it take hold within myself. I watched it form in Minho, that desire to push people away. And you…” she turned to you, briefly, and you blinked at the twist of amusement in her lips. “What opposites you and he are. How perfectly you mirror.”

You stared. Her words were vague, cryptic…and yet, you couldn’t help feel as if you had been insulted. You opened your mouth to protest, but the queen had already turned away back towards the palace.

“You can’t live in a place like this without growing a few thorns,” the queen sighed. “Like the roses in my gardens, I suppose. The ones without thorns are the first to be eaten.”

There was something layered in her words, something sad, something resigned.

You realised then that of all the members of the royal family she had just mentioned, there was one obvious name left unsaid.

“Let us return,” she said, finally. “Before those guards grow too curious and drift too close.”

Not only did Minho keep his promise of returning for dinner again that evening, he arrived even earlier than you.

You almost stopped at the door, thrown by the sight of him at the table, as perfectly poised as he always was, flicking through a sheaf of papers by the side of his plate. He looked up at your arrival, eyes meeting yours, and something caught in your chest.

You hadn’t realised how strange it would be to see him in person after last night, how…affecting.

Clearing your throat, you gave him a tight smile and made your way to your seat across from him – unfortunately for you, as it gave you a clear unobstructed view of Minho at a time when you very much wished for anything but that.

You reached for the decanter in front of you, eager to pour yourself a drink to deal with this building lump in your throat. To your surprise, you found it to be filled with water, not wine.

“How was your day?” you asked, finally speaking, hoping to sound calm and collected.

Minho eyed you carefully, as if you’d offered some sort of complex riddle, and not a feeble attempt at small-talk. “…Slow. Until the Lakelander delegation arrives, there’s nothing urgent to take care of. I’ve been looking over budget proposals for the harvest season.”

The harvest season was months away. In fact, you were almost certain that the fields had only just been sown at all. That truly did seem like a slow day. “I see.”

You knew you should try to continue the conversation, to ask him more about his work. Instead, you let your eyes drop to the plate of food in front of you, words dying on your tongue as you tried and failed to push down the memories of last night.

It felt so…deeply indecent, to sit across from Minho, and pretend you hadn’t touched yourself just a few feet away from him. And it was only made more indecent by the fact that he didn’t know.

It was all you could think about when you looked at him. You knew a secret, and he didn’t.

For dinner, the kitchens had prepared some sort of fish beautifully. Perfectly cooked, tender and soft and practically melting in your mouth.

You barely tasted it. You just kept eating, preoccupied, eyes trained on your plate. You were certain that if you looked up at Minho for too long, you would give yourself away.

In fact, the longer you sat there, the more uncertain you became.

Were you acting unnaturally? Were you too quiet, too reluctant to make conversation?

But, then again, what exactly did acting ‘naturally’ in Minho’s presence entail? You might have finally found yourselves on better terms, but…

“Something on your mind?”

Your eyes jerked up to meet his, caught off-guard.

How long had Minho been observing you? It looked like he hadn’t even touched his food yet, one hand resting on top of his papers, his other arm propped up on the table, hand curled under his chin as he looked at you.

You made an effort to swallow down the food in your mouth, despite how dry your throat had become, and reached for your water with all the nonchalance you could muster. “Not particularly. I was just…”

Think of something, think of anything.

“Wondering about those budget proposals. The harvest season must be months away. Was there really nothing else more pressing?”

Minho was quiet for a second, just long enough to spark the tiniest flicker of nerves in the pit of your gut, before he let out a sigh. “My father likes to drip-feed me responsibilities, one at a time. If there is anything else more urgent, I won’t know until my next meeting with him. And that won’t be for several days.”

There was an edge of frustration in his voice, something long-suffering, as if this were the topic of multiple arguments in the past, arguments that never seemed to resolve themselves in his favour.

He reached for his water, taking a sip, before his gaze returned to you. “That will also be when I talk to him about you joining the council.”

For a brief moment, all thoughts about the previous night and your embarrassing secret disappeared from your mind entirely. You leaned forward, intrigued. “What do you think his response will be?”

Minho tilted his head slightly in thought – and it filled you with surprise at the fact that you recognised this subtle shift in Minho’s body language, that at some point you had come to learn how to read him, even slightly – and replied. “…I won’t mince words–”

“Do you ever?” You retorted, almost without thinking.

Minho’s lips twitched, fighting a smile, but continued without acknowledging your mildest of jabs. “It will be a hard sell. My father is not a revolutionary. A large part of his popularity has come from his upholding of tradition. But he’s been dragging his feet on filling this council seat for months now, and for good reason. It’s a political minefield, and you are the best compromise. I hope he’ll see that.”

Minho was right. Your appointment to the council, however perfect a resolution to the infighting between your father and the blue-blooded nobility, would not be an easy sell at all. “I hope so too.”

The rest of your dinner passed in relative quiet, but the little calm you managed to gain in that time soon evaporated when you exited the dining room – and found yourself confronted yet again with the question of sleeping arrangements.

Minho’s bed was now the site of two of your most scandalous transgressions. Both of which involved Minho, both of which rendered you almost completely unable to look him in the eye whenever you thought of them.

In contrast to your internal strife, however, Minho seemed perfectly at ease.

He transported his sheaf of papers from the dining table to the couch, seating himself comfortably and setting them down on the low table in front of him.

Actually, perhaps ‘stack’ of papers might be more accurate a description than ‘sheaf’. Just how much work went into preparing these budget proposals? Had he done so little in his office all day to bring so much work to do in his chambers? Or was this a far more demanding responsibility than you had assumed?

All evidence seemed to point to the latter, as Minho worked silently throughout the evening, brow furrowed just a hint in concentration. He didn’t look up once, not when you rose to start preparing for bed, not when you returned in your nightclothes, not even when you wished him good night. He returned the words with a quiet murmur, clearly too enwrapped with whatever he was working on.

He was so engrossed, he didn’t see the way you hesitated by the bed.

Should you invite him over? He might have had work to do, but this would be yet another night that you went to bed without him. You were sharing a bedchamber now, surely the two of you should…

At least once, you should…

You tried to decide on the words of the invitation, of how to phrase it. A suggestion that he should bring his papers to bed, if he had so much work still to do? That was a reasonable question, wasn’t it? If he refused, you could press him on it, demand to know why it was beginning to seem as if he were still avoiding you…

“Yes?”

You blinked, emerging from your thoughts, to find Minho had glanced over to you. You likely made a strange sight, hovering by the bed, still yet to get under its covers.

The words were on the tip of your tongue, carefully crafted, ready to ask.

And then, traitorously, you thought of last night again.

Minho had been on the other side of the room, able to sleep through it, but if he’d been next to you…

You pictured it. You pictured jostling him awake in your sleep, the embarrassing sounds you might make. What you might do.

An awful, awful wave of embarrassment crashed through you because what if you tried to grab at him in your sleep?

You swallowed, turning away without even attempting to reply to Minho, and slipped under the bedcovers without another word.

In the morning, you woke to find that Minho had already risen long before you. The bedchamber was empty, and again the sheets by your side were untouched.

When the third night elapsed in just the same way, and the fourth, it became clear that this couldn’t be mere coincidence. Minho didn’t just happen to be so enthralled in his work that he fell asleep on the couch four nights in a row.

He was refusing to sleep beside you. You might have forced his hand in letting you share his chambers, but apparently he would not let that extend to his actual bed.

You were half-convinced he still held that early contempt for you, that he was still stubbornly maintaining that unconquerable distance between the two of you out of disdain.

And yet, he still sat with you at every dinner. He talked with you about his day, about your studies, telling stories about a particular odious noble that had done something to irk him, or listening to you talk passionately about a particular historical figure or event that had come up in your research. He’d even teased you once, when you confessed that you didn’t have the patience to read through the handful of art history books that Seungmin had added to your list.

The two of you were very slowly developing some odd sense of…well, perhaps friendship was still too strong a choice of word, but at least an understanding around each other that definitely hadn’t been present in the first few weeks of your marriage.

Nowhere else had this become so apparent than on your fifth evening in Minho’s bedchambers.

For a change of scenery, you had decided to spend the afternoon catching up on your research in these chambers, taking lunch there with your books, enjoying the little pocket of quiet in which Minho’s bedchambers were nestled within the palace.

To your surprise, and delight, the cat was back.

Initially, it was just as sullen as you remembered. It eyed you from across the room, perched on the low table yet again, sat as tall and imposing as it could make itself.

That was, until you called for a plate of kippers to be brought to you.

Despite its surly appearance, the cat barely needed convincing before it wandered over to you and the plate of fish, taking each offered kipper from your hand without hesitation. After three fish, it allowed you the softest of pets between its ears. After six, it drew closer, jumping from the table to the seat next to you, a little more relaxed as it took yet another fish from your hand.

To your delight, once the plate was empty, the cat did not abandon you immediately. In fact, it curled up near you – not quite close enough to be within easy reach, but enough that you could lean over and give it slow and gentle strokes as you continued to read. It even began to purr, just a little, whenever you scratched just beneath the base of its ears.

The more attention you gave the cat, the more you realised just how cared for it seemed to be. How comfortable it was with being touched, how well-fed it was, how soft its fur was. Even in a palace, this was not at all typical for a kitchen mouser.

“Someone spoils you, don’t they?” You murmured, giving the cat more strokes. “I can see why, you’re lovely. So cute.”

The cat, while not acknowledging your words, leaned its head up into your hand a little, chasing after those little scratches.

You were close to abandoning your studies entirely for the day, ready to devote your full attention to this adorable little creature, when the bedchamber doors swung open.

The cat jolted a little, jumping from its place on the couch – but to your relief, did not run out of the room. Instead, it lingered by the low table, ready to disappear under it, and stared down the sudden arrival.

Minho, mouth still parted slightly in whatever greeting he’d been about to give you, was silent as his gaze flickered between you and the orange cat eyeing him from the floor.

“We have a visitor,” you told Minho, solemnly, gesturing to the cat.

Minho nodded, briefly, still looking between you and the cat. “Yes. Yes, she seems to like it in here.”

“‘She’?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Minho’s expression immediately smoothed into the perfect neutral, refusing to give even the slightest bit of emotion away. “…I assume.”

“Mm. Well, she seems to be a sweetheart.”

“Does she?” Minho repeated, glancing at the cat again, who seemed to have now relaxed. She began to approach Minho’s feet, sniffing familiarly at his boots.

“I may have had to bribe her with a plate of kippers,” you admitted, increasingly amused by the way the cat began to weave her way between Minho’s legs, but managed not to let it show too obviously in your face. “She seems very well-fed, for a kitchen mouser.”

Minho made a non-committal sound in response, not meeting your eyes. “…Yes, well, I imagine people must toss her dinner scraps here and there.”

“I suppose so. But who would be so soft-hearted in this palace, to feed a kitchen cat from their own plate?” You wondered aloud.

Minho’s face was a mask at this point, unmoving, perfectly calculated. He made his way to one of his armchairs, attempting to ignore the way the cat followed him happily, jumping up and perching herself on the arm of his chair.

You continued. “In fact, I wonder what a mouser would be doing here, so far away from the kitchens. That’s quite a distance for a cat to wander unprompted.”

“I suppose so,” Minho stated, perfectly neutral, even as the cat moved from the arm of the chair to seat herself in his lap.

You continued to stare at him, wordless, eyebrow raised – and finally, he relented.

“I might have given her some scraps, once or twice,” he admitted, even as the cat nuzzled into his hand from where she rested nearby. “I suppose she can’t help it if she isn’t good at mousing, and goes hungry.”

“True,” you allowed, thoroughly unconvinced by his façade. “And do you know if this failed mouser has a name?”

“…I think I’ve heard someone call her Soonie,” Minho said, and finally let his hand drift over to Soonie and begin to give her gentle scratching behind her ears. She purred loudly enough that you could hear her from where you sat, utterly content to receive affection from someone she was clearly very familiar with. “Somewhere. At some point.”

“How odd. Not many kitchen mousers have names.”

“Mm,” Minho hummed, noncommittal, but when his eyes dropped down to glance at Soonie, he couldn’t hide the slightest of smiles.

You took in the sight, this cold and prickly prince melting as he pet the scruffy little tabby cat. Minho was still in his usual daily prince attire, all high-necked and formal. His legs were clad in those familiar riding leathers that you never let yourself look at for too long, so you moved your attention instead to his jacket. Instead of a royal scarlet, this one was a dark blue, the fabric glinting in the candlelight from the clusters of beading embroidered within it. It suited him, you forced yourself to admit, far more than red did.

In fact, you tried to remember the last time Minho had worn the colour red, but nothing recent sprang to mind. Perhaps…

“I’m meeting with my father tomorrow,” Minho told you, and immediately your attention was captured.

Tomorrow.

The word sparked something in your gut – not quite dread, or alarm, but something akin to that. Urgency.

You swallowed back your excitement, remaining as calm and neutral as you could. “And you’ll talk to him about the council?”

“That’s the plan,” Minho replied, enigmatic.

You paused, and a quiet fell over the room. It wasn’t as if Minho was expecting you to reply – in fact, as Soonie settled completely in his lap, chin dropping to rest on his knee, he was looking down and away from you.

But something still just…tugged at you. Just a little bit.

Your eyes darted down to the book in your hands, and as nonchalantly as you could, you spoke. “…Thank you.”

You saw Minho move out of the corner of your eye, head raising to look at you.

“…I’m just doing what I’m supposed to,” Minho said, his voice detached and light. “One of my duties is to recommend the most capable candidate I can find. Don’t think of it as a favour.”

His words rendered you speechless, heart beginning to pound in your ears.

Most capable.

You were the daughter of a rich, powerful man. You had been given many compliments throughout your lifetime.

None of them had ever caused the same kind of lump to form in your throat as you felt now. None had caused this kind of strange heat to bloom behind your eyes, this way your heart swelled.

Most capable.

And just like that, you were spurred into action. If you had only one night left to prepare yourself and construct the perfect defence to prove why you deserved to be on the council, you would take full advantage of it.

You began combing through the papers you had with you, reading voraciously, consuming every piece of information available to you. You did this throughout dinner, chewing absently as you turned pages and scrawled notes. You were so devoted to your studies, you made your way through two full cups of tea before realising, upon looking up, that it was Minho who poured it for you each time.

Your eyes met, just as he held the teapot over your cup to pour a third time, and your gaze held long enough to note the flicker of amusement in his before he looked away.

When dinner was over, you retreated back to the couch with more reading to finish. Minho did the same, taking up the same spot he did every evening, that familiar pile of paperwork set in front of him. There was a strangely companionable silence as the two of you worked into the night.

You almost forgot he was there, despite the sounds of his writing and the crisp sounds of paper-shuffling, slipping into a quiet rhythm of reading and re-reading until words began to blur together.

As the candles burned low, and the hours grew later and later, you felt your concentration start to slip. Your eyes would close, just for a few moments, and the will to open them again slowly began to elude you. Exhaustion crept up on you, an old friend, and you found yourself repeating paragraphs, reading over the same sentence again and again and unable to take in its meaning.

Your eyes closed again, and you vaguely remembered telling yourself it would be just for a moment.

Sleep found you instead.

Blissful, calm. Warmth from the fire. Papers slipping from your hand, but never landing on the floor. You felt safe, wrapped in the quiet.

Something brushed your arm. Soft. Fur. Soonie?

Your eyes opened, bleary, only to find grey instead of orange. The wrongness of it jolted you, your hand darting out to grab at something pale and moving.

Skin.

A hand. Soft.

Except for a callus on the edge of a knuckle on the middle finger. You recognised it, for you had your own on the very same finger. It was where the pen sat whenever you wrote.

Your gaze wandered, still sleep-fogged, and there was no surprise when you saw the hand attached to a Minho.

Your grip on him relaxed, fingers slipping from his, and you barely mumbled a half-formed thought. “Your hand matches mine.”

Your eyes closed again, just as Minho stilled, and you drifted back to sleep.

You woke up, neck aching, still upright on the couch. Your books and papers lay scattered around you, from where you’d been too tired to put them away properly. Morning light streamed in from the windows, and despite the ashes in the fireplace indicating that it had long since burned out, you found yourself unusually warm.

Ah. You had fallen asleep in the previous day’s clothes – and with very familiar furs draped over you.

There was a brief flash of a memory, of Minho’s hand pulling the furs over you. You dimly recalled saying something, perhaps, but the details escaped you. You pushed the furs off of you, your movements unusually gentle as you handled the blanket, as if it commandeered an unthinking respect from you. Sentiment, maybe.

As always, Minho had risen before you and left your chambers, but today this observation filled you with equal parts excitement and nerves.

Were they discussing it right at this moment? Did their meetings take place in the mornings? Or in the afternoons? Would other items be brought up first?

It was maddening, to have so many questions and no way to pursue the answers.

With a night’s worth of sweat sticking to your skin, you made up a bath for yourself, even heating the water entirely on your own. The only oils in Minho’s bathroom were lavender, suited for relaxation in the evenings rather than energising in the mornings, but you made do.

The water was a touch cooler than how you usually liked it, but you didn’t have the patience to heat more water. Instead, you stripped and climbed into the bath with as much grace as you could muster and set about cleaning yourself.

This wasn’t the first time you had bathed entirely without servants – in fact, since you had moved into Minho’s chambers, the only times a servant had been permitted to enter was to bring them dinner each evening.

You found yourself becoming…amenable to that arrangement. It gave Minho’s chambers a sense of quiet, a private solace, that could not be found anywhere else in the palace.

Perhaps that was why it was so jarring, almost invading, when you heard knocking from afar, the sound of a door swinging open, and a woman’s voice ringing out hesitantly. “Your Highness?”

You startled, upsetting the water, letting some of it slosh over the side of the bath and onto the floor. “Yes? Is something wrong?”

Footsteps approached – timid, rushed – and the voice drew closer. “You’ve been summoned, Your Highness. By the king.”

Your stomach dropped, your breath cut short.

“He…said it was urgent, Your Highness, but I can let them know you’re still bathing–”

“No,” you blurted out, quickly, sharply. You got out of the bath hastily, dripping water all over the floor. “Help me change into something quickly, and I’ll go now.”

There was only one reason you would be summoned by the king on this particular day, and from the sounds of it, it wasn’t to congratulate you on your new position on the council.

You needed to stand your ground, to explain your reasoning in the face of his refusal. And if there was any chance of persuading him to grant you the position, to ignore the concerns of your gender…

Well, telling the king that he needed to wait to discuss urgent business until the princess finished drying her hair was not the kind of image you wanted to present to him.

And so, you were laced into a dress with impressive dexterity by your maid, the luscious fabric increasingly dampened from your dripping hair. Was it an uncomfortable sensation? Absolutely, but it was difficult to dwell on it when all you could think of was why you were be summoned, what could have happened between the king and Minho to warrant such an urgent demand for your presence.

Discussions must not have gone as smoothly as Minho intended – but not so disastrously as to be dismissed out of hand.

As you slipped on a pair of shoes, your maid gave one last attempt to persuade you to wait. “Your Highness, are you sure…”

You turned, smiling politely at her. “Yes. I’m sure it will dry soon enough. Thank you for all your help.”

She returned your smile, somewhat nervously, eyes darting to the dishevelled aspects of your appearance, but seemed a little more assured. Marginally. Barely.

Before she could protest again, you marched straight for the door.

Of course, as was so often the case with grand gestures, there were certain factors you didn’t think through entirely.

The palace halls were unforgivingly cold, especially as your hair continued to slowly drip water down your neck, soaking into the back of your gown. It made every step uncomfortable, as every little drop of water that landed on the nape of your neck was another reprimanding shock of chill.

You made sure to stand tall, proud.

If your head was bowed, if your shoulders were slouched and your steps more resembling a scurry than a stride, you would have made a pitiable sight. It would look as if you were caught off-guard, as if you were panicked, incapable, scared.

But with your chin held high, with your shoulders back and a confidence steeling you, this was intentional. This was a statement. An image fit for songs, for stories, a princess devoted to her role and to the orders of her king.

As you drew closer to the king’s chambers, navigating through the ever-narrowing hallways, you felt your chest begin to tighten. You realised you might genuinely hate it here, this deep within the very depths of the palace, its cold little stone heart. A king might be well-defended here, the walls witness to nearly a thousand years of history, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were descending into a tomb.

And then, you heard the voices.

The last time you had been summoned by the king, you remembered catching a snippet of conversation at the very doorstep of his chambers. That was how close you had to get before Minho’s and the king’s voices could be heard through the thick wooden door.

But now? You heard them in the corridor - because they were loud.

Not quite a screaming match between father and son, but–

“–talk of duty, but what’s your solution, Father? Burying your head in the sand, that tried and tested trick?”

You almost stumbled, shock rendering you clumsy, because did Minho just say that to the king?

“Caution, boy, is not ignorance. How do you mistake the two? You’re well-versed in the latter.”

The two guards in front of you exchanged a glance. You noted that they did not share your horror. In fact, you could almost mistake it as…resigned.

“Was it age that turned your belly yellow? Is that my fate too? Cowardice?”

“I will not be lectured by a son still wet-around-the-ears on age.”

Not just resigned.

Long-suffering.

They’d heard this all before. Frequently, by the looks of things.

And then, as if that knowledge had unlocked something, had lifted the veil over your eyes, you could hear it. The hint of familiarity, the ease with which the two hurled insults at each other.

This was not the first time Minho and his father had quarrelled. In fact, you’d wager this wasn’t the first time this week.

The argument paused when the guards knocked at the door, announcing your arrival. As the doors swung open, you caught sight of Minho and his father – not a hair out of place, not even a flush of anger to their cheeks – glaring at each other with familial exasperation.

Minho looked away first, turning to look at you – and paused.

His Majesty followed his gaze, and you watched those regal eyes blink in surprise at your appearance.

You must have made a sight, your gown on its way to being ruined, your hair still slick and dishevelled, trying hard not to shiver in the cold of these chambers.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted, not even the slightest bit affected, and bowed low. You straightened up before offering Minho’s greeting. “Husband.”

“My dear,” the king spoke, just the slightest bit alarmed. “If my summons caught you at an inopportune time, I assure you it’s perfectly reasonable to delay answering until you’re presentable. Don’t concern yourself so thoroughly.”

You smiled brightly. The picture of obedience, of devotion. “I hated the thought of keeping you both waiting. I imagine I know what this conversation is about.”

The king’s gaze flickered between you and Minho at this, a frown soon beginning to form. Still, there was a subtle note of surprise in his voice when he spoke again. “I see. The two of you are conspirators in this…”

“Proposal?” you supplied, gently.

“Attack?” Minho offered, bitterly.

“…Folly,” the king said, finally, turning back to you.

You dipped your head, keeping your voice soft and sweet. “I’m sorry to hear that you see it that way. I believe it to be a fair compromise, to ease the tensions at court.”

“Yes, Minho said the same thing,” the king sighed, dismissive. “Both of you are blind to the same issue. Any conflicts that your position on the council might resolve are outnumbered by the discord it would certainly cause.”

Minho sighed, eyes darting up to the ceiling. You wondered how many times he had heard that argument this morning. “And yet, a good king prioritises the future of his kingdom above all else, is that not so?”

The king shot Minho a look. It didn’t take much to realise that those were likely the king’s own words that had come out of Minho’s mouth, not his own.

“Son–”

“Talk to her,” Minho interrupted, gesturing to you in pure exasperation. “Listen to her. Ask her anything. She’s more than qualified to be on the council.”

After a moment’s hesitation, in which it looked as if the king was debating whether to indulge his oldest son or nip this matter in the bud entirely, he turned to you.

“…Very well,” he said, giving in. You watched as he made his way to the splendid-looking chair behind a monstrosity of a writing desk, sinking into it. For a brief moment, you thought you caught something of a grimace in his expression.

Exhaustion? Perhaps. It must have been tiring work, running a kingdom. Let alone arguing with Minho too. You had first-hand knowledge of how that could drain your energy.

The king’s eyes became fixed on you, almost pinning you to the floor, as he spoke. “Suppose you were on the council, and a message was received, warning of a great army about to invade. What would you advise?”

Your brow furrowed as you considered the question. You needed to remain calm, measured, and use every scrap of information you had studied.

“Which border is the army advancing toward?” you asked, thoughtful.

The king’s face remained unchanged. “The one we share with the Lakelands.”

Interesting. No cardinal direction given – you assumed that must have been on purpose – but still plenty of information to form an answer. The Lakelands were in the north, and under treaty with your kingdom.

“I would advise you to send missives to Lords Kim and Geum in the north with instructions to muster their forces and man our security garrisons along the border. I would also–”

“Which garrisons?” the king interrupted, gently but firmly.

“Yalrock and Banna. Yalrock is the largest garrison on the northern border, Banna is strategically advantageous because of its position on the river plains. You’d be forcing the army to march along the mountain passes instead.”

The king’s expression remained cold, neutral – and you realised, in that moment, exactly where Minho might have learned the same habit. “Continue.”

“I would also advise you to send word to our allies in the hills and across the Sunrise Sea, informing them that the Lakelands have broken our treaty pact.”

“Broken the pact?” the king repeated. “I never said the Lakelanders were the ones invading.”

“The treaty pact also forbids the harbouring of any forces with aggressive intent towards treaty members. In this scenario, the Lakelanders would be doing just this – unless they themselves were invaded by this army too, which I doubt if we received no summons for aid or word from our ambassador there,” you said. Was this too much detail? Were you rambling? You did your best to keep your words steady, unrushed. “Therefore, the treaty would be broken.”

From out of the corner of your eye, you caught Minho watching you, a hint of a smile on his face.

The king, while perhaps a touch surprised at your answer, pressed on anyway with another question, changing the subject entirely.

“…Suppose Lord Sun’s lands are failing to produce the amount of grain demanded of them. How would you advise me?”

“I would be confused,” you admitted, “because Lord Sun’s lands produce fish, not grain.”

“And why is that?”

“Because his lands are in the east, along the coast. The land there isn’t arable.”

“Why?”

“The weather is too hot in the summer, too dry. There isn’t enough freshwater for crop-growing.”

The quickness of your answer was rewarded with the smallest – almost unthinking – of nods from the king. He paused once more, and spoke again. “Suppose I wanted to–”

“Another question?” Minho interjected, sighing, as he wandered across the room and took a seat by the window. He rested his head against his hand, elbow planted into the plush armrest of his chair.

The king shot him a look, either for the interruption, or for the flippant tone Minho had used, or perhaps even for the way he was lounging in the presence of his king, but he made no move to reprimand him. Instead, he turned back to you. “Suppose I wanted to offer a gift to the Lakelander delegation when they arrive next month to renew the treaty. A personal one, not a grand spectacle of an offering. What would you suggest?”

You paused. This wasn’t a question that could be answered with any of your recent studies of war or economics or geography. This was a question of hospitality, knowledge you needed as a queen, not as a councillor.

It took a moment, longer than it took with the first two questions, but soon there was an answer in your mind. “When the last Lakelander delegation came to this country to sign the treaty, one of the gifts they gave Your Majesty were wild rose seeds. Wild roses that were native to the Lakelands, difficult to grow in this climate, meant to symbolise a new peace and the care needed to maintain it. Her Majesty, the queen, still grows these roses in her private gardens, does she not?”

The answer to your question did not come from the king, but from Minho. “She does.”

“Then, I would suggest a bouquet of these roses. It would be symbolic of the care this kingdom has taken to nurture this new relationship with the Lakelands, a sign that we do not take their gifts for granted.”

The king eyed you carefully for a moment, silent. “…You weren’t present at the first signing of the treaty, were you? You’re too young for that.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t present, Your Majesty,” you replied. “But the queen graciously allowed me to play in her gardens when I was a child, and taught me the origins of those roses.”

Not quite. The queen allowed you and Felix to play in those gardens. She told you the origins of the roses when Felix tried to pick some for you, and accidentally cut open his palm on the sharp thorns of their stems. You remembered him, tears in his eyes, sniffling as Her Majesty held the both of you close and warned him gently that these roses were wild, were Lakelanders just like her and a little like him, and because of that, they were fiercely protective.

You remembered sitting and watching the two of them exchange smiles, and silently wishing that you were a Lakelander too. You wanted to be protective. You wanted to be like the roses, like them.

“Any more questions, Father?” Minho asked, jolting you from your memories. “Or has she proven our point? Impressively?”

And again, just as they had last night, Minho’s words stirred something within you. A kind of warmth, filling your chest.

The king regarded the both of you, silently, before sighing. “Your education is…indeed, as Minho says, impressive.”

Your heart soared, mind so entirely filled with elation that you almost missed his next words.

“But I’m afraid that still does not change the obvious. I did not secure decades of unprecedented peace under my reign by breaking with tradition. A woman sitting on the council is not tradition.”

You swallowed, heart sinking just as sharply as it had risen just moments ago.

“…There is precedent,” you pointed out, softly. “I found records of Princess Jiyoon on the royal council, less than two centuries ago.”

“That is true,” the king conceded, before tilting his head slightly. After a moment of consideration, he pushed himself out of his chair with the same half-grimace glimpsed earlier, and crossed the room towards a bookcase stuffed with leather-bound volumes. His hands hovered over them, fingertips brushing their spines, until he found the one he was searching for and pulled it from its stack with ease.

He made his way back to the two of you, opening the volume and thumbing through the pages as he walked, before offering the volume to you.

You took it, uncertainly, and looked down at what exactly he had handed to you.

Council records – but unlike the ones you had studied with Seungmin, you were shocked at just how much more detail this version contained. You supposed that made sense. The records in the library were likely censored, or edited for public consumption. These were private, a king’s own personal records, passed down from ruler to heir most likely.

Jiyoon’s name was there, listed amongst the other councillors, but these records included a strange symbol next to her name.

You frowned, and the king spoke again.

“I imagine you found no records of any contributions she made, correct? No votes cast, no motions brought to attention?”

“…No,” you admitted, reluctantly, looking up at him as dread began to curl in the pit of your stomach.

“There is a reason for that. Jiyoon filled a particular role. If you scour through the legal treatise of the time – dry reading, all of it, but it is there – you’ll find it. Jiyoon was not granted the role of an adviser, but of an observer. A silent one, there only to watch the council proceedings so that she could better educate her heirs in service of her husband. That is the precedent that Jiyoon set.”

Silent. Heirs. Husband.

Of course.

Of course. You should have known. That was what it always came down to. Centuries of royal women, millennia of royal women, and it was always the same.

Silent. Heirs. Husband.

You should have known. You should have known not to get your hopes up.

“What are you saying?” you heard Minho ask, dimly, as these thoughts repeated endlessly in your mind.

“The observer is required to be silent. She cannot vote, she cannot dissent, she cannot speak even when called upon to do so in session. She observes.”

Minho made a sound of disdain, maybe even disgust. “Then, what’s the point? Why have that great of a mind on your council if she can’t even use it? What a waste.”

“Perhaps, but that is the precedent you argue for. If you seek a compromise, that would be it.”

“A compromise? What–”

“I would accept it,” you interrupted, quietly. Your eyes were trained on the floor, voice barely above a murmur. Your brain still thundered with those three words, again and again. Silent. Heirs. Husband. “If Your Majesty were so gracious as to offer this role, I would accept it.”

You didn’t have to look at Minho to know the way his mouth was parted in surprise, astonished and outraged in equal measure. You could sense it in his tone when he spoke. “You can’t be serious.”

You raised your eyes to look at the king, purposefully avoiding Minho’s stare.

“I hope His Majesty knows that I don’t ask for this council seat out of personal ambition,” you said, softly, lying through your teeth to your king. “You said Jiyoon took the role as a duty to her husband and her children. If anyone objected to my position on the council, I would ask you say the same of me.”

“…You would take the council seat in service of Minho,” the king said, and even he sounded sceptical. You weren’t sure what that said about your marriage, but it wasn’t exactly promising.

“And our future children. We both take that duty very seriously.”

“Do you?” the king questioned, sharply, pointedly, but surprisingly it wasn’t you he was addressing – it was Minho.

You might have tensed at such an insinuation, but Minho practically bristled.

“Don’t,” Minho warned his father, straightening up in his seat. No, more than warned, he practically spat out the word. “I thought we agreed.”

Agreed? Agreed what?

You glanced between Minho and his father, sensing a tension that remained unspoken as the two eyed each other, jaws both set.

You were clearly missing something vital to this exchange, some secret piece of information – and, as always, the idea chafed at you.

And then, with a quiet and cold anger that you hadn’t heard in weeks, Minho told his father. “You owe me this.”

The king’s expression twisted. It was guilt, you realised. “Minho–”

“You owe me something.”

Another pause.

And then, finally, the king broke this staring contest with his son to look at you. “…The role requires complete silence. If I decided to grant you the seat on these conditions, and you flout them immediately, I will not look kindly on it. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you replied, solemnly.

“…Very well,” the king said, eventually. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

You did it.

It was a hollow victory, yes, but a victory nonetheless.

You couldn’t quite muster happiness about it, or even gratitude, but there was a sense of achievement.

You nodded, quietly, and curtsied low before the king. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

When you lifted your head again, you found the king glancing between your face and Minho’s before he spoke again.

“You do have quite the mind,” the king said, gaze still shifting between the two of you. “You might not be able to speak in the council room but…well, you share bedchambers now. Whatever you might discuss in there is your own private business. Is it not?”

Within days, news of your appointment to the council spread across the palace like wildfire.

You expected this, to some extent. Precedent or not, observer or not, this was still an undeniably shocking development. You knew there would be whispers about it, gossip passed around, growing and contorting with each telling and retelling.

All of this, and still you did not expect the conversation you happened upon one evening as you took a shortcut through one of the palace courtyards on your way back from a tutoring session with Seungmin.

The sun had just descended below the horizon, casting the square into shadow wherever the dim glow of torchlight did not quite reach. You caught snatches of voices as you walked, whenever you passed doors to parlours, to sitting rooms, to the dozens upon dozens of meeting places for the elite that resided within the court. Some of these doors were cracked open to enjoy the fresh air brought by the open-air courtyard on their doorstep, unaware of any passers-by.

And then, one particular comment caught your attention.

“Perhaps the poor girl is simply bored,” a haughty voice said, with a hint of laughter. “That council room might be a dreary place, but I’d wager it’s a damn sight better than her bedchambers.”

You froze, half within shadow, half without.

There was only one person that comment could possibly be referring to.

Immediately, you slipped behind one of the stone pillars lining the courtyard, heart pounding.

Finally, after all this talk of rumours, of whisperings at court behind your back, you finally had the chance to listen for yourself.

“Careful, Park,” another voice cautioned, although sounding more amused than concerned.

“A prince too scared to share a bed with his wife for weeks after the wedding,” the first voice – Park – scoffed. “What, did he hope no one would notice?”

A third voice chimed in, low and gleeful. “You want to hear something good? My wife heard a maid talking the other day. They change the sheets of that marriage bed every day. And they’re always pristine.”

Your face heated, something approaching bile threatening to burn the back of your throat. There was something about hearing your privacy be so…violated, and said so casually. Your bedsheets? They all talked about your bedsheets?

“You know my theory,” the third voice spoke again.

“Your wife’s theory,” Park corrected, sounding dismissive.

“It makes sense. She’s saving herself for the other brother. Traded one for the other before, maybe she’s waiting to trade back when he comes home.”

Felix.

Traded one for the other. Is that how they saw it? Is that how they all saw it?

“He’s not coming back,” Park scoffed. “Not for a long time. Not unless His Highness fancies looking down and wondering why all his children have the Lakelander look to them.”

Your heart stopped. You felt the blood in your veins freeze, matching the ice-cold anger settling into your bones.

“Gods be good, close the door before you say horseshit like that. Moron.”

This was more than fury.

This was wrath.

You stepped out of the shadows, just at the right moment to lock eyes with Lord Park as he stood by the doors, his too-late hand stilled on the handle.

“Good evening, Lord Park,” you said, voice so syrupy-sweet and cloying, and watched the blood drain from his face as he stared back at you in horror. You craned your neck to peek over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the two other men with him. “Oh, I see Lords Song and Ryu have joined you. How nice.”

“Y-Your Highness,” Park stammered, and there was genuine fear in his eyes.

He knew what you had heard. He knew the words that had come out of his mouth, and how close those words danced along the line of treason. It would take you only one conversation with Minho, or with the king, and his career would be done. His family. His fortunes. Possibly even his life.

You smiled brightly at him. “I look forward to seeing you next week at the council. I’ve heard you’re quite the contrarian. You’ve voted to reject the last, what is it, seven bills put forward by my husband?”

Park didn’t answer. Perhaps it was more accurate to say Park couldn’t answer. You wondered what could possibly be going through his head at that moment. You wondered if he had ever felt this afraid in his entire pampered little life.

You tilted your head slightly, eyeing him. “Perhaps from next week, you might find yourself second-guessing a decision like that. Don’t you think so?”

Park’s face, still pale, twisted into something approaching realisation. He seemed to grasp exactly what you were hinting at – the threat that remained unspoken.

“…Y-yes, Your Highness,” Park agreed, nodding erratically.

“And your companions? Perhaps they’ll have similar changes of heart?”

From behind Park, his friends stammered their assent, just as rattled.

You beamed.

“Perfect. Have a nice night.”

You attended your first council meeting the very next week, finally taking that last empty council seat that had remained vacant for so long.

Sixty-two members attended the session in total.

You felt sixty-one pairs of eyes on you throughout.

You recognised quite a few of the faces in this meeting. Lord Young, as delightful as ever, sat just a few seats removed from the royal family – a position of great honour, especially for a man with neither blood nor marriage ties to the crown.

Lord Park had also made an appearance, and blanched the moment your eyes met his.

Good.

You paid the stares little notice, attention completely and utterly captivated by the debates that took place. Every idea proposed, every motion considered and accepted and denied, every opinion volleyed back and forth, you noted down.

You might have been silent, but you wrote feverishly. Pages and pages of scrawls, near indecipherable as you worked to keep pace with the spoken word of the other council members.

Minho was seated next to you. Of course he was – he served as a visible explanation for your presence there at all. To be useful to him, to educate his heirs and better his legacy. In the eyes of everyone else, your seat on the council was essentially just an extension of Minho’s.

You weren’t sure what to expect of him during these council meetings. You knew just how seriously he took his position as heir, and his duty to the kingdom – but you also remembered that carriage journey home from Lord Young’s orchards, the disdain he had for politicking, his derision in his voice when he talked of strings attached.

It turned out that in council meetings, Minho kept up the same perfect princely mask he always did in public. Never once raising his voice, never slipping into anger or mockery. Exemplary behaviour from the first second of the meeting to the last.

Except for one moment, when an old lord from the Tan family had loudly proclaimed an argument so poorly constructed, with parts so moronic that you made sure to underline his exact wording for its stupidity, that you heard the quietest of noises from Minho. When you glanced up at him, he was watching the debate with apparent rapt attention. If you weren’t sat so close to him, you would have missed the slightest way his jaw clenched, as if to fight a look of disdain as he watched Lord Tan blather on.

Minho proposed only one new bill – investment in a new mill, to be built in one of the kingdom’s slowly-dwindling rural villages, in the hopes of creating employment opportunities. You paused your notetaking to watch each council member cast their votes for or against the bill.

Most supported it. Some rejected it. Your eyes sought out Lord Park again, and you watched as he reluctantly raised his hand in favour of the bill, gaze nervously flickering towards you as he did so.

What an astonishing change of heart from the man. Who could have predicted?

Still, despite it all, the council meeting ended without incident. The issues tabled for the next meeting were fairly standard: a new maritime trade deal with a kingdom across the Sunrise Sea, preparations for next year’s census, the ongoing reports from the Lakelander delegation slowly making its way to the palace. You made note of it all, jotting down your own thoughts on each matter when you were able to, and kept the notes closely guarded on your person.

You made sure to take them straight to your bedchambers as soon as the meeting finished, intending to lock them away in your desk until dinner that evening, when you could discuss them with Minho.

To your surprise, instead of making his way back to his office to spend the rest of the working day, Minho followed you back to your shared chambers. You tried and failed not to focus on his footsteps, how they matched your pace precisely, echoing along the empty corridors.

The slightest sense of frustration sparked within you. If you had to be watched by gossiping onlookers, why couldn’t they at least see this? Minho ignoring his usual duties to accompany you back to your bedchambers? Let them whisper about that, sordid or not, that could at least be useful.

You pushed away the thought with one last scoff at your own poor luck, reaching your chambers without so much as a single pair of prying eyes to witness you.

“So,” Minho said, as the doors swung shut behind the two of you. “How did you find it?”

Frustrating. Exhausting. Borderline insulting.

“Informative,” you replied, collapsing into a seat. Your hands ached from how feverishly you had written throughout the meeting, and you began to clench and unclench your fists in the hopes of relieving the pain. “I made a few notes.”

“I noticed,” Minho commented, eyebrow raising as he appraised the pile of papers at your side. “They look…detailed.”

“They are,” you confirmed, picking the papers up and beginning to flick through them. “If I can’t speak my mind in that room, writing will just have to do.”

For now, you added internally. You refused to accept that this silent role would last forever.

“Can I…read them?” Minho asked, and his question came out hesitantly, almost cautiously.

You looked up, surprised. You weren’t sure how much use these notes would be – you were both just at the very same meeting after all – but there was something about the request that was almost…endearing.

Minho. Endearing.

Hell had truly frozen over.

“Of course,” you replied, holding the notes up.

Minho paused for a moment before, slowly making his way towards you. When he sat next to you, he was close enough that his jacket sleeve brushed your bare arm.

You cleared your throat, focusing your attention on anything but how close he was. “These pages are about the logging site proposals, this one was on the Lakelanders’ progress, this…oh, this page is actually about Lord Tan.”

“Lord Tan?” Minho repeated, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes. He’s…” you trailed off, trying to think of a polite way to phrase it. “…He’s a blithering idiot, honestly.”

Minho, to your surprise, laughed. Openly, loudly, with a note of genuine delight. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have thought him capable of producing such a sound.

“Do you know how many hours of my life I have wasted listening to that old man ramble incoherently?” he asked. “There were moments I was driven half to madness. But he was my father’s first real supporter when he became crown prince, so he’s adamant on keeping the man around.”

You watched as Minho turned the page over, half-smiling to himself.

“He’s a sentimental old fool like that, sometimes,” Minho said, too lightly to really be considered critical – or treasonous.

“Who was your first supporter?” You asked, curiously.

“…Felix,” Minho said, softly, discreetly shifting away as he held your notes out to return them. “He was the only one to never doubt me. Not even for a second.”

Yes. Yes, that sounded like Felix.

You took back your notes, and tried not to notice how Minho avoided your touch as your notes exchanged hands.

A new silence fell between you.

Stifling.

Deafening.

You tried to take a deep breath, and stood up, making your way over to your desk to lock away your writings from prying eyes.

From behind you, Minho’s voice brought you to a halt.

“We haven’t talked about Felix,” he noted. “…And we probably should. At some point.”

He said it so plainly, so devoid of nuance or emotion. As if it were a mere observation, a comment about the weather and nothing more. As if his words didn’t strike something deep and vulnerable within you, like fingers clumsily probing a freshly-formed bruise.

You hated his apparent nonchalance. You despised it, and you envied it because you might never be able to do the same. To speak Felix’s name as if it meant nothing to you.

To speak his name as if…

To speak…

You…

Realisation – cold, violent realisation – hit you at once.

You had not. Not once. In months.

It had been months. And you had not spoken Felix’s name.

Not since your wedding day.

Others had. Countless others had. They murmured it gently and sweetly like Her Majesty, or they crowed it before you mockingly like those noblemen, or they threw it at you, cold and cryptic and horrifically empty like Minho.

They dragged him out of your memories where you kept him locked away.

Away, where he was safest to you. Safest from you. Safest for you.

“…No. We haven’t,” you said, and the words were quiet. Pained. Final.

The two of you did not speak again that day.

Soon enough, your father found you.

Your mother, all those weeks ago when she summoned you for that painfully awkward afternoon tea, had at least shown you the decorum your new status demanded and sent you a formal request.

Your father, a proud man, a pragmatic man, had no patience for such etiquette.

You were in the library, sat with Seungmin and poring over budgetary records with tired and bleary eyes, when he came marching in. He was flanked by two panicked guards, too fearful of your father’s status to lay their hands on him, too mindful of their duty to let him wander freely.

They fixed you with beseeching looks. “Your Highness, we – no one told us…y-your father…”

“Desires to speak with his daughter,” your father finished, in a tone you’d never heard from him before. “Urgently.”

Usually, your father was calm, collected, never one to show even a hint of vulnerability.

Now, here, he was impatient. Almost rattled.

You rose to your feet, so thrown off-kilter by the situation that you were a touch unsteady. After a moment, you nodded to your guards. “Very well. Please leave us.”

They did just that – and so did a third guard who had been sat just a few paces away from you and Seungmin.

Your father’s eyes darted to your tutor. “Him too.”

Seungmin, however, stayed seated. Slowly, he laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table in front of him, returning your father’s glare with an unimpressed stare.

“It takes a bold man to order around a princess,” Seungmin remarked. Gently, as always, but firmly.

Your father’s expression hardened. He opened his mouth to speak back, but you cut him off at the pass.

“He’s right, Father,” you said. You couldn’t quite shake the nerves from your voice. You supposed that was only natural, after a lifetime of loyally following his orders and keeping your mouth shut in the process. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Mother?”

Your father stared at you for a moment, almost…bewildered. He recovered quickly enough. “Your mother is fine, which is more than I can say for the state of your…of…” he gritted his teeth, swallowing back whatever he desperately wished to say, and instead cut straight to the point. “You took a seat on the council?”

His question, and the venom behind it, almost took you aback.

Still, you lifted your head, trying to stand firm. “Yes, I did.”

“How could you be so…foolish?” your father demanded to know, anger giving way to frustration. “I could have protectedyou there.”

It took you mere moments to read between his words.

You didn’t take a seat on the council.

You took his seat.

“Could you?” you said, swallowing. “Or would you have protected your own interests?”

Your father’s eyes blazed at the accusation. You knew the look. Your own temper was a family trait – and it certainly didn’t come from your mother.

He thundered his response. “You are my daughter! My interests are your interests!”

“Are they?” You shot back, your voice rising to match his.

“We are family, we are blood–”

“And what have I done, except increase our family’s legacy?” you interrupted him. “I did that, I secured our first council seat.”

“And what seat is that?” he replied, incensed. “A mute councillor, never to vote, never to speak?”

Your face burned, as you tried to think of a rebuttal to his questions. Something began to twist in the pit of your stomach.

Your father sighed, fixing you with a stern look. “Let me be frank, girl, if you’re so eager to play politics. Your position is not secure.”

You swallowed. “I know–”

“No, you do not,” he snapped, briefly raising his voice, before dropping his voice to a more controlled volume. “You inspired the love of the people, but what else? I know half a dozen lords are plotting your annulment, and another dozen with their own girls waiting in the wings. What will you do with that council seat, when a proposal comes to terminate your marriage? Watch silently when they vote to cast you aside?”

You stared at him, as that twisting sensation in your gut finally earned a name: dread. You tried to respond. “Royal marriages are a king’s prerogative, they can’t–”

“Yes, they can,” your father said, simply. “Any silver-tongued politician could convince the king that your marriage is a matter of the state. Perhaps if you were married to the younger prince, you’d be safe, but you’re married to the heir–”

At those words, coming out of your father’s mouth of all people’s, your vision turned red. Your response, when it came, hung heavy in the air.

“And whose fault is that?”

Your father’s eyes widened, and he hissed. “Mind your tongue.”

“I did,” you said, your voice cracking. Before you could top yourself, words began tumbling out of your mouth, every secret silent thought that had festered in the darkest, most vulnerable corners of your mind, spilling to the surface. “I was happy and content and loved, and I still bit my tongue and let you scheme to take it away. I married the right brother for you, are you still not satisfied?”

In an instant, your father stormed his way towards you, eyes blazing as he loomed over you. “Be careful, girl.”

For a moment, you thought he was threatening you. Your own father.

And then you watched his body crumple slightly, panic and concern finally bleeding through all that pomp and anger. “Especially about…that. Him.”

You watched him take a deep breath, rendered speechless. You had never – not once, in all your life – seen your father like this.

He seemed almost…scared.

“If there are plots to annul your marriage, there are plots for something far darker. Annulment would be catastrophic, but bearable. But any whispers of adultery, of treason? To see you executed…”

Gently, he lifted his hand to cup your cheek. And for a moment, you were four years old again, showing your father your very first letters, beaming as he called you his little princess, long before the rest of the kingdom was obliged to.

“You are my child. My only child. Doubt my intentions, if you must, but do not doubt my love.”

You were stunned into silence. His words should have been touching, and you supposed on some level that they still were. But you felt almost numb as you absorbed them. Was it shock, hearing your father speak of his emotions so plainly? Perhaps.

There was a small part of you that whispered if this was all just too little, too late.

Your father dropped his hand and stepped away from you, silence filling the air between the two of you.

Then, he paused, and turned his attention to something behind you.

For a moment, you felt confusion, turning to follow his glare – before embarrassment consumed you.

Seungmin, of course, had been sitting there the whole time.

“And you,” your father interjected, his voice cold and bordering on menacing, pointing at your tutor. “If you breathe a word of this–”

Seungmin, despite showing the very clear signs of awkwardness one would expect from someone who had just witnessed such an intense and private family dispute, managed to keep calm as he replied with unfailing honesty.

“I am no fool. This position keeps my family fed, and will see my sisters marry well. I am only here at Her Highness’s request, and if the princess goes, this job goes with her,” Seungmin said, fiercely. “…And if nothing else, I know about your reputation, sir. I would rather like my tongue to remain inside my head.”

Your eyes widened.

That was a bold insinuation on Seungmin’s part. Tongue mutilation had been outlawed years ago, deemed too brutal a punishment when death was a surer way to guarantee silence.

You half-expected your father to deny this with bluster and offence. And yet, all he did was eye Seungmin silently, before nodding once and turning to the door.

As he approached it, your father spoke one final time to you.

“Keep your wits about you. You’ve made a dangerously bold move, and your enemies will use it against you,” he warned, before finally leaving, letting the heavy door slam shut behind him.

The echo of it reverberated across the library, as you stared after him with far more questions than answers.

It was Seungmin who first broke the silence, clearing his throat with just a touch of unease. “…Well, I imagine you’re no longer in quite the right mindset for last year’s harvest calculations. Would you like to finish our sessions early today, Your Highness?”

You didn’t speak. You barely looked at him, in fact, as you silently sank back into your chair.

Seungmin waited a moment or so longer, beginning to tap nervously on the smooth wooden surface of the table in front of him. “…Your Highness?”

“I…” you trailed off, as you realised the incriminating words that had fallen from your own lips just moments ago, and your head jerked towards Seungmin in panic. “Don’t… I don’t know how much you report to Minho about our lessons. But…please don’t tell him what I said about being…you know, about…”

“Biting your tongue?” Seungmin supplied for you, but his tone was heavy, knowing. He knew that wasn’t the offending part of your outburst.

“Yes,” you replied in the same tone, and when your eyes met, you knew you had an understanding. “He’s a smart man, I’m sure it’s nothing he doesn’t already know, but…it just seems cruel. I think. To hear it directly.”

Seungmin observed you for a moment, brow furrowing just a touch. He opened his mouth as if to say something, hesitated, before speaking anyway. “Actually, you should know that I don’t ‘report’ anything to Minho. Sometimes, he asks questions about what we study, and I answer them. Nothing more.”

You blinked, and before you could stop yourself, your curiosity won out. “What kind of questions?”

Seungmin eyed you again, and for a split-second, you could have sworn something akin to amusement quirked the corner of his mouth. Whatever it was, it disappeared in an instant, as he replied. “He asks about what interests you. Once, he asked about a book he’d seen you reading, and took a copy for his own use.”

“Oh.”

Whatever you were expected, it wasn’t that. A strange, unbidden feeling began to spread in your chest, warm for just a moment before common sense returned and drove it away.

“Well, I suppose that makes sense. Minho sometimes takes an interest in my education. Perhaps he wants to test me on it, make it a competition or something.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Seungmin said, perfectly politely. “Or something, indeed.”

Soon after that, the first move was made against you.

Details were leaked about the maritime trade deal discussed in the council meeting. Confidential details that were now freely gossiped about, within the palace and without. No one could say for sure who was the source of those leaks, but the evidence was damning.

Before you joined the council, there hadn’t been a single leak in years. And now, after you attended your first meeting, sensitive information was being bandied about within days.

There was only one simple conclusion to be drawn about the identity of the leaker.

You.

Your father was right. Whoever your enemies were, they’d been scheming, and they did use your position on the council against you.

Perhaps the library would have been a better place to take a breath, dwell on the knowledge a little longer, turn it over in your mind alone to work out the whos and whys and how to press forward.

But your feet drew you to your chambers, through the doors, and even once inside they refused to let you sit idle. You paced, backwards and forwards, going over the situation, the accusations about to be levelled at you, the defences you might need, the evidence you had and did not have to prove your innocence.

You paced and paced, and thought and thought, until your head spun and your feet threatened to leave its imprints in the stone beneath you, until it became clear to you exactly what you were doing.

You hadn’t chosen these chambers for silent contemplation.

You were waiting here.

Because when you imagined defending yourself, you didn’t picture a faceless mob before which to protest your innocence. You didn’t picture the king, and his councillors, and the lords scheming behind your back.

You pictured Minho. His expression flickering between accusing, betrayed, angry, cold, pitying, wounded. It was him you wanted to convince before any others, as illogical as it was.

It was hurt, perhaps, maybe, at the idea that Minho thought you would betray his trust. You knew how he’d pushed hard for your position on the council. You would never throw it back in his face like this, and you needed to make sure he knew that.

You questioned just when Minho’s good opinion of you had become so…important.

Eventually, the chamber doors opened, and your words came spilling out at the mere sight of Minho in the doorway.

“I didn’t do it,” you declared. You wished you could be calmer. You feared that the panic in your voice would mislabel you guilty.

Minho, blinking in surprise for a moment at your sudden outburst, regarded you calmly. “Ominous words to hear when entering a room.”

“I’m not the leak,” you clarified, with little patience for his cleverness. “And don’t pretend you haven’t heard about it. I know the information being spread, and I know fingers are pointing in my direction. With some reason, I suppose, but it was not me.”

“You seem agitated,” Minho remarked, maddeningly, all but ignoring your words as his hands moved to begin undoing the fastenings of his jacket. It was some sort of rigid construction, high-necked and broad-shouldered, and perhaps once the imposing princely sight of him in it might have intimidated you. Now, there was a familiarity to the sight – and a bizarre comfort that came along with it, perhaps. “Usually I’m the one to spark it. It’s actually quite bemusing when something else is the source.”

You stared at him for a second. Off-guard, waiting for any kind of actual response to what you were saying. When none came, irritation sparked in your chest. “Minho–”

“You’re innocent,” Minho said simply, halting you in your tracks. “I know. I told my father as much.”

It took you a moment to register exactly what he said, your head too full of practised arguments to leave much room for the recognition that Minho didn’t need to hear them.

He believed you without them.

It felt as if you had been barrelling towards something at high speed, a runaway horse, only to come to a sudden jarring stop. Air left your lungs in one unconscious breath, like a weight that had crushed your chest had been lifted.

“…Good,” you said, haltingly, and then relief struck you with such a violence that your eyes began to sting with tears.

At the sight of them, Minho’s expression shifted instantly from flippancy to something bordering on horror.

Frustrated, and more than a little mortified, you wiped them away impatiently. “Don’t. I’m fine.”

Minho opened his mouth, about to speak–

“No,” you interrupted, pointing at him, embarrassment warm in your cheeks. “This is just a serious allegation to be faced with, and I’m…relieved that I don’t have to waste my time defending myself.”

You managed to regain your composure, with no more tears threatening to make an appearance and humiliate you further. Taking a deep breath, you refused to look at Minho, refused to know if he believed your words or if that damned expression still lingered on his face.

“People are talking,” you said, finally.

“…People always talk. We’ve discussed this before.”

“It’s different now. I thought it was just idle gossip before, but…” you trailed off. “My father came to me a few days ago. He believes some of the nobles are scheming to dissolve our marriage. Free you up to marry a daughter of their own, and have me removed.”

Or worse.

You hadn’t fully comprehended what your father had hinted to you that day, not until now. You could see it all now. The image of your execution, a hundred smirking noblemen awaiting it, ready to thrust their own girls into your role. Perhaps to perish after you. Their scheming would not end with your death. They would simply turn on each other, try again and again, a dozen dead brides falsely accused and outmanoeuvred and doomed from the start.

And then, you snapped out of your dark thoughts when you realised that Minho had closed the distance between you, standing almost toe-to-toe.

His eyes sought your gaze, and held it.

“They can’t do that,” Minho said, firmly, gently. Certain. “We are married, and nothing can change that now.”

“It could. It would be easy, really,” you argued. “There’s no real proof of our consummation. You could say it never happened, and our marriage could be annulled by day’s end.”

“I would not,” Minho said, firmly. “Believe what you will about me, but I would never break off our marriage with a lie like that. Those are a craven’s actions, not mine. I swear it.”

Perhaps to your surprise, you found that you believed him. Minho could be called a great many things – indeed, you have called Minho a great many things – but ‘craven’ was not one of them.

Minho’s lips set into a grim, serious line. “Is that what concerns you? That I would set you aside?”

Would he?

Even after so many years around Minho, after weeks of being married, you still could not guess his true intentions.

“…I don’t know,” you confessed.

Something small flashed in Minho’s eyes. It looked like hurt.

“You have done a lot for me these past few weeks. More than I ever expected. More than I could ever ask for, truthfully. I think…I hope that we are friends, or at least something approaching it,” you told him, because it was true, and the lastthing you wanted was to destroy this budding trust you had developed between the two of you. Still, he deserved total honesty. “But I know you didn’t want this marriage, Minho.”

Minho was silent for a moment. You knew he couldn’t refute it, and he didn’t try to.

Instead, to your surprise, his hands lifted to rest gently on your shoulders. You could feel their weight on you, and how warm it was. Solid. Grounding.

He held you there and when he finally spoke, his tone was serious – grave, almost.

“…The night before Felix left for the coast, he came to me,” Minho admitted. “He made me swear – on my life, on his, on my mother, on my crown, on everything I have ever valued – that I would protect you from harm.”

Your lips parted in shock.

Felix.

“I love my brother, more than anything. He was once my only friend, in all the world. The very best of me,” Minho said, words beginning to pour out of him, as if finally freeing thoughts he had kept buried deep inside for months, perhaps even years. “I didn’t tell him how much he meant to me, not really. And now…”

Minho swallowed, eyes closing for a brief second, before meeting your stare again with a quiet intensity.

“He will never forgive me for marrying you. Never. The least I can do is honour the last thing – the only thing – he has ever asked of me.”

You didn’t know what to say.

A sudden realisation hit you. A small piece of an inscrutable puzzle, revealed.

“Is that what you meant, when you told your father he owed you something? For making you marry me?”

Minho swallowed, pausing for a second, and answered.

“Yes, in short. My father and I have had our squabbles but this marriage…it was the first true fight we had. The first time he’s ever had to order me to do something as a king, not asked me as a father. We haven’t seen many things eye-to-eye since. He doesn’t…understand,” he said, and then, almost to himself, “but he doesn’t need to. I know I’m doing what is right.”

There was a terrible sadness in his eyes, a shocking vulnerability. It was almost alien to see such an expression on Minho’s face, to glimpse beyond the walls he so skilfully kept up.

Unthinkingly, you surged forward and wrapped your arms around him.

He stilled in your hold, tense with surprise. You ignored it, squeezing him tightly, pressing your face into his chest. It was an awkward embrace, perhaps. The hard edges of the embroidery on his jacket dug into your cheek, stitching rough against your soft skin, and Minho’s movements were stiff and unpractised as he returned the hug.

But it didn’t need to be perfect. It only needed to prove the one thing you intended to show him.

Trust.

That night, when dinner was cleared, Minho retreated to his couch and paperwork. You left to change into your sleepclothes in private, as usual, and returned to slip quietly into bed.

There, however, you fidgeted and fumbled with exactly what to say before finally, bravely, breaking the silence. “…You can sleep in the bed. Next to me. If you were…unsure about it.”

Minho’s stare in response was indecipherable. But he nodded once, and when he finished whatever report he had picked up from the pile of papers, he disappeared to the bathroom and reappeared dressed for bed.

White linens. Thin, soft. You remembered them from your wedding night.

It was enough to make your breath hitch – and, embarrassed, you rolled to your side to avoid looking at Minho, lest you stared too openly at him.

You heard him pull back the covers on his side, and felt the weight of him sink into the mattress. He seemed to keep his distance, as not a single part of you touched, and yet you were painfully aware of his presence there.

Silence fell over the two of you, interrupted only by quiet breaths in tandem.

Something squeezed gently in the pit of your stomach. You recognised it as something like anticipation, which was bizarre, as you knew nothing was going to happen.

Nothing would happen.

…And yet, you supposed it would be easy for Minho to shift closer towards you. You could imagine him reaching over, and setting his warm hand on the curve of your hip.

Would he turn you, so you were facing him? Perhaps, but you could also see him keeping your back to him. Letting you hide your face, a small mercy, because he would probably know how embarrassed you would be.

Your eyes drifted shut.

It would be easy for him to press his face into the back of your neck, his mouth into the crook where your neck and shoulder met.

And perhaps he would whisper, soothingly, as his hand travelled lower, seeking the hem of your nightgown, sliding it up your thighs and…

No.

Your eyes snapped open as you scolded yourself, a mixture of excitement and shame heating your face. You banished every remotely inappropriate thought from your mind, turning to lie on your back and stare up at the ceiling.

You wondered, briefly, if Minho was looking up at the same thing too. You refused to glance over at him to check. The thought of seeing his face after all…that that had been swirling in your thoughts? Absolutely not.

It took far longer than usual to fall asleep in the deafening silence, but eventually you managed to.

The next morning, you awoke and realised, for the very first time, you had woken up before Minho. He was sleeping peacefully, unaware that the two of you must have turned to face each other in the night, bodies still a careful distance apart.

With one exception – Minho’s left arm lay outstretched, the knuckles of his hand just barely kissing the delicate skin of your wrist.

You stared at where your hands touched, skin-on-skin.

And you did not move your hand away.

809 notes · View notes

yoyeolears · 1 year ago

Text

it's okay not to be lonely//chapter 3 pt. 1

zhang hao x sung hanbin

genre: angst & fluff

warnings: death, cursing, a bit suggestive

masterlist: summary | 1 | 2 | 3 pt. 1 | 3 pt. 2| 4 | 5 | 6 (final)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

chapter 3 pt. 1: you saw me for who i am

word count: 1,441

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

25th of November 2023

For the first time in a while, Hao was happy. Genuinely happy. He had never thought that a single person could have such an enormous impact on him, but lately Hanbin had been proving him wrong about many things.

Slowly but surely, he had managed to crack bits of the wall he had built and with little to alarmingly almost zero resistance on Hao's end, some old aspects of his life were making a steady but grand return. He found himself spending more and more time in and outside school with Hanbin, and less time inside his cramped and depressing flat, if one could even call it that.

Hao had slowly started healing and it was all thanks to him. He now had more things to look forward to every day. He started enjoying his classes more, he initiated conversations with regulars at the store, he scheduled daily library visits, and hung out with Hanbin any chance he got. But more importantly, he finally had a goal. He no longer lived day by day waiting for everything to be over. He was now determined to turn his life around for the better. Hao was going to graduate, and he was going to make his late parents proud.

“Jesus, how long have you been going at it?”

Hao almost fell out of his seat at the sudden interruption. His pen wasn’t so lucky. It flew out of his hands violently before falling in front of the perpetrator’s feet.

He held a hand in front of his heart, “Are you trying to outlive me or something?”

Hanbin rolled his eyes at him, “Or maybe, you just get scared too easily. Just like when you get flustered.”

He gasped, “I don’t get flustered that much!”

“Really? Is that why your face has changed colours completely right now?”

Hao panicked, reaching out to touch his cheeks. Hot.

He slouched his shoulders defeated.

“Are you casting spells on me or something? I swear I am not like that normally.”

Hanbin laughed, ruffling his hair, “Maybe it’s because you like me too much.”

He started sweating. One of these days, Hao was going to have a heart attack, and his vicious remarks would be the cause for his unfortunate demise.

“Cat got your tongue Hao Hao?”

That was another thing that had changed in their relationship. Combining his newfound desire to live and enjoy his life to the fullest and your possible flirting, which he was trying his hardest not to take too seriously, Hanbin had also given him a nickname. The last person to call him by an endearing term had been his mum. The endearment Da Bao had been extensively used by his mum since he was a toddler. No matter what the circumstances looked like, his mum would always address him as such. After all, he was her only child. Her only treasure. Her biggest achievement as she had once told him.

He quickly composed himself, “No, I am perfectly fine. You’ve got it all wrong.”

Hanbin squinted his eyes, “Mhm, I am sure I do.”

“Yes, that’s right! All under control here!”, he insisted.

Now, Hao had admittedly got better at being human again, but being slightly socially awkward had always been a part of him, and Hanbin magically bursting into his life wasn’t going to change that.

Hanbin laughed at his unnecessary comment, before settling down next to him.

“So, how long are you going to be here for? It’s almost 6pm now. Classes ended three hours ago.”, he enquired, elbow pressed on the table, palm on your chin.

“Well, I don’t have anywhere to be. Also, why are interrogating me when you are here yourself?”, Hao pointed out, raising his eyebrow at him.

‘Huh, you got caught’, he thought.

“I had dance practice. It’s a Thursday.”

The growing smirk was flat out whipped off his face.

“Right! It’s Thursday. I knew that.”, Hao scratched his head.

Hanbin shook his head at him, “You are going to conjoin with the books at this point, I swear! That’s why I am here to take you away.”

“And take me where?”, he asked ironically baffled.

“I don’t know. Anywhere, but here. What type of person would I be if I let my dear Hao Hao rot in the library!”, Hanbin exasperated.

Hao sighed, before admitting defeat. He closed his textbooks and quickly packed his pens, before standing up ready to follow him anywhere he decided to take him.

Hanbin beamed at him, practically jumping out of the chair in excitement.

Hao smiled gently at the latter's cute antics, “So, where are you taking the happily-to-get-married-to-his-books guy to?”

“Oh my god, look at you making witty remarks.”, Hanbin gave him a light punch on the shoulder.

“I’ve always been witty! I don’t know what you are talking about!”, Hao defended himself, “Now, do you have any idea in mind?”

“We could just go home and watch a movie.”, he suggested.

Home? Which home? Hanbin's or his? Hao hoped Hanbin meant his place, because while he was nearly certain he would never judge Hao, that little pea sized part of his brain still feared if Hanbin's perception of him would change after seeing his living arrangments.

“I was thinking of yours, since my mum is in town, and I don’t want to make things awkward for us.”

Hao tried really hard not to panic, “What? Why not? I am sure your mum is lovely.”

“My mum is lovely. It's just that she always has too many questions and a nasty habit of interrogating my friends as if they were suspects for murder. She still questions Matthew sometimes despite us being practically brothers now.”, Hanbin exclaimed.

“I am sure she isn’t that bad?”, Hao pressed.

“My mum spent more than an hour on a debate with Matthew about why he named his dog Kiki two weeks ago. We were supposed to get an assignment done. Needless to say, we had to pull an all-nigher.”, Hanbin cringed at the memory.

Hao's lips turned into a straight thin line, “Who even names their dog Kiki? Also, let's be honest. You were going to have to pull an all-nighter anyway, because I can bet my life on it that you two left this assignment for last minute.”

“Okay, fair enough! But still, who spends hours arguing about a dog's name?”, Hanbin protested.

“Well, apparently your mum when it comes to dogs named Kiki.”

“Exactly my point! So, unless you want to spend hours under thorough interrogation I strictly advise against going to my place.”, Hanbin argued.

Hao was ready to make another contradicting remark, but then looked at the clock. They had been standing in the close to devoid of any human presence library for about thirty minutes, going back and forth about Hanbin's mum. All because Hao was set on not letting him see where he lives.

It was almost as if Hanbin could sense his inner turmoil.

“Hao Hao, do you think I would feel any differently about you based on where you live?”

He averted his eyes to the floor in shame, bringing his hands together to fiddle with his fingers. However, before he could get too lost in his head, Hanbin's own hands reached out to grasp his.

“Look at me. I would never ever change my mind about how I feel about you based on your living or financial status. I have told you multiple times now. I am proud of how far you’ve come despite all the hardships. And you should be too. So, if that’s your reason, then I beg of you. Forget about it.”, Hanbin pled.

Hao slipped his hands out of the latter's to quickly wipe away at the tears concentrating in his eyes. Then, hesitantly, he lifted his slouching head to meet his gaze.

“Okay. I will try my best.”, he promised.

Hanbin gave him another one of his kind-hearted smiles.

“That’s all I ask. Now, come on! Time to embark on an adventure.”

“What adventure? We are only going to my place.”, Hao shook his head, trailing behind Hanbin's comical bouncing figure.

“Everything in life should be treated as an adventure Hao Hao. That’s how you keep the excitement going even on the darkest days!”, Hanbin explained, still happily skipping down the hallways of the silent campus.

Hao grinned. Hanbin never failed to amaze him with his positive outlook on life. It was mostly the reason why he had been able to quickly regain strength and motivation for his own life. He had never been more thankful for anything than Hanbin coming into his life.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Author's Note: I did say this was going to come out on the 1st of January most likely, and it's not the 1st so apologies for taking so long to get this out.

I will not give a date for chapter 3 pt. 2 because I will most likely not stick to it, but the second part should come out sometime in February.

I can also admit that I haven't even started chapter 4. I hope that February and March are much more relaxing for me to work on it. So, as for right now the plan remains to release one chapter per month. I don't think this fic will be more than 6 chapters max, so we will probably be done by May!

Anyway, I hope everyone has had a great start to 2024.

Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated.

See you next time!

-Jina

3 notes · View notes

yoyeolears · 1 year ago

Text

THE CLIFFHANGER NOOOOOOO 😭 I am so in love with this story halp 😤

star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 18

pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader

genre: friends to lovers, so much angst, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden romance, slowburn (!!!) soulmate au, star-crossed lovers

synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him. there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you. hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.

word count: 33K

warnings: cursing, drinking, mature content, heavyyyy angst, mutual pining, sexual tension, jealousy, unrequited love, mature language, dirty jokes, arguments, whipped hyunjin, a big confrontation, lots of heartbreaks, mentions of diet, mentions of threats, toxic idol culture, a scene of unwarranted sexual advances! (not from hyunjin)

a/n: whew, this is another big chapter and picks up from hyunjin's pov after he moved back to the city, hope that's not confusing! there's a lot of toxicity surrounding idol culture, and features mature language and content throughout. please read the warnings to make sure you're comfortable with everything. this fic has taken a life of it's own, and im really enjoying focusing on yn's character arc, along with the obvious lovestory. this isn't a feel-good chapter, it features a lot of angst and uncomfortable situations, but i promise things will get better after this! anyway, this was very fun to write and picks up on one of my favorite arcs of this story. please get comfortable with snacks and a blanket to read. you can listen to my star lost playlist here!

important: all works are fiction, and do not in any way represent the real personalities or real people, they exist only as faceclaims, and are fictional characters.

masterlist

Five Months Ago.

The electric blue guitar in Hyunjin’s hands felt familiar. He adjusted the strap around his body, he was getting used to the weight of it again. It had been a while since he’d touched it, fingers skimming over the strings. If he focused on this, he could ignore the blaring lights in his face.

“Still not used to the spotlight, Jinnie?” Jisung asked, elbowing him in the stomach. Hyunjin doubled over, avoiding another attack from the man, “Ouch. The lights are brighter than I remember”

“Well, how else will they get our pretty faces on camera?” Jisung grinned, stepping in front of him, and thankfully blocking the heat of the lights.

“I’m…really hot” Hyunjin declared, drops of sweat dripping down his forehead, “I hope they can fix the cooling in here”

Jisung sighed, lifting his guitar to help him tune it, taking the weight momentarily off his hands. As he did that, someone stepped up to Hyunjin, a little electric fan and makeup palette in hand, “Can you please hold this? Your makeup’s running”

“Sorry” He apologised, even though it was no one’s fault. The stage equipment and lights made the set far too hot, the air conditioning was broken and they’d only just begun. Hyunjin couldn’t fathom what the full day of filming would look like. He held the little fan to his face, the cool instantly relaxing his muscles with relief, shoulders sagging from tension. Jisung stood between them still, trying to tune his guitar and the makeup lady awkwardly stepped closer, patting down the foundation on Hyunjin’s cheeks, “Did you tan when you were away?”

“Um, I suppose. I was out in the sun a lot” He responded, but realised quickly that she didn’t really want a response. She was berating him because his usual foundation no longer matched him. Her lips pulled into a thin line, “You should be careful”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows shot up. Careful about…what exactly? When he was in Daejon, swimming in the Creek, or lounging away in the sun, his first concern wasn’t exactly putting on any heavy sunscreen. He was away from the world of…such.

“He just doesn’t know his face would cost the company millions of won" Jisung joked. It was irresponsible, sure, but he had more important things distracting him at the time. At the memory of the bright Daejon sun, Hyunjin smiled, closing his eyes briefly to revel in the memory. If he thought hard enough, the blaring spotlights could almost replicate the southern summer sun. It was hard to get lost in his imagination though. The lady was prodding and poking at his face, turning him this and that side so she could fix him. This wasn’t the time.

“There. Try playing it now” Jisung said proudly, standing up straight and letting go of Hyunjin’s guitar. So he played a tempo to test it, and the music seemed perfectly fine now. In the end, it was futile anyway. The company didn’t allow them to play live in the music video. Apparently they had no faith that the boys wouldn’t mess up the instruments after such a long hiatus, and there was no time or money for retakes and reshoots. So, they would only pretend to play, and lip-sync the words and hopefully someone in the editing department would make it seem real. Still, Hyunjin was going to try his hardest to genuinely play. He hated pretending.

“Close your eyes,” The lady mumbled, an annoyed tone that frankly felt unwarranted. He followed the instructions, and felt the tip of a brush poking at his eyes as she reapplied some of the darker eyeshadow. The concept for this album was pop-rock, leaning heavily into the rock, and so their makeup was inspired from the 1980s world of rock.

“Did I do something wrong?” Hyunjin asked, as she used a little too much force on him, making his eyes water under the sharp brush.

“Hmm?” She was none the wiser, and he suddenly wondered if he should backtrack, but he wouldn’t be able to continue the filming knowing one of their makeup artists was possibly mad at him. “You…seem upset” He said.

A sigh followed, “I’m not upset, I just think you should take better care of yourself. Jisung was right, you know? Your face does cost us thousand of won. I understand you’ve just come back from vacation but if you don’t do your job, it’s very difficult for me to do mine”

“Right” He nodded, sudden guilt overwhelming him, “Can I open my eyes now?”

With the confirmation, he did and looked at her, “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful in the future”

She smiled, pulling at his cheek, “It’s good to have you back, kid”

Within seconds, the set jumped back to life. Chan ran onto the stage, getting into his position, and Changbin followed. They were both visibly upset, due to the company not allowing them to sing live, but years in this industry had made them numb to some of that anger. Hyunjin took his place on the stage, as the cameras adjusted and thirty-something people gathered before them, ready to film. He wished he could sneak one look in the mirror before filming, for the reassurance that he didn’t look like a total clown, but he trusted the kind makeup lady.

“All right, boys” Chan looked at them, microphone stand in his hands, “From the top, yeah?”

The backing track began on cue, and Hyunjin’s heart pounded like it hadn’t in ages. Maybe he wasn’t prepared to do a full-fledged music video shoot so soon after the hiatus. Did he even remember his chords right? The audience may not be looking at his hands, but he sure as hell would be. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a breath, hoping he didn’t mess up for the sake of their team. Millions of people would watch this. Thousands would instantly know they weren’t actually singing, and he had grown tired of the accusations. Most of those people would be rooting for his failure, and he could imagine the myriad of hate comments about how Hyunjin should never have returned to the band. Maybe it was a mistake being back in the spotlight so soon. Chan’s hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. He leaned in to whisper, loud enough for only Hyunjin to hear, “Forget everyone else, Jinnie. She’s going to love this”

A surprised smile tugged on Hyunjin’s lips just as the spotlight hit him, and the camera began rolling.

»»————-

Later that night, Jisung crawled into his bed. He pulled the blue comforter off Hyunjin’s aching legs, settling cross-legged across him. The filming had taken a toll on him, and he’d really let himself go when he was away. It usually took a lot more to get him this tired, and he was still adjusting to this new schedule. Jisung leaned against the wall, releasing a sigh of contentment. This had become second nature to them, a routine to sit, talk, and catch up on the past few months of summer. They’d stayed in touch through text, but it wasn’t the same. Some nights, they’d go for a walk, find an open barbecue place, and eat into the early hours of dawn. Other nights, they’d stay in the dorm and order some cheesecake, and Jisung would tell him everything he missed. Every anecdote, each funny moment, painstaking details of how many different ways he’d embarrassed himself. Hyunjin had missed a lot, so he’d sit and listen to the tales of the city that he’d pined for all this while. It was good to return to the life he’d left behind. Everything was different here, and sometimes it felt like summer had existed in a void away from the world. Jisung would also ask him about his hometown, but Hyunjin never knew where to start, so he preferred to listen to Jisung instead. He had a lot more to say anyway.

Tonight was different. Jisung asked him about you.

And that wasn’t the routine.

“I don’t really know what you want me to tell you” Hyunjin laughed, and they were both tucked into blankets, like kids bonding at their first sleepover.

“You’ve talked about this girl all freaking summer, and now you have nothing to say?”

“Well, yeah, you already know everything” Hyunjin mumbled, flush rising up. They never had this dynamic before, this…sharing of crushes, or whatever it could be called. Jisung was usually the one in relationships out of the two of them, and Hyunjin would never bug him about it. Not until Jisung told him himself. So, Hyunjin didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah, I know the shortened version you sent over text, but…how’d she react when you said you’re coming back?”

Hyunjin swallowed, memories flashing through his mind of his last night in his hometown, “She was really upset”

“Upset, like…didn’t talk to you kind of upset, or…had sex with you before you left— upset?”

The words sent a flush up Hyunjin’s neck, and he knew this was exactly what Jisung wanted. This was his intention. To embarrass him. To celebrate this new dynamic, when Hyunjin was the one with a stupid crush and not the other way around.

“We didn’t have sex” He clarified. Jisung’s eyes widened, “Really? Not even on the last night?”

Hyunjin leaned his head against the wall, playing with the threads of the blanket. The last night was complicated, for all the right and the wrong reasons, so he settled for the most matter-of-fact answer, “I didn’t have any condoms”

“Shut up, I know that’s not true. I sent you like a huge box your first week in Daejon. Don’t tell me you never used them…”

Hyunjin laughed at the memory, “Thank you for that Jisung, but…I’d already packed it away. I didn’t really expect anything to happen anyway. I thought she’d be too upset at me for leaving”

“So…that’s the only reason?”

Hyunjin swallowed, knowing that if perhaps they’d had an hour longer together that night, things would probably have led straight to that, condoms or no condoms, “Well…we were out of time”

“You spent months with this girl. How were you out of time?”

Hyunjin sighed, “There was no right moment. I didn’t want it to be rushed—”

“No rush? As if you wouldn’t bust a nut as soon as you’re—” Jisung was interrupted with a smack in the face by a pillow, voice turning high, “Ouch! What’d you do that for?”

“I’m not talking about this anymore” Hyunjin laughed, the red reaching the tips of his ears.

“That’s pretty unfair, you know. I used to tell you every detail of my relationship with Mae, down to the nitty-gritty details”

Hyunjin looked up at him. It had been a while since he’d talked about Mae so freely, and he swallowed, “How are you holding up?”

Jisung’s smile fell, humorous demeanour disappearing in seconds, “She’s happy now”

The statement meant so much more than he let on. Happy now. As in, she wasn’t happy before, when she was dating Jisung. Thinking back on it now, their breakup had been explosive, and it seemed like Jisung was still picking up the pieces. Was this what the rest of Hyunjin’s life would look like? Surrounded by miserable relationships destroyed by their careers. He can’t recall the last time he witnessed a love story with a happy ending. He sighed, “That sucks man”

Jisung shrugged, “It is what it is”

Hyunjin stretched out his legs under the blanket, letting out a soft groan, “Man, my limbs haven’t hurt like this in ages”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “You’re getting soft, big boy. We’re hitting the studio tomorrow at six. Album release is only a month away now”

His phone buzzed and he reached for it immediately. “Is that her?” Jisung asked, smiling.

“Yup” Hyunjin typed in a quick text to you, “She’s…telling me about her day”

“Is that all you guys do?” Jisung asked, a smirk on his face, scrolling up on their chats, without permission. He let out a dramatic gasp, “What are you writing her all these long-ass paragraphs for? It feels like I’m reading a book. Big red flag. At least break it up into multiple texts”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “I mean, there’s a lot she’s interested to know about my life here. I like telling her what we’re up to. If you see it from an outside perspective, it’s pretty cool. She really loves it”

Jisung laughed, eyebrows wiggling like a kid, “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s what she loves”

Hyunjin sighed, rolling his eyes, “Stop. We’re just…really close friends now”

“Does she know that?”

He didn’t like this conversation anymore and what it implied. He informed him for the umpteenth time, “I told her from the start that I don’t do relationships. She knows.”

Jisung was still scrolling through their chat, probably hoping to find something steamy but stopped at the media that Hyunjin had shared, letting out a gasp, “Wait a minute. Have you been sending her our studio recordings?”

“Yes” Hyunjin frowned, “She likes those”

“You know, Eunwoo would have a heart attack if he knew you were leaking unreleased music”

Hyunjin sighed. Jisung was always so dramatic. “I’m not leaking anything. It’s only to her. She’s not going to show anyone”

“And how do you know that?”

“I trust her” Hyunjin’s reply was automatic, “More than anything”

Jisung smiled, eyes crinkling, tilting his head, “Even more than me?”

He chuckled, grabbing his phone back, “Shut up”

»»————-

He had been waking up earlier than usual, and he’d find himself at the kitchen table first thing in the morning, watching the sun rise through their apartment window. It was always fun to greet the boys as soon as they woke. He’d missed them for so long and he was trying to cherish every moment with them. Jisung would joke about how obsessed he was with them, often hovering like a parent around the house in the morning, waiting for their kids to wake up. It was strange because Hyunjin wasn’t an early riser, but his thirst to spend time with them overpowered his desire to lay in bed. He sat at the kitchen island scribbling ideas in a little journal Changbin bought him. It had admittedly become his diary, filled with crazy ideas, midnight thoughts, and sketches for paintings.

The dance practices had got easier in the past weeks, and his limbs felt lighter. It almost took no time for him to get back to normal, sucked into the whirlpool of obligations that his life offered. There were so many interviews, press junkets, editorials, and he was back in the studio every night. He’d missed that grandly — getting to work on the music and, for the first time, writing his songs into the album. All of that made everything else worth it — like when they couldn’t leave their dorm because it was surrounded by paparazzi. They’d crowded around the building, hoping to get a glimpse at or any comments out of Jisung. Unfortunately, Jisung was still in the middle of a huge legal battle with the media that had leaked every detail of his personal life and relationship. Hyunjin didn’t understand how Jisung managed to still be so sane, after something like that rocked his world.

But slowly, he carved time in his life to start painting again, between schedules of course. An art shop in Hongdae was perfect for his needs. It was small and convenient, and he could be away from the public eye when he was in it. He found time for you. In changing rooms, backstage, in five-minute breathers between practice, he’d text you when he could.

“You’re up early” Chan smiled, and Hyunjin looked up at him. He was already dressed, and he moved towards the light switch, turning them on, “You’re drawing in the dark?”

“It’s peaceful” Hyunjin hummed, “On set…it’s always too bright”

“Ah. Right. What are you sketching this time?” Chan moved over to him, glimpsing into his diary.

“Just…a rough map of home. I’m writing down all the places, I wanna remember it. I don’t know when I’ll go back”

Chan smiled thoughtfully, “Is that your plan for the day?”

“No, actually, I was just about to head out to buy some flowers. I really want to draw some white hydrangeas, they won’t be in bloom for longer, and I’m hoping I can capture their whole life cycle”

Chan laughed, “Wow. It’s only six am and you’re already talking romance”

Hyunjin flushed, “It’s just for my drawings. I want to get better at observation. Speaking of, can I come watch you in the gym later? I…think I’ll draw you next”

Chan moved around the island, prepping a morning smoothie, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Jinnie”

“Of course not” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, continuing to add details to his little map, right now he was adding the 7/11 between your house and Aera’s.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s going to be possible Jinnie. And…you’re probably gonna have to get the flowers tomorrow” Chan suddenly said, filling up the blender with ingredients.

Hyunjin frowned, “What do you mean?” But of course, Chan turned the blender on right then, so Hyunijn had to wait until he was done to find out. The loud whizzing sound filled the kitchen, and if the other boys weren’t up yet, they certainly would be now.

“Sorry about that” Chan apologised sheepishly, pouring the smoothie into four cups, and then eyed Hyunjin’s pajamas, “You should change into a coat, something warm. It’s chilly out”

Hyunjin tilt his head, suspicious, “Why?”

Chan slid him the smoothie, which Hyunjin hadn’t even asked for, and then grinned, “I’m kidnapping you”

“What?” He laughed, reaching for the cup anyway. He might as well start drinking healthy.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Jinnie. She’s a prodigy, she owns like a gazillion art galleries across the country, and she wants to meet you”

“Since when are you interested in art?” Hyunjin hummed, trying not to gag at the taste of the drink. It was all protein powder and whey. Chan smiled at the sight, leaning forward on the counter, “Since my best friend started drawing masterpieces, of course. Go get changed. I’ll drive us there, and if we have time before going to set, we just might be able to buy your flowers”

»»————-

The paintings in the art gallery were beautiful, and Chan was a good sport, taking just enough interest in the art that Hyunjin felt important in explaining all the techniques. They’d wandered around for a while now, eyeing every exhibition. Enough time had passed as they stood observing the room of sculptures, and Chan nudged him. He was diverting his attention to a woman with a tablet in hand as she walked around the space. The apparent prodigy. She seemed busy, pushing buttons on the tablet as she inventoried the place, a flurry of rich visitors following her around. Hyunjin had seen her before, and he asked, “Does she work in our building by any chance?”

“She certainly does. Hey, Karina!” He suddenly called out, “This is Hyunjin”

Hyunjin went wide-eyed and awkward, certainly unprepared to meet someone so important out of the blue, but Karina seemed sweet enough. Her gaze caught his, widening when she noticed them. She whispered something to her über important guests, and then walked over to them, all prim and poise. She certainly looked the part of an art gallery owner, although Hyunjin had never seen one so young before. She shot him a smile, “Ah. I’ve heard so much about you, Hyunjin”

“Oh no” Hyunjin had a funny feeling in his stomach, “What did Chan say?”

She laughed, “Nothing too bad. He showed me some of your work”

“He what?” Hyunjin cringed, “I’m sorry about that”

She laughed again, “Don’t apologise. Your work’s pretty good. Even before Chan, you were kind of hard to miss actually. Your face is plastered all across the company building”

Hyunjin cringed yet again, clasping his hands together, “I’m…sorry about that. That’s embarrassing”

She laughed, “Not at all. So…do you like the collection?”

Hyunjin looked around, nodding, “Oh. Of course! It’s beautiful. I love the exhibit, and I can’t believe you have some Monet up too. That must have been hard to get”

She tilt her head, an admiring smile on her face, “It certainly was. The job’s not easy, but I enjoy it a lot. We try to stick to contemporary work, switching up exhibits every month or so. You’re lucky you caught us during Monet. We’re having those shipped back to Paris soon”

Hyunjin nodded, hands slipping into his pockets, “Paris. Wow…”

“Actually I don’t have too much time, so I’m going to cut to the chase” She smiled, “The reason I asked Chan if I could meet you was…if you’d ever be interested, I wouldn’t be opposed to hosting an exhibition for your work”

His eyes widened, a surprised chuckle escaping him, “What? I’m literally just starting out. Experimenting…I don’t even have a specific art style yet or much original work…”

Karina shook her head as if all of that was an afterthought, “We already know it’ll be a hit. You’re very loved, especially in Seoul”

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would an actual, real-life gallery ever want to exhibit his work? He barely had work to begin with! All he’d done was post a few artworks on his Instagram, and mentioned that he liked drawing in an interview, “But I’m not a professional, by any means, I just…do it because I enjoy it”

She smiled, “Precisely. It’d be nice to give new artists a voice. Sooner or later, some art gallery is going to snatch you up. I’d prefer if we were the first. There’s a lot of interest in you by the public. It’d be a loss to not display your work. If there’s anything I learnt from Kim Jieong it was—”

“Wait, you know Kim Jieong?” Hyunjin forgot his manners, interrupting her, especially in such an excitement, but he couldn’t help himself.

Karina laughed, eyes narrowing, “Are you a fan?”

“No, but my girlfr-“ Hyunjin stopped in his sentence, clearing his throat, and he could feel Chan’s gaze burn curiously into him, “Um…one of my friends is. He’s her favourite artist in the world”

“Well…I wouldn’t give him so much credit” Karina spoke, clutching the tablet tightly, “But yes, I used to intern with him earlier”

He was too straightforward, but he didn’t care, “Do you think you could help me get in touch with him? I’m sorry, I realise that’s a big favour and—”

Her expression changed, “I don’t know, Hyunjin. My relationship with Jieong…is complicated. But, if you’d really like maybe I could help you set up a meeting or something”

“Really?” His eyes lit up, and the conversation had completely sidetracked but it didn’t matter, “That would mean everything to me. Thank you”

“Of course. I can’t promise anything. This may be TMI, but he and I aren’t on the best terms. He is a wonderful artist though. I’ll give him that”

“Thank you, Karina” He smiled, genuinely. A security guard came up, tapping her on the shoulder. She nodded at him, and then looked back at Hyunjin, “I'm sorry I have to get going, there's been an incident involving a spill in the impressionist gallery …but the offer’s always up for the exhibition, by the way. Eunwoo could give you my contact details. I think you’d made a great addition to my portfolio, Hyunjin”

He smiled, but all he could focus on was that she knew Kim Jieong. Hope festered in his heart that maybe now he could finally get you the chance you deserved.

»»————-

The Hydrangeas bloomed beautifully on Hyunjin’s desk. He’d been drawing them all afternoon, and he looked forward to seeing their state change as he came home each night from work. It felt silly, but summer flowers reminded him of you. The vase needed fresh water, and he stopped sketching to go up to the kitchen and fill it up. The boys were gathered around the dining table, just about to head out to the studio, and Chan was preparing cocktails. Hyunijn switched on the water tap, absentmindedly watching the vase fill up, listening to their conversations.

Karina still hadn’t got back to him, but he was holding onto hope. It had only been a week since their conversation after all. His days since then had been busy so he couldn't worry too much about it, occupied by schedules, he’d also managed to squeeze in time for himself now. It seemed like going back to his hometown had been genuinely helpful. It had fulfilled its purpose. He’d come back to work, feeling a new kick in energy and joie de vivre. There was hardly any sadness like before, and that's all Hyunjin could have asked for from his little vacation anyway.

Since his return, there had been some changes to the company too. He’d discovered a new library, hidden in their building, somewhere on the fourth floor, and he’d been frequenting it during his breaks. Every morning, he picked a new book to read and would fixate on it for the next week and a half. Barely any employees ever came to the library, other than HR sometimes, and it was a nice escape. He could imagine that you’d really love the library, full of nooks and crannies begging to be found and thousands of books aching to be read.

He discovered he had an affinity for poetry, and some poems never left his mind. There was one in particular by Kim Yong-Taek that occupied all the space in his head.

눈 내리기 전에 / Before the snow falls, 한번 보고 싶습니다 / I would love to see you.

They felt real, as if they’d been written only for him, and shivers often ran up his skin as he stood reading them quietly, a deep ache in his heart at the familiarity of the words. It was crazy that something written hundreds of years ago could capture exactly what Hyunjin was feeling right now. He hoped he could make music that felt the same to others. The longing in his bones only got worse each day, and he was making a plan to fix it. Summer had been beautiful, even contending for his favourite season, but it was ending, and he would do anything to make autumn just as beautiful.

»»————-

Sleep clouded his vision, the song's melody blending with his drowsiness. It had been a week of rerecordings and they’d barely got any rest. Hyunjin tugged the headphones off, glancing at Chan through the observation window, “Was that a good take?”

Chan gave him a thumbs up through the window. His energy had been deflated too, but Hyunjin was hoping for a better response, “Are you sure? I can do another take. I think…it doesn’t sound as emotional as Jisung’s verse”

Hyunjin could only just about see Chan’s eyes, squinted over the mask he wore. The decision to cover his face was obvious; there was a little camera propped up in the studio, a way to film behind-the-scenes content for when the album finally released. Chan obviously didn’t want to be captured in this sleep-deprived state. Still, Hyunjin would have loved to see his expression, the microscopic changes in his face would tell him if he really loved the recording or not.

Chan nodded, weary eyes, “If you think you can do a better take, go for it, Hyunjin”

So he did, inhaling a breathful of air so he wouldn’t falter during his lines. He’d sounded too emotionless and mechanical and they were recording a love song. He had to pour his feelings into it, so he closed his eyes. The lyrics were embedded into his brain anyway.

Chan began the backing track, and Hyunjin let his thoughts drift... They wandered into a familiar memory, one he usually saved for bedtime and when he was alone. His mind kept coming back to it. It was so fresh, but each day it was fading away, slipping out of his grasp and he felt the need to bottle up the memory and store it in a safe forever, where it would always be remembered. The twinkling fairy lights of the Château, the blue paint puddle on the floor, the paint you spilled on his shirt, the heated and frenzied first, second…and third kisses. The moment had been so short-lived. He had been so vulnerable that night. You’d seen him that night, truly seen him, and he still felt surprised at how much he’d divulged in you so easily. It was the realest he’d ever felt, like the rest of his life before and after was just a charade for his friends, for the cameras, for himself.

Maybe it was only with you that he was the real Hyunjin. The teasing and laughs over the chocolate strawberries and paint easels had been second nature and strangely familiar, like it wasn’t your first time doing this together, as if you had both been falling into patterns and habits of centuries ago. The most innocent actions felt crude, and cruel. Crude to kiss your cheek but not take it further. Cruel to give in to a desire he could never fulfil. Maybe every other moment in his life had been fabricated except for that night, that would explain why he was the happiest then.

“Shit…what was that?” A voice interrupted him. Hyunjin snapped open his eyes to see Chan staring at him in disbelief. The backing track had gone onto the next verse now. He cleared his throat, “Um. Sorry I….spaced out. Let me record that again”

“Are you kidding me? That’s the best take you’ve ever given us” Chan laughed, in disbelief, stepping into the recording booth, “You sold that to me completely, Fuck. You almost made me tear up. You should do more ballads, Jinnie. That was amazing”

Hyunjin blinked at him, holding onto his headphones tightly, so unaware of himself, “I…I didn’t realise it was that good”

“Come on. Listen to it” Chan grabbed his arm, leading him out, and replaying what had just been recorded. Hyunjin almost didn’t recognise himself singing. He’d never sang like this before. Goosebumps rippled up his arms and neck, and he looked at Chan, “You’re right. That one turned out…really good”

“Damn. You can convince the audience that you’ve lived a thousand lives, been through a hundred heartbreaks. You convinced me. That was so real”

Hyunjin’s lips tugged into a smile, and he pushed his hands in his sweatshirt pockets, “It felt real to me too”

Chan wrapped up the recording, and then happily turned the company camera off, “Do you know what this means, Jinnie?”

“What?” Hyunjin asked, grateful they weren’t being recorded anymore.

Chan stepped closer to him, a growing smile on his face, “We fucking finished this album, baby”

»»————-

Hyunjin was changing the water in the vase. He’d been desperately trying to keep the Hydrangeas alive, but that had been a failing task. So he’d found some time to buy some Cosmos, hoping he could draw them instead. It was almost autumn now, and the flower in bloom had changed, so he kept trying to adjust to it. It was harder than he thought. Chan's voice distracted him, “Are you coming to dinner with us? We’re thinking of trying that new Italian place”. Hyunjin looked up at him, “Shit. Is it okay if I bail? I was going to call Y/N later tonight. She wanted to paint together”

His eyebrows shot up, a small smile on his face, “Paint together? Is that a euphemism?”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, switching the water tap off, “No. It's obviously not”

“Wouldn’t you love if it was?” Jisung smirked at him, walking into the kitchen. It seemed like all their serious, and unserious conversations often took place in this kitchen, their one common space. Chan laughed, “So how long will your paint date last? Should we bring you any takeout pizza?”

Hyunjin shrugged, glancing at the clock, “No, that’s okay, I’m not hungry. It’ll last a few hours maybe. Next week we’re going to be so busy with the press tour, I was hoping to finish a whole painting tonight. It’s easier if I’m doing it with her. I’m just more motivated then”

“There’s a word for that, you know?” Chan leaned forward on the counter, a teasing smile on his face, “She’s your proper muse”

Hyunjin laughed, not expecting him to say that, but he had been thinking about it. After all, that’s what had made the recordings so much easier. He was singing with you in mind. He denied it, “That’s really cheesy, even for you, Chan…”

“Eh, but it’s true. You should tell her that tonight”

Hyunjin smiled, already imagining your reaction to such a thing. He wouldn’t even know how he’d bring it up. Wouldn’t it be too much? Would you be embarrassed? He could recall all the times he’d catch you off guard with his compliments back in Daejon, your expression as if he’d said the most insane thing ever when Hyunjin was just appreciating you. Fuck. He really needed to see that reaction in person again.

Every perfect summer memory only added to the weight of his longing in fall, and he decided it was time, “I’m gonna invite her to come to Seoul”

Changbin stood across the hall, having just come out of his room to catch the last bit of conversation. His eyebrows shot up, “You are…?”

Hyunjin swallowed, catching the boys' reactions as he revealed the plan, “I just bought the train tickets for her this morning, and while she's here she can stay in an apartment I rented out for her. It’s a few blocks away from ours, so she’s close enough to me, without it being suspicious”

Jisung frowned, “But if you rented it, your name would go down in the record”

“No, I already thought of that. I asked to use my aunt’s credit card, and she’s not a Hwang, so there won’t be any trace back to me”

Jisung leaned back in his chair, “You really thought of everything, huh? No loopholes?”

“No loopholes” Hyunjin nodded, hoping they’d approve of it because something like this would put them all under scrutiny and risk, “Well, as long as she says yes”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Changbin frowned, crossing his arms, “If I was her, I’d jump at the chance”

“Yeah, I know you would. There’s an apprenticeship she wanted in the city…but she didn’t get it yet. She may not want to come here anymore…in case it reminds her of that”

“Is there any chance she can still get it?”

Hyunjin shrugged, placing his palms on the counter as he thought over it, “I don’t know how it works. I’m trying to figure it out”

Chan sighed, seeing his dilemma, “Hey, if it’s in the stars…she’ll get it. She seems talented enough from what you tell me about her”

“She’s hellbent on believing she can’t get it. I’m going to try to convince her to apply again. It’s kind of frustrating. Without connections, it’s so hard to make anything out of it. I mean, when we were at the gallery, you introduced me to Karina. It was so easy. She saw my work, and immediately agreed to a fucking exhibition. Sometimes it feels kind of unfair. What did I do to deserve that? I know there are hundreds of artists better than me who should be getting exhibitions, but…I’m getting it just because I’m famous. It feels weird and privileged”

Chan sighed, “Hyun…I know what you mean, but…it’s unfortunately how things are. And it’s not like you’re misusing this. The fact that you recognise it in the first place is sometimes all we can do”

Hyunjin let out an exhale, staring off into the distance, when his phone pinged. It was a text from you.

hey! im all set up here. ready when you are :)

Chan grinned, handing him a cocktail he’d just made, “Go on then. We’ll head to dinner and we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Hyunjin smiled, rushing back to his room. In anticipation of this call, he’d already set up his work area. Ever since he’d been back, he hadn’t gotten too much time talking to you, so he would make the most of it. He set his glass down next to his MacBook, and laid out his canvas. Through the computer screen, he could see a glimpse of your room, which was messier than his. It had more personality, and it was more lived in. He realised he’d never had a chance to come to your place. He had a sudden urge to see how you set up your room and things, your little knick-knacks, the big teddy he won for you, your artwork curated over years. But from hundreds of miles of away, he could only see a little square of your life. You were biting down on a chip when he spoke, “I think you’re going to love the song I’m working on with Chan”

Your face changed, lighting up, “Yeah?”

The connection wasn’t great, so all your responses were delayed, but Hyunjin hummed, proud, “It’s…a sexy, contemporary kind of R&B. I can imagine you liking it”

“When can I hear it?”

He laughed at your eagerness, “We’re still writing it”

You nodded, going back to painting. He would surprise you soon with the ticket he bought you to Seoul, but he wanted to build up to it. Perhaps he could do a grand gesture, or leave you little hints to keep you wondering. He could only imagine how happy you’d be. He could show you his favourite places in the city, introduce you to the boys and you could finally see his life, in all it’s glory. It only felt fair after you’d let him into yours so warmly. He had fit into your life in town so easily, a puzzle piece falling into place, and he hoped he could make it the same for you. Obviously, there’d be less freedom, more restrictions but at least you wouldn’t be a stranger to his lifestyle anymore. Hyunjin took a moment to sip his drink, staring at his own work. getting the courage to say it, “Can I say something cheesy?”

“Yeah?”

He leaned over the webcam, so he could be infinitesimally closer to you, cheeks reddening, “When I get stuck in the middle of the writing process, I think of you, and it really helps”

He watched as you sat on your knees, curious, “What do you think about?”

He flushed, regretting how this made him sound so romantic when he wasn't trying to be, “You know…just our time together. Chan teases me about it. He says you’re my muse or whatever”

He saw your eyes widen, and a deep emotion overwhelmed you. He didn’t see you react more, and he wondered what this meant to you, what he meant to you right now, even so far away. You didn't say anything back. You must be holding it all in, just like him. Maybe you didn’t know how to put your thoughts into words. He couldn't blame you. Even after reading all the poems in the world, Hyunjin didn’t have the words either. Not enough anyway.

»»————-

It was supposed to be an informal gathering to celebrate the album, but it felt more like a full-fledged party. Their manager’s apartment had been completely transformed, no empty floor space as everybody from the company had gathered around for a hurrah. Hyunjin had a few drinks in his system already, enough to get him really going. He stood away from the crowd, tucked into a corner, phone pulled out, typing in a ridiculously cheesy message to you. The party was great, and he was so happy to have finished the album. All that was missing was you. The text started sounding far too cheesy, inspired by the love rot that the poetry books had filled in his brain, and slowly, it became more and more unhinged. The wine Chan brought must have got to his head, but he couldn't stop, all of his thoughts pouring out in a mixture of sentences that didn't really make any sense.

I want you here with me at this party. Fuck, it’s so dull without you. If you were here, we could just sneak off and…I would kiss you. Positively. My manager is here, the scary one, but he doesn’t have to know. Earlier, I was reading a book and there was an English word in it that reminded me of you. Saudade. I looked it up because I was so curious and it said it’s a state of melancholy for a beloved someone or something. I think that explains this ridiculous feeling I have when I think of you. I have it even when I’m not thinking of you. Like last week, when we were recording this one song. It’s like you’re here with me in everything. I guess what I’m saying is, I just want to kiss you really really badly and fuck I’m really drunk so I’m sorry for how this may sound but I just really need to feel you—

The phone was snatched from his hands, Changbin squinting to read the message, “Who are you texting in the middle of our party?”

Hyunjin flushed red. He was really drunk but he still noticed their manager to the side, and hushed, “Keep your voice down, Binnie”

He looked up, eyes wide, “Is this your idea of a sext?”

“What? no— it’s not a sext. I’m not sexting, what the hell”

“You’re like…weirdly poetic when you’re drunk”

Hyunjin closed his eyes, “Just…give me that”

He deleted the message.

It was a bad idea to be sending you drunk messages anyway. He should just call you instead. Yeah. That sounded like a smarter, much better idea. Before he could dial your number, Changbin pulled him to the living room, and Hyunjin let himself be tugged along. Jisung was standing shirtless there, liquid smeared down his chest and abs. He was laughing, hair all messed up, clearly very tipsy, “Come on! Who’s next?”

Hyunjin did not intend to be a part of whatever this was, but Changbin pushed him ahead, “He’s up” But they were surrounded by company employees. Even the girl from the art gallery, Karina, was here and he flushed from the embarrassment. “I don’t even know what we’re doing” Hyunjin chuckled nervously, as Changbin hoisted him up over the table, handing him a quick shot to get the nerves out. Hyunjin downed it in a single sip, the liquid burning his throat. The state of his sobriety stopped him from protesting too much, until Jisung explained, “Body shots, of course. Pick your contender, Jinnie”

Hyunjin��s eyes widened, looking around the bunch of people, none of whom he felt comfortable touching him, but he saw a few of the women shy away, “I…I don’t know”

“I’ll do it” Chan laughed, stepping ahead from the crowd, “If that’s okay with you”

Jisung certainly seemed to have enjoyed it, and he wanted to give it a shot. He could be chill with this, but he would definitely blame the alcohol in him for how easily he went down on the table, and how easily he let Chan unbutton his black shirt. The overhead lights were too bright and Hyunjin closed his eyes, and his head was spinning. The music was pounding in his ears, the marble countertop cold to his back.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this” He laughed to himself, swept up in the environment as Changbin dripped tequila over his stomach. The chill liquid tickled him and he immediately squirmed, sending a shiver down his spine. He felt embarrassed for his reaction. Clearly, he was a novice to this party celebration, but he was also enjoying the attention.

“You ready, Jinnie?” Chan asked, looking up at him with a comforting smile. Chan was definitely drunk too in order to pull a stunt like this in front of the employees. They were absolutely loving it though and he could hear them all cheer them on. They never got to see the members in a more unprofessional environment than this one, and Hyunjin hoped none of them changed their opinion of him after this. He gave a quick thumbs up, facing the ceiling as he felt Chan’s mouth near his stomach. He sucked in a breath in anticipation, cheeks flushing from all this attention. He was used to people’s eyes on him, but this was so different and intimate. Somehow, his self-conscious part disappeared just as Chan licked a stripe of tequila up Hyunjin’s torso. He squirmed, a giggle escaping at the ticklish feeling, and Chan held him down, hand on his thigh, laughing, “Stop moving! You’ll get it on the table!”

Hyunjin stilled with the threat of ruining their manager’s table, eyes still closed as Chan finished licking the rest up until his chest, and his stomach was in knots. He couldn’t help but imagine this situation differently. Would you have partaken in this with him? How would that have looked like? If it was you doing this to him, instead of Chan? The little party activity would definitely have turned into something else by the end of it…and he knows he definitely would not be able to resist, not when your tongue was on his stomach and you were so close to him. The image sent a rush of blood through his body, thoughts that he should definitely not be indulging in when his best friend was doing body shots off him, and Hyunjin immediately sat up, bumping his head right into Chan’s. “Ouch!” Chan exclaimed, clutching his forehead, “Careful, Jin!”

“Um, sorry” He swallowed, jumping off the counter, embarrassment lingering from how he'd stupidly turned himself on in front of everyone he knew, “I felt sick”

“No worries” Chan laughed, oblivious to his friend's thoughts, patting his shoulder as everybody around them continued cheering them on, “You did good”

Hyunjin walked away, feeling sticky now, and he tried to wipe off the remaining with a kitchen towel. If it was you, he would have let you go all the way, until every stripe of tequila was gone from his body. And then some more.

He buttoned his shirt up again, hands shaking from the buzz, blood rushing to the parts that needed his attention. He needed to hear your voice. You didn’t even know he was at this party. It was so inconvenient to be so far away, trying to convey all that he felt through a mere text or phone call. He stood to the side, shaky fingers pulling up your contact until he heard your voice on the other end. “Guess what?” Hyunjin grinned.

“What?” Your voice was soft on the other end, so calm, grounding him in his drunkenness. A stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of his party and he could think straight again. Hyunjin smiled, “We finished the album. Like, for real. Every track is actually ready. We’re at my manager’s apartment, all of us, and the whole crew. It feels so fucking good”

He felt excited to hear your reaction. He was grinning ear to ear, as you congratulated him. He’d heard that today many times, but hearing it from you was incomparable. You were proud of him. He giggled, stumbling out of the hallway, blood rushing to his head, “Jisung made me drink…far too much. I liked the wine, though; Chan found it in this cool store, but then me and Binnie…we did body shots, and guess what? Chan fucking did body shots too! It was so insane. He also invited the girl from the art gallery, which is so funny. Apparently, she has connections in our industry too. She’s the daughter of —”

“Wait, you did body shots?” You interrupted him.

Hyunjin nodded, walking around, trying to avoid anybody being able to pick up on his conversation. So many people were in this tiny apartment, and he wished he had more peace and quiet to talk to you. “It was insane. Just like Seungmin told us”

“I…can’t hear you, Hyun” You spoke.

“Sorry” He apologised, walking off towards the balcony, “Can you hear me now?”

“Yeah, I can”

“Fuck. I miss you so fucking much” He mumbled, voice dropping, and the rest of this party was fading from his vision, tunnel vision to you and your voice on the other end, “Why aren’t you here?”

Hyunjin thinks the only way he can stop missing you is if you start visiting him in your dreams. He wonders what sorcery he needs to do for that to happen. Could he visit you in your dreams? So you never grow apart, and find each other every single night. “I miss you too….but you should get back to the party—”

Hyunjin failed to notice Changbin creeping up on him, taking the phone away, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Is that Y/N?”

“Give me the phone back, Changbin!” Hyunjin sighed, all his poetic declarations disappearing into the void. At this point, he thinks he needs to maintain another diary just to write all the things he wishes to say to you but never does.

“Hey!” Changbin was talking to you, “You must be the girl who stole him away from us for months and months. I have every reason to hate you”

“Stop!” Hyunjin exclaimed, realising their managers stood nearby and the commotion had caught their ears, “Don’t announce it to the entire party.” Changbin laughed, “So tell me, on a scale of 1 to 10—”

“Changbin, give me my phone back!” Hyunjin tried to grab it.

“Let me finish!” Changbin laughed. Hyunjin’s head began to ache when he saw Jisung approach their chaos, “Fuck. Is that her?”

“Jisung, can you please ask him to give me my phone back?” He sounded like a broken record, like all his primary functions had ceased and wouldn’t function until he heard your voice again. “Is that Hyunjin’s girlfriend?” Jisung asked, loudly. It was loud enough that their managers heard it, ears perking up and glancing at Hyunjin. One of their managers, Eunwoo raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. This was the first he’d heard of this, and goosebumps rippled up Hyunjin’s neck at what this could mean.

His voice dropped, stepping back towards his meddling friends, “Stop, Jisung. She’s just my friend. How many times do I have to say that, and don’t announce it to the party!”

“Then I can have her?” Changbin interrupted, oblivious to his surroundings. Hyunjin yanked the phone back, and he was pissed, but he wouldn’t blame them. They were only messing about. He let out a breath, “Hey, I’m so sorry. They…took you hostage”

Your voice sounded far away, resigned, “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. You should enjoy the party, Hyun” Panic built up in his throat at the thought of you leaving, “No, no, I called you because I missed you”

“I can’t really even hear you,” You said, crushing his heart and soul to irreparable pieces. Maybe he was being dramatic, but perhaps he needed you to breathe, “We can just talk tomorrow. Please just have a good time tonight, okay?”

Hyunjin was ready to protest, bear his heart out to keep you a little while longer. What was the point of celebrating his success if he couldn't share it with you right now? Isn't that why he'd pushed himself so hard this time? So he could impress you with all the songs he'd written with only you in mind. He’d leave the party if he had to, just so you wouldn’t go. Before he could declare his insanity of wanting to talk to you, Eunwoo stepped closer to him. His eyes were narrowed, a tell-tale sign, disapproving head tilt. Hyunjin had lost the opportunity, and he said, “All right. I’ll call you later”

With no qualms about destroying the party's vibe, Eunwoo asked curiously, “Who are you talking to?”

“Nobody” Hyunjin panicked, hanging up. He shoved the phone into his pocket, and it burned into him. Eunwoo sighed, “I heard Jisung mention a girlfriend. Is there something you want to share?”

He shook his head, unease settling into him or maybe he was just about to throw the fuck up, “Can we…not talk about this right now? I mean, we’re at a party”

Eunwoo stared at him, as if dissecting all of Hyunjin's deepest, darkest secrets, gaze burning through him. Then he nodded with a smile, “Of course, Hyunjin. You should celebrate”

Hyunjin’s nerves calmed down and he began walking away. Maybe now he could return to enjoying the rest of the night. But of course, Eunwoo stopped him, hand over his shoulder “We’ll talk about it first thing in the morning though. I want to see you seven AM, in my office”

Hyunjin suppressed a groan, bile rising up his throat at what this could possibly mean, “Oh. Okay”

Eunwoo patted his shoulder, before walking back to the party, “Don’t be late, Hwang”

»»————-

He definitely didn’t feel human stepping into the office, a mere three hours later. He hadn’t got any sleep. He had just enough time to head home, shower, and wipe the remnants of tequila off his stomach before heading here. The body shots didn’t sound like a great idea now. His shirt was sticky and ruined. His head hurt, and he was surprised that Eunwoo wasn’t hungover. He’d probably gouged on hangover soup last night, and he sat in a crisp suit-and-tie across the table. He looked up at him, cheery smile, “Morning, Hwang”

Hyunjin sat in the uncomfortable office chair, squinting against the lights that hurt his sensitive eyes, “Good morning…”

“Did you have a good time at the party last night?”

Hyunjin nodded, putting on a smile, “Yes. It was nice”

Eunwoo was their nicest manager, he’s the only reason Hyunjin had been able to go back home and he certainly liked him the most. He was miles better than Kim Soohyun, the guy who basically decided Hyunjin’s life. But now…it seemed like Eunwoo had been sent by his higher-ups to sweet-talk Hyunjin, “You certainly seemed to enjoy it, but sadly, I didn’t see too much of you. We would have liked to get a drink with you”

“Ah, I was with the boys most of the night” He answered. Could this meeting not have been an email? His head was pounding and he couldn’t focus on anything.

Eunwoo tilt his head, picking up on his irritation, “Say it. Whatever’s on your mind”

“No disrespect. I…just don’t understand why we need to talk about this right now”

“Why? Because it’s a Sunday and most people don’t have to go to work today, or because you drank too much last night?” He laughed, leaning back in his chair. There was a stress ball in his hands and Eunwoo kept tossing it back and forth.

Hyunjin bit his lip, “No, I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired”

“Because it may be a day off for everyone in the country, but not for you. I’m sure you’re aware of that. After all, superstars don’t get to where they are by slacking off”

Hyunjin frowned, “I understand. Is there a specific reason you wanted to see me today?”

Eunwoo put down the stress ball in his hands, expression suddenly turning serious, “Look, kid. If I could turn a blind eye to this, I would. Trust me. I hate doing this as much as you hate hearing it, but Kim Soohyun was at the party too. He overheard things. I’m accountable to him, and you’re accountable to me”

Hyunjin sank into his seat, “So…am I in trouble or something?”

Eunwoo clasped his hands, “Depends…did you do something to get you into trouble?”

“No, I didn’t, Eunwoo”

He leaned forward on the desk, hands folded under his chin, “There was quite a lot of talk about a girlfriend last night. You never mentioned that to me”

Hyunjin let out a sigh, “There’s no girlfriend. The boys were dicking around”

Eunwoo gave him a tight-lipped smile, “Then, who were you talking to? On the phone when I saw you? Surely your parents wouldn't be awake that late”

“Just…a friend from back home. They’re not important”

“Look, Hyunjin. I hate to pry. Your personal life is entirely yours but not when it concerns your image or the company, or god forbid, the media. If you are dating somebody, you have to let me know so I can be prepared for when it eventually gets out to the media”

Hyunjin’s head began to hurt exponentially more and maybe he should never have called you last night, “I’m not dating anybody, Eunwoo”

Eunwoo nodded. Clearly, he didn’t believe him. He’d known and managed Hyunjin for years. He'd known him since he was fifteen. He could see right through him and wished he was a better liar. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that”

Hyunjin sighed, sitting up straighter as if that could convince him better, “She’s just an old friend, from back home”

Eunwoo raised an eyebrow, and then leaned back in his chair, “Okay, I’ll believe you. I hope you’ve already passed along the contract to her”

He frowned, “What, the NDA? I’m not dating her, why does she have to sign it?”

“Well yes, you’re not, but clearly you and her are close if you’re drunk calling her from a work party. She could have the wrong idea, if she goes around telling people a different story…that’ll be a problem”

“She is not going to tell anyone”

“You don’t know what girls can be capable of to get fame. An argument with you, if someone bribes her, if she sees any opportunity, she could go to the media—”

“Y/N is not like that” Hyunjin interrupted, a surge of bitterness ripping through at the assumptions.

Eunwoo’s eyebrows shot up, “Y/N…that’s her name”

He wished he could take back that information. It was too late. He released a breath, “Look, you’re not making her sign any contracts. We’re not romantically involved. There are no legal obligations. Am I not even allowed to have fucking friends anymore?”

Eunwoo closed his eyes, “Don’t get angry on me, Hyunjin. You’re not stupid. This is how it’s been for years. The rules won’t change for you. It’s going to be difficult to manage these rumors after you already took half a year off to yourself and with Jisung’s trial and Chan and Kairi’s…whatever the hell they’re doing. You say you’re not dating this girl, I’m going to trust you on that. But if at any point that changes or the girl goes to the news, the company will have to step in. For example, she talks to somebody about her…special friendship with you. Kim Soohyun won’t think twice before suing her for defamation”

Hyunjin saw red, and he clenched his fists as to not react. Defamation? “I get it, Eunwoo”

He nodded, putting a document on the table and sliding it to him, “If anything changes, you have to let me know. I have to be ready to release a statement”

“What, a statement…for what?” Hyunjin stared at the files. An NDA and a press release statement. This was absolutely insane. Nothing had even happened, and they were preparing for the worst case scenario. No, they were waiting for it.

“You’ve been in this industry long enough, Hwang. We must inform the public and fanbase…if you’re in a relationship. If we keep it to ourselves and it gets out anyway, the backlash would be immense. Now, don’t worry. We can always try to keep her identity secret if you’re worried about her safety and with threats and everything, but—”

Hyunjin stood up in panic, blood rushing to his head, “That’s not happening. There’s not gonna be any threats to her…or announcements”

Eunwoo looked up at him, blinking blankly, “Okay… I appreciate the sentiment but that’s not entirely in your hands. The press tour starts today. All eyes are going to be on the four of you. The whole damn country is talking about you, Hyunjin. We can’t afford a scandal. Kim Soohyun has me in a tight grip. I have faith in you that nothing happens to throw that off”

He swallowed, nails digging into his palm from his emotions, “Yeah. It won’t”

Clearly, his plans of bringing you to the city to visit him were down the fucking drain. He’d be lucky if he could even get a phone call with you anymore.

“Also if you’re using the company phone to stay in contact with her, I suggest you change that. It shouldn’t be traced back to us”

Hyunjin nodded, and he wasn’t even dating you but the worst was already happening. This was what he’d feared the whole time. There was no point. There was a bitter taste in his mouth and he asked, “Is that going to be all?”

Eunwoo nodded, “You should take these documents with you, just in case. HR were happy to print them out for me this morning. They also told me you’ve been hanging out in the romance section a lot in the company library”

So he had absolutely no privacy anymore either. Hyunjin snatched the folder, carelessly holding the files in his hand, with no intention of ever using them. He wouldn’t let the press statement or NDA document anywhere near you. In fact, they’d be tossed in the trash as soon as he was home. He headed for the door and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He needed to decompress. He couldn’t show up to practice this pissed and this wound up. He’d explode, and the boys didn’t deserve that.

Eunwoo’s voice stopped him, “Oh, and congratulations, Hyunjin”

Hyunjin turned around, gripping the doorknob in blind fury. It felt like a taunt, a joke. There was nothing to congratulate him for. He couldn’t even keep his friends close without it exploding into a big deal. What did he even have to be grateful for? He looked right at Eunwoo, and his lack of sleep made him more irritable, “For…what?”

Eunwoo smiled warmly, his entire demeanour changing, “The album pre-sales are the biggest we’ve ever seen. You’re a global superstar now. You should feel very, very lucky, kid"

»»————-

“Can you stand still for me, please?” The assistant responsible for touching up Hyunjin’s face asked. He nodded, letting her put rosy tint on his cheeks, blending it with the contour. He’d been here for what easily felt like hours, and through the mirror he could see that Changbin was just about done with his makeup.

The week leading up to the release was always the hardest. Somebody tugged at his hair and he resisted the urge to grimace. They didn’t deserve his terrible mood; they were only doing their job. The hairstylist apologised, noticing Hyunjin’s sour expression, “Sorry. Eunwoo said we need to get started on your hair right now; the other boys are already ready.” Hyunjin nodded, letting himself be manhandled by three different women as they struggled to put his hair into braids, “Have you been using the product we gave you?”

“Hmm?”

“Your hair’s thinning out, especially the bleached roots” The lady mumbled, disappointed.

“Yeah, I have” Truthfully he’d forgotten, a grave mistake for someone in his industry, but he’d been too caught up in everything else. His stomach rumbled and he hadn’t had time to grab breakfast this morning, so he looked around until he spotted one of their assistants, “Rowoon, could you please get me some honey butter chips—”

“Stay still, please” The makeup assistant repeated. Hyunjin straightened up, speaking through his teeth, “…or ramyeon?”

Rowoon looked at him through the mirror, eyebrows shooting up, “Um. Are you sure? You have a pre-recording tomorrow”

“I…haven’t eaten since last night” Hyunjin replied.

“Last time you ate it…your face got pretty swollen, and you were pretty beat up about not looking great in the music show” Rowoon said, grimly smiling.

Hyunjin nodded, gut hurting at that memory of his swollen face, “Right. Never mind. Forget it. Thank you”

“How long are we filming for today?” Jisung asked, adjusting his headset in the back. Rowoon looked between them, “Well, you guys are booked until 4 PM”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at his phone. 6:43 am. Fuck.

Changbin walked by, patting Hyunjin on the shoulder, slipping toffees into his palm, “That’ll fill you up before the interviews”. The candy looked less than appetising, but it was his only option, and he reached to eat some, just as the lady stopped him to apply lip tint to his mouth. Today was going to be a long fucking day.

They were almost done with his hair, braiding it at the top of his head, secured with glitter barrettes. It was an elaborate hairstyle, and he feared he’d ruin it if he moved. It was like walking on eggshells, like his slightest touch would crumble things. Well, everything already seemed to be crumbling. Hyunjin hadn’t been in the best of moods since his talk with Eunwoo, and the possibilities of how everything could go wrong loomed over him. The worst he’d feared for was already happening, things set in motion and no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop it from worsening. The company knew your name. They knew of your existence. They’d already restricted him. There’s no way in hell Hyunjin would be able to bring you to Seoul, much less meet you in this city without a hundred documents or cameras being thrown at you. Slowly, all his happiness that had been built up carefully and precisely, was turning into bitterness.

“Have you seen Chan?” Rowoon asked, in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Hyunjin shook his head. He’d been sitting on this chair for forty five minutes straight. How the hell would he know where Chan was? The hunger and frustration was getting to him, and he shook his head, calming himself down.

“May I go now?” He looked up at the hair assistant.

She nodded, “Just no quick movements. The hairspray is still settling in”

Now that he could properly look at himself, it looked good. Having longer hair always set him at the mercy of experimentation for new styles, and often crazy accessories. He smiled at them, pushing the chair back to stand, “Of course. Thank you so much for your hard work. It’s beautiful”

In other circumstances, he’d snap a picture and send you, but…he’d been on eggshells with you too. Inadvertently, the conversation with Eunwoo had created distance. Hyunjin hated that because none of this was your fault. You shouldn’t be subject to this silence from him, but he was constantly looking over his shoulder, paranoid that he’d be caught and it was getting tiring. His carelessness at the party had led to this. He wanted to fully blame himself for not having any self-control when he drunk called you. Yet, a part of him knew that even without the doomed phone call, somehow everybody would have found out anyway. It was only a matter of time. Things never stayed stable for too long in his life.

He walked into the hallway, hoping to find an empty room. There were usually a few reserved for stage props. He could have a few moments to himself, just to talk to you. That could calm him down, and he could apologise for his distance. He didn’t know how he’d begin to explain what was happening to you. To anybody else, it’d seem like he was pushing you away and he hoped you understood that it was never his intention.

A door was ajar, sliver of light leaking out into the hallway. He stopped in his tracks, familiar voices inside. He didn’t meant to eavesdrop, but they were so loud, “What do you want me to say? I’m doing absolutely everything I can! Jisung’s trial is already—”

“Don’t bring Jisung into this…” Kairi’s exasperated voice interrupted, “What’s going on with him is different. You always do this, Chris! Why are you making this your problem?”

“I’m sorry? They’re my bandmates. They’re my friends. Of course I’m going to take their burden!”

“Jisung is an adult, he’s perfectly capable of—“

“I made a promise to all of them, Kairi. I’m not jumping ship when they need me the most” Chan sounded so frustrated.

She groaned, “I’m not asking you to jump ship. But Chris you haven’t slept in three fucking days! You’re…barely eating. This is not living”

Hyunjin didn’t know that, and his blood ran cold at the information as Chan replied, “This isn’t your problem Kairi. It’s…my problem to deal with. I have to make sacrifices—”

“I had to quit my job because of you, Chris!” She trailed off, Hyunjin’s eyes widened, and he flinched at the aggressive tone. He wasn’t new to their arguments, especially over the last month, but none were like this. This felt like the culmination of something that had been building for months, even years. Kairi was always so sweet, and her volume returned to normal, “I mean…I had to quit because of us. I made sacrifices too. So yes, it is my problem”

Chan’s voice dropped, “Well, I don’t want you to make sacrifices for me”

“That’s what people do when they love each other. I’m sorry but that’s just a reality you’re going to have to accept Chris”

“Do we…have to talk about this now? The interviews start soon, and I can’t focus on them—”

“I’m so worried about you, Channie. I don’t know how you’re going to make it through the morning”

Chan groaned, “I don’t know either, but I have to do it for the boys. I can’t…let them down”

Hyunjin’s chest ached now, a different kind of pain settling in. Why were they all making sacrifices for each other? They were only in their twenties, pushing for their dreams; this instability shouldn’t be normal.

Kairi sighed, “See, that’s exactly the problem. Why do you always take the blame for everything? Even when Hyunjin was gone, you made it your mission to do damage control for him. Not everything has to be your burden”

At the mention of his name, he really should walk away and learn to mind his own business, but he couldn’t help but overhear, feet rooted to the floor as Chan’s voice softened with a new desperation and frustration, “They mean everything to me. You know that”

“They do to me too, Chris. I know this is a horrible time”

“Hyunjin?” He heard Jisung’s voice call for him in the hallway. He needed to head back. An entire press and interview team was waiting for them, only a few rooms over and if he listened any further, he’d be in no state of mind to answer questions. But of course as he stepped away, he picked up on the last bit of conversation, “Did you know HR gave Hyunjin the papers?” Chan laughed bitterly, “They’re already prepared for the worst”

Kairi sighed, and he could hear her footsteps as she moved closer to Chan. Only dread filled his stomach as he heard the next sentence out of her mouth, “That’s their job. You have to not make it your problem this time, Chan, I’m…so worried about your health. And that’s Hyunjin’s responsibility. He knew what he was getting into when he started seeing her. It was bound to happen. It always does.”

Hyunjin didn’t stick around to hear Chan’s response.

He had heard enough.

»»————-

“Hyun, can I come see you?”

The question was expected, but Hyunjin was shocked when you said it anyway. He froze, choking at his words. A few days ago, he would have been overjoyed at this. After all, he’d already bought the tickets and made all the arrangements for you to come see him, but…things had changed. It was too risky. He didn’t have the heart to tell you about his conversation with Eunwoo. What was the point after all? Hyunjin let out an awkward fucking chuckle, “W-what?”

“Um, sorry that sounds out of nowhere. I just…I really want to meet you. I miss you, and it sounds like you’re going through a lot. Maybe it’ll help.” Your voice was far away, drenched in longing.

It wasn’t out of nowhere, it was only what Hyunjin had been planning since forever. But nothing went to his fucking plans, “I…I’m not sure, Y/N”

Your voice deflated, disappointed, “Yeah?”

His heart broke, but it had become increasingly clear that it would be the dumbest idea ever to have you come visit. If anybody saw them…if anything got out…he wasn’t prepared to deal with that, “Yeah. Fuck, I’m so sorry but I…I don’t think I can meet you. Right now, with everything that’s going on, I honestly don’t have the time and…”

“Yeah. I understand” Of course you understood, no matter how shitty Hyunjin kept behaving. For once, he wished you’d actually yell at him.

“I’m sorry” He swallowed, and he could feel the life being sucked out of him.

Your response was sweet as usual, “It’s okay. It’s bad timing”

“It’s bad timing” He repeated, and Hyunjin suddenly had a horrible feeling that maybe this was the last straw. Things had slipped out of his control. Soon, eventually, you would too.

»»————-

The seasons were changing, but flowers bloomed all year long in Seoul, and so Hyunjin had prepared early. He’d bought the Camellia seeds so he could grow winter flowers on his own, and see their life unfold before his eyes. Even if everything else seemed to be falling apart, at least he could try to be consistent and paint his feelings away. The yellow falling leaves and orange tree cover taken over the city inspired his many paintings. Usually, you’d send him pictures of every little detail from back home, especially of changing landscapes and beautiful natural sights of town, but you hadn't shared anything the past week. He wondered what autumn would look like in Daejon. Now that his conversations with you were thinning out, he had an irrational fear that he’d never find out.

“Everything okay?”

“Sorry?” Hyunjin snapped out of it, and Changbin looked at him, concerned. “You’re in your head again. Is something bothering you?”

Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut, and sighed, “No, I’m good”

Changbin clearly wasn’t convinced, because his expression softened, and he reached a hand out, “Hey, why don’t you go wait in the car? I’ll bring the Americano out to you”

But he was so past being taken care of or worried about. So Hyunjin shook his head. The idea of waiting in the car sounded absolutely horrible right now. He needed fresh air, and he was perfectly capable of getting his own cup of coffee.

“No, I got this. Why don’t you let me get this for us?” Hyunjin asked, pushing his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. It was getting colder by the day, and even in this temperature-controlled cafe, he was cold to the bone. Changbin grinned, shooting him a cheesy wink, “Well, I’ll never say no to being treated by you”

A smile tugged at Hyunjin’s lips. Changbin could find the brevity in each situation. Hyunjin walked up to the cashier, placing an order for their usual. “Could I have two coffees, black, please?” He asked. The cashier, a girl probably in her 20s, smiled wide at Hyunjin, “Is that all?”

He glanced at the pastry counter, and everything looked so appetising. Yet he was on a diet and couldn’t afford to do this. Everybody would be so disappointed in him, “No, that’s all”

“Sorry, but do…I know you?” She asked, punching in his order. Hyunjin’s brows shot up, and he thought he’d concealed his identity enough with the hat, but clearly the rest of his expensive outfit was a dead give-away that was he was some big shot. They had another schedule after this, so they were dressed up and he was draped head-to-toe in luxury items, “Um. I just have one of those faces, I guess”

The girl didn’t look convinced, “Right…I’ll have your coffee out in a few minutes”

He stepped aside, joining his friend to the side. Changbin had a huge grin on his face still and Hyunjin was thankful to have his positivity surround him, “That chick was totally flirting with you”

“What?” Hyunjin shook his head, pushing the receipt in his coat pocket, “She barely said two words. You think everyone’s flirting with me”

“Well, why are her and all her friends giggling and looking at you?” Changbin rolled his eyes. Hyunijn looked back, and sure enough, the cashier and her coworkers were looking at him. Maybe they shouldn’t have come in here today. It was too close to the comeback. He shook that thought from his head. He was desperate for coffee.

“Excuse me, sir? Your coffee is ready” The girl said, and Hyunjin stepped back up. She was smiling, flushing red under her uniform cap, and as she handed them the cups he noticed a piece of paper stuck to it. Changbin glanced at it, eyes widening as they stepped away, “Is that her number?”

“I don’t know” Hyunjin mumbled, unfurling the paper. This definitely was the most romantic way he’d been asked out. It was her Instagram handle, and a note was stuck to it, Hope you liked the coffee, handsome. Maybe we could get a stronger drink later tonight?

“Wow” Hyunjin’s brows shot up, and he pushed the note into his pocket too. It’d be thrown away later, “That’s…certainly a bold move”

“Please tell me you’re going on that date”

Hyunjin shook his head, amused at how light-hearted dates and budding love could be for Changbin, “I…have plans”

“What plans? You’re a recluse”

“I was going to talk to Y/N tonight—” He trailed off, eyes landing on someone familiar in the crowd. Hyunjin’s breath hitched.

It was a while since he’d seen her. Years, at this point.

She was sat at a far table, laughing over a cup of coffee and croissants. She seemed better than she had in years. Happier than she’d ever been around Hyunjin. Right now, she was glowing. The cause of her happiness seemed to be a boy sitting across her. A guy dressed in flannel and suit pants, chunky glasses on his face. Hyunjin couldn’t look away as the boy leaned forward, kissing her cheek quickly. She smiled, and then the cashier called out, “Coffee for Yujin”

She kissed the boy before standing up. She walked towards them, and Hyunjin was still standing stupidly at the counter. She noticed him, eyes widening, coming to a stop. Almost instantly, the life drained from her face.

A stark difference from a moment ago, when she was so happy. Hyunjin didn’t know what to do; he raised a hand; a small, non-threatening wave. Things between them had ended in peace, after all. Yujin’s face traversed many expressions before she settled on a calm look, “Hyunjin. Wow…hi. This…is such a surprise. Hello…Changbin”

Hyunjin nodded, hoping this interaction wasn’t being watched, “It’s…been a while, Yujin”

She was still beautiful, smiling to diffuse the tension, “I didn’t expect to see you around here”

Hyunjin nodded, hands squeezing his coffee cup, “Yeah. I…don’t come here too often”

She nodded, familiarity returning to her gaze, “Ah. Too easy to get recognised?”

Hyunjin nodded along, even though that wasn’t the reason. He hated how his life seemed to revolve around his fame, and not his choices, like maybe he didn’t come here because he just liked another coffee shop more. Changbin took over, noticing the awkward shift in Hyunjin, “Um, so how have you been, Yujin? You look good!”

She smiled at him, “I’m great. I’m actually doing really well… I, uh, moved out of the city, closer to the outskirts”

“Really?” Hyunjin asked. He wondered why she would make such a decision. She’d trained with him for years, until she’d suddenly dropped out of the idol industry, but back when Hyunjin knew her and dated her, they had the same ambitions. The same thirst to be recognized, to be respected, and known for their talent. That’s why they had got along so well.

“Hmm, the city got too much for me sometimes. Anyway after I met Haru, it just seemed like the right choice to make”

“Haru. Is that…your boyfriend?” Hyunjin asked, noticing the boy back at the table.

“Well…” She giggled, lifting her hand up to show them the glittering, gorgeous ring, “Fiancé, actually”

Changbin’s eyes widened, “You’re engaged?”

She nodded, a dimple in her cheek, “Haru asked me a few months ago”

Hyunjin forced himself to smile, but there was a deep pit in his stomach, recalling the conversations they used to have back in their days as trainees. They were never that serious to talk about weddings, or marriage. They both knew it was only an attraction between them and would stay that way, but he remembered a specific conversation where Yujin had said that the only disadvantage of becoming famous was the love life they’d be giving up. He was happy for her now. She hadn’t had to give it up after all, “Congratulations, Yujin. That’s…really good”

“Never too early to settle down, am I right?” She laughed, “What about you, Jinnie? How have you been?”

“I’m…good too. So…what are you doing these days?” He redirected the conversation back, curiosity brimming at him. What did someone do once they’d left the idol life? They were free to do absolutely anything, the choices were limitless. He’d never known a life without rules. He’d been training since he was fourteen, after all. She shrugged, “I’m doing a bit of everything. I volunteered at an organisation for a while, I tested my hand at photography, modelling even, but then I realised I really don’t want to be around cameras of any kind” She laughed, “I teach now, though”

“That sounds really nice, Yujin. I’m glad you get to do something you love”

“Well, you too! You’re absolutely thriving, Hyunjin. I see you every day with all your brand deals and advertisements. Does it ever get tiring being pretty all the time?”

Hyunjin smiled, “It’s…part of my job”

“Well, you deserve it. I remember how focused you used to be. You were my motivation, you know? It should have been obvious that life wasn’t for me. I hated everything. My favourite part of the academy used to be seeing you” At those words, the boy, Haru joined her, slipping an arm around her waist, “Everything all right, baby?”

She glanced at him, “Shit, I totally forgot to get the coffee. Just ran into some old friends”

Haru laughed, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it for us, babe.” He kissed her again, with no hesitance of being seen by so many people, and went to pick up the drinks. Changbin conversed with Haru, as Yujin asked Hyunjin, “I read that you went on a break for a couple of months. That must have been…wow, relieving?”

He swallowed, “Yeah, it was really good, but…I’m back to work now”

“That must’ve been nice. I don’t know how you do it, Hyunnie. I remember when we training together, you wouldn’t leave the practice room for days. Still the same?”

Hyunjin nodded. Yujin had changed so much from when he’d last met her. Had he changed at all?

Haru smiled at him, “Thank you for taking good care of her then. She tells me about those days a lot. It must have been thrilling to keep it a secret from everyone”

Hyunjin shook his head, smiling politely at him, “It was terrifying actually”

They laughed. Haru pulled Yujin into his side again as she said, “Well…this was unexpected, but if your schedule permits, you and the boys are always welcome to the engagement party. It’s the end of December”

Changbin sighed dramatically, “Unfortunately, we’re working the whole month”. Yujin frowned, “That’s terrible….I would suggest catching up after that but…me and Haru are going to be gone for three months”

“Oh, where are you going?” Changbin asked.

“Backpacking through Europe” She responded chirpily, “Haru’s really into art and sculptures, so we have this silly idea to visit every museum in Paris”

“That sounds really good” Hyunjin smiled, but he was drowning so deep in his thoughts he could barely focus. What a nice life. It was strange, the last time he saw her, she was in the same boat as him. Training to be an idol, like him. But their paths had diverged, and envy settled in him. He was so lucky to have his life, but he wished he could just take off like that too on vacation, no questions asked. Changbin’s phone buzzed and he apologised, ”Um sorry to stop this, but we gotta go. Eunwoo’s calling us back in to work”

Hyunjin nodded, “Oh, of course. It was great to meet you Yujin, and you too, Haru. Congratulations again, on the engagement. I hope you have a good time in Europe. I’m really happy for you”

Suddenly the expensive bracelets he was wearing felt like shackles around Hyunjin’s wrists.

»»————-

A fire burned within him, a quiet inferno consuming his peace. He couldn’t stop thinking about Yujin and what her life was like now. She’d rebuilt it to something so special. She would never have that peace of life if she’d stayed in her company or with Hyunjin. He sat at the company table, signing albums, and it was a monotonous task so his thoughts kept drifting.

“Jinnie. Your phone” Jisung mumbled, poking him with a pen. Hyunjin lift his head to see it buzzing across the table. You were calling. He took a breath, walking out to talk to you. You were the only thing that could make this horrible fucking day better. He hoped you weren’t still upset at him rejecting your offer to come to the city. Hopefully, you’d understand. Everything was too treacherous. Hyunjin…was too treacherous for you right now. Still, he listened to you about your day, and how you’d apparently made up with Yongbok. He smiled, lowering his voice as employees passed him in the corridor, “What did you guys do?”

As you told him everything he wished he was doing with you instead, Hyunjin faded into thought again until you said, “Um…and something else happened. When we were talking, Yongbok said something…He told me he loves me. That he has his entire life”

He wished he was more surprised.

A cynical stupid part of him was happy at this. So Yongbok finally told you. Bitterness settled into his veins, scorching him from the inside out, and Hyunjin found himself thinking that maybe with Yongbok, you could finally have the life he couldn’t give you.

When he got home that night, he realised the hydrangeas in his room had withered away completely.

»»————-

He woke to fresh flowers on his desk. Baby blue, lilac, pink and white. All shapes and colors. The scent is what woke him up. It starkly contrasted to the dying hydrangeas that he still hadn’t thrown away. He’d been meaning to draw them in that state. A cruel render of their destruction.

The comeback was in a few days. Their album would finally be out to the public. There was so much to do today, and he lay in bed just a little longer to enjoy the temporary peace. A press conference was underway soon, and he would have to put on his best self. It was going to be live-streamed and there were no doubts that he’d be asked about the hiatus. He worried if the music would be well received, if it would surpass everyone’s expectations. Hyunjin finally crawled out of bed and read the little notes attached to the bouquets. Congratulations on your 4th successful studio album. Never forget how lucky and blessed you are~!

He walked into his kitchen, sweatpants hanging low, sleep clouding him, to see even more flowers on the island. “Who sent these?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

Jisung looked sorrowful though, ignoring the bouquets entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Hyunjin asked, the worst scenarios playing in his head.

He swallowed, “They broke up”

His stomach was a pit at the news, “When?”

“Late last night. Chan…still hasn’t come home yet. We have no idea where he is”

“What? How do you know they broke up?”

“Kairi texted Binnie. She was worried. We can’t find him anywhere…”

“I’m going to call him" Hyunjin said, rushing to his room.

“We already tried that, Jinnie” Changbin spoke, “We’ve been trying since an hour”

“Maybe he’ll pick up my call” Hyunjin hoped, as the ringer rang in his ear. After eight rings, Chan did pick up. “Hello, Chan?” Hyunjin asked, voice soft. Jisung and Changbin moved closer, eyes wide as they observed him. Chan sounded low on the other end, “Jinnie…? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I’m okay. Where are you, Channie? Are you all right?”

“I’m…fine. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time for the conference”

“No, can I please come get you? Let me” Hyunjin pleaded. There was a pause, and a sigh and then Chan said, “I’m at the old dorm”

“I’ll be right there” Hyunjin hung up.

“No, we’re coming with” Jisung said, stepping ahead.

“Guys. Let me…just do this on my own. Eunwoo would kill us if none of us are here. Me and Chan will make it to the press conference, I promise”

Hyunjin couldn’t drive fast enough. For a second, he worried he would forget the way to their old house but it was embedded into him. It’s where they’d had their whole beginning, and Hyunjin got there in record time. Kairi meant everything to Chan, and he couldn’t imagine what he’d be feeling right now. Chan was always there for him, and he felt personally responsible to make sure he was all right. The old dorm building looked run-down; it had been falling apart for years, even when the boys lived there, and he chose the stairs over the rusty old elevator. On the fourth floor, there was an alcove. It was hidden behind a door that was sometimes locked, but he pushed it open. Chan was sitting inside, on the window seat, a soft smile on his face when he saw Hyunjin approach.

“Just you?” He tilt his head, seeing nobody else follow, “I thought the cavalry would show up”

Hyunjin shot him a soft smile, leaning against the door, “Just me….can I join you?”

Chan pat the empty seat next to him, and Hyunjin sat down. This is where Chan was always found, back when they still lived here. It’s where he came to think. To write their greatest hits. To ponder about life’s biggest mysteries. It was always his place, and Hyunjin could see why he loved it so much. It was hidden, like a secret room. Ignoring the cobweb in the corner, it was cosy. A faded old painting hung on the wall, rickety floorboards that probably hid treasures inside, a window that looked out onto an alley. The alley was something special in itself. It was between two apartment buildings, and a little bakery was carved into the side of the building. The few times Hyunjin sat here with Chan, he’d seen bakers arrive at three in the morning, loading powdered sugar and other ingredients in, creating storms and clouds of sugar. It was always a beautiful sight.

“What happened, Chan?” Hyunjin ended up asking, cutting to the chase. They both knew why he was here. Chan swallowed, looking wistful, “I’m fine, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m going to be okay. I just needed…a day to let the sadness out”

“You can take more than that”

“Not really. I can’t afford to, not this week. I gotta put on my best self”

“We’ll understand if you don’t.” Hyunjin frowned, admirable of Chan’s resolve, “If you want to talk about it, I’m here” Chan glanced at him, a smile on his face, “I know you are, Jinnie. You’re actually the best, and the worst person to talk to this about”

“Why the worst?” Hyunjin frowned.

Chan laughed, “You don’t want to hear the good part first?”

“No…”

“The worst because…I know what you felt about me and Kairi… I feel responsible for how you see the world, crazy as that sounds. I know you had to hear our arguments the past few weeks, I’m sorry about that. I feel like I took away all your hope.”

Hyunjin swallowed, “It’s not your fault. I’ve had minimal hope to begin with”

Chan laughed, loudly, “God, Jinnie, that’s really fucked up, you know? It shouldn’t be this way. We should be out there, showing our girls the best time”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for your break up, Chan,” Hyunjin emphasized.

“Wow. Breakup. That sounds insane to say” He breathed in a sigh, as it was finally settling in, “To think I was going to ask her to marry me in a few months”

Hyunjin felt emotional. He’d known and adored their relationship for the longest time, “I’m so sorry, Chan. I don’t know what to say, I wish I could…make this better”

“You don’t have to. I’m…happy you’re here. Kim Soohyun asked to see my phone last night. I don’t know why, but I deleted every conversation with Kairi. I suppose I panicked. I shouldn’t have done that, because now all my best memories with her are just that…memories”

Hyunjin swallowed, and maybe all the reading poetry had rotted his brain. His heart was starting to shrivel, just like the Hydrangeas that were out of bloom. Once he got home, maybe it was the right move to erase his chat history with you too. A small way of shielding himself from the damage that could follow. His memories with you would be lost, but his carelessness would only hurt the boys more.

Chan reminded him far too much of you, the way he held onto memories, objects, and tangible things with an iron grip. He recalled how sad you’d felt erasing the little star you’d drawn from Hyunjin’s face. It had meant so much to you. Maybe he was becoming more like you every day too, which is why the dying flowers still rested on Hyunjin’s desk when he should have thrown them out weeks ago. He ended up saying something that only halfway made sense, “I want to say that…the things we’re meant for will always come back to us, but… I stray further from that thought every day, so I would be lying if I tried to convince you of that”

Chan smiled sadly, and he held something within his hands, “You’re the most romantic person I know, even without trying to be”

Hyunjin laughed, bitterly, “I think it’s safe to say I’m doomed”

Chan turned to him, “Don’t say that, Jinnie”

Hyunjin shook his head, facing him, “I came here for you, not to talk about me…you know you have me, always, right?”

“I know” Chan leaned in, wrapping his arm around Hyunjin. It was an awkward half-hug but Hyunjin relaxed into the embrace, whispering, “I’m so sorry it didn’t work out with Kairi”

Chan pulled away, a sincere smile on his face, “Thank you. We should probably get going if we want to make it in time for the conference”

“You’re right” Hyunjin nodded, but they made no attempt to move, trying to lengthen this short-lived peace.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.” Chan muttered, and it’s only then that Hyunjin realised what he held in his palm. A diamond ring. The one he was going to propose to Kairi with.

“What?”

“What our lives are like. Do you never question that?” Chan asked. Hyunjin had never heard him talk like this, and he couldn’t comprehend this. Chan had built them up from the ground up, worked his ass off to get them to where they are. In fact, he couldn’t bear to see this side of him. He shouldn’t be questioning all his hard work, or that all would have been for nothing. Out of all people in the world, Chan couldn't be the one to lose hope. He was their rock.

He felt for Chan. So much. Yet, this train of thought was so dangerous. What would happen to them if they all started hating their job? They had never been forced into this career, they’d made their choices of their own volition, even if it was done as a teenager who didn’t know what he’d be giving up, but they’d gained so much too. The lifestyle Hyunjin led…people would kill for. 14-year-old him would kill for this. And he’d be so proud of him for it too. So, why was he questioning everything now?

“No, I don’t” Hyunjin said. It was a lie, but he would sell it to Chan, for his sake, “We’re doing something impossible for most people to even imagine in the world. The impact that you have on people is…unreal. Millions of people love you, and you inspire them. You inspire me to work harder everyday. So, I don’t question if it’s worth it, and you shouldn’t either, Chan”

Something in Chan’s eyes changed, as if he had never expected him to say this. Hyunjin, the romantic, would never have said that. Love felt like the core of his life. He was hungry for it, but there was more than one kind of love.

So later that week, when Hyunjin stared at his phone in his hands, it was filled up with memories of you. Every phone call, each picture you’d sent him, each sweet thought he’d scribbled in his notes but never had the chance to send you. The press tour had already begun, and the boys were knee-depth in stress, and Hyunjin could never let himself add to that. Kairi had talked about sacrifices, and he finally understood it. Maybe it was cowardly to never explain to you what was happening, but it was easier. He didn’t have the heart to delete the past few months, so he took Eunwoo’s advice and changed his number instead.

Sorrow settled in his chest as Hyunjin realised that he would go to the ends of the earth for you, but perhaps that wasn’t still enough. He wasn’t willing to give this life up, and this was a sacrifice he was going to have to make.

»»————- Present Day.

You only had the moonlight to guide you tonight.

There were hardly any streetlights this far out. It was pitch black, and the glow of the moon fell upon Hyunjin’s face, tracing each contour perfectly. You were trying real hard to not look at him. He was drumming his fingertips against the steering wheel and it was annoying. It kept grabbing your attention, and you’d glance at him only to remember you couldn’t do that anymore. You couldn’t spend time marveling at his little mannerisms because…things had changed.

All you could do was listen to the conversations of the backseat. Chan was mumbling something to Kairi, and their voices had dropped in volume since you’d pulled out of the parking lot. Each syllable was spoken in a whisper, like it was a secret between them, and you felt like you were eavesdropping. Still, there was not much else to focus to. You definitely were not going to focus on the boy sitting next to you.

“I know that it could’ve been better…but I hope that you still had a good time today” Chan said softly, and through the rearview mirror, you saw that they’d laced their hands together. Kairi was leaning into him, fingers interlocked, and you looked down at your hands. The empty spaces between your fingers bothered you.

“I did, Chris” Her eyes were closed, but she smiled, “Honestly, it was a pretty special birthday”

You averted your gaze, giving them privacy. Hyunjin kept glancing in the mirror briefly before looking back to the road. There was a small smile on his lips. He used to talk about them so much. He must be happy with this outcome. You didn’t know the details of what had gone wrong with their relationship, you’d never pried, but it must have been hard getting back together after all that heartbreak and pain.

“I’m…really fucking tired. I might pass out any second” Kairi announced, followed by a yawn.

“Don’t worry. Hyunjin is a smooth driver” Chan reassured, “Isn’t he?”

Hyunjin nodded, eyes flickering to Chan’s, “Of course. And um, Kairi, if you’re cold, I have an extra jacket in the backseat”

There was rummaging and then Kairi gasped, having found the jacket, “This is so stylish. I missed your clothes, Jinnie”

“Hey, hey. What are you trying to imply?” Chan complained. Kairi giggled, and Hyunjin laughed, “Your girlfriend is a fan of color, Chan. That’s not my fault”

“How predictable of you” Chan mumbled, and you could see him rolling his eyes. You drifted out of their conversation, looking out the window at the passing landscape. Trees drifted by in a blur and there was hardly any civilisation out here. Miles and miles of nothing.

“Don’t you agree?” Kairi laughed, hand landing on your shoulder, and she was talking to you.

“Sorry?” You asked, “Agree with what?”

“Fuck. Did I wake you?” She apologised, “I didn’t realise you fell asleep”

“No, no, I’m up. I was just distracted….” You replied, clearing your throat. This conversation warranted another glance from Hyunjin, as if he was checking to see what you were distracted by. You returned his gaze with indifference, raising your eyebrows. He immediately looked away, back to the road.

“Well, I was telling Chris that your friends, Minnie and Jamie are one of the cutest couples I’ve ever met. I mean, I hardly see relationships that strong here; people are usually just serial daters” Kairi explained.

“Oh. Right” You nodded, thankful to have the context, “They’re…really cute, yeah”

“A serial dater?” Chan asked.

“Yeah. Dating apps will do that to you, especially in midtown. Take my advice now, never get on one, you’ll be fighting in the trenches” Kairi laughed. The trees were whizzing past so fast it made you dizzy, you mumbled, “It’s funny. Dating apps could never work back home”

“Cause you know everyone? Is that really true?” She asked. You nodded, “I mean, yeah. You go to school with the people technically in your dating age range, and there are only five restaurants and hang-out spots, so you’re always bumping into each other. It’s impossible to not know everyone”

“Was that ever weird?” Kairi asked, “Like seeing your ex at dinner or something?”

A small laugh escaped you, “It actually sucked. You couldn’t escape them”

“Did you ever run into her exes?” Chan asked, and it took you a second to realise the question was directed at Hyunjin. It took him a few seconds and he sat up straighter, mumbling quietly, “No.”

You blinked at his nonchalance, trying not to let this phase you. This could be a normal car ride if you just let it. Suddenly your gut was hurting with anxiety and you looked out the window again, away from him.

“Well, thankfully, I’ve never had to deal with that,” Chan spoke, “Eunwoo would have a heart attack if one of us was found on those apps. Although there’s quite a few fake profiles out there with Hyunjin’s face on them”

“Eunwoo?” You asked, ignoring the second part of his statement. It sent jealousy surging through you. Why did you feel jealous by even the thought of Hyunjin being on a dating app? You needed to get a grip on your emotions.

“Ah. Hyunjin didn’t tell you?” Chan asked, so casually, “Eunwoo’s…our manager, of sorts”

Without thinking, you spoke, “I thought your manager was the lady in the shop”

“What shop?” Chan frowned, confused, “Wait, hold up. You’ve met one of our managers, Y/N? Where was that?” You stayed silent, for only a second, wondering if Hyunjin would answer this question. After all, he knew the manager and they were in the shop for a reason. The one where he had ignored you completely, as if you didn’t exist. You were only there by accident, after losing your way trying to find the Atelier. To your relief, Hyunjin did speak, “Yeah. That was Mrs. Giwon…she was accompanying me on one of the snack runs”

“Ah” Kairi exclaimed, “She’s…the worst one”

“Hey” Chan spoke, “She’s really helpful sometimes”

“Anyway…moving on” Kairi rolled her eyes, “She kind of traumatised me after she busted us”

“Busted you?” You turned, intrigued. Kairi laughed, “She walked in on me and Chan making out in the studio! God, that day was hell. She like…actually yelled at me for not maintaining a professional attitude in their building”

“And that, of course…led to the no-girlfriend in the studio rule,” Chan mumbled, and through the rearview, you saw him roll his eyes. That seemed like an insane rule to have, especially for adults. You stole a glance at Hyunjin to catch his reaction. He looked straight ahead, as if he couldn’t even hear this conversation, laser-focused on driving the empty streets. Kairi laughed loudly, “Changbin was the most pissed about that!”

“He has a girlfriend?”

“No. That man’s a serial dater, through and through. He’s too busy producing insane music to have a full relationship anyway. He goes through NDA’s faster than you can say hookup, but honestly…he enjoys himself so much. He’s…very popular with all the girls”

You wanted to ask so much more about that. NDAs…? So that was a truth and not a rumor. Hyunjin had never mentioned those to you. At the paint and wine event, Sakura and Yeosang had asked him about it, and he’d been cautious about answering. But it was true. All of it felt so silly. Their words came back to you. Imagine sleeping with someone and then signing a contract instead of some aftercare.

If you and Hyunjin had hooked up back in Daejon, would he have also made you sign an NDA? But he fingered you. He let you touch him. He let you cut his hair and give him a handjob in his little bathroom. Did that not ask for an NDA? Or did he just trust you enough? All the possibilities floated through your head, and stupidly, like a stupid girl, you blurted, “So what all does that NDA cover? Is it just sex or…is it like, making out and other things too? And it's legally required?”

At your question, Hyunjin’s grip on the wheel tightened. His shoulders tensed up.

You’d struck a nerve.

Good.

It was satisfying to know you had some sort of impact on him. Till now, he was just pretending you didn’t exist.

Kairi paused, pondering over it, “Um…pretty much just sex, but like…I didn’t have to sign an NDA every single time. It’s only if it’s with a new person"

“Right”

Chan laughed, “I know. It sounds crazy. Especially in the 21st century, but with the internet and everything, you can never be too careful what people will say in a public forum. Hyunjin, didn’t you hate them too when we started out?”

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “Yeah. It’s stupid”

So he would sign them too? How often did he sleep with a new girl? You didn’t want to think about this any longer. There was no point wondering about his past when you wouldn’t be in his future. Your phone buzzed against the console and you grabbed it, positioning it on the seat between your legs so you could read it. It was a text from Felix.

hey. i was just talking with minho and man, i miss you I know you’ve likely forgotten all about me but call me later please…I think ill die here without you

A smile pulled at your cheeks, and you typed in a quick reply.

im getting back from a party lixie. It was kairi’s birthday. i miss you guys too :(

“Who are you texting at this hour?” Kairi piped up, leaning ahead, “Nate?”. You immediately clicked your phone screen black, even though you had nothing to hide. You just shot her a smile, “Just… a friend from back home”

Hyunjin probably knew exactly who you were talking about, yet he didn’t react. His stone-cold demeanour was really beginning to bother you.

“So where were you guys, at the party? When we found you, you two were at the cabins” Kairi spoke, breaking the tension. You swallowed, wondering if he would answer but he obviously wasn’t interested in speaking so you said, “I was dancing. And then…I hurt myself. So Hyunjin took me to the cabin to find a bandaid”

That wasn’t exactly what had happened. You had conveniently skipped over your argument, and the two of you spying on them, but Hyunjin nodded along, following your lie, “Yeah. There were no first aid kits there though”

Kairi nodded, “Shit, yeah. We didn’t think anybody would use the cabins for anything other than sex…anyway, I was thinkingggg we should play some game. It’d be nice to kill the time.”

Chan reminded her, “I thought you were about to pass out, baby”

Kairi was full of energy now as she suggested, “Well, I’m wide awake now! I kind of want the celebration to last a little while longer. Y/N, you can pick a game, since you're my guest of honour! Do you know any good ones?”

It seemed like Kairi and Chan had absolutely no fucking idea what happened between you and Hyunjin. They knew you weren’t together, but it seemed like they knew nothing more than that. Hyunjin hadn’t told them any of the details. They only knew you’d ended things, but not why. By their ease, and comfort…it seemed like they didn’t even know Hyunjin had been the one to end things with you. The memory of that made your chest clench, with hurt.

The heartbreak felt so one-sided. Everything seemed so easy for him. Had you got everything wrong this summer? Had you read too much into his actions? You felt embarrassed, thinking back to the kind of things you’d said to him. You didn’t tell him you loved him, but you pretty much said everything else. He knew more about you than anybody else in your life, and now he wouldn't even talk to you. You’d been willing to move to the city for him, but he didn’t even bat an eye. Being in Seoul suddenly didn’t feel worth it anymore.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“We still are two hours out of the city. It’d be fun to play something” Kairi said, glancing at the GPS on the console. Play something? Like a road trip game? This hardly felt like a road trip, it was far too depressing to be one. “I’m…good with anything” You spoke, “I’m kind of really tired”

“How about word association?” Chan suggested, “I used to play that with my family as a kid”

You realised he was waiting for your response so you nodded, “Sure. How does it go…? Is there a way to lose?”

“Only if you take longer than three seconds to answer. We go in a circle, Kairi can start with any random word, you have to say a word related to the previous one, and the person who can’t come up with something loses”

You weren’t really in the mood to play, but you would need more energy to protest. Plus, any time interacting with the back-seaters was time removed with the boy in the front seat. Kairi quickly explained the rules, and that it would go clockwise, starting with Hyunjin. He still hadn’t reacted to the idea of the game so you weren’t even sure if he was playing. Kairi hummed loudly, looking around for inspiration. Dark clouds were forming on the horizon so she naturally said, “Thunder!”

“Storm” You immediately said.

“Well, Hyunjin was supposed to go” Kairi laughed, “I’ll go again. Eclipse?”

“Cosmic” Hyunjin replied. A curt, short, emotionless answer. You realised you had to speak now. You mumbled, “Um…the stars”

“Marilyn Monroe” Chan said. Kairi laughed loudly, “Chris. What the hell?”

“What? She’s…a star” Chan defended. You smiled at their bantering. Kairi rolled her eyes, “No. That’s what’s called a Freudian slip”

“Excuse me?” Chan giggled, “Don’t psychobabble me. What even is that?”

Kairi laughed, “It’s this theory that if you accidentally say something wrong, you were thinking about it subconsciously. Most people are thinking about sex, so that’s what a lot of Freudian slips reveal”

“So what… you’re accusing me of wanting to sleep with Marilyn Monroe?” Chan frowned. She giggled, “No, I’m just saying that’s how it works, smartass. It usually reveals your repressed thoughts”

You glanced back at her, “Yeah. I guess that’s what this entire game is about. Although I really don’t think Freud has had the best ideas. Some of them are…really regressive”

Kairi grinned at you, nodding aggressively and she was still tipsy from before, “You’re so right, honestly. Most of the people I played this game with had no idea what a Freudian slip was. You know, this is why we’re friends. You’re…so fucking cool. You’re just like me”

“Y/N is not just like you” Chan laughed loudly.

“Excuse me?” She gasped, offended, “You just met her. How would you even know what she’s like?”

Chan chuckled, “Yeah, but I’ve been hearing about her all summer—” He suddenly stopped, realising what he’d said. An awkward silence enveloped the car and you did everything not to look at Hyunjin. So… Chan had been hearing about you all summer. You knew Hyunjin had told the boys about you. You just wondered what he’d said. What did he know of you? Chan cleared his throat, embarrassed by his slip of the tongue, “I mean….never mind. Should we continue the game? Hyunjin. Why don’t you start?”

Hyunjin swallowed, adjusting his hands on the wheel, “Um. I don’t know. Sin?”

Your eyes widened at his word choice, and it was your turn to go next. Sin? What was he even thinking of? Your mind went through the seven deadly sins that you knew of, and you only had three seconds so you blurted, “Lust”

It was Chan’s turn now, and he blanked, eyes widening, “Uh…passion?”

You didn’t like this tangent of thought… and you waited for Kairi to say something. Chan teased, “Are you serious? You’re gonna lose”. She yelled, “Wait, wait. I know. Yearning!”

It was Hyunjin’s turn to play. His mouth parted, and he was about to say something, but instead he chose not to. He just shook his head, “I don’t know…I can’t really focus on the game when I’m driving”

Kairi sighed, “Can’t believe you lost on yearning, Hyunjin”

“Yeah. My mistake” He mumbled. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel. You didn’t really want to play this game anymore. You stared out the window, your reflection flickering in the window. You wanted to be home already, and not in this car where you felt like a stranger.

There was so much brevity and lightheartedness in the conversations between Chan and Kairi, and here you were…struggling to even get a proper hi out. You felt like a stranger, even to Kairi. You’d only known her for a few weeks, compared to them. The three of them felt like a unit, like a family that was finally complete again. Hyunjin had sang praises of their love, and you could see it now. It wasn’t anything grand or impossible, it was so casual and effortless. Kairi and Chan fit together like puzzle pieces, so perfectly, but even more than that, they enhanced each other so simply. There was no fear of misunderstandings, or betrayal. They were giggling in the back, laughing about some inside joke you’d never be able to understand. Perhaps you shouldn’t have accepted this ride. Kairi was your friend, but you weren’t really welcome here. You were an outsider. Chan must have wanted to keep the conversation going so he said, “So, Y/N, you were about to tell me about yourself when we got in the car”

You swallowed, “Um, I didn’t know I was going to be doing that”

Kairi teased, “Yeah, Chan. I thought you knew all about her, and how me and her are so similar”

Chan giggled, “It was a figure of speech. No, but seriously, Y/N”

You bit your lip, and a deep sadness was overwhelming you. One you’d been trying to escape for months but it seemed impossible now. You’d genuinely enjoyed the party, until he’d showed up. He’d ruined everything. It had taken so long for you to not think about him. Now you felt like you were sinking again, “Um…what do you want to know? I came here to study art. There’s not really much to tell…You’re the one who has a really interesting life."

Chan frowned, “Come on. That’s not a real answer. I wanna know you, not answers you’d type in on some Facebook page”

You were at a loss for words, and you mostly just felt conscious around Hyunjin. You always hated introductions like this, and icebreakers, especially around someone you wanted to like you. Chan seemed amazing, he was brilliant so how could your little life possibly impress him? You’d done nothing that would have an impact on anyone, unlike them. Anything you say would be so boring. So you settled for a basic fact about yourself, a preface to your personality, “Well…I used to work in an art—”

“She’s a really good artist” Hyunjin suddenly interrupted you.

Your gaze snapped to his.

“Oh yeah?” Chan asked, surprised.

“Yup” Hyunjin cleared his throat, “She’s in the most prestigious program of the country”

Chan smiled, “Wow. That’s…amazing, Y/N. You should be bragging about that stuff”

“There’s only like…25 people that get in from across the world” Hyunjin continued talking, staring right ahead so casually. There was a knot in your stomach, and he had the faintest of a smile on his face as he talked about you. It was more than he’d given you in the past hours, “She’s one of the few domestic students”

“What? You didn’t tell me that!” Kairi exclaimed, hand reaching out to tap you. But you were speechless, staring at Hyunjin. Why did he just do that?

“Well, now you’ve got to show me your art, Y/N!” Chan grinned, “Hyunjin’s got pretty high standards when it comes to those, so I’m curious”

You nodded, forcing a smile at him, “Yeah…um, maybe later”

“Well, I hope you taught Hyunjin something too” Chan laughed.

Hyunjin nodded, and there was a hint of emotion as he spoke, “She did”

You chewed on your lower lip, fiddling with your jacket, thinking about his words, even long after he’d said them.

The barren highway enveloped the car in darkness, and the tiny GPS screen was the only light source. You stared ahead, watching the road lit up in the headlights, uncovering more of the unknown every second. There was nobody else out here. It was spooky, and you hated the feeling. You felt trapped in this metal contraption. Hyunjin’s fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, a familiar rhythm, probably calming his nerves down. The backseat noise had died down, and it seemed like the tiredness had finally hit Kairi. The only indication of passing time was the clock on the dashboard. You watched it tick down every second, hoping it would go faster. The city was still so far out. You leaned back onto the seat, watching trees whiz past in silence. Hyunjin was so quiet you’d almost think he fell asleep. The only surmountable sound was the heating, and the tapping of his fingers. You closed your eyes, hoping the time would pass faster.

You couldn’t help but think of what was waiting for you. There was no lingering excitement. This party had been the only thing you’d been looking forward to for a while. There was so much work back in class, starting Monday. Kim Jieong was expecting so much from you. You felt emotionally drained. He was your only motivation, pushing you to get better. After all, there was nothing else waiting for you back there.

Suddenly Hyunjin cleared his throat, drawing your attention. From your peripheral vision, you saw him reach for the radio, fingers hovering over the console, and then he looked to you, “Um…mind if I put something on?”

You blinked, distracted by how he looked in the glow of the light. His glasses were thin, hanging on his nose bridge, and his lips were pursed. He’d bitten them raw. Maybe you weren’t the only one anxious in this car. You shook your head, “Go ahead”

He pressed a button, and life filled the previously stagnant car. An announcer was talking, probably at an all-night radio station, and you asked softly, “Wouldn’t this wake them up?”

Hyunjin looked at you again, over the rim of his glasses, eyes meeting yours for another torturous split second. In the dark, they looked like pools of black, a darkened gaze as he spoke, “Uh, don’t worry. I turned the speakers in the back off. It’s only the front ones that are working”

Oh. You didn’t even know that was possible. They obviously had access to the best cars with the best technologies. Music began playing, a rock band from the 80s, and you rest your head again, closing your eyes to savour in this newfound peace. It was strange to sit next to the man you desired the most yet have no conversation. For the past few months, it had been impossible to separate you, and the irony of this moment didn’t fail to surprise you. You’d come all the way to Seoul for him. Yet the only sound in the car was Bon Jovi on the radio.

“Um—”

“So—” You and Hyunjin both spoke at the same time.

“Sorry,” You apologised, “What were you about to say?”

He glanced at you, hand reaching out to the radio again, and you noticed he had new rings on his finger. They looked so expensive, glittering sparkles, and he must have bought them recently. He seemed nervous and he spoke, “I can…uh, change the music if you don’t like it”

Your eyebrows shot up. That clearly wasn’t what he was going to say. “No, it’s nice. I like him”

He nodded, retreating his hand and putting it back on the console. You wondered about the unspoken, but wondering would only kill you. So you shut your eyes again, hands warm in your lap, wishing to be somewhere else. The tune was thrilling.

“80’s music is actually one of my favourites”

You opened your eyes to look at him, “Really?”

“Yeah. I think….their songs are pretty incomparable. I actually got a lot of inspiration for our album from them. I don’t know if you heard it; it’s very pop-rock heavy, which isn’t what we usually do” He spoke, a nervous wavering in his voice, as if you two were just getting to know each other.

You observed him, “Is that what you were going to say earlier?”

“Sorry?” He looked right at you, dark eyes flickering over your features. You felt conscious of how you looked. You were still in his sweater, and your hair was still wet from the swim. You said, “Um…you were about to say something but decided not to. Was that it?”

Realisation sank into his face, lips parting, “No, I was…going to ask you how you met Kairi”

“Oh…” Disappointment filled you. What were you expecting to be said? An apology would be nice actually. Something to start with. You were having trouble grasping that things between you and him were truly over. They couldn’t be. Hadn’t he only come into your life yesterday, uprooting everything you thought you knew about yourself? Or maybe you were just desperately clinging on to a summer dream that wasn’t real.

“Sorry. Should I not have asked?” Hyunjin said.

“No, that’s fine. It was just a crazy coincidence. We were at a bar…me and my friends, and somebody spilled a drink on her, I just happened to be there. I offered to help her. Obviously…I didn’t know who she was. Later, I realised it was Kairi”

“That’s…” Hyunjin’s fingers adjusted on the steering wheel, he spaced them out, glancing at you again, “That’s really nice of you”

“Yeah”

“Are you cold?” He asked.

“What? Um, no.” You shook your head awkwardly. His sweater was keeping you plenty warm.

“Okay”

The silence drowned you again, and you focused on the song playing, replaying the previous conversation in your head, clinging to it for life.

“I…tried Gouache”

It took you a second to register that Hyunjin was talking to you, again.

Why was he making an effort after what went down earlier? You’d argued and fought, and now he was…trying to be nice? Was he trying to make amends? Did he finally realise what an asshole he’d been? Or were his memories of summer coming back to him too? Because every time you looked at him, all you could remember was the calmness of each moment you’d spent with him, and how his skin had felt to touch, and how his body had felt against yours, warm and comforting. How could he not be thinking of that?

“Sorry?” You glanced at him.

He straightened up, hands clasped before him, “I…taught myself Gouache. I hadn’t explored it much before, but I had some time between schedules last month and I decided to give it a shot”

You didn’t know what to say. Gouache was such a difficult pigmented paint medium to work with. You stayed quiet, which somehow… he took a sign to continue speaking, “It was hard…but I found the supplies and tried many styles with it. I couldn’t get it right for the longest time but then realised I had the wrong brushes. I…think I prefer it to watercolor”

“Are you serious?”

He glanced at you, almost surprised that you’d replied even though he had been telling you all of this. He nodded, his lips a thin line.

“Gouache can never have the same effect, or…even replace watercolours. It’s…so much more intense. It loses all of its softness” You ended up saying.

“Have you worked with it before?”

“In class. I do all the time” You answered, “I don’t like it. I prefer acrylics or oil”

Hyunjin nodded, eyes zeroed in on you again, “Do you have the freedom to choose?”

“Choose what?”

“The material you want to paint with” He stated, simply.

“Yeah. It’s up to us” You said.

Hyunjin just nodded, and then silently turned away. As did you. Queen was playing on the radio now, and you liked this song. Somebody to Love. It seemed like Hyunjin enjoyed this song too, because he reached ahead, his bracelets clinking together and he increased the volume just slightly. You glanced in the rearview mirror, and Kairi and Chan were still asleep, cuddled up to each other. Hyunjin was softly singing, under his breath, but he knew all the words. His voice brought a strange calmness to your body, warming it up.

“I can’t believe you tried Gouache” You mumbled, still thinking about it. You didn’t want to initiate conversation with him, not after everything he’d done to your heart. But you were so curious. It was really hard to work with, especially if someone was a beginner.

“Can I show you something?” He asked.

“What?”

He looked at you, a newfound energy in him, “The…paintings I’ve been working on”

“Unless you’re going to pull over—”

“They’re in my phone. You can just…see them there”

You glanced at his phone that lay on the console.

“Um…are you sure?” You reached for his phone, and it was strange that he completely trusted you with it.

“Yeah. I don’t mind. There’s nothing I have to hide from you. The password…I can just type it in” He grabbed it from you, entering random numbers that you couldn’t grasp the significance of, before handing his unlocked phone back to you. The wallpaper was a pretty sunset. You recognised the landscape instantly. It must have been the pictures he took on the Ferris wheel with Seungmin, back at the summer carnival. Memories of that flooded through you. It had been a perfect day. You recalled the photobooth pictures that lay in your sketchbook, Hyunjin had put them there for you to find. You still didn’t understand why, or how he got a hold of them. As far as you knew, he’d deleted them in front of your eyes. You glanced at him; his eyebrows were knitted as he concentrated on driving, still occasionally mouthing the words to the song. You may never get this chance again. “How’d you get those pictures?” You broke the silence.

It took him a second to comprehend your question, and he turned casually, “Hmm?”

In this angle, confusion on his face, nose scrunched up, he looked so tame, so innocent. You already wished to take back what you’d said, in case it ruin this strange peace. It was too late to back up now as he stared at you so you said, “In my sketchbook, I found the photobooth strip. The pictures of us kissing. I…thought you deleted them”

His eyes widened, and he turned back to the road, voice dropping low, “Oh… It doesn’t really matter, Y/N”

His response irked you. It reminded you again that this was futile, whatever you chased for with Hyunjin. “Yeah. It doesn’t” You agreed, looking back at his phone in your hands. You opened up his picture gallery. Everything was divided into little folders, and his entire life was so organised. If you were his girlfriend, would there be a folder for you in it too? You clicked on the one which was so fittingly named ‘Art’. You were annoyed at him but you couldn’t pretend, “Oh. These are…really good, Hyunjin”

He clearly gravitated towards drawing flowers and landscapes. Some of them were familiar, most of them were new. There were so many pictures of flowers, at all stages. He must be drawing from life. It seemed like he’d developed a lot of art ever since he’d come back. They were all so intense and bold, no softness to them that watercolour provided. You’d always thought that Gouache was something in between watercolour and acrylic, a strange midway compromise, yet Hyunjin had made masterpieces out of it, “You did all of these in Gouache?”

He only nodded in response, as you scrolled through the gallery.

“You’re crazy” You said.

Hyunjin let out a laugh, “You really hate it that much?”

“It’s just difficult to work with, but you’re actually really great at these” You stared at the art, and how his technique had improved. All his lines were more confident, pronounced, bolder. He’d gotten so much better in your absence. You’d only gotten worse in his.

“So…how’s the apprenticeship going? Is Kim Jieong as nice as you thought?” He asked. You put his phone back on the console, even though you urged to see everything he’d felt worth storing in his phone. He had asked you a question so you tried to focus on that, “Yeah. He’s really nice. He is so talented. I, um, asked him about the painting, by the way. The one we were talking about”

“The one about the lovers drowning in moonlight?”

You nodded, hands feeling jittery, unable to stomach this casual conversation, “Yup. He was surprised it was my favourite. He thinks I have morbid taste. And… the day he took us to your work building, he wanted us to meet some gallery curator”

“Must have been Karina”

“You know her?” You glanced at him, hoping your face didn’t give anything away. How petty of you to be jealous that he knew another girl. Another artist at that.

“She’s the prodigy I was telling you about. She wants me to…exhibit some of my work at a gallery next month”

Your eyes widened, and you fiddled with the zipper on the jacket, “Oh. That’s…a big deal. Are you allowed to do that?”

He looked at you, “Yeah, the company and Eunwoo’s really supportive. The fans love it, so he thinks it’s a great stream of revenue and publicity. Any press is good press. He couldn’t care less about the art”

“Right” You nodded, watching him, “Well, maybe Kim Jieong will make it a field trip for us again. Your exhibition”

Hyunjin’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’d be really embarrassing. I wouldn’t want all your professional artist friends to judge my work”

“Well…they’re not as pretentious as you might think. My friends…they’re really nice. Everybody’s not bad. I mean…it was hard settling in, but…I think I like it now” You were rambling, without meaning to share so much with him. Maybe you’d just been craving to have a real conversation with him all this while. After all, he was the only person in your life who understood, “And Kim Jieong is my favourite part of it anyway. Even if everybody sucks. I look up to him a lot. He…even calls me sweetheart. It always throws me off”

“Isn’t that a bit inappropriate?”

You frowned, not expecting that response, “No…he has different nicknames for everyone”

“I see” His reply was curt, like he didn’t believe that. He cleared his throat, “And um…your friends? The other students? Are they cool?”

“I mean, you’ve already met Jeonghan”

“Is that the boy who you were dancing with?”

“Yeah, that’s him”

Hyunjin stayed quiet for a minute and then he said, “He has two left feet”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry” He chuckled dryly, “When you were dancing with him, he almost dropped you…like ten times”

“He only came to the party for me, because I didn’t know anybody. Don’t make fun of him. He was kind of the best part of my day”

“I’m not making fun of him. It’s just an observation” Hyunjin mumbled, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes and he looked at you, “And I saw your face. You were worried he’d drop you too”

“I was not” Your eyes narrowed, but a stupid smile tugged at your lips, “Anyway. You’re one to talk. You’re probably worse”

He laughed properly this time, looking at you over his glasses, “Oh, am I?”

You shrugged, “We’ve never danced together so it could be true”

“I think you’re forgetting that I’m a professional dancer, Y/N” His tone was cocky.

You sighed, facing away to look out, “Ugh. Do you always have to bring up the idol card?”

“The idol card?” He repeated, “That’s my job, what do you mean?”

“Just seems like an unfair advantage”

Hyunjin chuckled, “Fine. Okay. Even if I wasn’t a professional dancer, I bet I’d still be able to take Jeonghan in a dance battle”

“I’m starting to think that you’re obsessed with him…”

Hyunjin laughed, “I guess I see why you chose him now”

Your gaze darted to his, “What?”

You arrived at a railway crossing. The signal was loud, and he stopped the car, foot on the brake as he slowed down. “He is your boyfriend…isn’t he?” He said, so surely.

You stared at him, wondering how he could ask that so casually, so unaffected. You’d probably die if Hyunjin had a girlfriend. Did he think you’d move on so fucking fast? You woke and fell asleep to the thought of him every day still, months later. You thought of him every waking second. Maybe you should take a book out of Hyunjin’s ability to be vague, “Are you seriously asking me that?”

He looked at you, eyes heavy with emotion. He swallowed, “Yeah. I am”

You stared right back at him, heart pounding fast, “Yeah. I am dating him”

“Oh” He shifted in his seat, “That’s nice…how long have you known him?”

You couldn’t believe he could be so…casual about it. You looked out, “It doesn’t matter”

Hyunjin nodded, “Well. For what it’s worth, Nate seems like a nice guy”

You just couldn’t comprehend how the fuck he could be so casual about this. As if you two had just been an inconvenient situationship and your lives and souls hadn’t completely intertwined this summer. As if you’d just move away, and get a new boyfriend and fall in love. As if you could ever truly move on from Hyunjin. As if he didn't know that you'd been in love with him this whole time. It wasn’t that simple. It could never be.

“So…you really don’t give a fuck?”

“I’m sorry?” He looked at you, feigning innocence, “About what?”

You could have said so many things. Bitterness clawed out of you. “Well, for what it’s worth, Nate’s a great kisser”

His eyes widened, and he nodded, voice falling low, “I’m sure he is”

You couldn’t stop. You wanted your words to stab him like little knives he’d dug into your skin all this while, “And for what it’s worth, I actually trust him”

Hyunjin tensed up, fists clenching at the wheel. The train was just passing by, and the signal was so loud but you knew he heard you. “I’m…glad you trust him” He ended up saying.

You watched him, observing every micro-expression. You could have played along, egged him on, made him believe it. He should hurt too, like you were, but you couldn’t wrap your head around this. Was it really so easy for him to move on? He was pretending like nothing ever affected him. Were you seriously the only one who had been invested in the two of you? You let out a laugh, “So that’s it?”

“What?” He looked at you.

“You don’t care? You really think I would just date…a random guy from my class? Because if you think that, you don’t—”

His brows shot up, “I’m sorry, so you’re not dating him? Why would you tell me you were?”

“Do you care if I was?”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing, “Seriously? You know I still care about you, right?”

It pissed you off. He had no right to say something like that when he didn’t give a fuck about you. He had just abandoned you, with no intention of ever making up things, “I don’t know, Hyunjin. I mean…everything you’ve done to me the past few months has shown me quite the opposite. That you don’t care”

His eyes widened, “Everything I’ve done to you?”

A scoff escaped you, and you were losing it, “I’m sure you had your reasons for never wanting to talk to me again. I, personally, would have just liked a goodbye or an explanation before you decided to leave. That’s just me though. But you know what? Maybe I read too much in what happened this summer”

He swallowed, shifting to look at you, “Look, it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. I didn’t know how to explain and I thought that you would understand—”

How the fuck could he expect you to understand? Your voice shot up, and everything you'd wondered over the past few months bubbled to the surface, “You…pushed me away, Hyunjin. You completely got rid of me! I’m sure you had your reasons, but I wasn’t okay. I’m still not fucking okay. It was a complete asshole move to block me for months with no explanation. I didn’t even know you’re capable of something like that, but you know what, it sucks to find out. In my head, I built you up to be some angel on a fucking pedestal. That was obviously my mistake”

He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing, and you could see him grappling with what to say. It felt good to render him speechless. It took away from your embarrassment of knowing that Kairi and Chan could probably hear each second of this conversation.

“Things were always going to end this way. You knew that, Y/N” The way he spoke pissed you off, like he had a rehearsed answer in his head and no real fucking emotions. Why could he just not tell you what he truly felt? Why was he trying so hard to be someone he was not?

A dry chuckle escaped you, and it was better you take out your anger on him because you felt like crying with each word you said, “No, I didn’t know that. if I knew that you were just going to disappear, I would have preferred never to know you”

His gaze burned through you, “Y/N…”

Somebody suddenly knocked on Hyunjin’s window, and you shook away your building tears. It was an officer, and Hyunjin rolled down the window, “Yes?”

He leaned in, not knowing what he was interrupting, “Excuse me? The signal’s running at a delay. There’s going to be a ten minute hold-up”

Hyunjin nodded, “Oh okay”

He rolled the window back up, and looked back at you. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even look at him. You hated him and his fucking nonchalance. You swallowed, “I need some air”

Before he could say something, you opened the door, stepping out. There would be a delay anyway, and hardly any cars were behind you. You walked to the side of the street, taking in a breath, willing yourself to not start fucking cry.

Another car door slammed shut behind you, and Hyunjin followed you out.

“Y/N—” He said, walking around the car, following you to the side.

Your emotions were brimming to the top, and you couldn’t keep it in. It would be petty, mean, childish but you deserved to get some answers.

You turned around, voice raising, “If I hadn’t moved to the city, you would have never met me again” It wasn’t a question. You knew he had no plans of returning to town anytime this century, “And you were just okay with that? With never seeing me again?”

He closed his eyes, his body towering over you, “It’s…not that simple”

“Yeah. It is. You didn’t even think I was worth an explanation…or a proper goodbye?”

“I…didn’t know what to say. You just have to believe when I say I’m doing this for your own good”

“Really?” You scoffed, “You expect me to believe that…? You could’ve said anything. Anything would have been better than what I got. Just tell me what's going on, please”

“Anything I said would have hurt you” His voice was shaking, like he was going to cry. How could he ever explain that he had picked his life over you? That you were the sacrifice he had decided to make?

You loved him, and you couldn’t bear to be the reason he cried but you had so many questions. Your voice was loud, in disbelief and frustration, “How is this any different? You cut me out of your life like it was nothing”

“It wasn’t nothing. It was just as hard for me as—”

“No, I’m not done talking. After losing you, moving to the city was the hardest thing I ever did. Leaving Daejon behind, all my friends…the only life I knew, and this place where I don’t really fit perfectly, but I’m trying so hard to. It is so hard. The only thing I love…I can’t even love that anymore because I can’t fucking stop thinking about you when I’m painting! It’s not fair. You had a choice, Hyunjin. I didn’t” Your voice broke.

“Before I saw you in the shop, I was this close to calling you up” He held up a small gap between his fingers, “I just…always ended up talking myself out of it”

A scoff escaped you, at the ridiculousness of his response, “I really have a hard time believing that”

“I don’t expect you to believe me anyway” He mumbled. You stared at him, crossing your arms, wondering how everything led to this, “I thought you were different, Hyunjin, from every other guy I’ve known in my life… but you…”

He stepped closer to you, running a hand through his hair, “What was I supposed to say to you, Y/N? That I never want to see you again? Do you think that would be easy for me to say?”

“I don’t know, Hyunjin! I don’t fucking know, but anything would have been better than what I got, because the person I knew would never have acted this drastically. So, were you just pretending in Daejon? Or are you pretending now? Because I’m having a real hard time telling who the real you is, Hyunjin—”

His eyes widened at those words, as if they personally struck him. He grabbed your hands, pulling you closer to him in the process, “Y/N— Stop. I’m not…I never pretended with you”

His grip on you was firm, but enough that you could let go if you wanted. You looked up at him, and you were already so emotional, “Then why are you being so cold? You’ve been acting like you don’t care, but I don’t even know if you’re acting anymore. I feel like…I never saw the real you. That’s what you’re making me believe”

His closed his eyes, shaking his head at your words like they were the worst thing he could hear, “I’m sorry”

Your eyebrows knitted together, voice fading, “For…what?”

“For…changing my number and not telling you” He swallowed, and his hands held yours in between them like a prayer, “For…trying to push you away. For ignoring you in the shop”

His eyes glimmered with incoming tears, but he cleared his throat, and blinked them away, “I’m sorry I didn’t apologise until today”

You swallowed. You’d been waiting for an apology this whole time, but your heart still hurt. There wasn’t any explanation. You couldn’t…just believe him. Your heart squeezed so bad, it felt like a heart attack. You blinked away tears.

“There’s…a lot I want to talk to you about, but I can’t do it here” He swallowed, and there was a cloud of smoke when he talked, it was freezing outside but your heart felt dead, “You just have to believe me when I say I’m doing this for your own good”

“I don’t understand…”

He closed his eyes, and the train at the signal crossing was still passing, giving you a few more moments of his vulnerability, “I’ve told you before. If we didn’t stop talking when we did…it would have led to something more that I can’t deny. I’m not going to regret my choices because I know why I made them. And that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I will always fucking care about you, it’s insane to even think anything else but…I can’t be in your life, and you can’t be in mine”

Tears threatened to shoot up, but you had some dignity clinging on so you said, “Then what is this? Why are you still being nice to me, making conversation? Why did you show up tonight? Why are you driving me home? If you don’t want me in your life, then just…stay out of it, Hyunjin”

He blinked, glossy eyes, and suddenly the car behind you honked. The train had passed, and you were free to cross.

His voice was shaking and this was the most emotion you’d seen in him in months, “I…couldn’t leave you at the party. It’s not safe…of course I had to drive you home. I would go insane if something happened to you”

You ripped your hands away from him, “Then I guess it’s a good thing that it’s not your responsibility anymore”

»»————-

The rest of the ride was fucking horrible. You stared out the window the entire time, and Hyunjin didn’t say anything else. Maybe it really was over now. What was left to salvage? You don’t know how much Kairi and Chan had heard, but it didn’t matter anyway. They were probably getting back together, which meant you couldn’t be a part of this anymore. If Kairi started hanging out with Chan again, you would obviously not be invited. Not after they witnessed you being such a bitch to their best friend. They were friends first, after all. You were the stranger.

“The next right turn” You mumbled, as you approached the street you lived on. Hyunjin brought the car to a stop. They were now awake in the backseat. You didn’t even know what to say. You unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbing your bag of things, avoiding eye contact with anybody, “Thank you for the ride home”

“I can walk you home” Chan offered.

“I’ll be fine. It’s a minute away” You replied, holding your bag to your chest.

“It’s really late out” Chan replied, insisting. You didn’t want to argue with him any further. The longer you argued, the longer you’d have to stay in this car, next to Hyunjin. He was looking at you, but he was pretending real hard not to. The eyes flickering back and forth, it couldn’t fool you. You’d become an expert on all things him. These secretive glances were all you had back then, so how could you not notice them now?

“Don’t worry about it, Chan” You replied, shooting them a smile so they believed you. Chan nodded, and you glanced at Kairi. She looked tired, but she was in his arms, so she was clearly very happy. She smiled warmly, and you wonder if they’d heard you breaking down. Her voice was soft and sweet, and she grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “Thank you for a perfect birthday, Y/N. You had a good time?”

“Of course.” You nodded. You were suffocating in here. You reached for the doorknob, but then you heard Hyunjin’s voice, “Good luck with class”

You couldn’t see the look in his eyes, but you’d die for it. You stepped out into the cold, glancing briefly back, “Yeah. Thanks.”

It didn’t matter because he had already looked away. It’s like he couldn’t bear to see you anymore.

»»————-

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your neighbour, Jeongin, stood in the doorway. You had been standing in the cold for a while, staring at the spot the car had been. It had driven off a while ago, but you could still picture it where it stood. The humming of the engine, the heat, the stupid 80s music stuck in your head. You had been so mean to him. He didn’t deserve it.

You looked at him in surprise, “You’re awake?”

“I work on European time” He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. It was freezing cold, and you could feel it in your bones. It had never been this way back home. “Let’s just go inside” You spoke.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea” He smiled, pulling you in by your arm, “I was wondering how the party went”

You followed him up the stairs, feeling like a zombie in each step, “It was good. I missed you at it. You should have come”

“I’m sure Nate kept you plenty company” Jeongin laughed, “Are you going to go to sleep now?”

It was almost six am, and the sun was rising. You don’t think you could fall asleep with these thoughts in your head. You glanced at him, “Why? You got something in mind?”

He grinned, like he'd been waiting for you to ask him this. And so you spent the dawn with Jeongin, in his cosy apartment, struggling over a 1000-piece puzzle and downing the red wine he’d brought you. He didn’t ask you any questions, which was nice. You wouldn’t even know where to start. He was sweet and he was always smiling, telling you about his work and all the new video games he’d bought. You prolonged everything, asking more questions, anything to keep the focus on him. You didn’t want to go back to your empty apartment and face your thoughts.

“How long have you been living here?” You asked. The window in his apartment was bigger than yours, facing out at the busy street, as the city woke up and came back to life.

“Almost my entire life. Moved here when I was twelve” He told you. You couldn’t bring yourself to be excited about this anymore, or about anything else. You missed your friends, the familiarity and comfort of them. You missed the diner, and it’s cheap coffee.

“Does it ever get easy?”

He laughed, “Honestly, no. Seoul…is hard to fall in love with, but once you do…you never go back”

You sighed, placing the final piece of the puzzle. You missed your art shop. It had always kept you safe and happy. If you knew it was going to be this hard leaving that behind, you would have thought twice, “I think…some people probably never get used to it. That makes me sad”

“Yeah?” He asked, “But you’re used to it now, aren’t you? You once told me it was written in the stars for you to come here”

“I don’t know if I believe in that anymore”

He relaxed on his couch, “I’m sure things will change. You’ll find something worth staying for”

You shrugged, pushing the puzzle to the side and it fell apart, all the pieces getting jumbled up. He didn’t complain about you ruining your hours worth of hard work. He just watched you grapple with your thoughts. You looked up at him, feeling hollow inside, “I think I made a mistake, Jeongin”

»»————-

Kairi had apparently found the best dessert shop in the city. She had pleaded you for hours until you’d decided to come. There were no seats inside the place, it was so busy, and so you and Kairi sat on a patio table outside. You looked around, as you swirled your hot coffee around. There were no leaves on the trees anymore. Winter had finally come.

“I’m going to bring Chris this when he gets back” She spoke, through a mouthful of brownie, “He doesn’t really have a sweet tooth, but I know he will love this. I once baked the boys this cake for Jisung’s birthday, and Chris said he hated it, but I saw him eat all the leftovers later. He literally stole mine too!” She laughed.

“When he’s back from where?”

“Oh, right. They’re in Japan. They had a flight the morning after my birthday, remember? Well, they’re supposed to show up at an event in Tokyo, and then they come back home for a few days, until they go back again. It’s the end of the season so there’s a bunch of award shows” She told you, sprinkling sugar crystals into her coffee. You didn’t know that they were in an entirely different country, “Must be hard. All the flying back and forth”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink, “Not really. They’re used to it at this point. It’s tiring, but…in their line of work, they have to learn to adjust”

Maybe that was your biggest flaw. You couldn’t adjust. To a different life, to new friends, to a new bed. To a life without him.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your birthday”

Her eyes widened, and she kept her cup of coffee down, “What are you talking about? You’re the one that made it perfect. You made it happen in the first place!”

“Yeah, but…” You trailed off, feeling embarrassed, “You must have heard us”

She swallowed, “I didn’t hear anything. It wasn’t my business to.”

You looked up at her, “Chan must hate me”

“What? Why would he?”

You looked down, “I’m…an asshole”

She reached ahead, grabbing your hand, “No one thinks you’re an asshole”

You let out a sigh, and you didn’t believe her, but there was no point arguing.

The next week, the boys flew back home. You only knew because Kairi told you. She had been counting down the days till they returned. She invited you out to a small get-together, but they would all be there. You said no.

Slowly, all your plans with Kairi became into plans with Kairi and Chan. You wouldn’t mind at all, because you loved Chan. You just hated that he almost always came with Hyunjin. So you never went to any of those. He would be grateful. He probably never wanted to see you again either. Your time with Kairi became divided. You didn’t blame her. She was in love, and you wouldn’t deny her any time with him. It became obvious how much happier she was around him.

A week later, you realised you still had Hyunjin’s sweater that he’d given to you at the party. So, you washed it and returned it to Kairi, hoping he wasn’t angry that you kept it with you for so long. You’d truthfully forgotten. You wouldn’t want to keep anything of his longer than you had to anyway.

»»————-

Nate was staring in awe at your painting. It was balanced on the easel, and you stood next to it, embarrassed at the attention it got. Nate laughed in disbelief, “Holy shit. That’s…beautiful. When did you get the time to make that?”

It was show-and-tell day. You were almost in the middle of your semester, and you were supposed to display your best work in class. You looked back at your painting. Ever since Kairi’s birthday, you hadn’t left your room. You’d been fixated on this. There was only one good thing left for you here, and it was this opportunity. You’d do anything to grasp at it, and maybe all your sadness and heartbreak had ended up being perfect inspiration. You had been endlessly inspired, each brushstroke came to you so easily. Perhaps all good art did come from suffering. Your best work to date you’d done when feeling your worst. You’d sniffled, and cried and fought your way through it.

“I…found time” You shrugged. Your hands were folded behind your back as you explained it to every single person who passed it. All the easels were set up in a circle, and it was almost like those expensive Château classes you could never afford to go to. Nate smiled at you, tilting his head, “You’re so mysterious. It suits you”

“I’m really not trying to be” You replied, “It just…came to me”

His eyes trailed over you. You’d tried to dress your best, an outfit you’d bought off the fancy boutiques, and it had cost you a fortune but none of your own clothes would fit the vibe. Nate’s voice dropped, “Is it weird if I say that you being coy is a turn-on?”

You smiled at him, wondering why his words had no effect on you. He made you feel wanted. He flirted with you endlessly. He was attracted to you. He actually wanted to talk to you.

But you knew that was all. He didn’t want to date you. He certainly didn’t have any intentions of a relationship. Perhaps, you didn’t want to just be wanted anymore.

“Mmh. It’s…a little weird” You teased him.

Kim Jieong approached you, and you straightened up, pulling Nate to the side. He glanced at your painting, and he certainly looked impressed. There was a small smile on his lips, and he was observing your art with all the focus in the world, “How many hours did you spend on this?”

“Maybe…twenty”

He laughed at your feeble attempt of lying, “That looks like…it took a hundred, at the least. Is it all you did this week?”

You nodded, “That’s what I’m here for”

He looked at your painting again, “As your professor, I have to say that I wish you hadn’t sacrificed sleep for this, but…” He leaned in closer, voice dropping, “This is exactly why I picked you, sweetheart”

Your eyes widened, not used to this proximity, but you felt so special. He hadn’t said this to anybody else. He was far too close to you, but you blinked at him, “Are you proud of me?”

He laughed, lifting a finger up, “You’re not there yet”

Your face fell.

“I’ll be proud of you if you can get that done in a day” He smiled wide, hands clasped behind his back, “You should start preparing for next week. I want you to make something special. If you win, it’d mean a lot for you, Y/N”

You nodded, remembering the assignment. The best painting in the class would be chosen for a prize. A scholarship, and the chance to get your work displayed in Seoul Museum of Art. It would certainly make everything much easier, taking the burden off you, and you’d also get a perfect start. You would finally be able to prove your worth here.

»»————-

You’d been painting all day, and your clothes were ruined with stains. You were working on the assignment for next week, it had to be perfect to win, and you hadn't got much sleep, completely immersing yourself into this. In a little break, you laid on your couch, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the call to go through. Yeonjun picked up your phone call, and he sounded so happy on the other end. It had been a while since you’d talked to him and he apologised, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with work. There was a company retreat last week, and we went out to these cabins in the woods. It was straight from a horror movie, and there was no network there. I took some pictures for you though”

“How did it go? That sounds nice, to be away from everything”

He laughed, “It was. I missed you though. But…I have some news to tell you…something happened”

“Yeah?”

“Remember the girl from my work I said was cute? She…kissed me. We actually, ended up making out in the hot tub. It was really fucking nice” You could imagine him smiling on the other end, and it warmed your heart. You sat up, smiling, “Are you serious? That’s so…amazing. So…you guys made out? Is that all that happened?”

He laughed on the other end, “No. We…slept together. Every night of the retreat”

Your eyes widened, “You’re kidding me. So, you really really like this girl”

“I mean, yeah, things with her are so…simple and easy. She gets me, and she’s so fun to be around. Sometimes that’s just how it has to be”

You thought of the polaroids on his desk of Hana, “Did she never ask about the pictures on your work desk?”

Yeonjun laughed nervously, “I…ended up taking those down. It’s easier to move on that way. I mean, I won’t ever be over her, but…it’s a start”

“Yeah. You’re probably right”

“I may have discovered a new kink about myself” He joked, “I have an urge to just move to that cabin and live in that hot tub forever”

You smiled, “Maybe you should”

“How about you though?”

“Well…I’ve been trying to make my magnum opus. If I have the best painting in class, I get to win this insane amount of money for a scholarship, and…it’ll be perfect”

“Well, you’re obviously going to win. I already know you’re the best in class”

You smiled, “I appreciate your faith in me…I think I’m going to start working on it in the classroom. It’s going to be a really big canvas, and there’s not much space in my apartment”

“That makes sense. And um, I wanted to ask, how are things with…Hyunjin? Did you guys ever talk after you saw him in the shop?”

You lay back down, and the lie was on easy on your tongue, “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since then”

“Wow. He…hasn’t even reached out to you?”

You shrugged, echoing his words from before, “I don’t care. It’s easier to move on that way”

»»————-

Your canvas lay across multiple tables, occupying most of the space in your classroom. You’d joined them all together, it had taken a lot of strength, but it was worth it. Now, you sat on top of the paper cross-legged in the center. It was easier to work this way, as if the entire floor was your painting. You hope you weren’t breaking any rules by being in the classroom after hours. You’d just wanted some time to work on your painting, and you weren’t exactly inspired at your place. Your anger from the past few days had manifested into this; an insane obsession to make this your best work ever. You would prefer that over sadness. This, after all, was the only reason you’d come here. Not for him. It was almost midnight, and you scooted across the canvas, filling in more details of your sketch. Your plan was far too ambitious, but you were going to have to go all out to win the contest. It was the only thing you cared about right now.

“I didn’t know anybody was in here” The voice made you jump. Nobody was supposed to come in here right now, the building was shut down. You glanced up, watching Kim Jieong walk in, and you smiled at him, “Professor. Hi”

His eyes narrowed in on your silhouette, and a familiar smile across his face, “Oh, it’s you. What…in god’s name are you doing on top of the tables?”

“Um, my canvas is pretty big, so I thought it’d be easier to work like this” You explained. He laughed loudly, “You’re adorable, Y/N. You know that?”

You sat back down comfortably, realising he would let you stay here, “Um. Thank you, professor”

He looked around, “Oh, please don’t let me interrupt you. Why is it so dark in here though? I can hardly see you"

Adjusting your canvas and brushes around it, you spoke, “I like it that way. I think much better in the dark, the lights were too bright. Plus, the moonlight looks really nice”

You think he smiled at your words but you couldn’t tell in the dark. You could barely see him, just his silhouette and you heard him laugh. You heard his footsteps as he approached his own desk, “So, we’re far from the final project. I’m curious why you’re in the studio”

You bit your lip, feeling anxious about all this effort you were putting in, “I’m working on the contest painting. The scholarship…I really want to try my best. I also don’t work too well at my apartment, I thought maybe I could work here”

“When I got a notification that a student was still in the studio, I was curious. I had to cut my dinner short”

“Oh” You blinked, feeling guilty, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it notified you…”

“Of course, it’s for the safety of our students” He smiled, stepping towards your workspace, “Would you indulge me in what you’re working on…or is it a surprise?”

Your canvas wasn’t ready to show, “I’d prefer if you see it when it’s finished”

He laughed, and asked, “May I sit next to you?”

“Oh, you won’t be getting back to your dinner?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, I’d like to stay here with you”

He was perhaps the only person in the world you wanted to be around right now, so you didn’t mind. His presence would calm and comfort you, “Of course. That’d be fine with me, professor”

He pulled a stool up close to your workspace. The greenhouse-studio was deathly quiet and he inched closer to your table. You stared at your big sketch, “I’m really sorry about interrupting your dinner. I thought it’d be fine if I let myself in”

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. My wife was pretty tired anyway. Just gave us a reason to end the night early”

He was at dinner with his wife? You didn’t even know he was married, but he was in his late thirties so it made sense. You continued adding details, but you couldn’t focus when he was observing you so close. Thankfully the dark could conceal your expressions and embarrassment. You ought to feel proud. The greatest artist in the country was here to watch you paint.

“Have you…eaten dinner yet?” You heard him ask. You glanced up, gesturing to the side of the classroom where your leftovers lay, “Yeah, I had some chinese takeout. Although when I’m painting, I don’t get hungry for hours.”

He just hummed in response. You were grateful that your mentor wanted to sit with you so badly that he skipped dinner with his wife. But the other part disliked the supervision, and you did want some alone time. Still, he was the greatest living artist, so you’d learn to adjust to it. After everything that had happened, he was also your only hope of making it big in the city. He was the sole reason you were still here, spending thousands just to stay in Seoul so you could attend the classes. You looked at him, and he was admiring you while you worked, so you said, “I might be here all night. I wouldn’t want to keep you"

He frowned, “I don’t mind staying. I could get some work done too”

“Oh…sure” You looked back at your sketch, erasing off a mistake. He stood up, walking towards the cabinet, sifting through canvases. Usually, you weren’t awkward around him, but right now it was really late and you were tired to make small talk. But it’d be weirder if you just stayed quiet. You felt a need to fill in the silence with anything, “So, Professor, um…your wife. How did you meet her?”

He shrugged in your peripheral vision, not particularly excited to answer, “The usual. We were high school sweethearts. Got married as soon as we graduated. I was too focused on my art to pursue other women anyway”

You nodded. Well, that made it even more awkward. So you kept going, “Right. Wow. High school, that’s really cool. Was she…any of the inspirations for your paintings?”

“Some of them, yes”

“That’s really nice.” You smiled, sketching out the boundaries for the stars. The idea for this painting had come to you after waking from a dreamless sleep. You’d ended up researching for it for hours, making sure you were portraying accurate art. You couldn’t wait to present your concept next week.

“What about you?” He asked.

“Sorry?”

“You have a boyfriend?”

You blinked, a nervous laugh escaping you, “Um…not currently. I’m also…I guess, trying to focus on my art, and build a career from it”

He smiled at you, crossing his arms, “Guess we’re more alike than I thought”

You looked back at your canvas as he walked closer to you, “The temptation to understand your sketch is a lot. Can you give me a hint as to what it’s about?”

You slid your sketchbook towards him, where you’d drawn up a miniature version of the sketch, “All I can tell you now is that it’s…a landscape, inspired by my time in the city so far. I was walking home the other night and I couldn’t help but notice the night sky. I’ve always liked it, and I know it’s been overdone in art, but I wanted to explore a new side of it. Someone once told me that there’s no stars in the city, which just…sounds so sad. I was thinking along the lines of that. What do you think so far?”

He pushed his glasses up, a proud smile on his face, “I think that…I’m incredibly lucky to have you. I can't wait to see what you'll do with this”

Your eyes widened, unsure how to respond, “Um…I mean, we’re the lucky ones. We get to study under you, Professor”

He laughed, his voice echoing through the empty studio, “Stop calling me Professor. I think you and me are way past that, don’t you?”

“It’s…only appropriate.” You frowned, going back to work. That was weird. You don't think you would feel comfortable calling him by his first name. And then, you felt another stupid need to fill in the prolonged silence. He was here watching you after all, you could just ask him all the things you’d wondered for years, “Um, I wanted to ask. The painting about the moons. Celestial Fatality. Did you paint that when you were in college?”

He hummed mindlessly, not really answering your question, then he grabbed your sketchbook off the table. Eyebrows furrowed, he stared at it, "I think you can work on your perspective, but these are nice. These hands. You’ve drawn them countless times”

“Yeah” You felt embarrassed, and climbed off the table so you could also see what he was looking at, “It’s a friend from back home”

“Did you draw these from observation?” He asked, as you joined him at his side.

“Hmm. He really wanted me to draw his hands,” You said, recalling the time Hyunjin made you observe them.

Kim Jieong laughed, “Can’t blame him”

A nervous laugh escaped you at those words, “Yeah.” What did he mean by that? You reached to get your sketchbook back. Instead of handing it to you though, he sat down on the desk, turning the pages of your book, “These ones are pretty good too”

“Yeah” You nodded, taking a seat next to him, unsure of what to do, “I made those a while ago”

As he turned another page, something drifted out, landing on the floor. Your eyes widened, and you reached for it. The photobooth strip pictures of you and Hyunjin. You felt embarrassed, but thankfully, Kim Jieong didn’t notice or see them fall out. You grabbed them, hiding them between your palms on your lap. There was nothing wrong with him seeing them, but…it was embarrassing and stupid to carry around pictures of a boy who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

“You’re very talented” Kim Jieong spoke again, voice dropping low.

“Oh…thank you. It means a lot hearing it from someone like you”

He finally put your sketchbook to the side, looking right at you. He did look kind of intimidating in this light, towering over you, “This scholarship means a lot to you?”

You swallowed, feeling embarrassed, “Yeah. I could use the help. It’s an expensive life here, and I’d really appreciate it. Plus, the exhibition would be a great kickstart to…a career”

“The others don’t need the scholarship. They just want it so they can win” He said, then leaned forward, “Don’t the rich kids get on your nerves sometimes? They don’t act out of necessity, but you…” He pointed a soiled paintbrush at you, “You’re wonderful because… you’re desperate”

“I’m sorry?”

“Desperate to be seen, and respected. As an artist, I mean. I don’t mean that badly, but all great inventions are born out of necessity. I think that’s why you stand out from the rest”

You didn’t know how to take this compliment, “I guess”

“You know you have the potential to go so many places?” He asked, tilting his head, waving your sketchbook about in one hand. It was so dark in here, and the building was completely empty except for the two of you. This…felt increasingly inappropriate. You were in the studio after-hours with your professor and he was far too close for comfort. He was your favourite artist…but he was still a grown man and you didn’t want to overstep as a student.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged and stepped closer to you, caging you against the table, “I mean, the right people can get you into any exhibition you dream of in the world. Paris, New York, Seoul. Isn’t that what you fantasise?”

An awkward chuckle escaped you. He was far too close to you, “Yeah. That’s the end goal. The scholarship…would definitely make it easier to get there”

Suddenly, the sound of roaring thunder distracted you and you looked to the windows. The clouds had now hidden the moon, casting a dark shadow over the entire art studio. A chill ran up your spine, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable at his proximity.

“Um..I think the last bus home leaves in twenty minutes. I’ll try to catch it” You stated, shooting him a smile and standing up.

You took your bag, but Kim Jieong grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards him, “You can always convince me”

“Sorry?” You fumbled, stupidly. You…had to have heard him wrong. What was he talking about?

He smiled sweetly, and in the dark, his glasses glittered, “If you won the scholarship, the other students wouldn’t question it, you’ve already proven your worth to everyone”

“Right” You were unsure what he was trying to say, or hinting at. What the fuck did he mean by saying that you could convince him? “I should really go”

“It’s pouring. You’ll catch your death out there, Y/N” He stated, pointing to the storm outside. You swallowed, his grip on your arm foreign, “That’s fine. I have an umbrella”

“Ridiculous. I’ll give you a ride home” He shook his head.

“You really don’t have to. I already feel bad for ruining your dinner”

“Oh, stop apologising, Y/N. Your sweet talk drives me mad sometimes” His hand moved from your arm to your waist, wrapping around it and he pulled you closer to his body, "You stress too much. You need to learn to let things go”

You took a step back, unsure how to process this, “Professor…”

He closed the distance, and his other hand grabbed your chin, voice low in the dark room, “Why do you seem so nervous? You don’t have to be around me. We’re just talking, aren’t we?”

“Right” You were having a hard time breathing, panic surging through you. He was right. Of course. He was your professor. He would never hurt you or make you uncomfortable. He was a living legend. You shouldn’t be nervous. He was just being kind to you. He was the only person you’d looked up to your entire life, the reason you’d tried so hard to come here, and he would never do something wrong.

“I can see you struggling in class, and I know you’re doing everything you can to prove your worth. I’ve asked you this before, about what your dream is. ” He spoke, voice as low as a whisper, fingers gripping your jaw.

“I…I don’t know what you mean” Your voice was shaking from the nerves, with no fucking idea how to navigate this situation. If you pushed him away, you’d lose all chance of winning the prize.

“Well….whatever it is” He smiled sweetly, and in the low light he looked less like the mentor you’d grown up loving and more menacing, “All you have to do…is ask me”

His eyes flickered to your lips, and back to your eyes. His grip on your waist was so tight, it felt like his palm was burning into your skin through your shirt. Had you somehow given him an alluded hint? He took a step even closer.

“I’m sorry….” You pushed him just enough so he wasn’t holding you anymore.

He looked surprised, eyes wide, and he laughed, “Y/N…What are you doing?” You grabbed your bag in a hurry, “I’m sorry. I should really go. The last bus…”

He called after you, but you rushed through the glass doors to the emergency stairwell. You didn’t want to be stuck in the elevator with him. You couldn’t breathe, legs moving off their own accord. A flash of lightning through the glass windows scared you, and you all but ran down the emergency stairwell, bag hanging off your shoulder, fists clenched. What the fuck. He obviously wasn’t making a move on you, right? You were just being paranoid. He was your professor. He was…the most famous artist in Seoul. He was the kindest person ever. You had to have been reading into things.

You pushed the heavy door open, walking out onto the street. It was pouring rain, and you let out a breath, taking in the air. The rain soaked through your clothes, and you were shivering. You wanted to call Hyunjin so he could pick you up and so you could cry in his arms, the only place where you'd feel safe, but he'd never even given you his new number. He clearly wanted nothing to do with you. You looked down at your hands, and in your tension…you’d completely crushed the photobooth strip to pieces.

Raindrops slowly trickled down, tracing the ruined paper in your palm. The only memory left of you and Hyunjin was now gone.

»»————-

You didn’t show up to class the next day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

You were still trying to wrap your head around it. Were you stupid for declining his advances and whatever he was suggesting? You couldn’t go back to class and face him. You’d be too embarrassed of your reaction. Maybe he wasn’t even suggesting anything and you jumped to conclusions. You had to have been imagining things. After all, he didn't actually do anything. Still, you’d ruined all your chances of getting the scholarship and succeeding in his class. What if he brought it up in class? What would the others think?

Your body was shaking from the cold. The heating in your apartment wasn’t working, so you sat on the floor, back to the kitchen counter, knees pulled up. You’d forgotten your huge canvas in class too, and it was probably in the garbage by now.

Your phone buzzed loudly, and Felix was calling. You picked up so he wouldn’t worry, but your voice sounded hollow, “Yes?”

“Babe. Where have you been? You’re not answering any texts the past week”

“I’m sorry…I got caught up in things. Is everything okay, Felix?”

“More than okay” He smiled on the other end, “I’m at the diner. They’re throwing a big party tonight! Apparently, it’s been ten years since it opened! Can you believe it?”

“Wow…it feels like we’d been going there our whole life”

“That’s what I said!” His excited voice came in, “So anyway for their anniversary celebration…all the drinks and food is free. You best believe I’m making full use of it”

You could hear so many familiar voices in the back, “Who all is there…?”

“Umm…well me and Minho, obviously. Hana’s here too. Seonmi, Eunbi and the others. Seungmin’s here as well.”

“Wow…I really wish I was there, Felix”

“Mm, I wish that too. Your apprenticeship better be worth it, Y/N. You’re missing all the good stuff. And everybody in Daejon misses you a lot. Mrs. Aera came up to me today and said the shop’s a mess without you haha”

“Really? It is? Mina isn’t taking care of it?”

“Ah, you know how Mina is. She can’t organise for the life of her. That shop was basically running because of you” He laughed, and you could hear him chew something.

“What are you eating?”

“Blueberry-chocolate waffles. There’s this new recipe Seonmi is trying out, and it’s so good. You should have it when you come back. How about you, love? Are you missing me a lot?”

“So much” You mumbled.

“Kim Jieong better be worth it” He sighed, “I guess I forgive you because you’ve been obsessed with him for years. Is he as dreamy as you imagined?”

“Um…” Your gut hurt, the memory of that night flooding through you, “Yeah. He’s…great”

“I’m sure he is” Felix chuckled, “I still remember how you stole all the magazines in the library that had his paintings in it”

“I didn’t steal them” You protested, “I just…borrowed them for a really long time”

He laughed, “To fawn all over your artist crush. I get it. And…what about your other lover? You accidentally bumped into him yet?”

You forced a smile, not having enough energy to protest that he wasn’t your lover, “No…I haven’t seen him”

“Well. Seoul isn’t that big, I’m sure you’ll find him. Or he’ll find you. Oh, I also forgot to tell you! A new cafe opened up in Daejon last week. It’s some fusion book-and-coffee cafe. They actually have the best coffee in town, no you didn’t hear me say that Seonmi” He started laughing, and you could hear them in the background. Suddenly, the past few months felt like a joke.

There were only two reasons you’d uprooted your life and come here. Now, you’d lost them both.

So why were you still here?

Maybe you had acted rashly. You thought you’d fit in here, and that this was where you were meant to be. You’d felt stuck there, but here you weren’t any better. You'd probably only found the courage to come here because you knew Hyunjin was here too, and that was clearly...not the right thing to do. He didn't even want you near him, or anywhere in his life. He had made that plenty clear.

“I think I made a mistake” You whispered.

“Sorry?” Felix asked, still laughing loudly, “What mistake?”

“Moving out…I shouldn’t have done that”

“Wait…what? What do you mean?”

“I think I should come home”

“You’re messing with me. Right?” Felix laughed, “Didn’t you want to move to the city since you were fifteen?”

“But I was a kid. I didn’t know anything. I had no idea what to expect”

“Y/N…what are you saying?”

“I was happy in Daejon. I should never have come to Seoul” You stood up, moving to your bedroom.

It was like a parasite, an idea festering into your brain and heart, that maybe this was the reason for this unhappiness. Things were perfect in Daejon. Why had you been complaining all your life? All of your happy memories were there, so the logical thing to do…was go back to where they were created. Then you’d be happy again. You hadn’t learnt how to be happy in this house, in this city, in this new life.

“Babe. I would be the happiest boy in the world if you came home to me, but maybe you should think this through. Did something happen? Why are you being like this?”

You grabbed your duffel bag off the shelf, “I can’t go back to class, Felix! I can’t. I messed up, big time”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t. You could never—”

“You don’t even know what happened!” You yelled. He fell silent on the other end, “Love. Just…what’s going on?”

You stared at your empty bag, “I’m…coming home. I should never have come here”

“Is that Y/N?” Minho’s familiar, comforting voice came in. You wanted to hug him and never let go. They were so far away. “Yeah” Felix responded to him, voice falling, “She says she’s…coming home”

“Give me the phone” Minho mumbled, “Y/N. What’s going on?”

You tossed your clothes in your bag, messily zipping it up, “I can’t stay here, Min”

“But what about the art classes?”

“If I don’t withdraw, I’ll probably be kicked out anyway” You mumbled, “I didn’t go to classes all week"

“You should think this through”

“I have thought it through! It was a stupid fucking mistake. One I needed to make. You know what they say anyway. The grass is greener on the other side. I just fell for the charms of the city, like everybody else”

“No disrespect but you’re making no sense” Minho’s voice was harsh, “You can’t just give up”

“Can you give the phone back to Felix please?” You asked.

“Fine” You heard it being passed around and then his voice came in, “Love. I’m here”

“Lix” You swallowed, “I know it seems like I’m being irrational, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I know it’s embarrassing and stupid, but maybe I was never supposed to be here”

Felix’s voice was so soft, calm, encouraging. You just needed to be near him, in his arms. “I believe you, Y/N. I’m gonna be okay with whatever you decide. I just really want you to think about this”

“I…I want to hug you, Lix” A sniffle escaped you, “I don’t want to go back to class” The idea had completely taken over you.

“Are you sure?”

“Nothing can make me stay” You swallowed. There was a sigh of resignation on the other end, and you knew he wouldn’t fight with you. He would agree with whatever you decided, and that’s what you needed right now. That’s why you called him, and not Yeonjun, or your other friends. Felix was the one person who wanted you home more than anything. He wouldn’t talk you out of it, even if this seemed like the stupidest decision you might be making.

“What do you need me to do?” He asked, voice soft on the other end. Relief spread through you, and you stopped to look at the window outside your apartment, “A train ticket.”

You could sublease your apartment. You could figure the rest out from the comfort of your real home. You could go back to Aera’s, and get your life in order. You’d find a way to love Felix back. After all, he was the only one who wanted you the way you needed to be wanted. Maybe you were destined for that kind of life after all, where everything stays the same everyday. But that’s good, it was safe. The boy you loved had made you think that you belonged in the city, but he couldn't be more wrong.

That’s what you told yourself, at least, ripping your paintings off the wall. In your short-lived time here, you’d made and put them up to feel less lonely. There’d be no room to carry them back, so you bunched them up, carrying them to the garbage disposal in your apartment. As you shoved them in the disposal, you felt nothing. The hallway was warmer than your apartment and it made you feel a tad better.

Your phone buzzed again, and Felix had sent you something. The train ticket he’d bought for you. It was for tomorrow morning. You knew that you could always trust Felix, with anything. He would always be there for you, if nothing else. Perhaps you'd taken your friendship with him for granted this whole time.

“Need some help?” Jeongin asked. He was coming up the stairs, probably after having heard your struggle with the garbage. You shot him a smile, nodding. He came over, helping you, “Are you redecorating?”

“You could say that…”

“Wait. Are these your paintings?” He realised, stopping halfway.

“Can you help me with something?” You looked at him. He looked confused, and he was frowning, “Um. Sure. What do you need help with?”

“My suitcases…I don’t think the elevator is working”

“Are you going somewhere?” He tilt his head, further confusion scrunching his face. In another life, you and Jeongin could have been really good friends.

“I’m just going home for a while” You mumbled, shutting the garbage door. For a while would be forever. He didn’t need to know that. It’s not like he would be sad, or miss your presence.

“Oh. Okay. Of course, I’ll be there in a bit”

Back in your apartment, your phone buzzed again. It was your groupchat with Jeonghan and Minnie. You skimmed through the messages, feeling regretful.

yn are you sick? what’s going on? professor jieong told us you weren’t eligible for the prize anymore

You turned your phone off, staring outside the little kitchen window. The traffic wasn’t as loud as usual. It was a quiet night.

You hugged yourself, trying to find a singular reason to stay. Why had you wanted this life for so long? It had given you nothing but heartbreak, yet a part of you was so sad about leaving tomorrow. You squeezed your eyes shut, a single tear escaping. Maybe you wanted a sign to stay, despite everything in you screaming to leave. When you opened you eyes, your reflection mirrored on the glass pane and then you saw it.

A snowflake drifting down. It twirled in place and your eyes followed its path before it settled on your ledge, quickly crumbling into nothingness.

And then more followed, a flurry of snow falling like stardust. It was beautiful, a cloud of white enveloping everything so quickly, covering the street below.

Your first snow in the city.

A bitter smile tugged at your lips.

The doorbell rang.

Jeongin was already here to help you with the bags.

So much for a sign.

You grabbed your duffel, and your suitcase, wheeling it out. The quicker you moved with things, the easier it would be. Reaching for the rusty brass doorknob, you pulled the door open.

“Can you take this one? I’ll bring the other” You mumbled, pushing your things out. He nodded, still seemingly confused but he asked no questions, “What time’s your train?”

“In a few hours” You glanced at your phone, “But if there’s going to be a snowstorm, I’d prefer being at the station early…”

He grinned, still so happy and you wish he could share his secrets of eternal happiness, “Smart move. If it was me, I’d probably miss my train. Can’t tell you how many times that’s happened”

You smiled at him, “I can’t afford that”

“I called a taxi cab for you” He said. You nodded, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Thank you, Jeongin”

You stepped back into your apartment. There wasn’t much you’d brought with you, so there wasn’t much you had to take back. You’d never grown fond of this apartment. It had always felt like an inbetween place, while you waited your life to be perfect. Waiting was doing no favours for you.

You shoved your sketchbook into your duffel, putting on your coat before closing the apartment door behind you, and your throat closed up as you realised what you were doing. This was so fucking stupid, and this was rash but what else could you even do? Maybe you could come back to the city in the future if you wanted, but right now it was a terrible decision. You would go back home and you would hug Felix, and maybe you would kiss him and the ache in your heart would be better. The thought of his arms around you, as someone who genuinely cared about you, already made you want to cry.

You unceremoniously dragged your bag across the landing, and the taxi must have arrived already because you heard a loud honk.

It was freezing in the otherwise heated hallway. Your breaths came out in soft mists.

The door downstairs must have been left open, sending cold winds and flurries of snowflakes up the apartment.

Jeongin would never forget to do that…

As you approached the top step with your bags, you realised who’d left it open.

Draped in a beige trench coat, cheeks red from the cold, Hyunjin stood at the bottom of your staircase.

»»————-

masterlist ⇒

please let me know if you liked the chapter, or any thoughts on this part! thank you :)

677 notes · View notes

yoyeolears · 1 year ago

Text

۪ ᝰ ۫ MY OH MY ୨୧

based on my oh my by girls' generation

SYNOPSIS. ━━━━━ Yn finds out that her whole relationship has been a bet. To get over her heartache her best friend Sunwoo convinces her to take revenge.

How you might ask? By breaking the culprits heart right back of course!

10jun23 | st. 31/12/23 / fn. ━━━━━ updates every thursday (cet)

pairing. ━━━━━ Best Friend! Kim Sunwoo x Fem! reader (x Choi Yeonjun)

featuring. ━━━━━ the boyz members, kim chaewon, txt members + mentions of other idols

genre. ━━━━━ smau + written: humor/crack / fluff / angst / suggestive / childhood friends to lovers / college au / revenge relationship / relationship based on bet / slight slow burn

warnings. ━━━━━ timestamps/sm numbers/hair colors mean nothing, sexism/slutshaming, crude humor (kys jokes), mentions of food/sex/drugs/alcohol/cheating/mental illness, use of pictures of yn but only for reference, yn is a sone. more thorough warnings in the actual chapters, please let me know if missed something. this story doesn’t describe the idols in real life and is written with a dark skinned poc in mind!

notes. ━━━━━ the taglist is open, send an ask to be added. spam likes are fine but consider reblogging with comments of ur thoughts (not only on my work but on other authors work too! credits to the rightful owners of all the graphics. i’m not a native english speaker! and thank you to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <3

( please give this story lots of love & check out my masterlist )

PROFILES. ━━━━━ SONES INCORPORATED ᜊ DA HOMIEZ ᜊ MORE COOL KIDS ᜊ THE PLAYLIST

STEP 1. GET OVER HIM ›

ᝰ CH 000. prologue: THE NEXT BET

ᝰ CH 001. I H8 MEN

ᝰ CH 002. DON’T BREAK UP WITH THAT LOSER

ᝰ CH 003. THE PLAN

ᝰ CH 004. WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

ᝰ CH 005. *INSERT EVIL LAUGHTER*

ᝰ CH 006. ANNOYING BRAT FOR SALE

ᝰ CH 007. DON'T WORRY YOUR PRETTY BIG HEAD

ᝰ CH 008. NOT OVER HIM

ᝰ CH 009. CLASSIC SUNWOO-YN-BFF-DATE

ᝰ CH 010. THE NERVE AND THE AUDACITY

STEP 2. MAKE HIM FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU ›

ᝰ CH 011. STEP UP MY GAME

ᝰ CH 012. SASSY CAT EMOJI

ᝰ CH 013. A NIGHT ON THE TOWN W/ YN & WOO

ᝰ CH 014. GOOD NIGHT

ᝰ CH 015. HOBBIES FOR SUNWOO

ᝰ CH 016. GRAND DISCOVERY (YN HAS AN IDEA)

ᝰ CH 017. JUNS UNAPPROACHABLE AND COLD GF

ᝰ CH 018. HANGING OUT WITH BFS FRIENDS

ᝰ CH 019. BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF

ᝰ CH 020. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME

STEP 3. BREAK HIS HEART ›

ᝰ CH 021. CODE ORANGE

ᝰ CH 022. I FUCKED UP

ᝰ CH 023. HITCH IN THE ROAD

ᝰ CH 024. CONSIDER AND MAKE SURE

ᝰ CH 025. WHAT MAKES THE HEART GROW WHAT?

ᝰ CH 026. COMING SOON

ᝰ CH 027. COMING SOON

ᝰ CH 028. COMING SOON

ᝰ CH 029. COMING SOON

ᝰ CH 030. COMING SOON

ᝰ CH 000. epilogue: COMING SOON

ᝰ AFTER WORD

ps. being tagged in this does not mean you’re on the taglist please let me know if you want to be added <3 (taglist is able to viewed in the characters chapters)

special thanks (& follow these awesome ppl). ━━━━━ to @yuyusuyu @kodzumo @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @seonghwaddict @felixsramen : i have to give you six an extra special thanks because you all motivated and supported me so much while i was stressing and being annoying, just so you know guys are my motivation! (the other message is also to you all ofc) and to @nyukyujs @rieuvie @thelargefrye @i-luvsang @cybrsan @gyumibear @pocketjoong @jaehunnyy @nebulousbrainsoup @justhere4kpop @xpixie @atinycafe @brrrkdslek @phantom-webber @a1sh1teruu @starryunho @aestheticsluut @end0rchans @yourfatherlucifer @alixnsuperstxr @girls4cheol @cheollipop @mintgki @aoi-turtle @renstears @42e15 @alixnsuperstxr @mrowwww @hwaightme @paradiqms @starrysvn @tubatu-wari-wari @kitten4sannie @chokchokk @hee0soo @joong-of-gold @armysantiny @evilsailorsenshi @mundayoonimnida @aapplepii @juhakutie : first of all i don’t expect you to read or interact with this fic, you might not even stan the boyz or like this sorta thing but i tagged you all because of one reason and one reason only; to tell you that you all make tumblr such a lovely and inspirational place for me, whenever i see ur accs it brightens my day because i know what great ppl are behind them, i just wanted to say that i think that you are amazing and i want to use this post to thank you! happy new years and i love you everyone (and you who’s reading this)

1K notes · View notes

yoyeolears · 1 year ago

Text

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.

wc: 21k

warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.

working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.

a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to

ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say.

You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.

Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no.

Until one fateful day, of course.

You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.

“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”

“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”

Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.

“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it….

Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.

“Wait– newbie–”

The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”

“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.

Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.

“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.

“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.

You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job.

Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.

“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.

His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”

“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.

“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there’s a-”

“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.

You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.

Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall.

You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.

What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.

Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.

Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you.

Why?

The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy.

More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.

It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy.

Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.

The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take.

He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch.

He just laughs.

Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window.

The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.

Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.

The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.

When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.

That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.

Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.

The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness.

There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.

His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence.

It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?

His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.

“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.

As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.

Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side.

“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”

“My dad’s watching.”

“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.

Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”

You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.

You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.

Oh, how foolish of you.

You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.

It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.

“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.

“Look, you don’t have to-”

“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.

“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin.

The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.

“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.

“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.

Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”

“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.

All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!”

If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news.

The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today.

That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift?

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.

“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.

Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out…

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”

“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.

“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”

With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.

Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.

“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.

“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building.

“I know what those are–”

“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.

“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.

“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?”

You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”

“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”

“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”

“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall.

…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.

Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.

Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.

“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.

“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to.

If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same.

A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.

“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.

“Sunwoo–”

“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”

And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.

And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.

Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face.

It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.

It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.

You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.

You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.

You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)

There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.

You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.

This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate.

The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.

“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?

“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.

“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”

“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.

“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve).

“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.

Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.

“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.

It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.

“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.

“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.

A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on.

And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work!

Wrong.

Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie.

There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working.

Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.

“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.

“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.”

Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs.

“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.

“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?”

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more.

“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.

You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”

“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.

“Look, I really can’t-”

“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.

“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool.

The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.

You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life.

Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)

In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours…

Yeah. Not too many.

So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half.

The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)

Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted.

Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…

Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…

Wrong.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.

“Fuck, man–”

“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye.

“Oh?”

“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”

Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.

“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.

“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.

“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”

“Kim Sunwoo–”

He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”

You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.

“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.

“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”

The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk.

“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.

“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.

You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.

“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)

Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”

Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face.

Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.

It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.

Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.

Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.

Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth.

“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.

Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.

Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside.

He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)

Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.

Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency.

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not.

His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema.

Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.

You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.

“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak.

Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.

“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”

The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now.

“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment.

“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.

“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation.

“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening.

A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)

The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.

You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?

The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.

“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.

Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”

A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.

There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure.

You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.

Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.

You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on?

“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.

Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.

“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat.

“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”

“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”

“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.

“What…?”

A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.

That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.

There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.

Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or.

Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.

“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.

“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”

“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.

“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.

“Probably,” he admits.

You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.

Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”

His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”

“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.

You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…

And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions.

It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.

Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.

Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket.

It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control.

“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.

“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”

“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.

He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”

“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”

“Sir, I can’t-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”

Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning.

“So?”

Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?”

Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you.

“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way.

Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”

“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.

“That’s ridiculous-”

“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.”

Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.

It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.

“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–”

“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.

“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.

“I’m sure he will.”

Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers.

You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.

“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”

“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.

You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”

“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement.

“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.

“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.

“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”

“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”

“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”

“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall.

You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”

And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside–

only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold.

As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.

It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.

And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.

“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.

“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”

One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.

“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you.

Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.

Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.

You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain.

You force yourself not to care.

Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle.

“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.

“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.

“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.

When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs.

“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.

Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.

You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.

“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.

Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game?

Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.

“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.

Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.

You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun.

The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.

“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.

“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video.

Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.

Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt.

When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.

“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”

“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”

Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”

“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.

“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.

“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.

The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.

“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.

“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”

“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.

Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.

“Oh come on–”

“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything.

Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.

Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.

A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.

Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.

“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.

Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it.

Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.

It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.

The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.

“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema.

The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours.

Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.

All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.

“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.

“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.

“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”

A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief.

“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says.

“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”

Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.

“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.

“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice.

“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold.

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.

Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”

“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite.

“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”

“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment.

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”

“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.

“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Y/N, come on–”

“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.

Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.

“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)

Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look.

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else.

The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?

You decide you no longer want answers.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)

You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.

Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.

Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express.

You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.

Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.

“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?”

Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.

“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”

“Grab a chair…?”

You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though.

And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.

“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.

Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross.

Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.

The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)

“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.

“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”

Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”

“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.

“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N.

“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”

“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.

Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.

“What–”

“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.

There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool.

A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.

The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.

They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him.

The choice is yours.

Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild.

He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.

As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do.

Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt.

He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.

The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?

“Why–”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.

Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him.

His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by.

Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.

“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.

The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.

His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.

Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.

“Sunwoo!”

The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”

The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.

Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.

You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.

Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now.

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.

It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.

Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates.

You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks.

The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.

It’s the first snow of the season.

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.

He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.

You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.

Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”

The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.

The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.

It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.

Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.

Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.

Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.

More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face.

The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.

The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head.

“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male.

He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.

Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.

“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.

“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land.

His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.

“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.

“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.

Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color.

“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”

“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”

The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”

Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?

Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh.

The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really.

One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.

2K notes · View notes