aelin :]

It’s not often you have a bad acne breakout. And right now, as you get ready for a date with the man you’ve been seeing for a few weeks, you’re in full panic mode. Dotting all over your face are red, painful spots that just won’t go away.

For the past week, you’ve tried everything. Pimple patches, special face wash, different face masks, creams…you’re almost convinced you somehow made it worse. To top it all off, concealer and foundation doesn’t even seem to hide it, either. Truthfully, in the long run, those would probably just make it even worse anyway. If that’s even possible.

But you can’t show up to your date like this. You like Chan…like, a lot. If you show up like this, what if he thinks you don’t properly take care of your skin? Or he thinks it’s gross? You haven’t quite crossed the threshold of bare-faced dates, yet. And you definitely didn’t want to start tonight.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you’re quick to dial his number. It rings twice before he’s answering.

“Hey, pretty!” He exclaims. “Everything okay?”

“No.” You groan, burying your face in your free hand. “I think I need to reschedule.”

“Oh no.” Chan says, sounding sincerely disappointed. “Is everything ok?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you consider telling him the truth. But really, the truth feels quite ridiculous. For crying out loud, who cancels over acne? You quickly suck in a deep breath.

“Ah, I just don’t feel very good.” You lie. Which, in hindsight, it’s not a total lie. Thinking about this date while you look like this is making your stomach turn over itself. “I just…really want to stay in tonight.”

Chan hums. “What if I come over there?” He suggests. “I can bring comfort food and we can just chill? Watch some movies?”

Panic washes over you. “No, no,” You quickly stand. “I’d feel really bad making you do all that—“

“You shouldn’t.” He gently interjects. “I’m offering. You’re not making me do anything. Unless there’s another reason you don’t want me over?”

Pressing your eyes closed, you suppress the groan that bubbles inside of you. Now you just feel bad. He’s being so kind, and you can’t exactly push him off without him thinking he’s done something wrong. He hasn’t done anything wrong—he’s perfect. You really don’t want to mess this up, especially over some acne.

Besides, surely there’s a way to hide it from him. Right?

“No, I’d love to see you.” You finally sigh. “Thank you, Chan.”

“Anything for you.” He coos. “Give me an hour, ok? I’ll see you soon.”

When Chan knocks on the door, you feel your heart trip over itself. And probably fall down two flights of stairs, as well.

Your hand hesitates on the handle before you open the door. He looks cozy, wearing his sweats and hoodie that you’d gotten for him a few weeks prior. In his hands, he holds a few bags with snacks inside of them. Chan’s grinning, but it immediately falters when he sees what you’re wearing.

“A mask?” He frowns as he steps inside. He sets his plethora of grocery bags on the table as you close the door again. “Why is your hood pulled up?”

“I just,” you pause, “don’t want you to see my face.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. Pressing his lips together, he folds his arms across his chest. As he steps towards you, your breath catches in your throat. When he raises his hand towards your hood, you try to step to the side. He stops you, though.

“What’s going on?” He asks softly.

“Chan, I have acne.” You whine. “Bad. It’s everywhere. I look awful.”

A laugh bubbles out from him. “Is that why you wanted to cancel?”

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks. “Yes,” you mutter. “We haven’t been seeing each other for very long. I just didn’t want you to think—“

“You’re still beautiful to me.” He interrupts. “Acne or no acne. It’s part of being human, pretty. Now, can I please see you?”

You roll your eyes. Tentatively, you pull your hood down, and peel the mask off your ears. Before you can try to turn away anymore, Chan cups your face in his hands. His thumbs brush across your cheeks as he grins.

“Beautiful.” He promises.

Then, he kisses your forehead. He presses another small kiss to your temple, your cheeks, and then you realize…

“Are you kissing my pimples?” You can’t help but laugh as you try to squirm out of his hold. He doesn’t let you budge, though, as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Mhm.” He kisses your nose. “Just reminding you that every part of you is beautiful. Besides, kisses make everything better. Right?”

You scoff. “You’re so corny.”

“If you hated it that much, you would’ve stopped seeing me after date one.” He winks. “Now, should we start our movie night?”

Sighing dramatically, you grab hold of the strings on his hoodie. “You forgot a spot though.” You pout, then pucker your lips out.

“Ohhh,” he nods. “My god, how could I?”

You giggle as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. He pulls away just barely, his eyes flicking up to yours.

“Better?” He whispers.

“Much.” You reply.

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Chan Taglist: @noniesgummysmile

the most respected couple of the high-school year.

you and jun were practically inseperable. it was a soft love, unlike all the relationships around you two. that’s what made your love so special. everyone admired the way the two of you were never having arguments. the way that you two always cared, even if times may be a bit dull.

you wanted life to stay like this forever, didn’t you? but you also wanted to pursue your future, career and ambitions. you were stuck in limbo. it was a red pill and blue pill situation. either you chose to leave your true love and go abroad, or you stay in your country.

your mother was against the idea of staying, constantly nagging you. “my daughter, i know how much you love that boy, but you need to focus on yourself. if you don’t get a job, you won’t live in the outside world,” were her words. she was correct, the real world was a hard life to live in. without proper preparation, nothing would go well.

you decided to choose the red pill.

after your absence from school for about a week, jun started to worry. he wondered where you had gone for so long, until you came back during the last week of high-school. jun was with his friends and rushed over to you.

“love! where’ve you been? i’ve been so worried,” his tone was laced with concern that it hurt your heart for what you had to told him. you broke the news to everyone there, you were accepted into a school abroad and would be leaving in a few days. 

jun couldn’t believe your words, well, he didn’t want to. separation was something he had feared for years, and the fact that it was actually going to happen—was like a knife in his heart. yet, he remained caring. he hugged you tightly, whispering, “it’s okay my love, i’ll always love you even if we’re far apart…”

you bursted into tears that exact moment. it was heartfelt, and depressing. most of the students around you two watched, while some actually went up to comfort the both of you. it was like leaving a part of your life behind.

days were spent preparing for the trip, and even a farewell party was held at your school. all of your friends, and jun of course, came along to say one final goodbye. near the end of the party, your best friend asked you to make a small speech.

“everyone here has played a huge role in my life, and it does truly pain me to leave, but i want all of you to at least remember me, even if we may never get in contact anymore…”

that night, you couldn’t fall asleep. your mind replayed all of the memories as if you were slowly approaching death, even though you were alive and well. physically, you felt okay, but mentally, it was a turmoil. 

the day you had been dreading and wishing for finally arrived, you stood at the airport, holding your luggage alongside your mother. you were about to go to the gate with only a few minutes left until footsteps started approaching.

it was jun, rushing over to you while his mom watched from behind. he hugged you tightly, much more than the initial revelation days ago. he started to sob, and you patted his shoulder, telling him to stop crying or that you would to.

he kissed your forehead as a goodbye, knowing that if it was a full-blown kiss, maybe the two of you would’ve been killed on the spot. that thought made you want to laugh. “take care my love, and please, do your best,” jun muttered into your ear before letting go.

you waved at him one last time before turning your back and heading to the gate. something felt odd this time, was it guilt or was it more? maybe you’ll figure that out sooner or later.

it’s been 4 years since you left china. now you resided in korea, pursuing a degree in law and you were a highly respected college student. no one would even expect that you were chinese due to how good your korean was.

your high-school lover still spun around in your mind like a little fly. obviously, you had expected to never see him again, or at least see him with someone else.

what surprised you more was when you stared at the billboard in front you, gazing at the model on there wide-eyed. it was jun, as a fashion model, in korea, and you never knew until now because your brain had tricked your mind.

and there was one more thing you had to achieve now.

reunite with the person you once held in your whole heart.

🐈‍⬛

“Wonu?” you called, blinking the sleep from your eyes. The glow of his computer screen filled the dark room, uncanny and wrong for how late it was. “Wonu, are you still playing?”

His silhouette nudged one headphone off his furry ear. “I just need to beat this boss. I’ll be done soon. Go back to sleep.”

But you sat up, pushing the blankets down around your waist. “You said you’d be done soon, like, hours ago. It’s…” You squinted at the LED clock next to the bed and nearly gagged. “Wonwoo! It’s almost four!”

That got him to look away from the computer, albeit only for a moment as the very distant sounds of digital warfare echoed from his headphones. “I’ll be done soon,” he said again, fingers flying over the keyboard. “For real this time. Oh, wait, no – !”

He groaned as the ‘restart’ screen flashed at him. Then two clicks later, it was gone, and he was tapping away again, racing his little character across the map. You frowned.

“Wonwoo.”

“Soon, I swear, just go back to bed,” he said, eyes glued to the screen.

You narrowed your eyes.

Shoving the covers away, you swung your legs off the edge of the bed, walking over to Wonwoo’s desk. He didn’t look up. His tail brushed the floor, fluffier than normal, twitching once as you approached. He was hunched forward more than usual, betraying his frustration and exhaustion, however much he might try to deny it.

“Wonu,” you said softly, gently cupping his shoulders, and he jumped, clearly not having noticed you approaching. Cute. But his eyes still stayed on the dang screen. You slid your hands along the line of his shoulders and gently massaged the base of his neck, then curled your fingers up towards the backs of his ears, fingertips scratching gently at his scalp.

“Stop,” he grunted, tail flicking against your bare feet. He still tapped away at his keyboard, although a little slower than before, you thought. “I’m almost there.”

“The game can wait for the morning, Wonu.”

“No –”

You slipped one hand along his jaw to cup his chin from behind, thumb gently rubbing at his cheek, and he faltered. His hands stopped moving. Then an explosion nearly took out his character, and he scrambled to move, shaking his head in your palm.

“Stop,” he said again, but this time it was more pleading. Almost petulant. “Just let me win.”

“Come to bed with me and win in the morning,” you coaxed, slipping around to the side of his chair and nudging just barely between it and the desk. Wonwoo’s eyes, pupils round and wide, flicked to you for just a moment before locking back on his game. “Nonu, baby.” Gently you reached up and eased his headphones down around his neck. He started to protest, but you scratched behind his ears, and they stood up immediately.

“Come cuddle with me?” you asked, pouting just a little as you squished his cheeks, and he blinked. One eye opened before the other, but both eyelids drooped over his suddenly sleepy irises.

“Mmmkay,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your palms, and you smiled, bending to drop a little kiss on his head.

“Alright. Let’s get you ready for bed, and then we can cuddle, okay?”

His ears twitched at that, and you giggled.

“That sound good? Yeah?” you said as he nodded slowly. You patted his cheek and stepped aside, gesturing to his computer. “Alright, power down, okay? I’ll grab your pjs.”

“Okay,” he murmured, and you kissed the top of his head one more time.

It didn’t take very long to get Wonwoo ready for bed – he was sleepy, the late night catching up to him, and let you do his skincare routine for him with only a little whine of protest. The way he pressed into your hands as you rubbed the moisturizer in had your heart almost screaming in adoration.

By the time you finally crawled into bed, Wonwoo was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He yawned wide as you pulled the covers up, tongue poking out over his bottom teeth, and you cooed, ruffling the hair between his ears. He blinked, staring at you as if through a haze.

“Sleepy time,” you told him with a tap on the nose. “C’mere, you big kitten.”

You opened your arms, and he nuzzled right in, curling up against your chest with his knees pressing into your stomach and his face tucked into the crook of your neck. You hugged him even closer. A little uncomfortable, maybe, but he’d spread out overnight anyway, splaying his limbs across you like he always did.

“Night,” he mumbled against your skin, voice low and drowsy. You smiled against his hair.

“Night, kitty,” you echoed with a gentle stroke of his hair. “Sleep well.”

“Mmn.”

You closed your eyes, but after a quiet moment, Wonwoo started to squirm. Glancing down, you frowned, finding his droopy eyes on yours.

He craned his neck up and captured your lips in a kiss.

Oh. You smiled against him, kissing back gently. The taste of minty toothpaste still lingered, usually unpleasant but more than okay right now. Wonwoo was as soft and warm as ever, the picture of perfection with his tail curling against your thigh and his hands pawing gently at your shirt.

He broke away only to yawn again, and you giggled.

“Alright, kitty. Bedtime for real now.”

“Bedtime,” he agreed as he nuzzled back into your neck. You rested your chin on the top of his head, smiling to yourself as you closed your eyes and petted absently at the back of his head.

Wonwoo’s soft breathing settled beside you, slowly evening out. He really was cute like this, all cuddled up against you, nudging against your ribs and –

He moved suddenly, rolling onto his back, and you loosened your grip to let him flop against the mattress. His hands splayed up against the pillows, and his legs stretched beneath the covers, pulling them down and presenting the sweetest little peek of his tummy under the hem of his shirt.

Oh.

A smile crept over your face as you reached out and rubbed gently at his stomach.

Wonwoo purred.

Shortly after waking up, you receive word that Carat is closed due to a blizzard. There’s a power outage on that side of town, and you’re so relieved to have the day off. However, as if he could sense you were at peace, you get an Instagram DM from Wonwoo approximately an hour later. You’re in the middle of settling on your couch with Dubu and a cup of hot chocolate when your phone buzzes, with the notification flashing across the lock screen:

“Ugh,” you groan, tossing your phone onto the coffee table. Despite the annoyance of having to work today, something about his last message simmers and boils inside of you. 

Drive carefully.

Obviously, he’s just being polite. You’re not even sure why it affects you as much as it does. Dragging a hand down your face, you decide that dwelling on it will only drive you crazy. Probably as crazy as Wonwoo drives you, which is exactly what you need to remind yourself. It’s Jeon Wonwoo. The past week has probably just been him being cordial for the project. Walking you to your car, taking you to dinner, opening up to you about his personal life…

Yeah. Cordial. Right?

Okay, maybe you aren’t sure anymore. 

“Dubu.” You suddenly announce, which causes your cat to jump slightly at the noise. She looks up at you, eyes wide. “If someone who has always been mean to you seems to change overnight, would that be suspicious?”

She blinks once. 

“I mean,” you shift your weight, and she crawls onto your lap, “we used to argue every day. Well, you know that. I told you. Anyway, now he’s like…vulnerable. And he took me to dinner last night. And paid. Should I be weirded out?”

You take a sip of your hot cocoa, then glance out of your living room window. It’s a winter wonderland outside–like someone picked up the Earth and shook it as if it were a snow globe. The wind is crazy, with flakes flurrying everywhere. Your porch is covered in at least a few inches, and you’re surprised by how much has accumulated since you got home last night.

The nerves inside begin to slowly unravel as the reality hits you that you’re going to Wonwoo’s house later. Close proximity with public enemy number one. What if he tries to kill you? Or, even worse, what if he…touches you again? Your face flushes immediately, and you feel like a high schooler all over again. There’s absolutely no way you’re letting someone like Jeon Wonwoo rile you up like this, and you quickly decide you need someone to talk some sense into you. 

Grabbing your phone again, you dial the two people you know you can always rely on. Seungkwan picks up almost immediately, with Hansol following suit a few seconds after. 

“Why on God’s good earth are you awake so early on your day off?” Seungkwan groans. “I was sleeping.”

“No, he wasn’t.” Hansol deadpans. “He was sending me TikToks.”

“I need both of you to lock in for ten minutes.” You state a little too loudly. Seungkwan scoffs. “I am going insane, I think, and I need to debrief some recent Wonwoo Moments with you both.”

Hansol hesitates before saying, “What happened?”

So, you unload everything. You tell them about staying late in the breakroom, Wonwoo taking you out to dinner instead of working, and now him inviting you over for dinner and work. They listen quietly and intently, like they’re absorbing all the information before speaking. Per usual, Seungkwan is the first to chime in. 

“Okay, so,” you can hear him sit up in bed as he talks, “I think your theory that him being nice was a one-off is now null and void.”

“But I don’t think there’s any deeper meaning, right?” You counter. “Like, this has to just be because of the project. Someone’s seven years of hatred isn’t just erased in a week. Right?”

Hansol has been oddly quiet. You almost forget he’s on the call until he comments, “Would it be the worst thing in the world if that did happen, though?”

“Yes.” You reply. “Hansol, do you forget the fact that he made me cry the other day?”

He sighs. “I didn’t forget.” He clarifies. “I’m just saying that Wonwoo is kind of odd. I mean, he’s never been able to process or handle his feelings effectively. He’s kind of an ecological disturbance because of it.”

“Kind of?” You snort. “He’s always a disturbance, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Look, I’m not diminishing the fact that he’s made you cry.” Hansol continues. “Or any of the times he’s been rude to you. But I do know Wonwoo. And I do know that sometimes he doesn’t even recognize his own feelings until much later.”

The three of you fall silent as Hansol’s words settle between you. Your mouth feels dry as it begins to process, and you’re almost scared to hear what his response is to your next question. 

“What are you insinuating?” You ask quietly.

When he doesn’t reply right away, you ask again, “Hansol, what do you mean by that?”

“I’m just saying that maybe this project made him realize he doesn’t fully hate you.” He finally answers. “I’m not saying it’s anything beyond tolerating, but I just don’t think there’s any hate there anymore. You know?”

“But, buying her dinner?” Seungkwan cuts in. “That feels like more than just tolerating.”

Hansol groans. “Look, I know Wonwoo well, but I’m not an expert on him.”

That makes you snicker as you take another sip of your hot cocoa. When you lower the cup again, you comment, “You mean your degree isn’t in Wonwoo-ology?”

“No, I only minored in it.” Hansol fires back. The three of you laugh, and things feel a little lighter. 

Still, in the back of your mind, all you can think about is Hansol’s question: Would it be the worst thing in the world if Wonwoo’s feelings towards you changed? Alternatively, would it be the worst thing in the world if your feelings towards Wonwoo have changed?

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

You haven’t been able to bring your hand up to ring Wonwoo’s doorbell yet. Instead, you’ve been standing in the horrendous storm outside, staring at his front door like this is all some crazy dream. It’s so unbelievably cold outside, but you’re too scared to go inside. From where you are, however, you can smell something cooking through the window. Something that smells warm and perfect for today’s weather. 

Finally, as you muster the courage to knock, the door flies open. Wonwoo stands across from you, looking like he hasn’t bothered getting ready all day–or, at least changing clothes. His black sweats sit low on his hips. He’s wearing a dark, oversized hoodie with them, and his hair is a bit damp like he maybe showered before you arrived. His glasses are in their usual spot, low on the bridge of his nose. Your heart does a weird flip at the sight of him looking so…normal? Comfortable?

“Are you planning on freezing to death, Picasso?” He asks flatly. “I know you’ve been standing here for a while. I can see you from my kitchen window.” He gestures to the right, where sure enough, there’s a window with the perfect view of the front porch. 

You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Freezing to death would be better than working on my day off.”

“Good thing it’s Friday,” Wonwoo responds. “You’ve got the whole weekend to slack off.” He steps to the side, and you can feel the warm air from where you stand. He gestures behind him. “Now, are you coming in?”

“Yeah.” You mutter before trudging through the door. Wonwoo closes it again, and you take a moment to look around his house. 

It’s got a lot more personality than you were expecting from him. Most of the furniture is monochrome, but he’s got a few action figures on display, as well as a few framed posters for different anime or video games. In his living room, he’s got some music playing on the TV. In the kitchen to your right, you see something cooking, which you can only assume is the source of the smell outside. 

“Can I take your jacket for you?”

Your attention snaps back to Wonwoo, who is holding out his hand. You blink a few times before dropping your bag by your feet and shrugging off your bulky winter coat. You watch as he hangs it up, then cards a hand through his hair. 

“Uh, how were the roads?” He asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “Did you eat anything yet?”

“Roads were pretty shitty.” You reply. “And no, not yet. I kind of lost track of time.”

Wonwoo nods, then walks past you into the kitchen. He grabs a few bowls, then glances over to you. “I made kimchi jjigae. Do you want some?”

He made food for you both? “Oh,” you manage. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you–”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He interjects. “I made extra. I don’t need it, so I figured I’d give it to you.”

Yup. There’s the Wonwoo you know and (don’t) love.

“Right.” You roll your eyes before sliding off your boots and making your way over to him. He dishes up the stew, then passes you your serving. “Thanks.”

He just shrugs as he begins eating his. Things are awkwardly quiet for a moment until he clears his throat. “We can sit in the living room, too. I have my laptop and work pulled up already.”

“I mean, it’s your house.” You lightly tease. “You’re the host. I’ll go wherever you want me to go.”

Wonwoo scoffs, but doesn’t seem annoyed in any capacity. You actually wonder for a moment if he’s smiling, but he turns away too quickly for you to confirm. When he starts walking, you hurry to follow behind him. 

The two of you sit on opposite ends of his couch when you realize you left your bag by the door. You gently set your stew down, then walk back over to where you dropped it when you arrived. When you turn around to go back to the couch, Wonwoo is staring at you. 

“Yes?” You frown, feeling your heart flutter again. 

“Nothing.” He pauses. “It’s just weird that you’re over.”

“Hm,” you hum as you sit down beside him. “Well, this was your idea.”

“I know,” Wonwoo states. “Doesn’t make it any less weird, I guess. I haven’t had anyone over in a few months, now. And the fact that it’s you of all people…” He trails off, but glances at you to gauge your reaction. There’s no bite to his tone, so you don’t take the comment to heart.

You wonder if he’s referring to his ex, but you decide not to push or be too nosy–despite how much you really want to be. So, you resort to your usual banter with him instead. 

“Yeah, I can tell.” You smirk as you grab your tablet. “Not the best host, in my opinion.”

Wonwoo presses his brows together. “You can’t critique my hosting; you wanted to be here instead of your place.”

“I’m just giving you shit.” You laugh as you turn the tablet on. 

While it boots up, you grab your bowl again and begin eating. You’re surprised at how good of a cook Wonwoo is, and you have to bite back any sort of compliment that you consider giving him. But, much against your will, this kimichi jjigae is delicious. Like, ridiculously and unfairly good. It kind of makes you mad that it’s good, mostly because you don’t really like the idea of Wonwoo being good at anything besides coding. 

“Does it taste okay?” Wonwoo asks as you practically inhale the stew. Your eyes flick over to him for a moment, where it looks like he’s trying to not laugh.

You lower the bowl, then set it back on the table. Clearing your throat, you mutter, “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” A small laugh escapes his mouth as he gestures to your (almost) empty bowl. “Picasso, the whole thing is pretty much gone.”

You press your tongue to your cheek. “I’m not going to give you a compliment.” You state, picking up your tablet. “It’s only going to feed your ego. Remember our talk about being more humble? Besides, you never compliment me.”

“So, what, you want a compliment for a compliment, now?” He scoffs. 

“Maybe I do.”

“Fine.” He groans. “I guess you–” He quickly stops, like he was trying to prevent himself from saying his initial train of thought. Drawing in a deep breath, he finishes with, “You’re a very good artist.”

Your eyes widen. “Wow, I’m very good?” 

“Now can you admit that I’m a good cook?” He asks, clearly trying to steer your attention away from his compliment. 

You click your tongue, flicking your gaze back to your tablet. You boot up your project, then try to suppress your own smile as you reply, “You’re a great cook. The jjigae was really good.”

The silence that follows is bordering on embarrassing, as it washes over you both that you’re getting along. And it’s getting easier to get along. 

Maybe Hansol was right: maybe Wonwoo’s feelings did change over the course of a week. Maybe yours did, too.

A couple of hours passed working in silence, but the music Wonwoo had on was nice. It was soft jazz of some kind. You didn’t recognize any of the artists, but it weirdly helped you maintain focus fairly well. When the clock hits eight, you stretch your arms over your head as a yawn escapes from your mouth. Wonwoo glances over at you and leans back against his couch. 

“Should we call it a night?” He asks. 

“Probably.” You sigh. “But I think we got some decent work done, yeah?”

He nods. “I think so.” He agrees. “What do you think the storm looks like?”

God, you’d truthfully forgotten all about the blizzard. You were praying that things cleared up, but when you walk over to the door to peek outside, your hopes are very quickly diminished. Because it did, in fact, get a lot worse. Your car is completely iced over, with a few inches of snow piled on top. Your shoulders drop, and you can hear Wonwoo walking up behind you. 

“Shit.” He mutters. “Are you going to be able to drive home?”

“I have to.” You glance over your shoulder at him, where he stands a little too close for comfort. You can feel his body heat against your back, and your stomach flips. Shaking your head, you quickly add, “I have to get home somehow, Wonwoo. I mean, I can’t just stay here.”

His hair falls in his eyes a little, and you really hate how he’s looking at you. His expression is soft, and you hate it. You hate how he’s making you feel, and you wish there was a way to turn it off in your brain. You can feel yourself spiraling like you did earlier that morning to Seungkwan and Vernon, so you quickly begin to remind yourself, ‘This is Jeon Wonwoo. The same man who makes your life a living hell. The same man who made you cry. The same man who has done nothing but treat you like shit for the past seven years.’

“Who says you can’t?” He asks. “I mean, obviously it’s not ideal, but you shouldn’t drive in this. My couch can pull out into a bed–”

“Wonwoo.” You close the door as you cut him off, feeling your heart rate quicken. “I can’t stay here. That’s crazy. I mean, staying here? With you? At your house?”

He blinks a few times, then frowns. “I’m failing to see what is so crazy about that concept.” He admits. “It’s bad weather. It’s unsafe to drive. I think it makes sense to stay put until the roads clear in the morning.”

He’s right, and you hate that he is. You hate everything about how this evening is playing out, and you think you might be sick. 

“Look, ah,” he rubs the back of his neck. “How can I make this more comfortable for you?” 

“Um.” You press your lips into a thin line as you look at your surroundings. 

If you have to stay here, you suppose some blankets would be nice. You chew on your bottom lip, not really wanting to look towards Wonwoo right now. There have been too many unwanted emotions bubbling up tonight, and having to stay at his house, now, just seems to unravel you even more. 

“Just,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “I guess just blankets and pillows are fine.”

“Well, obviously,” Wonwoo remarks. “I’m not going to make you sleep without those. Do you want, like, some sweats? Or something more comfortable than what you’re already wearing?”

Looking down, you begin to regret wearing jeans. Though, in your defense, you didn’t think you’d have to end up staying overnight here. 

“Yeah.” You glance over to him. His arms are folded across his chest as he watches you. His expression is deadpan, but his eyes are softer. Like he feels bad for the current situation. “Yeah, some sweats would be great, actually. Thank you.”

Wonwoo just nods, short and curtly, before wandering down the hallway behind him. After a few seconds, he reappears with some folded-up sweats and a t-shirt. He passes them to you, and you hesitate to accept them. Because in your mind, accepting them means this nightmare is real, and you’re not sure you want that.

“The bathroom is down that hall.” He explains. “It’s the second door to the left. If you want to shower, there are extra towels under the sink. I’m going to get some blankets and a pillow for you.”

You nod, then solemnly pad down the hallway. When you reach the bathroom door, you stop and glance back at where Wonwoo is. He’s pushing his coffee table out of the way to pull the couch out into a bed. 

“Hey Wonwoo?” You call down to him. He looks over his shoulder towards you, and you give him a reluctant smile. “Thanks.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, and he turns his attention back to the couch. “Don’t mention it.”

You’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like forever. Wonwoo went to sleep around thirty minutes ago. He left the music playing, at your request. You thought the noise would help calm your nerves, but it does very little to settle the swarm of emotions that are going through your head right now. Ever since Hansol put the idea out there that it’s entirely possible Wonwoo’s feelings towards you changed, you’ve been so…worked up, for lack of better terms. 

Like, Wonwoo tolerating you upsets the workplace ecosystem. You’ve joked with Seungkwan about things being peaceful if Wonwoo wasn’t there, and, sure, it’d be nice to not argue every day. But going from screaming at each other a week ago to wearing his clothes and staying at his house and getting dinner with him and…

You roll onto your side and pull your legs up to your chest. Maybe Hansol was right–maybe tolerating Wonwoo isn’t the worst thing in the world. There’s definitely a lot worse that’s out there. For example: murder. Or armed robbery. Wonwoo is absolutely not as bad as those things. And, if anything, you’ve learned in the last week that his cold-blooded psychopathic heart has feelings. Which, in your book, is a redeeming factor. So there: automatically not nearly as bad as murder or armed robbery.

You hear the door handle to Wonwoo’s bedroom turn, and your breath catches in your throat. You lift your head to see him wander out, looking as awake as you felt. His gaze meets yours, and he stops in his tracks. His hair is messy like he tried to sleep, but failed miserably. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He asks, leaning against the entryway of the living room. 

You shake your head. “No. I think I miss my cat.”

“Well,” Wonwoo laughs lightly, “I can’t help with that. Sorry.”

“Damn.” You click your tongue, then push yourself to sit up. “I guess it’s fine, then. Do you, um, want to sit?” You gesture to the other side of the futon for him. He draws in a deep breath, and, much to your surprise, accepts the invitation. 

You watch as he trudges over, then collapses on the other side. He removes his glasses for a moment to rub his eyes, then places them back on his face. Bringing his arms behind his head, he sighs. 

“You know,” he starts, “Hansol has a lot of great things to say about you.”

You snort, then lie back with him. The two of you stare at the ceiling together, now, as the sound of his jazz music fills the space between you. 

“I hope he would.” You comment. “He is my best friend.”

“I just mean, like,” Wonwoo rolls his head so he’s looking at you, “he’s always had great things to say. I really didn’t want to believe any of them for a while.”

You turn your head to meet his gaze. “Mm,” you hum, “like what?”

“Well,” he says, “that you’re understanding. He’s mentioned that you’re nice, too, but the verdict is still out on that one.”

You roll your eyes. “Can the verdict hurry up?” You joke. “My verdict is already back on you.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, yeah?” He taunts. “What’s that, then?”

You grin, then look up at the ceiling again. “You’re not as bad as murder. Or armed robbery.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He scoffs. “Can you pass that on to my ex? She seems to think otherwise.”

The silence that follows his sentence is uncomfortable, and you can tell that it slipped out before he could even process the thought. You prop yourself up on your elbow, then look down at him. 

“You don’t have to answer this,” you begin slowly, “but what happened? With your ex, I mean. If it’s bad enough that you considered running off to the States, then that seems…concerning.”

Wonwoo stares up at you, and you can tell from his expression alone that he’s conflicted about whether he wants to share that much with you or not. His eyebrows are furrowed, and there’s a slight frown that teases his lips. 

“Her name is Haeun.” He explains. “We met in college. She just, ah, is a really degrading person. Incredibly narcissistic. She thinks I somehow owe her thanks for my entire life because she was the one who encouraged me to pursue computer engineering and who helped me get the job at Carat. I guess I just woke up one day and decided that after eleven years I had enough of it.”

Your eyes widen. “Eleven years? Shit, Wonwoo.”

“That’s not taking into consideration that we’ve been off and on for a long time.” He quickly clarifies. “It was just constant breaking up and getting back together because she’d make me feel guilty. I still have her shit here because she won’t come pick it up. She thinks I’ll come back to her.” 

He gestures behind you. You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, there are a few boxes and bags that are all labeled: HAEUN

“Well,” you look back down at him. “Do you think you’ll go back?”

“No.” He answers, and you believe him. His tone is firm and sure. 

You hum. “Do you want me to dump it at her place for you?” You offer lightly, slightly teasing him. “She doesn’t know me, so she can’t–”

“I’m flattered, Picasso, but I’m not subjecting you to her behavior,” Wonwoo interjects sternly. “I can take it, but I don’t want her to berate you in the same way she does to me.”

You falter for a moment, surprised at how…protective that sounded. When you feel your cheeks warm, you feel ridiculous for blushing at something so meaningless. His living room suddenly feels quite warm, and your head feels a bit light. 

“Well,” you force a nervous laugh, “that’s very chivalrous.”

“I’d hardly call that chivalry,” Wonwoo mutters. “It’s just the right thing to do.”

“I’d be careful if I were you,” you scold, but there’s no bite to it. “If you keep talking like that, I’ll begin to think you don’t hate me anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

The smile on your face disappears instantly. Holy shit. Wonwoo just admitted to not hating you anymore. That was an admission, right? He said maybe. So it’s not a full confession, but–

“Picasso.” Wonwoo sits up, waving a hand in front of your face. “Don’t get lost on me, now. And don’t let that get to your head either. Just because I don’t hate you doesn’t mean I like you.” 

He smirks, so you know it’s a joke. It doesn’t fully register or land with you, though, because what are you even supposed to do with this information?

You quickly push Wonwoo’s hand away. “Please,” you scoff, “I’d never let that get to my head. Just because you tolerate me doesn’t mean I’m going to forget our roots.”

“Our roots?” He raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Yeah.” You lie back down and look up at him. “You know, you ignoring me or making me cry.”

Wonwoo frowns. “When did I make you cry?”

His voice is so soft now that part of you feels guilty for bringing it up. You pull your blanket up to your face in a poor attempt to shy away from the question, but then Wonwoo’s hand stops yours. 

“Tell me, please.” He says, then repeats, “When did I make you cry?”

“It’s not even a big deal,” you lie, pushing his hand off of yours. “It was earlier this week. When your ex kept calling you. You apologized, anyway.”

“But clearly it’s still bothering you,” Wonwoo gently argues. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s just–” you groan. “It’s confusing, you know? Like, you’re mean to me ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, but then when it’s like this,” you gesture between the two of you, “it’s nice. I don’t want to hate you, Wonwoo, but I can’t look past those moments, either.”

Wonwoo swallows, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs briefly as he does so. “Well, can I do anything to remedy it?”

“You’re that keen on making things better?” You tease. Wonwoo’s jaw tightens while he stares down at you. You continue, “If you’re that serious about it, then you can start by treating me the same way at work that you do when we’re alone.”

“Okay.” He replies quickly. 

You blink. “That’s all it’s going to take?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “Do you want me to argue?” He smirks. “That might go against what you just told me not to do.”

“Okay, smartass.” You roll your eyes. “I’m just surprised you’re so willing to, I don’t know, actually get along.”

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he just stares at you. The prolonged eye contact makes you squirm as you try to turn your attention to anything and everything else but him. The butterflies in your stomach haven’t stopped since lying down to sleep, and now they’re on a rampage. When he draws in a deep breath, you allow yourself to look back up at him. 

“I guess–” he pauses. “I don’t know. You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

The corners of your mouth twitch. “Yeah.” You offer a timid smile. “You’re not too bad yourself, geeksquad.”

The air suddenly shifts, and it’s clear that Wonwoo feels it this time, too. His breathing turns a bit shallow when he presses his palm into the futon beside your head. You begin to get deja vu from the night he brushed away the eyelash from your face, only this time, a tiny part of you hopes he’s going to kiss you. You’ll never let Seungkwan know you thought that, though. At least not until the kiss actually happens. If it happens. Which you’re sure it is, because the next thing you know, Wonwoo begins to lower his body over yours. 

“Hey, Picasso?” He suddenly whispers, his voice low. “You still drive me crazy.”

You swallow. “I know.” You reply softly. “You drive me crazy, too.”

Wonwoo laughs a little breathlessly before finally closing the distance and pressing his lips to yours. At first, neither of you really moves. The initial kiss is quick, and Wonwoo pulls away just barely to look down at you as if to make sure that was okay. You meet his gaze and barely give him a nod before he chases your lips again and kisses you with much more intent. 

You gasp a little at his sudden surge of confidence, and grab hold of the collar on his hoodie. He kisses slowly, like he’s trying to move cautiously. Like he’s giving you the space to stop it at any time. His lips are soft, and you really hate how much you enjoy the feeling of them against yours. Wonwoo fully lowers his body onto you, wrapping his free arm around your waist. His glasses bump against your face a little, prompting you to giggle.

“Are you laughing?” Wonwoo mutters against your lips. He pulls away, and you reach up to brush the hair out of his face. 

“Your glasses.” You explain. “They just keep hitting my forehead and cheeks.”

“Oh.” Wonwoo’s face flushes slightly. 

“Can you even see without them?” You ask as he peels them off his face and tosses them aside. 

“Not really.” He admits with a laugh. “My vision is really bad.”

You hum, tugging on his hoodie to pull him closer. “Let me help, then.”

You kiss him first this time, which prompts a moan from him. You feel his body relax against yours as his hand moves from your waist to the back of your head. He tilts it slightly to deepen the kiss, and you very quickly decide that you no longer hate the fact that he’s a good kisser. Actually, you really like it and would really like to do this all night. You’re addicted to how soft but full of passion each kiss is, like he’s driving but willing to give over the control at any second. 

Wonwoo’s tongue slides across your bottom lip before pressing gently against yours. A soft sound bubbles from you. You’re not really sure what it is, seeing as you’re so drunk on the taste of him right now. You feel a little delirious and overwhelmed, but most importantly, perfectly content. 

When he pulls away, your heart breaks a little bit. You open your eyes to find him putting his glasses back on. 

“As much as I would love to continue that,” he whispers, “I think we should try to get some sleep.”

“What if I’m not tired?” You quip. Your plan doesn’t work, though, as Wonwoo rolls his eyes. 

“Even if you’re not,” he gives you another quick kiss, “I don’t have protection. I wasn’t exactly planning on, well, that tonight.”

You dramatically groan. “Well, can you at least stay out here, then?” You ask. “You can’t just kiss someone and leave them alone like that.”

Wonwoo’s expression twists. “Don’t people kind of do that all the time?”

“That’s not the point.” You frown. 

Wonwoo sits up and gently pulls you with him. “I won’t stay here,” he says. “This futon kind of sucks. But you can come sleep in my room with me.”

Your heart flutters. When reality comes crashing down, your eyes widen. “Wonwoo.” You gasp. “We kissed. Like, us. World’s biggest enemies.”

“Okay, well,” Wonwoo stands and continues to pull you along, “I don’t think that term is exactly applicable anymore, Picasso. I don’t make out with my enemies.”

“Okay,” you say as you trail behind him to his room, “so what are we now, then?”

Wonwoo closes the door behind you, then thinks. After a brief pause, he replies, “I don’t really know. But can we figure it out?”

Taking a step closer to him, you grin. “I think I can work with that.” 

When you wake up the next day, Wonwoo isn’t beside you. Blinking a few times, you allow your eyes to adjust to the sunlight that floods through his curtains, when the sudden smell of bacon fills the air around you. 

When you finally roll out of bed, you trudge back towards the kitchen. Wonwoo is hunched over the stove, still in his hoodie and sweats from last night. His hair is messy from sleep, however, and the sight alone makes you grin. It’s still weird coming to terms with the fact that Wonwoo is making you smile. All you’ve ever done is be angry with him, and now you’ve spent the night at his house, you kissed him, and…

Oh Jesus Christ you kissed him. 

You swallow, feeling the blush creep up on your face, as you replay last night over again in your head. God, the way his lips felt–you’d give anything to feel them again. But is that territory you’re officially in? Can you just…kiss him whenever now? It’s not like you’ve never been in a relationship before or, hell, even just slept around with some people. But this thing that developed last night is so unclear. 

“Are you just going to stand and stare at me, or would you like to eat?” Wonwoo suddenly announces, pulling you from your thoughts. He glances over his shoulder at you. “I made bacon and eggs. I didn’t have anything else, considering I wasn’t expecting a sleepover of any kind.”

“That’s fine.” You quickly reply, making your way over to him. “Thank you for breakfast. You were up early.”

Wonwoo shrugs, then turns his attention back to the food. “Didn’t sleep well,” he explains. “I guess I got used to not having someone sleeping next to me.”

“Oh, I’m–”

“Don’t apologize, Picasso.” He cuts in. “I don’t need sympathy.”

His tone is short today, seemingly back to what it was before–to the Wonwoo you knew before. You clear your throat, trying to scramble your thoughts into something cohesive. Maybe he’s just grumpy from the lack of sleep?

“Um, are you okay?” You ask a bit pathetically. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just–” you pause “--I don’t know. I mean, last night you weren’t like this. I thought maybe we were kind of past this.”

You watch as he takes the pan off the stove, and moves through the kitchen to plate the food for both of you. He doesn’t bother looking your way, or even smiling in the slightest. He’s just…Wonwoo. Deadpan. Emotionless. It makes you sick to your stomach. 

Did he just play you?

“It was late last night.” He answers simply. “I think we both got carried away, don’t you?”

Then, he finally looks over to you. His eyes are red behind the lens of his glasses, and you can’t tell if it’s from crying or lack of sleep. But your heart hurts to see the exhaustion on his face. You dare a step closer, but he pulls back, so you stop.

“Wonwoo,” you start softly, “why are you doing this?”

“Listen,” he sighs, setting the now empty pan into his sink, “I think maybe for the remainder of this project we should just keep contact at a minimum. I-I’ll trust that you’ll do your work. I won’t make you work on your days off anymore, and–”

“Hey,” you interject, “that’s not fair. You don’t just get to kiss me, let me sleep in your bed, and then push me away like that. Why are you doing that?”

“I just think it’s for the best.” He replies. 

“For who?”

That, he doesn’t have an answer for. Your gaze flicks between the food on the plates and his face. But you aren’t hungry anymore. You feel your jaw tighten, as a lump begins to form in your throat. After a few moments pass with neither of you speaking, you force yourself to draw in a shaky breath. 

“You know, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” You offer a weak smile. “Yeah, I should go home to my cat. Dubu is probably hungry, and I need to clean her litter box–”

“Wait–”

“No.” You turn, and walk over to the couch where your things are still piled. You quickly pack everything into your bag again, not being able to look back over at him. “It’s fine, Wonwoo. I should’ve figured that it didn’t mean anything. I mean, that would go against everything we’ve built on for the last seven years.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, and turn to face him. “Why bother trying to change?”

You don’t give him the chance to say anything as you brush past him, and begin to put your shoes on. When you grab your jacket off the hanger by the door, you hear him call your name. Your hand hesitates on the door before you pull it open, and walk out to your car.

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You’d been rotting all day, feeling heavy for no particular reason. It’s not that anything bad happened; it was just one of those days when you wanted to cry. Like you woke up, and the world decided that happiness wasn’t on your radar for the foreseeable future. 

When you hear Chan come back from practice, you feel the day's fatigue quickly catch up to you. Lifting yourself from bed, you trudge down the hall and around the corner to find him taking off his shoes. His hair falls in his face, and you can see the little bit of sweat beading across his forehead from dancing. The hoodie he left the house in this morning is now discarded, tossed over his shoulder. You shift slightly from where you stand, the floorboards creaking underneath you.

Chan lifts his head to smile and say hello, but it immediately falters. “Hey baby, you okay?”

All you can manage is shaking your head ‘no’. It takes your boyfriend all but ten seconds to finish taking off his shoes and cross over to you. The second his arms are around you, you bury your face in his chest and finally cry. Chan quietly runs his fingers through your hair, just letting you feel and be in the moment. He’s always like that: just a steady, constant figure for you. Always strong when you can’t seem to be. 

As your crying slows, you pull away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Chan presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly. He’s tucking your hair behind your ears, giving you space to speak if you feel inclined. 

You lift your eyes to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m just sad. I don’t know. It feels silly.”

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “Not silly. Sometimes feelings just work that way. What do you want to do to feel better? Comfort food and a movie?”

You sniffle, then wrap your arms around him. He rubs your back lovingly, as you think about what to do. 

“I guess ramyeon sounds good.” You mumble into his shirt. “Can we just eat and lie in bed?”

“You bet.” He replies, giving you another quick kiss on the top of your head. “We can do anything you’d like. Let me shower, and I’ll get started on the food. Okay?”

When you don’t budge, Chan laughs lightly. “You’re not going to let me go, huh?”

“Not yet.” You reply, lifting your head to meet his gaze. 

He smiles warmly, pressing his lips gently against yours. 

“Don’t worry,” he hums. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

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“He walked you to your car?” Seungkwan repeats on the other line. Hansol just laughs. Your head hits your pillow as you tug your blankets up around your face.

Dubu doesn’t waste a second to curl onto your chest. You put your phone on speaker, then set it beside your head so you can give your cat some extra love for staying late at work. When she starts to purr, you let out a dramatic sigh. 

“He walked me to my car and complimented my work.” You correct. “I think it was just the late night, though. I mean, it’s not like it could be anything else.”

They’re both quiet for a moment before Hansol chimes in, “I don’t really know, though.”

“No,” you close your eyes, shutting down whatever crazy thought he was about to spew your way. “He said he hated me today, Hansol. Just because he does one single nice thing for me in the seven years I've known him does not mean that he’s suddenly changed his feelings.”

“I’m not saying he changed his feelings.” Hansol clarifies. “I’m saying that maybe he just doesn’t hate you as much as you thought he did?” 

There’s a pause before you and Seungkwan burst out laughing. Wonwoo? Somewhat tolerating you? That’s about as believable as the concept of pigs flying. Or world peace. Tonight was a one-off, and you already know that tomorrow things will go back to normal. 

“That’s a good one, Hansol,” Seungkwan says as his laughter slows. “No offense, but you’re not here anymore. You don’t see the kind of arguments they get into. Wonwoo isn’t the same as he was when you worked here.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Hansol mutters. “Europe sucks. They’ve barely got any good food here. I mean, beans on toast? What is that?” 

“There’s more than that; you’re just being dramatic.” You chime in. “I thought it was pretty good when we came up to see you.” 

“Yeah, but you also have the weirdest taste in food.” Seungkwan remarks. “Remember that time you brought a, what, peanut butter, pickle, and mayo sandwich?” 

As the two of them laugh, you scoff despite your own smile that plays on your lips. “Wonwoo didn’t let me hear the end of that one.” 

“He didn’t let anybody hear the end of it.” Seungkwan corrects through his laughter. “But rightfully so! Who even does that?” 

“Hey, I thought this conversation was to hate on Wonwoo!” You retort as your own laughter bubbles out. “Don’t turn this on me!”

After a few more minutes of bickering, the laughter finally slows, and the three of you fall into a comfortable silence. God, you love them. You don’t know where you’d be without either of them, truthfully. Hansol made your university experience so fun, and Seungkwan constantly keeps you on your toes with whatever nonsense will come out of his mouth next. They’re your ride or dies, and you know they feel the same. 

It’s nice knowing where you stand with someone. 

“Really, though, what do you think prompted Wonwoo to do that tonight?” 

You sigh, sinking lower into your mattress as you flick off the lamp beside your bed. “I don’t know, Seungkwan. But is there any point in dwelling on it?” 

“Hm,” he hums, “probably not.” 

Your theory is proven correct the second you walk into work the next day. Wonwoo is already at your workstation, hunched over his laptop. He looks up briefly, so you smile. 

“Good morning, Wonwoo.” You say.

His eyes flick back to his screen. “Sure.”

As you toss your things down, you glance over to Seungkwan as if to say ‘I told you so’. Seungkwan shrugs, then goes back to his own work. Before you get a chance to fully settle, Wonwoo is sitting next to you. 

“Do you think you’ll have some animations done today?” He asks, not bothering to peel his eyes away from the screen in front of him. “Now that a good chunk of the coding is done, we need to make sure throwing animation on top of it isn’t going to screw with anything. How detailed are you planning on making everything?”

“Oh, thanks for asking, my morning is fine.” You sneer as you boot up your tablet. “Let my coffee kick in first, Wonwoo. I just woke up.”

He glances over at you quickly, before returning his attention to his code. “Yeah, I can tell.”

You roll your eyes as you boot up your software. While you’re grabbing your stylus, you can hear Wonwoo’s typing become increasingly louder by the second. It’s not necessarily aggressive, but it’s fast–almost flustered. Deciding to ignore it, you open up a new project, titling it after the name of the video game from Seungcheol’s notes: FORGOTTEN REALMS - MOCKUP. 

You’re cross-referencing your sketches as you work, making sure to trace and transfer every detail that you can. You’re starting with the animal companions, since those will be easier to get done. That way, you can relax whatever nerves Wonwoo has worked up right now. Something must’ve gotten under his skin this morning to make him behave so…erratically? Is that the right word?

In your peripheral vision, you see him pull out his phone. He scoffs at something, then stands. Without saying anything else, he’s holding the device to his ear and disappearing down the hallway. 

“Someone made him mad this morning,” Seungkwan mutters from behind you. “Who do you think that is?”

You shrug, continuing your work. “Don’t know, and can’t be bothered to care. Whatever is pissing off Wonwoo can stay between him and the cause. I’m not about to get involved in it.”

Seungkwan hums. “Well, if I had to guess, I think it’s his ex.”

“You’re only guessing because you can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business,” you laugh, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Kwan, does it really matter what’s pissing him off? Public enemy number one, remember?”

“It does!” Seungkwan hurriedly defends himself. “I mean, think about it, he’s stuck in here working with us. If someone is making him mad, won’t that make us his first targets? We’re his least favorite coworkers. Well, you are, anyway.”

He isn’t necessarily wrong, but it’s also Seungkwan: AKA diva incarnate. You’ve learned over the years to take his reactions with a grain of salt. This is definitely one you will be doing that with. 

“He’s an adult,” you respond, looking back to your tablet. Leaning back in your chair, you sigh. “If he’s still taking his emotions out on other people at thirty years old, then I think there’s bigger things to worry about.”

Before Seungkwan has the opportunity to say anything to that, the door opens again, and Wonwoo is sinking back into his chair. Now, his typing is fast and aggressive. But he’s quiet. And you suppose that’s better than anything else. 

You turn your focus back on your project, trying to get in the zone. But it seems like the more lost you’re getting in your work, the louder that Wonwoo types. Setting your stylus down, you slowly turn to face him. He is either ignoring you or hasn’t noticed. But the vein in his neck is back, and he looks pissed. 

“Wonwoo,” you start slowly, “I’m not sure what kind of morning you’re having, but can you please either work somewhere else or slow down?” 

“My computer is still broken.” He replies tightly. “Nowhere else to work.”

“And that’s fine,” you draw in a deep breath, “but your typing is loud. I can’t focus. Do you want me to accomplish anything, or not?” 

Wonwoo scoffs. “You have headphones. Use them.”

Dragging a hand down your face, you try to ground yourself so you don’t start to get mad. He’s so impossible sometimes. You’re even being nice, and he’s still not leveling with you. Like, headphones? Why do you have to tune him out? It’s your department! 

“No.” You reply. “This is my office, Wonwoo. You can chill out. Stop abusing your keyboard, or work somewhere else.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but doesn’t seem to argue. It takes a few minutes before you hear him draw in a deep breath, and the typing becomes a little less angry. It’s not fully quiet, but it’s better than before. You figure it’s the best you’re gonna get for the time being. 

As you’re working through some basic movement animations, Wonwoo’s phone rings. You blink a few times before looking over to him. He’s already standing before you get the chance to see his expression. 

Once again, he disappears down the hall. 

“Definitely his ex.” Seungkwan nods. “Absolutely his ex.” 

The rest of the workday is awkward, to say the least. Wonwoo leaves a few more times with phone calls, seemingly coming back each time appearing even more upset than the last. You can feel the curiosity gnawing at you, desperate to know who is getting under his skin so badly. The fact that there’s someone in his life besides you who is doing it is so fascinating. 

Unfortunately for you, though, this is the one area of gossip Seungkwan knows nothing about. 

He’d informed you last week that Wonwoo had a messy breakup. But during lunch today, he revealed that he didn’t know anything else. According to him, Wonwoo kept the relationship pretty low-key. Only a few people knew about it more than Seungkwan, but they were all other engineers who you didn’t talk to or know well enough to ask. 

And when you and Wonwoo are the only two left in the office again, you can’t help but feel slightly nervous at how angry he is. You chew on your bottom lip, daring a look at him. His face is red as he stares at the screen across from him. He stopped typing a few minutes ago, now, which was unnerving to say the least. 

“Okay.” You sigh, setting your tablet down. You figure the only way you can get him to talk about it is through a method you like to call ‘old reliable’. AKA poking the bear while he’s mad. “What the fuck is your deal today?” 

“Excuse me?” Wonwoo’s head snaps over to face you. 

Leaning back in your chair, you fold your arms across your chest. “You heard me, geeksquad. You’ve been throwing a tantrum all day. It’s annoying. What’s wrong?” 

“Why should I tell you?” He fires back. “Alternatively, why do you care?” 

“I care because I have to share a workspace with you.” You argue. “If you’re going to loudly and angrily type all day like you’re a preschooler, then I feel like I deserve to know what’s pissing you off.” 

Rolling his eyes, he faces his computer again. But instead of some ridiculous comeback or petty remark, he says, “My ex has been bothering me all day.” 

You’re surprised. Jeon Wonwoo is opening up to you, like it’s not a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. You, of all people. Biting back your shock, you lean forward, resting your elbows on the desktop. 

“Okay.” You reply evenly. “While I understand that exes can suck ass, why was this enough to almost make you burst a vein?”

Wonwoo just scoffs as he leans back in his own chair. “I’m not—“ he glances over to you, where you’re watching intently. His jaw tightens as he flicks his gaze to his screen. “I’m not telling you that.” 

You shrug. “Whatever. Just get over it before tomorrow, because if you don’t, I’ll become an even bigger issue for you than her. Or him?” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath. Then quickly adds, “Her. It’s a girl.”

“Congratulations.” You quip. “Now can we please move on so we can wrap up for the day?” 

When you both fall into silence again, his typing is calmer. It’s not so forced, and seems to slow like it usually does when he’s working any other day. On your tablet, you play back the animation sequence you had been plugging away at. 

You’re pretty proud of it, despite how simple it was. You went with the dragon model, and animated a short few frames of it flying in a downward motion, swooping back up, and blowing fire out of its mouth. Given Wonwoo’s current state and the fact that it was already late again, you figure you can just show it to him in the morning. 

You’re praying he’s in a better mood, then. 

Wonwoo is, in fact, not in a better mood the next day. 

Actually, his mood is so much worse that you’re quite sure you’ll commit a felony in the next hour if he keeps nagging you. 

First, it was that your animation was too detailed and the FPS didn’t match the delta time (which you’re not even sure is your fault), and now he’s complaining that you haven’t done more. He’s barely letting you get in a single word to try and explain why there isn’t more done, as he’s rambling about a process he doesn’t even understand. Off to your right, Seungkwan is cowering behind his own tablet like he knows you’re about to explode. 

“You spent eight hours on that yesterday,” Wonwoo remarks for the nth time. “I mean, eight hours? Just for a dragon to fly and blow fire out of its mouth? Do you even realize how much of the mechanics I’ve completed? We’re on a deadline, Picasso–”

“Shut up!” You finally shout over his ranting. You stand up, grabbing your tablet and your things. “Jesus Christ, Wonwoo. I don’t know what kind of high horse you’re on right now, but your stupid ex-girlfriend is not my fucking problem. Get yourself in check, or I will.”

Wonwoo scoffs, standing with you. “Where are you even going?”

“The bathroom, for all I care!” You dramatically throw your arms up in defeat. “The bathroom, or the breakroom, or the fucking parking lot. Anywhere that isn’t near you.”

As you begin to walk away, you hear Wonwoo trip over something before he hurries behind you. You feel the adrenaline continue to boil as you pick up speed, desperately heading for the elevator. Before you can hit the leave button, Wonwoo slides between you and the panel. 

“Just stop.” He sighs. “Wait a second, okay?”

“Why should I?” You bark back. “You’ve done nothing but piss in my cereal all morning, dude. I shouldn’t have to listen to you right now.”

Wonwoo grimaces. “Piss in your cereal?”

“That is not the point.” You stick an accusing finger in his face, which he promptly pushes away. “The point is, Wonwoo, is that you’re dealing with this…person…like it’s the rest of the world’s fault she’s so shitty to you. How is that even fair?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you take that as permission to keep going. 

“I know we’ve never liked each other,” you add, “but just because you hate me doesn’t mean you can automatically make me your punching bag when things don’t go your way. That’s fucked up.”

You reach behind him and press the elevator button. Your arm brushes his for a moment, and you feel him stiffen at the sudden contact. Brushing it off, you step to the side while you wait for the doors to open. When you step on, you watch as Wonwoo makes his way back to the workstation. As the doors close again, you sigh, leaning back against the wall. 

The lump in your throat is unexpected. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been a piece of shit to you, obviously, but usually it’s not a full day of berating like it was today. You’re tough, but not that tough. At the end of the day, you’re still a person with feelings, and today was just more confirmation that Wonwoo was never going to be a fan of you. You’d come to peace with that a while ago, but as silly as it seems, a small sliver of hope was inside of you after the other night. 

You suppose this is the reality check you needed. A few hours working away from him will be good, too. You can get some distance to calm down before you head back to your workstation. And hopefully, maybe, you got under his skin enough where he feels inclined to back off–even if it’s just a little bit. 

When you glance at the clock, it’s an even later night than the one before.

10:36 pm.

You spent your time away from your workstation crying instead of working, so you needed to stay to catch up on that time you could’ve been animating. By the time you got back to your workstation, Wonwoo’s things were packed up, and Seungkwan informed you his computer was ‘fixed’. 

Still, the light in engineering is on when you stand to pack up your things. You begin to wonder if maybe Wonwoo was waiting for you, but you almost laugh to yourself the second the thought crosses your mind. He would never. Monday was an off day, and you’re going to leave here alone like you usually do. 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you wander down the hall. Wonwoo doesn’t even have the code pulled up on his screen, as he’s casually watching some anime you’d never seen before. You roll your eyes before lightly knocking on the door. He jumps for a second before turning to look at you. It looks like his expression softens for a second before he quickly deadpans again. 

“I’m heading out.” You announce, your voice soft and hoarse from crying most of your afternoon. “Just thought I’d let you know. Have a good night.”

“Wait.” Wonwoo turns his computer off, and you realize his things are already packed, and his jacket is on. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Your jaw tightens. “Wonwoo–”

“Don’t.” He quickly cuts in, his voice stern. He turns the lights off as he stands across from you. “I told you the other night that I wouldn’t let you walk out alone.”

Neither of you move for what feels like an eternity. The only sounds in the office are the ticking of the clock at the end of the hall and the heat kicking in. Wonwoo draws in a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that today. I know there isn’t any excuse, so I’m not going to try to make one.”

You blink a few times before turning on your heel and making your way towards the exit. Wonwoo scoffs, following behind you. 

“That’s it?” He asks. “Look, I’m trying to fix this–”

“Fix what?” You cut in, turning to face him again. “Wonwoo, there’s never been something to fix here. If you wanted to fix whatever is going on between us, you shouldn’t have been an ass to begin with. I mean, seven years. You can’t just undo that overnight.”

He takes a step closer to you. “I’m not expecting it to be overnight. I’m also not expecting to be best friends with you, either. You drive me crazy, but I’m sick of arguing every day.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. Then say, “Why remedy anything when you’re leaving, anyway?”

“How do you–”

“Seungkwan heard it from Soonyoung and Seokmin.” You quickly reply. “If you’re planning on taking the job, then why do you care about what kind of relationships you have here?”

Wonwoo’s quiet, as his gaze drops to the ground. You’d kill to know what’s going on in his mind right now, but you don’t exactly hold that kind of privilege in his life. You don’t want it, either. The less you know about him, the easier it is to hate him. Because deep down, you’re worried that if you let your guard down even a little bit, he’ll just bulldoze it all over again. 

“The truth is,” he sighs, lifting his eyes to meet yours again, “I haven’t really decided yet.”

Oh. 

“Why stay here?” You frown. “That job pays better, doesn’t it?”

“The pay isn’t really a determining factor for me.” He admits. “I’m pretty well off right now. Uh, I guess I was only thinking about taking it because it meant that–” he pauses, like he’s weighing whether or not he should tell you. You notice a visible shift as his posture relaxes and he says, “I was trying to run away, I guess.”

Pressing your brows together, you gently push Wonwoo away from you. His expression twists, and before he can ask why, you pinch your own arm. “I’m just making sure we’re both still real and that I’m not dreaming.” You explain. His jaw tightens, and you bite back a smile. 

“Forget it.” He mutters. He turns to leave when you grab his arm. 

“No, hey,” you giggle. “I’m sorry, but can you blame me for being surprised?”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “I guess not.”

Glancing behind him, you notice the breakroom is still open from the custodial staff. You gesture to see if he wants to sit, and he begrudgingly accepts. Flicking on the lights, the two of you dump your things at a random table and slump into the chairs. It’s quiet for a few minutes before he speaks again. 

“For the most part, I’m really good about separating my work and personal life,” Wonwoo states. “This, uh, breakup, though, has been kind of a shit show. When I applied for the position in the States, I thought it would be a way out of it. But Seokmin kind of helped me realize that I can’t let her determine what I do with my life, you know? That running won’t solve anything.”

You hum to let him know you’re listening. 

“Anyway, I’ve just been bitter for so long.” He continues. “Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be like Seokmin or Soonyoung. God, they get along with everyone.”

You shrug lazily. “They’re also not full of as much pride as you.” Before he can argue, you further explain, “You have every right to be prideful, Wonwoo. You’re incredibly smart. But there’s a balance between being prideful and being humble. You can have both in a healthy way.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He leans back in his chair, and you feel his knee brush against yours under the table. Your heart rate spikes as you pull your legs away from his. Wonwoo doesn’t seem to notice, though. Blinking, you try to shake your head to pull yourself out of it. 

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I think Seokmin is right, for what it’s worth. Running isn’t ever the answer. If it was, I would’ve quit a long time ago.”

He makes a face. “Why?”

“Because of you, geeksquad.” You retort, but your tone remains playful. It prompts a real smile from Wonwoo, as his head rolls back to look at the ceiling. “I always said hello to you in my first year. When I took Hansol’s job, you were so rude. Like, all the time. Hansol and Seungkwan talked me into staying. They still do, most weeks.”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightens. “God, you just talked so much.” He reminisces. “You still do. I thought you were so annoying, and I hated that you took Hansol’s job. I just hated that he left in general.” He lifts his head back to face you. “You’re so opinionated about everything.”

“Damn, I get it.” You grumble. “Anyway, I think it’s good to be opinionated. Having opinions means you care, I think. I mean, what, are you just neutral in everything that you do?”

He shrugs. “Not with video games.”

“Exactly.” You sit up straighter. “That’s because you care about them. Having an opinion doesn’t always equate to being annoying, Wonwoo. Having feelings isn’t annoying.”

“It is to me.” He says softly. It’s so soft that you almost miss it entirely. Wonwoo pushes his glasses up, then stands. “Anyway, we should both get home. It’s getting late, and we still have two more days of work this week.”

“Oh, thanks Captain Obvious.” You tease as you follow him out of the breakroom. 

When you both step onto the elevator, you can hear how heavily Wonwoo is breathing beside you. It almost seems like he’s nervous about something, but you can’t really tell what that would be. If anything, that was a great conversation. You truly didn’t think Wonwoo was capable of holding one, but he’s successfully proven you wrong. 

As he walks you over to your car, you notice he’s parked next to you this time. Your stomach flips a little at the thought, and it feels like your cue to go to sleep. Bed has never sounded nicer, and you’re already dreaming about Dubu and your sweats when you unlock the door. 

“Listen,” you glance at Wonwoo over your shoulder, “for what it’s worth, I think staying with Carat would be good. We both know engineering would tank without you, anyway. Who else knows how to put up with me besides you?”

He’s quiet as he watches you open your door. When you turn to say goodbye to him, you realize he’s stepped closer to you. Close enough, in fact, that you can smell his cologne from under his jacket. A bitter breeze sweeps through, causing you to shiver and pull your coat tighter around you. 

Offering him an awkward smile, you ask, “Is everything okay?”

Wonwoo leans in, and you’re so scared that he’s about to do something you really don’t want him to do. But when he brings his hand up to brush something off your cheek, he’s taking a step back and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Your heart is pounding so hard against your chest that you feel like he can hear it from where he stands. 

“Eyelash.” He explains. “Uh, but yeah. Everything is fine. Drive home safe, Picasso.”

You’re frozen, hardly even able to mutter a simple ‘goodbye’ in response. Wonwoo climbs into his own car and drives off–leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened. 

By the time you get home, Wonwoo’s touch still burns on your cheekbone. When your door closes, you lean back against it, holding your face with your hands. The memory keeps replaying, like it’s some twisted joke that he just played on you. The way he leaned in, the earnest look on his face, his touch, him—god, you couldn’t breathe. 

This is Wonwoo. Like, the same Wonwoo who makes you want to blow your head off every single day. The same Wonwoo who made you cry earlier. The same Wonwoo who criticizes every single thing you do, and tells you that even your breathing is too loud. So why is he getting to you so much? Truly, you didn’t think Wonwoo could even be capable of being soft like that. Now that you know he can, you feel sick. But you don’t think it’s in a bad way, and that scares you a little bit. 

You manage to push yourself off your door, and trudge further into your apartment. Dubu is lying on the couch, watching you like she knows something is wrong. When you collapse beside her, you pull out your phone to call Seungkwan. It may be late, but he never sleeps, it seems like. Sure enough, it rings only a couple times before he answers. 

“Are you just now getting home?” He scolds. 

“Wonwoo touched me.” You quickly say. You pause, then rephrase it, “Sorry. I mean, he touched my face.” 

Seungkwan is dead silent before he replies, “What the fuck?”

Your friend doesn’t swear often. He seems to save it for special occasions, which you know in this case, it definitely warrants one. 

“I know.” You lower your voice, like you’re scared somebody will hear you. “I don’t know, it was so weird tonight. He stayed late just because I did. I mean, he wasn’t even doing work, Seungkwan. He was just there because I was still there. Then we talked and he, like, got vulnerable and shit. When he walked me to my car, I thought he was going to kiss me, but he just wiped away an eyelash instead.”

“Did you want him to kiss you?”

“No.” You answer a bit too quickly. You can feel your cheeks warm at the thought, though. Wonwoo kissing you. Blinking a few times, you push the thought away as much as you can. “Seungkwan, I don’t know what’s happening. Like, he’s mean and closed-off during work, but after hours he’s nice?”

Seungkwan hums, like he’s thinking about what could be happening. “Jeon Wonwoo is a very confusing man.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You mutter. “Like, what, do I bring it up to him tomorrow? Do I confront him?”

“Absolutely not.” Seungkwan states. “This is Wonwoo. If you try to point it out, he’ll probably backpedal and claim nothing happened. Just wait it out. See if anything else happens. I think he needs to be the one to address it first, though. Clearly he isn’t very in tune with his emotions.”

Yeah, you think to yourself, clearly.

Wonwoo, on the other side of town, has been lying in bed, staring up at his ceiling like that will erase what happened tonight. He doesn’t know what came over him, truthfully. You were just…there. And nice. So nice that it pisses him off just thinking about it. Because after everything that’s happened between the two of you, you’re still nice. Of course you are. 

He rolls onto his side, grabbing his phone. He’s got over twenty missed calls from Haeun that he’s ignored. He started ignoring them after you called him out earlier in the day. After each phone call is a series of text messages that make him cringe to read:

Hae: Seriously, Wonu? That’s it? You’re just going to ignore me?

Hae: You know, you’ve always been like this. You always shut me out when all I’m trying to do is help you.

Hae: Do you even realize that you wouldn’t be where you are now without me? Your whole career and your whole life is based on me. You should be thanking me. 

Hae: I know we can work this out and when we do, you’ll just see how stupid you’re being. 

Hae: You’re stupid. This whole breakup is stupid. And when you finally realize it, you’re going to feel how stupid and embarrassing all of this was. And I’ll be there to rub it in your face and tell you I told you so. 

Soonyoung told him several times to block her, but for some reason, Wonwoo couldn’t. He feels guilty, but he knows he shouldn’t. For crying out loud, it’s Haeun. She sucks, and she always has. 

Wonwoo first met Haeun in high school. They started dating right before graduation and dated through university until a few months ago. She’s always been this way towards him: verbally and emotionally abusive. Wonwoo just didn’t realize that’s what was happening until Seokmin and Soonyoung arranged an intervention right before he broke up with her. And as much as he hates her, she’s ultimately right.

Wonwoo wouldn’t be the engineer he is today without her. She’s the one who told him to study computer engineering, and she’s the one who helped him apply for and get the job at Carat. It’s part of the reason he applied for the job in the States: it meant cutting all his remaining ties with her. ‘Being rid of her for good' is how he worded it to his friends. 

But you? You scare him. 

Not in the same way as Haeun, of course, but in a way he hasn’t totally figured out yet. He’s always hated you, because to be quite frank, you’re loud. Opinionated, just like he told you. You stick your nose into people’s business, thinking you have some kind of right to be there and in people’s space. In hindsight, maybe you do–more than he would care to admit. People seem to like you a lot more than they like him, which is another reason he hates you. 

But since being put on this project together, you’ve been so constant and steady that it’s making Wonwoo feel a little insane. The fact that everybody was right to like you definitely hurts his pride, because that means he’s been wrong about you this whole time. And Wonwoo hates being wrong. 

He lets his thought process lead him to your Instagram profile. He’s still following you, and he’s not sure why. But he can’t help giving in to ‘casually stalking’ you, as you had worded it to him the other night. Your posts are clean, organized, and perfectly reflect the kind of person you are. Which Wonwoo has come to learn is silly, nice, and optimistic. He hates it. He hates you. But the more he tries to remind himself of that, the less it begins to feel true. 

Wonwoo forgets that you and Hansol are close. The reminder makes him laugh to himself because he and Hansol are also close. He’s actually called Hansol a few times to bitch about you, which feels pretty ironic now, given the circumstances. As he closes the app, he quickly looks up the time in England. With his luck, Hansol will be getting off of work right about now. Or just about to. 

The phone rings a few times before he hears his muffled, familiar voice answer, “Wonwoo?”

“Hansol.” He drags a hand down his face. “I think I’m screwed.”

When Wonwoo is late to work the next day, you and Seungkwan immediately wonder if it has something to do with the night before. You’re sitting at the shared workstation, watching him speed-walk to engineering. He doesn’t even glance towards art, but you weren’t expecting him to. He looks disheveled, with his hair slightly tousled and his glasses sitting crooked on the bridge of his nose. He’s dressed a bit more casual than usual today, with his button-down untucked and the absence of a tie or blazer of any kind. Beside you, Seungkwan leans over. 

“He looks about as bad as you sounded yesterday.” He whispers. “You think it got to him as much as it did you?”

“Absolutely not.” You scoff, turning your attention back to your tablet. “Wonwoo probably doesn’t even think about what happened last night. Besides, it’s not like we can ask him. You said so yourself.”

Seungkwan shrugs, and it takes all but thirty minutes before you’re getting an email from the man himself: 

From: Jeon Wonwoo To: Y/L/N Y/F/N, Hong Joshua, Choi Seungcheol Subject: FORGOTTEN REALMS - Status Updates Good morning,  I wanted to provide a few updates on how the process has been going for the game demo. I’ve attached some notes on the completed coding, as well as video recordings of the animations completed thus far.  If anything needs to be changed or adjusted, please let us know so we can take prompt action.  Thanks,  Jeon Wonwoo 

When you click on the attached file to view his notes on coding, it all feels like a foreign language to you. None of it really makes sense, but the formatting looks nice, and you can tell Wonwoo spent a lot of time organizing his things. When you click on the file for your animation, though, your heart practically stops. Because what’s attached isn’t your current animation, but your scrapped drafts. You quickly open up a chat box with Wonwoo, your fingers frantically gliding across the keyboard as you type. 

You: What is your deal?! Those were my deleted drafts! I sent you the updated file yesterday! 

Wonwoo: I’ll fix it, don’t worry. Was in a rush this morning and forgot about the updated file. 

You: Is everything okay? 

He doesn’t reply, but you’re not surprised. Maybe you’ll hear about it tonight, when the two of you are alone again. After a few minutes, the updated email comes through your inbox: 

From: Jeon Wonwoo To: Y/L/N Y/F/N, Hong Joshua, Choi Seungcheol Subject: RE: FORGOTTEN REALMS - Status Updates My apologies,  I was late to work this morning and attached the incorrect file for the animation. Please find the current one in this email.  Thanks,  Jeon Wonwoo 

You let out a sigh of relief and sink into your chair. Usually you’re better about not changing things after you've already sent them, but the particular file he attached wasn’t one you were perfectly sure about. You toyed with it during the day yesterday while you worked late, and ended up on a version much better than you had initially drafted. It was some animations on character interactions with each other - general conversations, touch, reactions, etc. Since the game has a ‘choose your own path’ style of gameplay, you wanted to mess around with character dynamics. You drew a lot of inspiration from the drama you’ve been watching, so most of the interactions are romantic. 

Just as you shift your attention back to your tablet, you see another chat box notification pop up from Wonwoo:

Wonwoo: To answer your question, no. Things are not okay. I was up late last night. I had a lot on my mind after our conversation and couldn’t sleep. 

You: Do you want to talk about it?

Wonwoo: No, not with you. I just felt like I owed you an explanation. 

You: I see. Well, have a good day today, then. Thanks for fixing it to the correct file. 

Wonwoo: No problem. And you too. 

Sometime around four, Wonwoo came over to art with his laptop to work at your workstation. Around six, when the building is empty, Wonwoo shifts in his seat, flicking his eyes up towards you. You barely notice it, but when you catch it, you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Everything ok?” You ask. “We can call it an early night if you need to. We were here pretty late yesterday.” 

Wonwoo hesitates. “Maybe an early night will be good.”

You hum in response and begin to go through the motions to shut down your workstation. When you’re almost done, you notice that Wonwoo hasn’t moved yet. 

“Dude, earth to Wonwoo?” You wave your hand in front of his face, prompting him to look up at you. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah.” He scrambles to his feet, pushing his glasses up as he does so. When he hesitates again, you fold your arms across your chest. Then, he asks, “Would you want to grab something to eat?” 

You’re sure your brain short-circuits for a moment. 

There’s no way that Jeon Wonwoo just asked if you wanted to grab food. Right? No, this has to be a dream. Did you fall asleep at your desk? 

You meet Wonwoo’s gaze, and when you see him looking at you the same way he did last night, you feel your heart stumble over itself. 

“Did you…” You stop. Taking a deep breath, you say, “Wonwoo, did you just ask me to get food with you?” 

He shrugs, like he’s unaffected by it—as if he wasn’t just buffering a few minutes prior. “I mean, I haven’t had anything to eat. I’m hungry, and I’m sure you are. There’s a good local place nearby.”

“Oh.” You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Uh, but this means nothing, right?” 

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah, nothing. I still hate you.” 

“Ok,” you grin. “I hate you, too.” 

Once he gathers his things, the two of you quietly walk out to the elevator and climb inside. For some reason, the ride down feels far longer than it normally does. You’re acutely aware of his presence beside you, and a few times you forget how to breathe. Why is this making you so nervous? It’s just Wonwoo. 

“I can drive us.” He announces. 

“We’re carpooling?” You frown as you stop just before the exit. He looks at you over his shoulder, his glasses softly reflecting the light in the lobby. 

“It’ll be easier, won’t it?” He counters. “Plus this place doesn’t have great parking. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You press your brows together as he walks outside, with you trailing behind. When you get to his car, he stops and opens the door for you. When you hesitate, he smirks. 

“I’m not going to kill you, Picasso.” He comments. “But I am very hungry. So if you take any longer, then I might.”

You all but scramble into the passenger seat as he closes the door behind you. Once he slides into the driver's side, you observe the interior of his vehicle. It’s very…Wonwoo. It’s all black, with literally no decorations except for a League of Legends air freshener. It’s surprisingly spotless, though, and smells like a healthy combination of a new car and Wonwoo’s signature cologne. 

As he starts to drive, you feel yourself relax a bit into your seat. His phone buzzes in the center console, and you can’t help as your eyes wander to the screen:

Haeun: So that’s just it, then? You’re seriously done? 

Haeun: I’m not picking up my stuff. You’ll come back. This isn’t done. 

You quickly flick your attention back to the window, pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek. Haeun seems fun. You grimace slightly to yourself. Even without the full story, you have an idea. Based on those two texts alone, you can piece together why she’s irritating Wonwoo so much. 

Thankfully, the awkward silence between the two of you comes to an end as he pulls his car to a stop outside of a very small building. There isn’t a sign on it of any kind as far as a name goes, but you see the ‘Open’ sign flickering in the window. You unbuckle before sliding out of the car, just as Wonwoo is walking to your door. Once it closes behind you, he locks it, and you both walk inside. 

“Uh, Hansol and I would come here a lot when he worked at Carat.” Wonwoo suddenly explains. “I haven’t had it since he left. I’ve been craving it, though. We usually come here after bad days.” 

“Was today bad?” You ask as he grabs hold of the doorknob. Wonwoo draws in a deep breath, then looks over to you. 

“This whole week has been.” He admits. “I just didn’t want to come alone. It’s not the same alone.” 

You hum. “That makes sense.” 

He holds the door open, nodding for you to go in first. When you step inside, you’re greeted with a warm, comforting smell of kimchi jjigae. It feels like a hug, honestly. Then, you feel Wonwoo’s hand on your back, slowly guiding you further inside. 

“It’s seat yourself.” He explains before you can even look over to question him. 

You both find a booth in the far-back corner, tucked next to a window with a perfect view of the city behind the building. You shrug off your coat as Wonwoo passes you a menu. 

“This place is cute.” You observe, looking over to him. “It’s cozy. I see why you guys like it. I’m surprised Hansol never mentioned it to me before.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “We were gatekeeping it. Nobody else ever came with us.”

“Did you, uh,” you clear your throat, “ever bring your ex here?”

You’re prepping yourself for him to get mad as the tips of his ears turn pink. But, much to your surprise, he just slowly shakes his head. 

“No.” He answers. “She didn’t really like smaller restaurants like this. She’s very materialistic. Everywhere she ate had to be some higher-end bullshit.”

You snicker, turning your attention to the menu in front of you. “She sounds miserable. Some of the best food I’ve had is from small shops like this. You know, there’s one in Ilsan that has the best ramyeon. It’s owned by an older man in his seventies and his wife.” 

Wonwoo chuckles across from you as he lifts his menu. “I’ll have to go sometime. I don’t get to Ilsan very often.” 

“It’s cool,” you shrug. “I have cousins that live there.”

Soon enough, an older woman comes by, and you each say your orders: you with some bibimbap, and Wonwoo with japchae. She brings the two of you some hot tea, and you sit in silence. You look outside the window, where the snow has slowly begun to fall. Winter is your favorite, which Seungkwan always teases you for. But it’s so hard not to fall in love with it. You love the snow too much to not love winter. It’s so pretty when it falls, dusting over all the buildings and streets like a blanket. 

“I, uh, didn’t realize you and Hansol went to school together?” Wonwoo suddenly speaks, drawing your focus back over to him. “We talked on the phone last night.”

It's your turn to smirk as you take another sip of your tea. You set the cup down with a soft thud before replying, “You were talking about me?” Despite your trying to play it cool, you could feel the nerves boiling in your stomach. 

“Don’t let it get to your head.” He deadpans. “You just came up in conversation.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes. “But, yeah. We’ve known each other for a long time. He and Seungkwan are my best friends.”

“I knew about Seungkwan,” Wonwoo mutters. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, which prompts him to meet your gaze. 

“Damn, what do you have against Seungkwan?” You ask between fits of laughter. Wonwoo’s face burns red as he sinks back into his seat. 

“Nothing.” He clarifies. “I just saw on Instagram that–”

Your eyes widen as you cut in, “You stalked my Instagram!”

“No, no.” That gets him to sit up. “I just noticed when I followed you back.”

“Oh, my god.” You’re laughing harder now, leaning over the table. “Who’s the one casually stalking now, Wonwoo?”

Before he can try to defend himself, the older woman from earlier brings out your food, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence while you eat. There’s a moment under the table when his knee bumps into yours, but neither of you move away this time. 

The rest of the meal flows really nicely, and as much as it weirds you out, you begin to feel comfortable with Wonwoo. As you each finish eating, Wonwoo quickly pays for both of you. When you look over to him, he says, “Just consider it a thank you for coming with me. And letting me rant yesterday. But don’t turn it into a whole thing.”

After another quick drive, you see the office come into view. Wonwoo puts his car into park when you’re back at Carat, and the two of you sit like you’re both scared to say goodbye first. You’ll never mention it out loud to him, but you had fun tonight. Like, a lot of fun. It feels like the more time you spend with Wonwoo, the easier it is to talk to him. You’re not sure if that scares or excites you that you don’t entirely hate him anymore. 

“Well,” you grin, looking over to him, “thanks again for the food. That restaurant is really nice. We should, uh, go again sometime?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo looks over to you. “And it’s no problem, really.”

You stare at each other for a moment before you force yourself to unbuckle and open the door. You feel like there's a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, but you don’t know why. It’s Wonwoo. You need to remind yourself that he’s nothing special, and he’s been nothing but mean to you over the years. 

When you close the door after climbing out, you fumble a bit with your keys, trying to calm yourself down as you unlock your own car. You hear Wonwoo roll the window down behind you as you finally manage to get your door open. 

“Hey, Picasso.” He calls. You glance back at him. “Drive home safe.”

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It was a quiet evening, with nothing but the sound of the cars below the terrace passing by every several minutes. This time of night was your favorite, because it meant the noise of the world was off. Most people hated being alone with their thoughts, but it was the only way you could cope with the insomnia that usually took over your nights. Thinking, processing—working through whatever the day has given to you. 

You are hugging your knees against your chest, feeling the cold metal of the fire escape against your bare neck as you lean your head against the brick of your apartment building. There is a warm breeze passing through. Closing your eyes, you feel it fan your cheeks as you draw in a deep breath. 

Today wasn't much different than any other day, other than the fact that you received an invitation to a wedding you didn't want to attend. 

Which, fine, in hindsight, that made the day pretty shitty. 

It was one thing when your ex broke up with you, but for him to have the audacity to send you that invite just crushed you. You'd known he had moved on for a while, now. Seungcheol was never shy about showing off his significant others online, as you were once familiar with. When he began posting with his new girlfriend (Yuna, you think her name was), it was easy to deal with because he didn't live near you anymore. But then that pretty little envelope was stuffed into your mailbox today, and you weren't even sure why he felt inclined to send the invite. Did he feel bad for you? Was it some kind of pity invite, seeing as life hadn't been as kind to you since the breakup that it was to him?

When you open your eyes again, you hear a slight rattling coming from above you. Turning your head up, you notice your upstairs neighbor, Chwe Hansol, climbing out of his window. You'd never spoken to him much outside of a quick nod in the hallway, or typical "weather" small talk in the elevator. But you did know that he was a fellow insomniac. This had become an unspoken routine between the two of you: you'd climb out first, spend a few minutes alone. Hansol would follow suit, light a cigarette, and offer you one. Then you'd just...sit in silence. You were always the first to leave, the second that dawn started to break. Hansol always stayed a few minutes after you left before retreating to his own apartment. 

Your gaze turns back to the alley below, and you can hear the flicker of Hansol's lighter. When the smell of the smoke invades your senses, you hear him cough slightly. 

"You want a cigarette?" He asks hoarsely. He had either just woken up or been crying before joining you. You don't know him well enough to make a verdict, however. 

You push yourself to your feet and begin climbing up the stairs to the landing by his apartment. He passes you a cigarette, then quietly lights it.  When you press the butt to your lips, you sit. Your legs hang off the landing as you lean forward against the rail. 

"You look rough," Hansol observes aloud. 

You take a slow drag of the cigarette, then look over to him. "What happened to silence?"

"I don't want silence tonight." He answers. "Is that a problem?"

"I guess not." You shrug. The smoke curls out of your nostrils as you exhale and look ahead again. "Yeah, it was a rough day. What about you?"

"Same." Hansol presses his lips into a thin line. 

The silence returns, and in a way, you're thankful for it. It's not that you had anything against Hansol, but this was unfamiliar. Talking wasn't something the two of you ever did, so why now?

You take another drag of the cigarette, letting the breeze take the smoke away with it. After a few moments, Hansol sits next to you. His shoulder bumps yours momentarily before he quickly moves away. 

"What's your name?"

You laugh, flicking the ash off the end of your cigarette. It falls through the fire escape as you look over to him. 

"I know your name."  You comment. "All these months of living next to each other, and you never figured it out?"

"I guess I never paid attention before." He admits. 

Rolling your eyes, you give him your name. Hansol repeats it, like he's engraining it into his memory. 

"Pretty." He mutters. "It suits you."

You choose to ignore the compliment. "Hansol suits you. I guess, as much as I can assume."

"I guess," Hansol repeats as a smile creeps up onto his face. "You want to talk about your shitty day?"

The truth was, talking about it would be really nice. But you didn't know Hansol well enough to feel like you could dump your issues onto him. So you opt to keep things vague. At least for now. 

"I heard from someone today." You spoke slowly. "I, uh, haven't heard from them for a while. It kind of felt like a slap to the face, you know?"

He hums in agreement. "I get it. Did you say anything back?"

"It wasn't like that." You clarify. Sighing, you decide ‘fuck it’. "My ex is getting married. He sent me an invitation, and I don't know why."

That gets Hansol to look at you. His eyes are widened in amusement, and you almost want to wipe the dumb grin off his face. 

"Fuck," he laughs in disbelief. "What an ass. I'm sorry."

You shrug. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Why was your day shitty?" You clarify. "You can't expect me to share and think you'll get away with not sharing as well. You're the one who wanted to talk."

"Right." He mutters. He reaches behind the two of you, grabbing the ashtray. You both put your cigarettes out, then turn your gazes back to the alleyway. "My girlfriend broke up with me. Work sucked, too. I guess the universe has it out for me right now."

"For both of us." You grunt. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about the breakup?"

"Not really." He says casually. It's like he's unaffected by it, which seems odd to you. You push the thought away, though. "It was a matter of time. We weren't good for each other. I guess I was expecting to do it before she did, though."

You scoff at that. "What, you got a bruised ego now?"

"So what if I do?" Hansol retorts. "Besides, it seems like you're not much better off. Your ex invited you to a wedding–one that isn't with you, by the way."

It's quiet for a second, and then you laugh. It catches Hansol by surprise, but you couldn't help it. It bubbles out of you before you have the chance to stop it.

"Fuck." You manage through your laughter. "What a bunch of losers we are, huh?"

That elicits a laugh from Hansol. "Well, she called me a scumbag, but loser works, too."

"They're interchangeable." You fire back as you look over to him. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry you had a shitty day."

"Yeah." Hansol sighs, meeting your gaze. "You too."

The two of you fell back into your normal routine after that night. A week passed without any conversation, but there was a shift in the air: like you both understood each other a little bit more, now. 

Meanwhile, the RSVP on your table remained. It is gradually approaching the date to send it back, and you aren't yet sure which path to take. The idea of asking Hansol his thoughts left as quickly as it came. You weren't sure if the conversation from last week warranted a pass to ask him for life advice–especially when it was about your ex. 

The rattling of a window pulls you from your thoughts. You glance at the clock on your stove.

6:43 pm.

He was early...eight hours early. Your feet begin to move before you can think twice about it. The window sticks a moment before you get it fully pushed up. You're greeted by Hansol walking down to your window, looking flustered and angry.

"Can I rant?" He asks, a bit winded from making the descent to your apartment. 

You blink a few times. "Sure."

Stepping to the side, Hansol hesitates before climbing into your apartment. As you close the window again, you catch him studying the inside of your home. You're suddenly very aware of the fact that you let a stranger into your living room, and begin to pace back to your kitchen table. Back to the invitation.

"Nice place." He comments. 

"Thanks." You mutter. You like to keep things minimal. The place consists mostly of white decor and furniture, with a few pops of color here and there. Everything is always kept clean, and clutter is always tucked away. 

Hansol clears his throat before collapsing onto your couch. "I'm sorry for just showing up. I don't really have any friends in the area anymore, and I just need to get this out of my system."

"Don't worry about it." You wave him off. "Do you want something to drink?"

He thinks for a moment. "What do you have?"

You pad into your kitchen, then open the rickety door on your fridge. It squeaks slightly as you peek inside. 

"I have sparkling water." You announce. "I also have soju and–"

"I'll take the soju." He quickly cuts in. Then adds, "please."

Grabbing two bottles, you kick the door closed again, then meander back towards him. He happily takes the drink from you as you sit on the opposite side of the couch. You both drink in silence, almost as if the two of you were allowing the space to be made before approaching the topic. When Hansol pulls the bottle away from his lips, you see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

"My ex called me today." He finally says. "Not for any reason. Just to pick an argument."

"Over what, exactly?" You glance at him. He runs a hand through his hair, then takes another drink. 

"I still have some of her shit at my apartment." He explains, meeting your eyes. "I told her last week to come get it. When she ignored my texts about it, I stuffed it all into a garbage bag. I didn't want to look at it anymore, you know?"

You nod to let him know you're listening. He continues.

"Anyways, she finally came over about three hours ago to get it." His gaze shifts down to his lap. "She called me fifteen minutes ago to accuse me of throwing one of her stupid shirts away. Then, she went on a whole tangent about how I never took care of her things and how careless I am. She told me that my carelessness was what drove her away from me, and some other bullshit after that. She barely let me get a word in, and just hung up before I could say anything."

"Jesus." You grumble, taking a sip of your drink. 

"Yeah." Hansol scoffs. 

The silence returns, and this time, you're not sure if you should offer him anything else. He's sunken lower into your couch, like he's trying to be swallowed whole by the cushions. His expression is blank, and you're not entirely sure what to make of it or him right now. You take another swig of your soju, then set your half-empty bottle on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Um, I know we don't really know each other," you lean back, looking over to him. His attention is still on his lap. "But I think it's good you're not in that relationship anymore. Not that it's my place to say, but you shouldn't be with someone who talks to you like that."

Hansol lifts his head towards you, then takes another drink as he holds eye contact. When he pulls the bottle away again, he drags his tongue across his bottom lip. You're not sure you like the way he's looking at you. There’s something behind his eyes that you aren’t quite sure how to read. Shifting slightly, you decide to change the topic. 

"If it's any consolation, things aren't much better for me, either," you laugh bitterly. "I have to RSVP by the end of the week for my ex's wedding."

Hansol laughs. "You're considering going?"

"I don't know." You say softly. Your shift in tone causes his laughter to slow, as he realizes that the thought was actually weighing on you. You groan, then lean back against the cushions. "I just feel like he's expecting me not to be there. He knows that I've been dealt a shitty deck of cards since he left, but my pride wants to prove that things aren't as bad as they really are."

"So, what, you want to go pretend like things are okay?" Hansol questions. 

"Maybe?" You roll your head to look at him. He is already staring at you. "I don't know. I don't care if everyone else knows how bad things are, but I just want him to think they're good. Kind of like rubbing it in his face that I'm fine without him."

Hansol pauses. "You're not?" 

"Obviously not." You roll your eyes. 

Your voice catches slightly, so you will yourself to look up at the ceiling. You were not about to cry in front of a man you hardly knew. It's Hansol's turn to be quiet. The gears in his head were practically audible; you could tell he was trying to think of something to say. You didn't necessarily need advice, but talking about it helps. Even if you're not sharing the full story. 

"Would it help if you had someone go with you?" He finally asks. 

You hadn't thought about that. Even if you did, though, you didn't exactly have friends to ask. There was Jun, your cubicle neighbor. You've gotten coffee with him a few times, but never enough to call him a 'friend'. Aside from that, your best friend, Joshua, recently moved back to the States to be with his family. Between the two of them, you were pretty isolated.

"Maybe." You respond. "But, much like you, I don't really have anyone around here. I don't have anyone I could ask."

He shrugs. "I could go with you, if you want?"

It's your turn to laugh. You sit up, then shift your body so you're facing him. He quickly sits up in response. 

"As far as I know, you could be a serial killer." You quip, grabbing your soju again. 

"Please," Hansol scoffs, but there's hardly any bite to it. Instead, a coy smile is painted across his face. "If I were a serial killer, I would've killed you by now."

"Hm," you hum as the soju trickles down your throat. You swallow, then rest the bottle in your lap. "Not a coaxing type, huh?"

"Nah," he shakes his head. "I think I'd be right to the point about it. I mean, why coax if I'm just gonna kill you anyway?"

The smile that creeps its way onto your face is easy. If you'd known Hansol was this fun, maybe you would've taken the chance to talk to him sooner. Then again, maybe that was just the alcohol talking. You were starting to feel the slight buzz as you took another drink. 

"I mean it, though." He adds. "I know it's, ah, weird to go with someone you just met, but, I dunno, we could play it up, I think."

You press your brows together. "What do you mean?"

Hansol clears his throat, then shifts his body to face yours. "Well, you want to make it seem like you've got your shit together. Right?"

You nod. 

"So, if I go with, we could both clean up real nice," he explains. "I could pretend to be your new boyfriend for the weekend. It gets me away from my ex, and paints a pretty little picture for yours."

The words don't form right away. It wasn't exactly a bad idea, but would it even work? You haven't really been secretive about the fact that you've been a sinking ship for the past couple of years, but you've also never been one to post your relationships online–so it could work in that capacity. 

Would Seungcheol even buy it? 

As if Hansol is reading your thoughts, he leans in slightly. Your knees brush. "You're overthinking it. It'll be foolproof. I'm a great actor, you know?"

"In case you’ve forgotten, we just met." You deadpan. "Plus, don't you think it'll be, like, weird traveling with someone you don't know?"

"Only if you make it weird." He shrugs. "It's obviously your call."

You take a moment to absorb Hansol's appearance. Part of you was really questioning if he truly could clean up well–you'd only ever seen him wearing the same pair of ratted, grey sweatpants and matching hoodie. You were also pretty positive the beanie he tends to wear had never been replaced. Did he own any other clothes? Now that you really thought about it, what did he even do for work? Hobbies? Obviously, he's had at least one relationship before. If you decide to take him up on his offer, you guys would really have to get to know each other.

Because right now, you knew nothing. 

Finally, you ask, "What's your favorite color?"

He falters for a moment. "Why?"

"If you're supposed to be my fake boyfriend, I need to know you." You counter. "I don't know you, Hansol."

"Oh, right." He nods. He tosses the last of his soju back, then sets the bottle down on the table. "Um, well, I like all colors, truthfully. I guess I lean towards red and black the most."

You don't even realize you're making a face until he smiles in amusement. 

"What's wrong with those?" He argues. "What’s yours?"

"Pink." You answer quickly. "I like blue, too. But pink has always been my favorite."

"Pink." He repeats. "I could've guessed that."

"Oh yeah?" You quip. "On what grounds?"

Hansol kicks his legs up, making himself at home on your couch. Without hesitation, he stretches his legs across your lap, as if he'd done it a million times prior to this moment. You should be weirded out, but much to your own surprise, you don't mind it too much. You find yourself warming up to Hansol's easy personality as you finish off your own soju and set the bottle beside his. 

"You're always wearing something..." he trails off, folding his arms across his chest, "...pretty."

"Pretty?" You raise your eyebrows at him. 

His eyes widen momentarily. "No, not like that. I just mean, you're always wearing something so girly."

You hum. "I am a girl, you know."

"I know." He groans. "God, I just mean that your wardrobe is so frilly and bright. Do you even know how surprised I was when I found out you smoked?"

That was an argument you couldn't counter. He wasn't wrong: your wardrobe has always consisted primarily of dresses or skirts. God forbid a girl likes to dress nicely. Even your pajamas, which Hansol often found you in, were 'frilly', as he worded it. You like matching sets and very seldom wear mismatched clothes. Nighttime was no exception to that. Even now, sprawled across your couch, you were donning a tank top and pants set you had gotten from a small boutique a few weeks ago. 

"I'm a woman of many surprises." You wink as you kick your own legs up onto the coffee table. "I got into smoking back in high school. I guess I thought I could try a rebellious phase, but it didn't work. The nicotine addiction ended up staying, though. Seungcheol hated it."

"Seungchoel?" Hansol frowns. "Is that your ex?"

"Yeah." You sigh. "But you'll meet him later. You're not missing out on anything exciting, really."

Hansol perks up at that. "Later?" He asks. "So, we're doing this?"

You stare back at him, silently cursing yourself for the slip of tongue. But really, it couldn't be all that bad. Conversation seems to flow easily with him, and this trip could be a good opportunity to get the closure you fully need. Having company would be nice to handle any fallout that might happen afterward, too. 

What's the worst that could happen?

"What the hell?" You sigh. "Sure. You can be my date to this wedding."

Hansol bites back a smile. "Cool."

You were juggling a handful of groceries when you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket. You curse slightly before dropping everything onto your kitchen table, not even caring that your new bag of apples just fell onto the floor. You push the door shut with your hip, then pull your phone out.

Seungcheol.

He must've gotten the RSVP. Your breath hitches as you hold the device to your ear. "Um, hello?"

"Hey." He exhales, like he wasn't sure if you'd really answer. You couldn't blame him for that, though. You weren't even sure when you last spoke to him. An awkward silence fills the air between the two of you, as you try to debate whether you let him talk himself silly, or if you try to manage a conversation. He beats you to the decision. 

"Uh, Yuna and I got the RSVP!" He exclaims a little too loudly. "A plus one, huh? Is Joshua coming?"

"No, he moved back to California." You answer. "I'm bringing my boyfriend."

There's no response. You smirk in victory as you begin to clean up your groceries and put them away. There's a light tap on your window, where Hansol is waving back at you. You silently wave him in, as Seungcheol draws in a deep breath. 

"You're seeing someone?" He questions. "That's...wow. Nice."

"Yeah, I am." You respond as Hansol walks over to you. He's carrying something under his arm, but you can't tell what it is. It looks like some kind of clothes. He gestures to your phone, and you mouth 'Seungcheol' to him. He chuckles.

"What's his name?" Seungcheol asks. 

You roll your eyes. "It's on the RSVP, Cheol. Hansol. If you don't need anything else, he just got here. I'd like to spend time with him."

"Oh, sure." He almost sounds disappointed, but you don't let yourself dwell on it. "Yeah, uh, we'll see you in a month, then."

"See ya." You hang up before he can try to say anything else, then toss the phone onto your table. 

"No pajamas?" He gestures to you. 

"Hansol, it's only four." You reply. "I just got off work. I see you’re already comfy, though."

He grins at that. "Yeah, I had the day off. I found some old suits, and I didn't know what you were wearing. I figured we needed to match." 

"What do you even do for work?" You question, carrying a handful of bags into your kitchen. Hansol hesitates before grabbing the remaining bags and following behind you.

"I manage a skate shop." He answers. "The one downtown? It's next to that coffee shop that Mrs. Lee owns."

"Oh, I think I know what you're talking about." You nod, picturing it in your head already. The downtown area has always been pretty worn and grungy-looking, but it's also one of the oldest strips in the city. You wouldn't have imagined Hansol owning his own business, but you were pleasantly surprised with that answer. A skate shop suited him, too. 

"What about you?" He asks, setting his bags down on the counter beside him. He begins to unload the groceries as you put them away. You fall into a good rhythm before you look over to him. 

"I don't do anything exciting." You grin. "I'm a secretary for a law firm."

"Gross." Hansol teases. "Have you always wanted to do that?"

You shake your head. "Not necessarily. But it pays well, and I get my weekends off."

He nods as he watches you put the last of the items away. You pat down your dress, then look over to him. He's staring absently, like he isn't sure what to say next. 

"So, uh, your suits?" You remind him. "What do you have?"

"Oh." He looks under his arm, where the clothes were still neatly tucked away. "Right. Yeah, I haven't worn these in forever. I hope they still fit."

"I can alter them if you need." You shrug. "My mom taught me how to sew, you know."

The two of you make your way to the living room again, settling on the same couch you sat in several nights ago. 

"I didn't know that." Hansol comments. "But I guess I could see it. It fits you."

When you were a kid, your mother was a firm believer in teaching you basic life skills. You’d learned everything between cooking, sewing, gardening, baking–whatever she deemed would be necessary to live in case of emergencies. 

"Okay,” Hansol announces as he unfolds and lays out the clothes, “I've got two options. I have this plain black-and-white one, or a tan suit jacket with matching pants. I could wear a white button-up under it?"

You lean in closer, running your hand along the material of each outfit. They both look fine, but you hadn't even taken inventory of your own closet yet to find something to wear. It was almost endearing how eager he was to go on this trip. You push the thought away. As you try to make a decision, you remember a nice cocktail dress you had bought shortly after your breakup with Seungcheol: it fell just above the knees, and was a very nice shade of brown. An elegant color that complemented your skin tone nicely. If you remember correctly, Seungcheol's invite also had a dress code. Earthy tones. 

"Let's go with the tan one." You look up at him to find him watching you intently. You scoot away from him again. "I have a dress that will match."

Hansol clears his throat. "Yeah, cool."

The two of you fall into your usual silence. Hansol glances out the window, where you notice the faintest shimmer of silver dangling from his ear. You gasp, playfully shoving him. 

"An earring?" You ask as he turns to look at you. "I didn't know you had your ears pierced."

"All these months of sitting next to each other, and you're just now noticing?" He smirks. "Yeah, I've had them for a while. Will I need to take them out for the wedding?"

You quickly shake your head. "No, no. They're fine. I was just surprised to see them, I guess."

"I am a man of many surprises." He winks. "What're your plans for the rest of the evening?"

Really, you hadn't thought that far ahead. You figured your usual terrace-time (as Hansol has now dubbed it) would be on the agenda, as it was every night. They were enjoyable now, too. The new conversations are always enjoyable, but now, the company is growing on you, too. It was funny how Hansol already had a slot in your day-to-day life, but somehow managed to fit himself into it even more. Not that you were complaining. You were nowhere near complaining. 

"Not much." You answer. "I mean, probably change and make some dinner. Then, of course, terrace-time."

Hansol laughs. "Uh, how would you feel about skipping terrace-time?"

"What, why?" You frown. 

"I was thinking," he draws in a deep breath, "since we have to play these...roles...what if we just hung out today? Like, a normal hangout. No wallowing on the fire escape and smoking. I'm talking about proper conversation. I can make dinner."

You stare back at him, a little taken aback at the suggestion. If you didn't know any better, that would sound an awful lot like a date. But you knew it wasn't. It was strictly business, of course. It was probably smart, too. You knew the two of you needed to come up with a fake story about how you met and how long you'd been dating... you'd need to flesh out any details now so it didn't bite you in the ass later. 

"Is that too much?"

You blink a few times, realizing you spaced out on him. You quickly shake your head, then push yourself to your feet. 

"No, sorry." You smile at him gently. "I'm just tired. I think that would be a good plan, though. The more we know about each other, the better. Right?"

"Right." He quickly agrees.

You hesitate for a moment when you realize you're still in your work clothes. 

"Um, I'll change, then." You announce awkwardly. "If you want to get the stuff for dinner...?"

Hansol's eyes widen. "Oh, right." He quickly gathers the suits again. You watch as he retreats back out the window and disappears up the fire escape.

By the time the dreaded weekend rolls around, the realization that you’re seeing Seungcheol again settles like an unwelcome guest in the pit of your stomach. You’re sitting on the airplane beside Hansol, who is bobbing his head along to whatever music plays through his headphones. 

The only plus side is that, within the last month, you and Hansol have gotten fairly close. You’ve learned a lot about him, and you guys came up with the perfect cover story for your fake relationship. You’ve both recited it a million times by now: you’d run into each other one day when you were both coming home from work. When you found out you were neighbors, you started spending more time together, and Hansol finally asked you out. 

You were just hoping the story would be enough to get through this weekend. 

As you sink lower into your chair, you feel Hansol tug on the sleeve of your hoodie. You roll your head to look at him, and he takes his headphones off. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

Shrugging, you look back out the window. “I haven’t seen Seungcheol in almost five years. I’m just nervous about what kind of emotions I’ll feel when I see him again. It’s been easy to avoid him since we didn’t live near each other, but now…” You trail off. Below, the sky is clear and blue. 

“You won’t be alone, though.” Hansol nudges you gently. “I’ll be there with you. Besides, we can make fun of how gross the food is and how fancy everything will be compared to our shitholes of apartments.”

You snort at that. “Knowing Seungcheol, the whole place will probably be dripping in his parents’ money.” You sit up to face him again, and his body is already facing yours. 

“God, to have that kind of money.” Hansol clicks his tongue. “You think I’ll ever reach that point selling skateboards?”

“Highly unlikely.” You respond. You don’t remember when the two of you got closer, but you don’t mind. His knee occasionally bumps your leg as you talk. “But it’s okay, because I won’t make that much answering phones, either.”

He laughs, laying his head back against the headrest. “Damn, we won’t have terrace-time this weekend.”

“Hm,” you sigh, “what’re the odds our hotel room has a balcony?”

Hansol crosses his fingers as he turns his attention back to his phone. He doesn’t move away from you, though, as he gently leans against your shoulder with his own. You close your eyes, trying to get comfortable. Having Hansol here may actually be really nice, you think. 

And maybe, hopefully, having him with you means this weekend will be manageable instead of intolerable. 

Good news: the hotel room has a balcony.

Bad news: it only has one bed.

You and Hansol have been standing in the entryway for a few minutes now, unsure of what to say or do. You couldn’t exactly fault Seungcheol for booking it this way, though, because he was under the assumption that you were coming with your boyfriend. You just didn’t account for the fact that hotel rooming would be an issue until now. 

“Okay,” Hansol finally speaks, taking a few steps into the room, “we can be mature about this, right?”

“Right!” You reply, but the way your voice wavers hardly hides the fact that this makes you nervous. Maybe if you just slept really close to the edge of the bed, it wouldn’t be noticeable that your friend was only a few feet away from you.

Hansol tosses his suitcase into the chair in the corner of the room. You watch as he opens up the blinds, then steps onto the balcony. Trailing behind, you set your suitcase on the bed and flop down beside it. 

“Damn, who knew that Hawaii would be so…” Hansol trails off. “Hm. Hot?”

A laugh bubbles out from you as you hear him wander back inside. He flops beside you onto the bed. 

“What were you going to say?” You ask, turning your head to look at him. He shrugs, then brings his hands up behind his head. 

“I was going to say cool, but we’re supposed to hate this trip, right?” He replies. “Or, at least hate the person who booked it and invited you.”

You hum. “I don’t think Hawaii needs to catch our smoke because I’m mad at my ex.”

“True.” Hansol agrees, then shouts, “Sorry, Hawaii!” Out the window. 

You playfully smack his side before sitting up, but Hansol is laughing. When you glance down at him, his laughter slows and something shifts. 

It wasn’t noticeable immediately. It starts with your stomach flipping at the way he is looking up at you. Then, your heart quickens and you can feel your smile falter. It seems like Hansol feels it, too, because you see the corners of his mouth twitch and the tips of his ears turn pink. 

In all the months you’ve known him, you’ve never realized how attractive he is. Sure, you always thought he was decent-looking. But right now, as he stares up at you with his soft eyes and messy, brown hair, it really registers to you that Hansol is beyond cute. Beyond handsome. You’re not sure you have a word to describe it. 

You clear your throat and stand, quickly pushing whatever that feeling is out of the way. It has to just be the change of location, right? Don’t people usually have flings when they go on vacation? You’re nervously tucking your hair behind your ears when you hear him stand from the bed. 

“Um, do we want to shower and go check out the beach?” You ask, not daring yourself to look at him just yet. Your cheeks feel hot, and you’re not even sure why you’re blushing. Nothing happened. He just looked at you, and you feel a bit ridiculous for letting it fluster you so much. “I think I want to freshen up, but then I figure we can explore? There’s supposed to be a bar somewhere in here.”

“Sure.” Hansol says, his voice low. “Uh, you can shower first. I think I need a smoke break after the plane ride.”

God, you’d kill for one, too. But you think you need the distance from Hansol more, as you slide into the bathroom to start the shower. 

Yes, distance will be good. 

You’re finishing off your second margarita as you and Hansol sit in the sand. The waves crash against the shore, bringing a refreshing breeze with it. Beside you, Hansol is pressing the butt of his cigarette to his lips and inhaling slowly. When he pulls it away again, he glances over to you. 

“You know, I think this beats our fire escape by a long shot.” He states. “The air here feels more fresh.” 

You set your empty glass in the sand next to you, then lay back. Your hair fans out behind you. “That’s because the air pollution in Korea is so much worse than here.” You pause. “Plus, we’re on vacation. I think everything feels better on vacation.” 

Hansol sighs, and your usual silence falls between you once again. It’s a clear evening, making the stars totally visible from where you lay. You can make out a few constellations like the big dipper and orion’s belt. As the alcohol settles in your system, you can feel the tequila catching up to you as your head begins to feel light. 

The shower earlier helped, and you think that fleeting moment in the hotel room was just a combination of exhaustion and all the extra time you’ve spent with Hansol. The rest of the night has felt normal, and you were grateful for it. It’s not like you have anything against him, but you’d be lying if you said a portion of you wasn’t nervous to get involved in anything romantic again. 

Assuming that was what Hansol felt too, anyway. 

“Hey,” he says as he stretches out and lays beside you, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but…what happened between you and Seungcheol?” 

You shift slightly. “Oh.”

“Sorry if that’s crossing some kind of boundary.” He quickly adds. “I was just curious. It seems to be weighing on you a lot, so—“

“It’s okay,” You reassure him. “I don’t care that you asked. I just haven’t talked about it in a few years.”

Hansol is quiet, as if to give you the space you need to either share more or stop the conversation all together. You draw in a deep breath. As if the margarita has made a decision for you, you begin to feel the words spill out before you can stop them. 

“Seungcheol and I first met at university.” You explain. “He was going for law, and I was going for business. We shared a few classes, and started going out in our second to last year of our undergrad programs.”

Hansol is quiet, so you keep going. 

“Things were fine for a while,” you continue as you fold your hands across your stomach. “We dated for three years. I guess somewhere along the way he decided that he didn’t love me anymore. He just forgot to tell me that before he started seeing someone else.”

You hear Hansol sit up beside you. You turn your head to find him frowning. 

“He cheated on you?” He asks. 

“More or less,” you shrug. “Anyway, the girl he’s marrying is who he did it with. That’s why this whole invitation has felt like some sick joke.”

Hansol’s jaw tightens, as he looks out at the ocean in front of you both. “What a dick.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” You scoff. “But, yeah. I’m really appreciative that you offered to come with me, though. It’s only been eight hours, but I’m having fun so far.”

When he turns to look at you again, you feel the same shift as you did back in the hotel room. With the tequila in your system, though, the feeling is a lot more intense. His features seem amplified in the moonlight as the breeze sweeps through his brown hair. 

“I’m having fun, too.” He replies as a smile teases at the corners of his lips. “It’s easy to have fun with you. I haven’t had that for a while.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Oh. Well, good. I’m glad. Me neither.” 

Hansol stays like that for a beat before laying down again beside you. You’re suddenly very aware of how close his arm is, and how it brushes against yours when he moves or shifts in the slightest. You don’t move, though, and neither does he. 

Desperate to break the silence this time, your tipsy mind begins to scramble for a topic change or something else to bring up entirely. You try to swallow down your nerves, but it doesn’t do much. 

“Uh, Hansol?” You turn your head to look at him. “Why do you think it took us so long to finally talk to each other?” 

“Hm,” He muses, stretching his arms out before folding them across his chest. It’s his turn to stare up at the stars, and you wonder if he sees the same constellations you had a few minutes ago. “Well, do you want the truth?”

“Depends on what the truth is.” You mumble nervously. 

Then, completely serious, he says, “I was coaxing.”

You blink, not understanding initially. When Hansol turns his head to face you, it’s obvious he’s trying (and failing) to hold in his laughter. That’s when you remember the serial killer joke you’d made to him when you first met. You gasp, and the laugh practically bursts out of him. 

“I knew you’d be the coaxing type!” You exclaim, quickly scrambling to sit up. “You’re too nice to kill right away. You know? I think you’d need to warm up to the idea first before giving yourself enough courage to do it.”

His laughter slows as his smile falters for a moment. “Yeah,” he says, his tone softer than before, “I’d definitely need the courage, first.” 

“Just, do it in my sleep, okay?” You tease as you push yourself to your feet. “If I need to go out, I’d rather not be awake for the whole suffering part.”

Hansol hums. “Noted.”

The morning sun seeps through the curtains in the hotel room, and you’re unbelievably warm. As you shift to push the blankets off of you, you begin to register the fact that half of Hansol’s body is currently draped over you. Your legs are a tangled mess, and he has his arm strewn over your stomach with his head in the crook of your neck. 

It takes all but sixty seconds to fully process its Hansol before your breath catches in your throat. You freeze, unsure if you should move or not. You definitely did not fall asleep this way–in fact, you were so close to falling off the bed when you first got in last night, that you were wondering if it would actually happen. Not this. Not the exact opposite.

When Hansol shifts slightly, you feel your heart drop completely. He lifts his head enough to look down at you. You watch as he goes through the same motions you just had: letting his eyes adjust, realizing where he is, and registering the position he’s waking up in. His eyes widen as he quickly scrambles back. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He says, his voice low and groggy from waking up. “I did not mean to–”

“No, it's fine.” You sit up. “Um, it just surprised me is all, you know?”

Hansol nods, running a hand through his messy hair. The silence is awkward as you both sit across from each other, unsure of what to do next. You dare a quick look at him, as he is distracting himself with his phone. He’s got bags under his eyes, and you wonder how long it has been since he got a full night’s rest like that. You knew for yourself it had been a while. More specifically, since Seungcheol left. 

You didn’t even remember falling asleep last night. The last thing you remembered was laying on the edge of your side of the bed, and laughing at some horrible reality show that Hansol had put on the TV in the room. When you laid down, you were out cold. The craziest part is you slept really well. It was a heavy kind of sleep that made you actually feel well-rested and not just more tired. 

Glancing at the digital clock on your bedside table, you realize just how long you guys had slept. 

11:38 am.

You got into bed around nine o’clock last night, which means you slept for fourteen hours. The thought makes you laugh before you fall against the mattress again. Hansol’s attention shifts towards you as he lowers his phone into his lap. 

“What?” He asks, laughing lightly with you. 

“It’s just been forever since I’ve slept.” You reply, looking up at him. “Did you even see what time it was?”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah, uh, I did.” He says. “We missed breakfast, though.”

“Do you usually eat breakfast?”

He grins at that. “Nope.”

You laugh again as Hansol lays beside you once more. The screen door to the balcony was left open last night, and you can hear the sounds of people talking outside and cars driving past. Something about the laziness and simplicity of the morning makes you feel light–like you were getting everything with Hansol you could’ve had with Seungcheol. 

You’d talked with Seungcheol in the past about moving in together. Sleeping in like this or wasting the day away in bed were the things you used to daydream about with him, but here you were, sharing it with your next door neighbor instead. Truthfully, though, Hansol was now past the point of ‘just your neighbor’. He was more, but the capacity of which wasn’t fully clear to you. If you’d asked the week prior, you’d say platonic in a heartbeat. But now, you weren’t sure. It was muddy. You wondered if Hansol felt the same. 

“You know what I’d love, though?” He blurts.

You look at him, and he’s already staring back at you. “What is that?”

“I’d love some terrace-time.”

After each taking a quick shower, you and Hansol find yourselves comfortable on the loveseat that sits on the balcony. Hansol is leaning back against the wall behind you, while you’re leaning forward, looking at the view of the beach below. Despite the atmosphere being a bit more cozy than the fire escape, you almost miss the rickety stairs and sketchy landing outside of his apartment. 

“What time is Prince Charming’s dinner tonight?” Hansol muses as he finishes off his cigarette. He tosses the butt into the ashtray, then lifts his head to look at you. 

You glance at him over your shoulder. “I think he told guests to be there at five.”

“So, we’ve got some time?” He checks the time on his phone. “They have rental bikes at the beach. I was looking at them last night. How would you feel about a bike ride around the island?”

You smile, pressing your own cigarette into the ashtray. “Is this more coaxing?”

“Oh, well, of course.” Hansol nods. “Gotta get your guard down.”

“I guess a bike ride could be fun,” you hesitate, “but I haven’t rode one in years.”

He laughs, then leans forward with you. His knee bumps yours, and your heart skips a beat. “You gonna crash and burn on me, or do I need to teach you how to ride one all over again?”

This is flirting, right? This has to be flirting. Or maybe you were reading too much into the past twenty four hours. You aren’t even sure anymore. Your thoughts are moving faster than your brain is able to catch up, at this point. Deciding to test the waters, you choose to tease him back. 

“Maybe I’ll need you to teach me.” You say lightly, trying to match his tone. “I think I’ve forgotten all of it.”

Hansol clicks his tongue as a smirk plays on his lips. “Tragic. I guess I’ll have to, then.”

When he leans back again, you feel your face warm. Hansol is flirting. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn your attention back to the beach. 

You find out very quickly that you definitely did forget how to ride a bike, as your foot is planted firmly on the ground beside you. As embarrassing as it is, you’re terrified to push off and the worst part is Hansol can tell. 

Once his helmet is on, he glances back at you, trying to hold back any laughter that might come out. You groan. “Seriously, I don’t even want to hear it.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He replies, his grin becoming more apparent. 

“You were thinking about it.” You pout, sitting down on the seat. “I mean, I’m almost thirty and I can’t ride a bike. That’s a little pathetic.”

“Nah,” Hansol waves you off as he props the stand, then rests his bike on it. He walks over to you, patting the helmet on your head. “We’ve all got our quirks.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, what’s yours, then?”

He thinks for a moment, then says, “I’m allergic to peanuts.”

“That’s not a quirk, that’s just a fact.” You argue. He laughs as he walks behind your bike, then leans forward. 

“If you’re done, I’m ready to get this show on the road.” He announces. “You wanna put your hands on the handlebars?”

“Not really.” You sheepishly admit. You shift in your seat, feeling how close he is as his black t-shirt gently brushes your back. You swallow nervously, feeling grateful he can’t see the blush creeping up onto your face. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He reassures you. “I won’t let go until you’re ready.”

After a few grueling seconds, you lean forward to grab the handles. At the same time, Hansol leans forward, resting his hands on yours. Your heart skyrockets at the touch, and you wonder if you’ll go into cardiac arrest on the spot. The two of you sit like that momentarily, before he clears his throat. 

“Okay,” he says, “when you push off, I want you to pedal. I’ll keep you upright and help you steer, so don’t worry about that.”

“What if I’m already worrying?” You turn to look at him, when you about bump your head into his from how close he was. It clearly catches you both off guard, as Hansol blinks a few times. Then, he manages to give you a smile. 

“Just trust me, okay?” He replies. “I’m not going to let you get hurt.”

The statement feels like it carries more weight to it than just riding a bike. You feel it settle deep inside of you, like it’s trying to make a home in the parts of your heart that still haven’t healed from Seungcheol. All you’re able to muster is a meek nod, as you look ahead at the sidewalk again. 

“Ready?” Hansol asks. 

“Ready.” 

Drawing in a deep breath, you push off and bring your feet to the pedals. The bike wobbles at first, but Hansol keeps it steady like he said he would. You go slow at first, when slowly the motions start to come back to you. 

As you gain a bit more confidence, Hansol says, “the left handle is your break. You want to try stopping?”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, which does nothing to calm the nerves that have been brewing since you got here. You do as he says, though, and slowly press down on the break. The bike comes to a stop, prompting you to sigh in relief. 

“You did it!” He exclaims. You look up at him, unable to contain the smile on your face. He returns it, then sticks his hands into the pockets of his joggers. “Told you I’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh a little breathlessly. “That wasn’t too bad.”

“Want to try it on your own?” He hums. “I’ll stay right by your side for the whole ride.”

This time, it feels easier to believe him. So, you quickly nod, already prepping to push off. 

“Ready when you are.”

You and Hansol sit outside of the restaurant when you arrive as you stall for time before walking in. Just beyond those doors was Seungcheol and the same girl he left you for five years ago. You hadn’t faced either of them since, and you were feeling a bit sick to your stomach. Thankfully, Hansol was in no rush as he stood beside you. 

The two of you cleaned up, and put on some nicer clothes before coming here. Contrary to your initial doubt, Hansol cleans up very well. It was almost weird to not see him in his usual comfy clothes as he wore some nicer jeans and a button-down top. His hair was pushed back slightly, but still had the endearing messier look that you’ve grown fond of. It was true to him, and familiar to you. Kind of like a nice reminder that despite the facade, this is still the same Hansol you’ve sat next to for almost a year and spent all your sleepless nights with. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he leans against the wall behind the two of you. 

“Sick.” You laugh. “I don’t really know what to expect when we go in, you know?”

He hums, then holds his hand out. “Good thing you’re not alone, remember?” He reminds you coyly. “Just think about it this way: the faster we get this over with, the faster we can go back to the hotel for some much needed terrace-time. Maybe another reality show–?”

You make a face at that. “God, no more reality TV. But terrace-time sounds nice.”

Tentatively, you put your hand in his. Hansol smiles down at you before giving it a squeeze, then leading you both into the restaurant. It’s a nicer venue, with dim lights and light jazz music playing. The hostess directs you to the back party room, where the rest of the wedding guests are already mingling and drinking. Hansol pulls you closer to him as the two of you navigate towards an empty table to sit. Your eyes begin to wander, when you find Seungcheol at the front of the room. He’s laughing with Minghao, one of your mutual friends. 

“That’s him,” you lean towards Hansol, tugging on his sleeve. He follows your gaze towards Seungcheol, and his jaw tightens. He mutters something under his breath, but you don’t have time to register it before your ex notices you, and begins walking over. 

Your eyes widen, and Hansol is quick to throw his arm around you, pulling you into his side. Seungcheol offers an awkward smile as he looks between the two of you. He looks the same as he did five years ago, only his age is beginning to show on his face a bit. 

“Hey,” he breathes, “you made it!”

“I did RSVP.” You reply, forcing a smile. “Uh, Cheol, this is my boyfriend, Hansol.”

Seungcheol takes one look at Hansol, and his demeanor changes instantly. He straightens his back a bit, then extends a hand towards him. 

“Hey, man, glad you could make it.” He says evenly. You almost laugh. 

Hansol shakes his hand, and is quick to drop it. “Yeah, congrats.”

“Well, we aren’t married yet.” Seungcheol laughs awkwardly. “But, uh, I’ll take the early congrats. Thanks. So..how long have you two known each other?”

Before you have the chance to reply, Hansol cuts in, “almost a year. We live in the same apartment building.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol’s expression twists as he looks over to you, “is it still that shitty place near downtown?”

“Well, not all of us can live off our parents’ wealth.” Hansol retorts. “Besides, it’s not that terrible. You know, if you’re humble enough to acknowledge that it’s a roof over your head.”

Oh god, you want to hide. You’re not sure what kind of stand-off these two were starting, but you did not want to be in the middle of it. You can feel Hansol’s grip on your shoulder tighten slightly. Seungcheol folds his arms across his chest. 

“You’re right.” He nods curtly. “I should be more mindful of the fact that I’ve grown up a bit more privileged than others. Sorry to offend.”

His tone doesn’t quite match the words he’s saying, and Hansol seems to notice. You don’t want to give either of them the opportunity to keep arguing, so you decide to butt in. 

“I’m sure you have a lot of people to catch up with.” You say with a gentle smile. “You know, people you know better than us? I mean, Hansol and I are here all weekend. We can talk more later.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs, glancing between the two of you again as if to size Hansol up. Then, he returns your smile. “Really, I’m happy you could make it. I’ll just…see you around, then?”

He hesitates before leaving, but once he does, you sink into Hansol’s side and let out a breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding in. Your head rests against his shoulder. Hansol stiffens slightly at the gesture before relaxing. 

“Well,” you announce, “that was fun.”

Hansol laughs, sinking lower into his chair. “He sucks.”

You can’t help but laugh in response as you pull away from him. He looks over to you as the annoyance washes off his face, turning into a lopsided grin instead. 

“I think we need some drinks.” You comment. “I’d definitely like to drink.”

“Awesome.” Hansol quickly nods. “I’m right there with you.”

“Whoooaa,” Hansol steadies you as you both stumble back into the hotel room. 

You’re laughing and everything feels good. Your head has the perfect amount of buzz, and you feel warm and happy and the stress of the weekend is miraculously gone. As you flop onto the bed, you kick your heels off and stretch. 

“They made some good cocktails,” you hum. “Really strong.”

“A little too strong.” Hansol teases as he sits beside you. “You should drink some water.”

“I’m fine.” You slur, rolling your head to the side to look up at him. His focus is on his shoes as he slides them off, but the only place your drunken mind can wander to is how good he looks.

You think about how nice he’s been, and how fun it was riding bikes today, and waking up beside him, and how hot it was when he stood up to Seungcheol. You tug lightly on his sleeve, prompting him to look back at you. 

“What is it?” He asks, leaning back on his hands. “You want me to go grab you some from the front desk? I think they’re selling water bottles. I thought I saw some Gatorade, too–”

“You’re so pretty.” You coo happily, cutting him off from his sentence. “You’re so nice, too. So nice to me.”

His smile falters for a second, like you caught him off guard. He laughs a little breathlessly. “You’re so drunk.” 

“Mmm but I think that when I’m sober, too,” you muse. “I wish we talked sooner.”

“Yeah.” Hansol mumbles. His gaze softens. “At least we are now, right? Better late than never.”

Your eyelids begin to feel heavy as the alcohol threatens to let sleep take you over. Bringing your hands to your eyes, you attempt to rub away the fatigue. It doesn’t work. 

“Can we sleep together again?” You ask as you sit up. 

Hansol blinks. “Like, what, cuddle?” 

You nod as you push yourself to your feet and stumble towards your suitcase for some pajamas. As a yawn slips past your lips, you look back over to him. 

“It was comfy,” you hum. “The only time I've ever slept well was with you.”

Hansol hesitates as he watches you close your bag again. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Yeah. That’s fine.” 

After clumsily changing in the bathroom, you drag yourself into bed, where Hansol already sat, watching the TV. He changed into his familiar sweatpants and hoodie combo that you usually saw him in, and you felt your heart flutter. The longer you were around him, the more he began to feel like home. 

Though, maybe in a way he always had been. 

The headache you wake up with is violent, and out to seek vengeance on you for the amount you drank the night before. The sunlight in the room is too bright, the soft whirring of the AC is too loud, and you want nothing more than to hide and stay in the room. 

Beside you, Hansol’s presence is warm and grounding. He’s still snoring lightly, with his arms lightly wrapped around your waist. Your face is cozy against his chest, and he smells like a linen closet. No overbearing cologne like Seungcheol would always wear, just fresh and clean and comfortable. 

You softly grab ahold of his hoodie, pulling yourself closer to him. If you could live like this for the day, you’ll be content. But then Hansol stirs, and your heart breaks a little that it’s over already. When you don’t lift your head immediately, you feel Hansol’s grip tighten just the slightest. 

“How hungover are you?” He mumbles, his voice low and gravelly from waking up. 

“Too much.” You groan. “I hope I didn’t do or say anything stupid yesterday.” 

Hansol is quiet. Then, “You don’t remember anything?” 

“I remember leaving the restaurant.” You yawn, accompanied with a shrug. “I don’t really remember coming back here, though. It’s a bit fuzzy.”

“Oh.” Hansol says. 

You frown, then finally lift your head to look at him. “Why did something happen? Did I say something horribly embarrassing?”

The corners of his mouth twitch before he finally smiles. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes, though. But you figure it’s probably because he’s still waking up. “Nah,” he reassures you. “Nothing too crazy.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s pulling away and it almost hurts when he does. Hansol rolls onto his back, then reaches for his phone on his bedside table. You sigh, then follow suit, grabbing your phone from under your pillow. It’s already almost ten, and the wedding starts in three hours. 

“I’ve been sleeping so well since we got here.” You announce, glancing over to Hansol. He’s scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 

“Yeah, uh,” he looks at you briefly before his attention flicks back to his phone, “me too.”

You discard your phone again, then roll on your side to face him. “What do you think our sleeping habits will be like when we get home?” You ask. “I’m holding out hope they’re going to get better.”

“I don’t think they will,” he admits with a laugh. “Besides, what’ll we do with terrace-time if our sleep schedules get fixed?”

“Damn,” you click your tongue. “Can’t give that up. It’s too precious to me.”

You’re staring at him, hoping for something–anything. A reaction, an agreement…you begin to wonder if maybe the vacation was just getting to you both. You’ve heard countless times of friends falling into weird situationships when they’re away from home, so maybe you’ve clung onto Hansol since he’s here with you and it’s easy. Except, the amount of times you try to tell yourself that, it doesn’t fully feel true. 

“I think I’ll shower and start to get ready.” He states, setting his phone down again. “Unless you want to go first?”

You shake your head, rolling onto your back. “No, you can go. I think I need a little bit longer to wake up.”

He says something else to you, but you don’t register it. Instead, you absentmindedly watch as he gathers his suit, then disappears into the bathroom. Once the water turns on, you bury your face in your hands. 

Maybe you just need to get over it. It’d be embarrassing if you tried to push the matter further only to find out Hansol never reciprocated those feelings. Besides, now that you knew each other beyond terrace-time, you didn’t want to lose him completely over some silly feelings from the adrenaline of vacation. He’s a good person, and good people have been hard for you to come across lately. That’s something you didn’t want to take for granted.

Poking your head around the corner, you see Hansol smoking on the balcony. His suit jacket is draped over his shoulder, as he stares out at the beach below. You can’t get your dress zipped and you feel a little embarrassed by it, but you also can’t exactly show up with your bare back on display and the risk of the dress falling off. 

“Uh, hey Hansol?” You meekly call out. He glances over his shoulder towards you. “I, uh, need help with my dress.”

He tosses the remainder of his cigarette into the ashtray, then meanders over to you. After draping his suit jacket onto the bed, you push the door open slightly. You’re holding the front of your dress up with one hand, giving a lopsided smile. 

“I can’t get it zipped.” You laugh nervously. 

Hansol doesn’t say anything at first. But his eyes drag over your body before meeting your gaze, and you feel your face flush. He swallows. 

“Yeah, okay.” He nods. “Um, you need to turn around, though, so I can zip it.”

“Oh!” You chirp. “Right. Sorry.” 

You spin to face the mirror across from you in the bathroom. Hansol hesitates before grabbing your waist with one hand, and the zipper in the other. His knuckles are cold as they gently brush against your spine while he zips. You hold your breath when he’s done, and neither of you move for what feels like several minutes. His hand is still at your waist, and you wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is beating.

“Hansol–” You stop, not really sure what you were going to even say. He lifts his head, meeting your gaze in the mirror. 

“Yeah?” He whispers, his breath hot behind your ear. 

“I, uh,” you shake your head, like that’ll snap you out of it. You settle on giving him a smile. “Thanks.”

He returns your smile. “All I did was zip your dress.”

“No, I mean,” you turn to face him, “thanks for coming with me. This definitely wouldn’t have been as fun without you.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Yeah, for sure. It’s been great. It’s nice having a new friend gained from all of this, you know?”

Friend. “Yeah.” You agree. “Although, I do miss our own spaces. I think terrace-time at the beach feels a little too luxurious for me, you know?”

“Definitely.” He gives your waist a quick squeeze, before dropping his hand at his side. “What do you think, should we get this wedding over with?”

“Please.” You groan, following him out of the bathroom. “Do not let me drink as much tonight, okay? Unless something horribly awful and dramatic happens, then I’ll probably want to forget it.”

“Heard.” He nods, slipping on his suit jacket. “Only getting plastered in case of an emergency: you got it.”

The venue is about as lavish as you were expecting it to be. There’s a gorgeous, floral archway at the end of the aisle, and elegant green, beige, and white decorations everywhere. The second that Seungcheol is in Hansol’s sight, he grabs your hand and tugs you closer to him. 

You take your seats towards the back, and settle as the last of the crowd trickles in. Despite being out of his line of sight, Hansol keeps your hand in his as he traces lazy circles on the back of yours with his thumb. His hand is larger than yours, but seems to mold perfectly against it. 

“What kind of food do you think will be at the reception?” Hansol asks, leaning close to you. 

You snicker, turning to look at him. “Probably something fancy that I’ve never heard of.” You whisper back. He’s close and your heart is beating at a million times per second, you’re pretty sure. You wonder if he can tell. 

“I just hope it’s something edible.” He grins, his voice low. “I’m a picky eater. What if there’s peanuts?” 

“If there’s peanuts, then I guess I’m killing you first.” You comment. “I’d have the high ground.” 

Hansol’s eyes widen. “I thought I was the one doing the killing here?” 

Instead of saying anything, you give him a wink and face forward again as you hear music begin to fill the venue. Hansol squeezes your hand gently, but doesn’t bother letting go. Not yet, anyway. But you’re really hoping he doesn’t. You like the way it feels in yours—warm and grounding. 

The two of you watch the families shuffle into place along with any remaining guests who have yet to sit. A few minutes pass before the ceremony begins, and everyone stands. The wedding party seems to take their sweet time walking down the aisle, couple by couple, until finally Yuna begins to walk with her father.

She looks beautiful. Even prettier in person, and seeing her eyes light up when she sees Seungcheol makes you feel…at peace, almost. You let your gaze follow hers to where Cheol is standing, with tears threatening the corners of his eyes. They look so happy. And a sudden feeling washes over you that since meeting Hansol, you haven’t spent your nights thinking about Seungcheol anymore. You realize that seeing them commit to each other like this was the exact closure you needed. 

But you also realize that you’re pretty sure you have feelings for Hansol. 

You forget his hand is in yours until he lets go and begins to lightly rub the small of your back. For a moment, you wonder if he thinks you’re hurt by the scene playing out before you. But when you glance back at him, whatever expression you’re wearing seems to clear it up for him. He smiles as everyone sits again, then shifts his arm so it’s wrapped around your shoulders. 

You like Hansol. 

Whatever the officiant is saying quickly becomes background noise, as your mind begins to spiral. This whole time you’ve been trying to write it off by the amount of time you’ve spent together, but you’re truly not sure if that’s the case anymore. He’s kind, and funny, and seems to know how to cheer you up despite you not ever verbally telling him. You glance over to him, but his attention is on the ceremony. As if he can feel your gaze on him, he looks over briefly, then smiles. 

‘What?’ he mouths. 

You grin, shaking your head. ‘Nothing’ you mouth back. 

After some obligatory introductions to some of Seungcheol’s family and friends, you and Hansol wander outside of the venue for a smoke. The butterflies in your stomach have not left since your realization during the ceremony, and part of you really wants to ask Hansol his thoughts about…well, everything. Getting closer to each other, this trip, and every interaction in between–you know in your heart that there had to have been something simmering this whole time. 

“I’m almost sad to go home tomorrow.” Hansol suddenly says as he leans against the wall beside you. “This trip has been a lot of fun. Quick, but fun.”

You hum, flicking some of the ash off your cigarette. “It’s been…” you trail off, not really sure where you were going with your sentence. Finally, you say, “Hansol, are things going to go back to normal when we get home?”

“What do you mean?” He asks, pushing himself off the wall to stand in front of you. “Define ‘normal’.”

You shrug. “Like, not seeing each other or hanging out everyday. Terrace-time being quiet…” you clarify. “I just–I guess I don’t really want to leave here and lose all of that when we get home.”

Hansol studies you for a minute, and you feel your cheeks warm. He presses the butt of the cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly, before pulling it away again. When he exhales, he offers you a gentle smile. 

“To be quite frank, I don’t think I can even try to force myself to go back to that.” He admits. “Uh, but I would like to ask you something. I just need to know if it’s true or not.”

“Anything.” You reply quickly, suddenly growing nervous. 

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, clearly nervous as well. “When you were drunk last night, you told me you thought I was pretty.”

“Oh my god–”

“Hey, I’m not done,” he laughs, tossing his cigarette into the ashtray beside the two of you. “You said you would say it sober, too. When you said you didn’t remember anything from last night, I kinda wondered if it was true or not.”

At this point, your face is probably bright red. Hansol seems to notice as he bites back a smile, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. 

“Jesus,” you laugh nervously, turning your head down towards your heels. “Uh, that’s really embarrassing on my part but…yeah. I do.”

When he doesn’t reply right away, you’re scared he’s going to reject you or tell you he thinks of you only as a friend. You force yourself to look up at him when a few moments pass, and his smile is gone, replaced by a much softer expression. 

“Good.” He finally says, taking a step closer to you. “Because I think the same thing about you.”

“Wait, really?” You straighten your posture, putting the rest of your own cigarette out in the ashtray. “Oh my God, I thought I was imagining things.”

Hansol presses his brows together. “You knew?”

“No!” You quickly say. “Not really. I mean, I thought you might’ve been flirting with me this whole time, but I was kind of worried it was just because of the fact we were on vacation and had spent a lot of time together. I didn’t think you really–”

You barely have time to register the fact that his lips are on yours before he’s cupping your face, and backing you into the wall. Your eyes flutter closed as you melt into his touch almost immediately. His lips are soft as they move against yours, slowly and carefully like he’s savoring every moment of it–like he’ll never get the opportunity again. 

But, really, you’d like to do this every second of every day with him now that you know what kissing him feels like. 

Hansol pulls away momentarily, prompting you to open your eyes. His chest is quickly rising and falling from the adrenaline of suddenly kissing you. His own cheeks are flushed, but the way he’s looking at you makes you weak in the knees. It’s in a way that not even Seungcheol has looked at you: with so much adoration. 

“So,” he sighs, his breath fanning against your face, “do you want to be my real girlfriend or whatever?”

You shrug lazily, trying to be nonchalant with him. But your giddy grin gives you away when you say, “I mean, I guess I will. Or whatever.”

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“Earth to Soonyoung?”

Soonyoung blinks a few times, unaware that he has zoned out. He glances over to you, then offers an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry.” He says. “What did you say?”

“I asked what you wanted to do for your birthday.” You reply, stretching your arms above your head. 

The two of you are sprawled out on the small sofa in Soonyoung’s apartment. It was a hot summer day, and the windows were cracked to allow some type of airflow. His AC had gone out a few days prior, and maintenance hasn’t been able to swing by to fix it yet. Truthfully speaking, cold air is what he wants for his birthday. Beyond that, he isn’t particularly fond of the day itself. Birthdays are overrated to him. Why celebrate being one year closer to death? Soonyoung enjoys being alive. Getting older meant that time was passing. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that, yet. 

“Ah,” he sighs, settling deeper into the cushions. “Do we have to do anything?”

You laugh, lifting your head slightly to look at him. “We can do whatever you want. Even if that’s rotting like we are now–but I will not let you wallow for the nth year in a row, Tiger.”

He tries to shift to look at you, but you are both a tangled mess of limbs at the moment. He gives up and lets his head hit the armrest again. Rotting the day away with you did sound nice, but anything with you is nice. The two of you have been inseparable since you were kids, and you are pretty much the only person Soonyoung never gets sick of. But maybe that’s because he is also hopelessly in love with you - though that’s besides the point.

“What if I want to wallow?” He fires back. “It’s my birthday.”

“God, you’re so depressing.” You mutter, but there is no real bite to it. There never is. Soonyoung smiles up at the ceiling.

“I’m just messing with you.” He replies. “If we have to do something, I guess I’m content with anything that involves you. Just…nothing theatrical, yeah? I want something lowkey.”

You wiggle so that you’re sitting up this time. Soonyoung lifts his head to find you grinning back at him. 

“Really?” You beam. “You’ll actually let me plan something this year?”

Soonyoung should be concerned about whatever you have up your sleeve, but if it means you’ll smile like this again, he quickly decides he doesn’t care. Biting the inside of his cheek, he draws in a deep breath. 

“Yeah, bunny.” He manages, forcing a smile back at you. “Go ahead and plan something.”

Seokmin is laughing at him as they wait in line. Soonyoung folds his arms across his chest, immediately regretting saying anything to him. Monday coffee runs were a routine for them. They carpool on the way to work, anyway, so starting the week with something good only made sense. This morning, Soonyoung had mentioned briefly that he was letting you plan something for his birthday, and Seokmin found it amusing. He had every right to, though. Given the fact that Soonyoung never does anything for his birthday and that he’s been harboring feelings for you for a good five years, anybody would find the scenario amusing. 

“God, you’re so whipped.” His friend remarks, playfully patting him on the back. “When are you just going to muster the courage to tell her? It’s been long enough.”

Soonyoung quickly shakes his head as the line moves forward. “I can’t do that. What if she doesn’t feel the same? I’m not risking a friendship of twenty-five years over a crush that will likely pass.”

“Likely pass.” Seokmin repeats with an eye roll. “Five years of pining, hyung. I don’t think it’ll pass. We’re far beyond the point of it ‘passing’.”

The line inches forward again. Soonyoung sighs, then glances over to him. “I’m content with her friendship for now. I think when the time is right, I’ll say something.”

“When is the time ever right?” His friend counters. “Look, I just hate to see you put yourself through this. Even if you do say something and she doesn’t feel the same, I don’t think she is the type of person to throw away your friendship because of it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Soonyoung replies flatly. 

His eyes scan the menu ahead, but there’s really no point. He gets the same iced Americano every time they come here. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and quickly pulls it out. Your name flashes across the screen, with a quick series of texts sent to him. 

Bunny 🐰: what size are you again?

Bunny 🐰: jk your mom told me

Bunny 🐰: wait, actually, i do need to know if you prefer chocolate or vanilla. i feel like it changes every week

Bunny 🐰: jk i’m getting marble cake. deal with it. 

The corners of his mouth twitch as he quickly types a response:

Tiger 🐯: you’re too much.

Bunny 🐰: you love me 🙂

Soonyoung blinks a few times. God, if only you knew. He hesitates as he types out his last reply:

Tiger 🐯: i do.

He quickly puts his phone in his pocket, unsure of whether he wants to see what you have to say next or not. It’s not like it’s some grand confession, anyway. You always say ‘I love you’ to each other. Part of him hopes that you notice the slight shift in his text, but then he realizes how ridiculous that sounds. 

“Fuck.” He mutters aloud. Seokmin glances over to him. 

“You good?” He asks. 

Soonyoung nods, then cards a hand through his hair. “I’m fine, I just…I think you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” Seokmin says confidently. “So, how do you want to tell her?”

He takes a moment to think, trying to rack his mind over something that would stand out to you. He hums for a moment as they approach the counter to order. Off to the side, there’s a small menu with seasonal drinks on it. As Seokmin rattles off their usuals, Soonyoung quickly chimes in. 

“Can I also get a small s’mores frappe?” He asks. “Extra chocolate, if possible. And whipped cream.”

The barista types in their orders as Soonyoung pays. Seokmin gives them his name, before they meander to a small table in the corner. 

“Coffee?” Seokmin frowns. His tone is slightly disappointed. “That’s how you’re going to tell her?”

“No.” Soonyoung quickly says. “I’m going to surprise her at work. I’ll, I don’t know, ask her to dinner tonight. Or something.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Smooth.”

“What do you suggest I do?” Soonyoung folds his arms across his chest. 

“I don’t know,” Seokmin admits. “Just, anything other than that. I mean, she does so much for everyone else. Don’t you think a bigger gesture is deserved?”

“It’s more than deserved,” Soonyoung argues. “But how are you supposed to outdo the doer?”

Seokmin is quiet for a moment as he thinks. When the order is called from the counter, Soonyoung wanders back to pick it up. He sits again and passes his friend the drink. Seokmin takes it when a coy grin teases his lips. 

“I think I have an idea.”

The next few weeks pass, and the time that Soonyoung usually spends with you is now taken up with Seokmin. To be frank, Soonyoung has nothing against Seokmin. But at the end of the day, Seokmin isn’t you, and Seokmin is annoying. They’ve spent the last several days putting things together for this grand confession (which Seokmin claims is ‘foolproof’ and that it’s going to ‘definitely work’), and he quickly found out that his friend sings about everything. Between going through old boxes, photos, and past birthday gifts, the man found any excuse to sing a little song. It was beginning to drive Soonyoung a little crazy.

As he’s taping a picture to some scrapbook paper, Soonyoung notices his phone light up beside him. He glances down, reading a message from you:

Bunny 🐰: you’ve been so busy lately. are you replacing me with seokmin? :( 

He laughs to himself as he types back:

Tiger 🐯: i could never. he’s so annoying. he’s not as nice to look at, either.

Bunny 🐰: i know, i am kind of a catch. but lets see each other soon? i mean, preferably before your birthday, but i’ll take what i can get.

Tiger 🐯: i’ll see what i can do. been working on a project, but i’ll make the time for you.

When he sets his phone back down, Seokmin is singing again. Soonyoung closes his eyes, as if not seeing him will make him stop (news flash: it doesn’t). He watches as his friend reaches for the tape and presses another photo to the page.

“You know,” Seokmin says, “I never knew how sentimental you were. Do you keep everything that she gives you?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “For the most part. I don’t think there’s anything I’ve thrown away. At least, anything that involves her.”

Seokmin looks over to him and proudly presents the page he had been working on. Soonyoung grimaces a bit, but his page doesn’t look any better. He has never been a crafty person, and neither has Seokmin. He keeps insisting, though, that a handmade gift will win her over. Soonyoung isn’t sure how confident he is in that theory. Sure, you’ll like it, but he thinks there could be a better way to tell you how he feels. Something that means something to you. 

“At this rate, the scrapbook will be done before your birthday on Friday,” Seokmin announces. “I finished the page with all the old concert tickets already. I still can’t believe you guys saw Astro.”

“Yeah.” Soonyoung pauses. Then he adds, “Do we really think this is the way to do it?”

Seokmin shrugs. “She’s a pretty sentimental person, too, right? I think she’ll love this.”

“I guess so,” Soonyoung mutters. 

“You think she’s going to make you make a wish again this year?” Seokmin laughs. “She did that last year, remember?”

Of course he remembers. It was so embarrassing, but the last thing he would ever do is tell you no. Last year, you insisted on dragging him out to a bar with the whole friend group. The bar offered complimentary cake for your birthday, and when they brought out a small slice with a single candle, you begged him to make a wish. You’d gone on a whole tangent about all the superstitions you believed in, and told him that wishes were your favorite. Whether it's on a candle, a dandelion, or a wishbone, you loved the idea of making a wish and hoping it would eventually come true. That had been plenty of convincing for him to do it. He just suffered the embarrassing blows to his ego from his friends afterward. It didn’t matter, though, because you were smiling so big, he was sure your cheeks probably hurt. 

“She’ll probably do it again.” Soonyoung finally responds. “She loves that kind of thing, you know?”

“Yeah, she does.” Seokmin sighs happily. “Well, I think this is a good stopping point for the night, yeah?”

Soonyoung hums in agreement. He tries to remind himself that the scrapbook is the perfect way to tell you he loves you, but the idea still doesn’t feel complete. He pushes the thought away for now, certain that he’ll think of something else in time. 

The day his birthday rolls around, Soonyoung is a nervous wreck. You’d been distant all day, but he knew it had to be because of the party…right? No, of course it was. He had to stop convincing himself otherwise, because that would make his big confession tonight so much worse. He probably wouldn’t be able to do it if he continues to get himself worked up, but the second you walk into his apartment to set things up, he knows he’s screwed. 

You’re juggling two arms full of groceries, as well as balloons in one hand and his present in the other. Soonyoung doesn’t waste a beat, hurrying over to help you set things down. It’s only after he turns to face you again that he sees what you’re wearing. He blinks a few times.

“Is that the same dress you wore when I graduated?” He asks. 

You look down as if you've forgotten what you're wearing. You grin and meet his gaze again. “Yes! It still fits! Isn’t that crazy?”

For a moment, he forgets entirely how to speak. You haven’t worn this dress since his graduation, which also happens to be the same day he realized he loved you. So, naturally, that dress has been ingrained in his memory since then. It’s not even anything fancy–it's a shorter black dress that flares out at the skirt. There are no flashy sequins or designs. But because you were the one wearing it, it became the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen in his life. 

“Yeah.” He replies. He realizes how hoarse his voice sounds and quickly clears his throat. “Uh, crazy.”

You begin passing him things to set off to the side, insisting that you’ll be setting everything up. He just has to “sit and look pretty”. He isn’t sure how to take that statement. But he obliges anyway, watching you maneuver through his apartment as if you belonged there. In his mind, you do. You always have. He just hopes tonight goes well so you can officially belong here with him–at least in the way he wants you to. 

“Everybody should be here in the next hour or so.” You announce, glancing over to him. “I kept it to just our friends. Lowkey, just like you asked.”

Soonyoung swallows. “Cool.”

“Are you okay?” You frown, walking over to him. “You’ve been weird since I got here.”

“I’m cool!” He replies a little too loudly. “I’m great. I just–” he pauses “--am really hungry, I think.”

You laugh, taking the balloons from him. When your fingers brush his for a moment, he swears the breath is knocked out of his lungs instantly. “Good thing we’re eating soon.” You hum. “Do you want to change?”

Soonyoung looks down and realizes he never changed out of his ratty pajama pants from last night. His face burns red in embarrassment. You must notice, because you quickly begin to ramble, “You totally don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s your birthday. I just thought that maybe you’d–”

“I’d love to change.” Soonyoung quickly stands. “I have something I need to take care of, anyway.”

You make a face. “Ew.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, Bunny, not like that. Jesus, I just meant–”

“I’m kidding.” You giggle. “Go change, Tiger. I’m here.”

Once everybody arrives, Soonyoung seems to relax a bit more. The playlist you made for tonight is perfect, and he’s reminded during every song how much you understand him and his picky music taste. After a couple of hours, Seokmin manages to find him and pulls him aside. 

“Did you wrap it?” He asks quietly. “When are you going to give it to her?”

Soonyoung glances over to you to make sure you can’t hear the conversation. Thankfully, you’re happily distracted by whatever antics Chan has up his sleeve right now. He looks back at Seokmin. 

“Probably when everyone leaves?” He suggests. “I want it to be just us. I don’t think doing it in front of everybody is the way to go.”

His friend quickly nods in agreement. Soonyoung can tell he’s tipsy. “Good thinking. Nice. Okay, well, let me know if you need anything?”

Soonyoung just nods and watches Seokmin stumble a bit before running into Seungcheol. As Soonyoung begins to make his way over to you, he sees Joshua coming out of his kitchen, balancing the cake in his hands. You gasp excitedly, and dim the lights. Next thing he knows, Soonyoung is being ushered over to the table where he’s greeted by a tiger-face-shaped cake with the words:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SOONYOUNG!

When he looks up, his eyes find yours immediately. He barely notices his friends sticking the ‘30’ candle on top of the cake. A few of his friends made a joke that the bakery probably thought the cake was for a kid, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when he knew what it meant to the two of you. He swears for a minute he sees your ears turn red, but then the candles are lit, and everyone is singing to him. After an excruciatingly off-tune birthday song, Soonyoung hesitates. He offers you a small smile.

“Should I make a wish?”

There’s a brief second where you falter, clearly not expecting him to ask that. When everyone looks at you, that’s when Soonyoung’s suspicion is confirmed: you’re blushing like crazy. 

“Do you want to?” You ask in response. 

A bit of Soonyoung’s confidence is regained, knowing he got you this flustered. Maybe, he thought with the smallest ounce of hope, tonight would go exactly like he was hoping it would. He draws in a dramatic, deep breath and closes his eyes. He doesn’t even care that his friends are laughing right now as he uses every ounce of his mind to make a wish for you–as he wishes for you. Once a couple of theatrical seconds pass, Soonyoung blows out the candle and opens his eyes again. Everyone is clapping and digging into the cake, but the two of you are staring at each other, unmoving. It’s not until Seokmin ceremoniously shakes Soonyoung that he’s pulled out of his thoughts, and moves to get some cake for himself. 

After the last few guests make their way out, it’s finally just you and Soonyoung left in his apartment. He was beginning to think it would never happen, given how long everybody was staying. The music still plays softly through your small Bluetooth speaker as the two of you walk around, picking up dishes and cups from around his living room. When Soonyoung picks up his fifth glass, he pauses. 

“Thank you.” He says, looking over to you. You glance up from where you’re at in the kitchen, and grin. 

“Always.” You respond. Your attention shifts back to the dishes. 

Soonyoung makes sure you’re distracted enough before he slips away to his bedroom and retrieves the scrapbook. When he returns, you’re humming along to the music. He watches for a second as you sway your hips and allow yourself to get lost with whatever song is playing. He takes a deep breath, then walks over to you. 

“I have something for you.” He announces quietly. You glance over at him and frown when you see the present in his hands. 

“Soonyoung, what is this?” You question. He reaches over, turning off the running water. Here goes nothing. 

“Uh,” he clears his throat, “you know how I’ve been spending a lot more time with Seokmin, lately?”

You nod.

“Well, it was because he was helping me make this.” He continues, “Um, do you want to sit and open it?”

You hesitate, so Soonyoung gently grabs your hand and leads you out to his couch. Once you both sit, he passes the present to you. You haven’t taken your eyes off of him, yet. Finally, you force out a nervous laugh. 

“What’re you doing?” You say softly. “I mean, first the wish and now…” You look down at the gift in your lap. 

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything. He just watches as your fingers delicately trace over the wrapping paper before you begin to peel it off slowly–like you were scared to see what was inside. Once the paper is fully discarded, you’re completely silent. Soonyoung forgets how awful most of the pages in there look and quickly shifts closer to you as they come into view again. 

“Um, so I’m not crafty by any means.” He says, and it’s his turn to laugh nervously. “So don’t judge it too hard, okay?”

You don’t look at him. Instead, you’re captivated by the book in front of you. When you open to the first page, Soonyoung sees the realization wash over your face. That’s what prompts you to look at him. 

“You kept all of this?” Your tone is filled with nothing but disbelief and admiration. He thinks for a second that he hears your voice shake slightly. “But, why?”

“Bunny, I–” he stops. Then, “you mean a lot to me.”

“You mean a lot to me, too–”

“No, I mean,” he sighs before grabbing your hands, “you mean a lot to me. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but…I don’t know. I guess I was too nervous. I didn’t want to jeopardize the relationship we already have. But I also know I didn’t want to sit and wait any longer than I already had. You do so much for me, and I wanted to show you just how much I care. How much I’ve always cared. I love you.”

When you don’t reply right away, Soonyoung swallows nervously. Then, finally, you smile. 

“You haven’t opened my present yet.” You say. 

Soonyoung blinks. “What?”

Without explaining, you gently set the scrapbook onto his coffee table. You disappear around the corner for a second, then return with a small box in your hands. Soonyoung had completely forgotten that you arrived with it. When you sit again, you pass it over to him. He takes it as you watch him expectantly. He begins to unwrap it, but he swears his hands are shaking while he does so. When he takes the lid off the box, his heart stumbles to a stop. Inside was a small silver bracelet with a bunny charm. Soonyoung looks up at you, finding you holding out your wrist. You’re wearing a matching one with a tiger on it instead. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice it all night.” You comment. “I guess we both had the same idea. Because Soonyoung, I love you, too.”

He doesn’t know what to say at first. So instead, his brain auto-pilots, “holy fuck.”

“Soonyoung!” You shove him playfully, but he catches your arm as you do so. Your expression falters for a second at his reaction. His heart is back to beating as rapidly as it was all night.

“You love me.” He repeats. Saying it feels so real to him. Then, he grins. “You love me.”

“I think we’ve established that, Tiger.” You mutter, but the blush has crept back up to your cheeks. Soonyoung pulls you closer. 

“Can I please kiss you?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

Soonyoung presses his lips to yours as if his life depended on it, though maybe it did. The second they meet, he melts completely into your touch. He could taste the cherry lip gloss that you wore every day, and that he had imagined the taste of thousands of different times. He wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer to him. Your hands find their way to his shoulders. When you pull away to take a breath, Soonyoung hardly lets you stay apart for long before chasing after you again. The second kiss is slower, more exploratory. He feels your body relax against him, and he swears it’s what heaven feels like–or at least something close to it. 

“Soonyoung,” you whisper into his mouth, “as much as I’d love to continue this, I really want to look at that scrapbook.”

He pulls away and takes a mental picture of your swollen lips and flushed face–you look divine. Then it registers to him what you said, and he frowns. 

“It looks like shit.” He says. “Please keep kissing me instead, I’d really rather not be here while you look at it.”

You just laugh and gently push him away. He watches as you take a second to fix your dress and stand. As you grab the scrapbook, you look back at him mischievously. 

“Please?” You coo, waving it at him. “I really want to see what my boyfriend made for me.”

That causes Soonyoung to short-circuit, but he’s quick to come back to his senses as he jumps to his feet. He hurries after you, but you cut into the kitchen, and he practically runs into the wall.

“Boyfriend?” He huffs, but an amused expression tugs at his lips. “You can’t just say that and run away.”

“Isn’t that what you are, now?” You tease. “Or should we have a formal proposition for the title?”

Soonyoung cringes at that. “God, no. I’m definitely your boyfriend. If that’s what you say I am, then that’s what I am.”

You smile as you set the scrapbook down on the kitchen counter. “I won’t open it right now, but I’m definitely looking at it when I go home later.”

Soonyoung hums. “As long as I’m not there to witness my shit storm of a scrapbook, I’m fine with that.”

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, and Soonyoung doesn’t think he could get happier than this. After a few seconds pass, you take a step towards him. 

“Soonyoung, what did you wish for?” You ask. 

For a second, he considers telling you. But knowing how superstitious you are, he opts for pulling you back into him instead.

“Don’t you know I can’t say?” He smirks. “That means the wish won’t come true.”

divider by @uzmacchiato !! go check out their stuff, it's so cute xx

thanks again for reading! xx

The first time Soonyoung sees your bakery, it’s during his morning jog. In all the years he’s lived in Seoul, he swears he would’ve noticed it before. The front of the building has a small outdoor seating area with awnings that extend to provide shade for the tables. Pots of different kinds of flowers are scattered on the patio, bringing a pop of life to the strip. In big letters, the sign reads: 

Cookies for the Seoul

Soonyoung slows to a stop as a small figure in the tinted window clicks on the ‘OPEN’ sign, then disappears again. Maybe he would’ve considered going inside if he wasn’t actively working out, but alas, here he was. He’d left his house without his wallet, too, so it was even more reason for him to come back another time. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he snaps a quick picture so he doesn’t forget the name of the shop. 

“Good morning!” 

The sudden sound of your voice causes him to jump, dropping his phone in the process. You gasp, hurrying over to him. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, picking up his phone for him. As you quickly pass it to him, Soonyoung looks down at you. 

Your hair is curled and pinned back out of your face. In the morning sun, he can barely make out a few freckles under your foundation. You’re wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, but your apron is what catches his eye—it’s red and white gingham, with the words ‘KISS ME, I’M THE CHEF’ across your chest. The corners of his mouth twitch as he takes his phone back from you. His eyes snap up to meet yours again. 

“It’s okay,” he insists. “Just scared me, is all.” He does a quick once-over to make sure his phone is ok. “It looks like it’s still intact. No scratches or anything.”

You exhale as your shoulders visibly drop in response to the statement, relaxing. “I’d feel so bad if I were the reason your phone broke.”

“Nah,” he waves you off, “if anything, it would’ve given me an excuse to get a new one. This thing is shot, anyway.”

“Oh, well, in that case, should we try again?” You quip in response. Soonyoung laughs, and you smooth out your apron as a smile plays on your lips. “I see you every morning when you go for a run. Usually I’m still baking, but I was ahead on things today.”

Soonyoung nods, immediately feeling guilty that he’s never seen the shop before. Because apparently, you’ve seen him every day. As he sticks his phone back in the pocket of his joggers, he clears his throat. 

“How long have you been open?” He asks, gesturing to the building behind you. 

“A few months, now.” You answer happily. “This shop is my pride and joy. My best friend and I opened it together. Are you in need of a cookie for the road?”

Soonyoung shakes his head. “No, that’s ok. I forgot my wallet and I—“

“On the house!” You quickly chirp. “It’s the least I can do for almost breaking your phone.”

He toys with the idea for a moment. Soonyoung wasn’t one to pass up free food, necessarily, but a cookie before breakfast seems pretty taboo. He supposed, however, that he didn’t have to eat it now. 

“What the hell,” He shrugs. “Why not?”

You grin as he trails behind you. The second he steps into the shop, he’s greeted with the smell of shortbread. There’s the slightest hint of something fruity in the air, mixing with freshly brewed coffee. He stops by the counter as you wander back to the kitchen, which is in full view from the lobby. 

The first thing Soonyoung notices is the decor. Most of the building is wearing red and white, with some gingham here and there to match the apron you wore. There were a few pops of green from the additional plants you had stocked away in some of the corners. The second thing he notices is the pictures on your wall. Some are generic cookie pictures, probably from a free domain if he had to guess. But the rest of them were of you—more than likely friends and family in each photograph, but the gesture was endearing. It made the shop feel like a friend's house rather than an operating business. 

“Are you allergic to anything?” You call from where you stand. “Do you want some coffee for the road?” 

“No allergies.” Soonyoung answers, peeling his eyes away from his surroundings. When he looks at you again, you’re actively pulling the pot of coffee out. “Coffee would be nice, thank you.”

You hum. “I just pulled a fresh batch of raspberry shortbread from the oven, so perfect for breakfast.”

“Cookies for breakfast?” Soonyoung remarks. “I think I’d just eat it later. I haven’t even had, like, eggs yet or anything.”

When you walk back out to the lobby, you have a small paper bag in one hand and a disposable coffee cup in the other. You hold them out to him expectantly, grinning as you stare back at him. 

“Nonsense.” You reply. “Cookies are good for the soul.”

You watch as he disappears back down the road and practically collapse against the counter. The breath that leaves you is a bit dramatic, but definitely called for–because what do you mean he finally stopped by?

You thought, when you first opened, that he was never going to be anything other than one of those crushes you get in public and never act on. Like the cute guy from the subway station last week, or the one you saw at the convenience store the other day while you were buying an embarrassing amount of kimchi. But, no. Instead, he not only stopped, but he talked to you. He came inside your store, and took cookies and coffee and looked so good while he did. 

You don’t even hear when Jeonghan walks in, or even when he calls your name from the back. It’s not until he’s physically standing in front of you that you blink and snap out of your daze. Jeonghan, however, looks amused. 

“What’s your deal this morning?” He asks playfully. “Long night?”

“Unbelievable morning.” You correct. “You know the jogger that runs by every day?”

“Oh, Romeo.” Jeonghan nods, like he’s already sick of hearing about him again. He’d never admit that to you aloud, though, because that’s what good friends do. “What about him?”

“He talked to me.” You stand up straighter. “And he got cookies.”

Jeonghan gasps dramatically. “How can you go on?”

“I know!” You whine. “He’s even prettier up close, Hannie. I feel like I died and went to heaven.”

“Does that mean we can close today?”

You shoot him a look, but he just laughs. He walks past you to the kitchen and begins digging out the cookies to put in the display case for the day. As you trail behind him, your mind is already wandering back to ‘Romeo’, as Jeonghan calls him. 

What’s his real name? What does he do for work? You can’t stop thinking about him now that his face and voice have been etched into your memory. It feels rather silly, but at this point, you don’t even care. You’re just counting down the hours to tomorrow morning when you can see him again. You wonder what his blonde hair looks like under the snapback he wears every morning, or if he–

“Helloooo?” Jeonghan waves his hand in front of your face. “Are you done?”

Swatting his hand out of the way, you grab the next tray of cookies from him. “I’m done.”

“You know, I’ve seen you crush pretty hard before, but,” Jeonghan laughs, “this is kind of ridiculous. I mean, you don’t even know his name. Or anything about him.”

“Well, it’s not like anything will happen, anyway,” you shrug. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”

Jeonghan nods slowly. “Sure, sure. What’re you going to do if he stops again tomorrow?” 

Well, that you hadn’t thought of. And now that he mentioned it, you were immediately stressing out. How you managed to keep your cool this morning, you weren’t sure. But one thing you do know is that you definitely would not be able to do it again tomorrow. Any cool you had left has been thrown out the window. You’ll never see it again, which means you’re going to ruin all your chances of getting Romeo to fall in love with you. You’re going to die alone, and Jeonghan is going to have to give a half-assed eulogy for the three people who would attend the funeral. 

“Okay, so, nothing?” Jeonghan says once you’ve gone nonverbal again. 

“Probably.” You admit pathetically. You begin arranging the cookies on the display tray and sigh. “He’s run past every day for the past three months, Hannie. The probability of him stopping again is little to none.”

Jeonghan clicks his tongue. “A girl can dream.”

Soonyoung is almost late to work, but he somehow miraculously makes it just in time. He has the paper bag with the cookies in it tucked under his arm as he sits at his desk. Beside him, Jihoon looks over. 

“Lost track of time?”

Soonyoung laughs, tossing the bag off to the side. “Something like that. Got some free cookies out of it, though. Want one?”

“At eight in the morning?” Jihoon frowns, glancing at the clock. “What happened to the protein diet we were sticking to?”

“These were free.” Soonyoung shrugs. “Cheat day?”

That gets Jihoon to laugh. “Free? From where?”

“Um, that cookie place downtown.” Soonyoung grabs his phone to reference the picture he took earlier. “Cookies for the Seoul.”

Jihoon’s demeanor instantly changes. He’s on his feet, crossing to Soonyoung’s desk without another question. “Oh my god, they have the best stuff.”

“What?” Soonyoung asks, but passes the bag to him nonetheless. “When did you try them?”

His coworker is already shoving a cookie into his mouth. “When they first opened three months ago. Seungcheol dragged me down there for his cheat day.”

To say that Soonyoung is surprised is an understatement. Jihoon, the gym cult leader, was currently shoving a raspberry shortbread cookie into his mouth–the same person who swears by their strict diets and intensive routines. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Soonyoung reaches out and grabs a cookie for himself. When he takes the first bite, it finally makes sense to him. 

Now, Soonyoung has always been someone who appreciates food. Especially dessert when he gets the chance to treat himself. But this…this was something else entirely. It’s still warm and soft from when you made them this morning, and the raspberry jam seems to just melt in his mouth. 

“Oh, my god.” Soonyoung moans, leaning back in his chair. “This is so good.”

“Right?” Jihoon sits on the edge of Soonyoung’s desk. “The girl who owns the place used to compete in different baking shows over in the States, I guess. I think she runs the shop with her boyfriend or something–he’s pretty good, too. I think he used to be the head chef at that really nice restaurant in Gangnam.”

Well, no wonder it’s so good, he thought. Part of him is considering getting more cookies on his way home, but he figures that he shouldn’t get too crazy with his cheat day. He did decide, though, that if he could eat anything for the rest of his life, it would be this shortbread. He’s almost sad when it’s gone. 

“How’d you even manage to get them for free?”

Soonyoung looks over to Jihoon. “Oh, the owner just offered. It’s kind of a whole thing. She almost broke my phone and felt bad, so…I guess her way of making it up to me was through free cookies?”

Jihoon hums. “I’ve never actually spoken to her. I only talked to the guy she runs it with. Jeonghan? He seems nice enough. He’s a bit reserved, though.”

“Yeah, well,” Soonyoung laughs, “not his counterpart. She was pretty extroverted.”

Without realizing it, he’s reaching for another cookie. 

“I did like the atmosphere inside, though.” Soonyoung continues, to no one in particular. “It was very…homey.”

Jihoon laughs as he stands again. “Yeah, it’s cozy. Maybe on our next cheat day, we can swing by with Seungcheol?”

Soonyoung hums in agreement as his coworker wanders back to his own desk. As he boots up his computer, his head falls back against the headrest of his chair. His fingers tap against the surface of his desk while he waits, but he doesn’t mind waiting too much. He isn’t particularly excited to be working right now, but he never is. He wishes he had something fun like a cookie shop instead of a boring office job, but, much to his dismay, he is not a good cook. 

Once he’s logged onto his computer, he lets his curiosity get the best of him and types Cookies for the Seoul into his search engine. The first article to pop up catches his eye:

GLOBALLY RENOWNED BAKER OPENS COOKIE SHOP IN SEOUL

Soonyoung clicks on it, and a picture of your face flashes across his screen. You’re wearing a yellow dress in the photo, standing happily in front of the same building he was in this morning. He laughs at how ridiculously large your grin is—but despite its comical size, it’s cute. He scrolls some more, quickly scanning through the article. 

Seoul’s very own celebrity baker returns home from a long stint of travel and competitions to settle and retire from global success. As our reporters sat down with her, they found that her heart had always been set on returning home. 

‘I realized while I was traveling that I was losing my love for a career and hobby that used to bring me so much joy. I guess in my time away, I found that no amount of money in the world could bring me the same bit of happiness that baking does.’

When asked about what made her choose a cookie shop, she smiled. 

‘Growing up, my halmeoni always told me that cookies were good for our souls. It was the first thing I learned how to bake. I figured if I was returning to my roots, I’d go back to the dessert that started it all.’

Soonyoung clicks out of the article, pressing a tongue to the inside of his cheek. He didn’t realize exactly how big a deal you are. He thought it was kind of cool, though, how you got to see the world and experience so many cool things. At the same time, what had Soonyoung even done for his life? He certainly didn’t want to be a financial advisor for the rest of his life, but he was also thirty. He figures there isn’t much left for him out there in terms of options. 

Aside from work and the gym, Soonyoung didn’t do much. He used to be a lot more active in the community–whether it was attending dance masterclasses, going to trivia night at the bar, or singing karaoke, he was typically occupied during his evenings. Nowadays, he just...slept. And worked out. And then worked. And then repeated. He doesn’t even remember when his life got so boring, but he wishes it hadn’t. He misses going out and meeting people. He misses having fun.

Soonyoung bites into the second cookie and sighs. He glances down at it in his hand, where he notices the small heart in the center of the shortbread. Cookies are good for the soul. He laughs to himself, remembering your (apparent) favorite catchphrase. 

Maybe, he thinks, his fun can start with food. Then, maybe, he can branch out and get involved in more things he enjoys again. But for now, cookies would have to do. 

And he definitely wants more cookies. 

When the last of the evening rush leaves, Jeonghan slumps into one of the chairs in the lobby. You’re putting a new roll of change into the drawer as he yawns. 

“We should go out this weekend.” He announces. “I’m thinking the club we used to go to in college would be fun. Or there’s a new one that opened up, too.”

You shut the cash drawer and look at him. “Jeonghan, I don’t know if I should. You know I don’t handle liquor very well.”

“Still?” Jeonghan’s mouth quirks up. “Damn, I was hoping you would’ve gotten over that while you were gone.”

Before you can reply, the door rings open. When you go to greet the customer, you feel your whole body freeze. In front of you, with your own two eyes, you see Romeo himself sauntering inside. His hair is about as pretty as you imagined in your head: a light blonde mullet that frames his features perfectly. He’s wearing a light blue button-down shirt that’s tucked into some black slacks, and you swear your heart stops beating from the sight alone. 

Jeonghan, completely oblivious to your awe-struck nature, stands. “Hey, welcome in. What can we get for you?”

Romeo hasn’t noticed you yet as he faces Jeonghan. “Uh, I don’t know. I got some free cookies this morning, and I wanted to see what else was available. They were, like, the best cookies I’ve ever eaten.”

He likes your cookies. You could faint right here, right now. Actually, scratch that, you could die right now and die the happiest person alive. Jeonghan’s eyes widen as a smirk paints itself across his face. 

“Oh, did you?” He hums. “Free cookies are a bargain. You must’ve left a lasting impression on my friend, here?”

When they both look over to you, you’re positive you look ridiculous. You were actively ogling at Romeo, so you’re quick to snap yourself into customer service mode. Still, that doesn’t quite prevent the blush from fanning across your cheeks. 

“Um, no.” You laugh nervously. “I almost broke his phone. I felt bad, so I thought cookies would remedy it.”

Romeo smirks (yes, SMIRKS) and you’re sure you stop breathing in that moment. “There wasn’t really anything to remedy, but the gesture was appreciated. I’ve been on a diet, so I haven’t had sweets in a while. I think I want to fix that, though. With how much I enjoyed the ones from this morning, I figured this would be the place to come back to.”

“Oh wow!” You grin, hardly able to contain your excitement. “That’s so nice, thank you. Do you have any other favorite kinds of cookies?”

When he starts to walk over to the counter, part of your first instinct is to take a step away. Being that close to someone as pretty as him two times in one day felt overwhelming. But, being the brave soldier that you are, you stood your ground. He sets his keys on the counter, glancing at the display case off to your left. 

“Truthfully, I’m not sure I’ve tried enough in my life to decide on a favorite.” He answers. “What’s your favorite?”

“Mine?” 

He looks at you again and laughs. “Yeah, you’re the cookie expert. What do you recommend?”

“Oh.” You raise your eyebrows, then walk to stand behind the case. “Well, we change what we sell every day. I think from what’s left for today, if you liked the shortbread, you’d enjoy the Danish butter cookies on the bottom row or the amaretto cookie right beside them.”

Romeo squats to look at the sweets, and your gaze instantly looks for Jeonghan’s. He’s actively holding back a laugh as you mouth to him, ‘fuck off’. Romeo rises to stand again, and you quickly plaster your customer-service smile back on. 

“I’ll get what you have left of both.” He replies.

Jeonghan hums in response, then strides over to start packaging them up for him. You notice Romeo’s gaze flicker briefly to Jeonghan, then back to you. 

“You know, I didn’t know this morning I was talking to a celebrity.” He says, his tone is light. Is he…teasing you? “My coworker had to be the one to tell me.”

“I wasn’t aware that was information I should spew out when I meet people for the first time.” You tease in response. Jeonghan glances at you briefly as if to tell you he’s impressed that you’re staying composed. Really, though, you are, too. “But, yes. I competed and judged on a few cooking shows for Food Network.”

“What’s your favorite place you’ve been?” He asks as he pulls out his card. You type in his total, thinking for a moment. 

“I really enjoyed Manhattan,” you reply. “As far as the rest of the world…probably Italy.”

He passes you his card. You swipe it, then give it back. His fingers brush against yours for a breath, and your heart lurches over itself. You have to blink a few times to ground yourself back in reality as you rip his receipt off the printer. 

“Italy would be cool.” He says, stuffing his wallet and his hands in his pockets. “I’ve never even left Seoul.”

“I haven’t, either.” Jeonghan finally chimes in as he places the box of cookies in front of Romeo. “She’s definitely the lucky one. A lot of people were sure glad she came back home, though.” He glances at the computer quickly, then flicks his attention to Romeo again. “You want to sign up for the loyalty program?”

Loyalty program? You didn’t have one. Frowning, you look towards your friend as an easy smile sits on his lips. He was up to something, you just weren’t sure what it was yet.

“Oh.” Romeo blinks. “Um, sure. What’s it for?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Just a typical loyalty program. If you buy ten cookies, you get one free on your next visit. So, with what you got today, you’ll have another free cookie waiting for you when you come by again.”

“Cool,” Romeo nods. “Sure, I’ll sign up.”

Jeonghan reaches across you, grabbing a pen and paper. “Our system is down right now, so I’ll just need a name and phone number to enter you in when it’s working again.”

“Soonyoung.” He answers. “Kwon Soonyoung.”

As he’s rattling off his phone number, you’re repeating his name to yourself so you remember it. Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung–god, even his name was beautiful. It felt like a song. When Jeonghan passes you the paper, you stare at his information as if it would disappear the second you peel your eyes away from it. 

“Thanks for the business,” Jeonghan says. “We’ll see you soon?”

“For sure.” Soonyoung grins. “Thanks again. Have a good night.”

The two of you sit in silence as he leaves. Once the door swings shut behind him, you groan. Your face is buried in your hands as you sink to the floor. 

“Oh my god,” is all you’re able to say. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god–”

“There’s his name and number,” Jeonghan states proudly as he sits beside you. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You almost say thank you, but then you realize: what if he tells everyone he knows about the loyalty program? The nonexistent loyalty program? You lift your head from your hands to punch Jeonghan’s arm. He winces in pain. 

“We have to get a loyalty program now, dumbass!” You exclaim. “Why would I thank you for that?”

Jeonghan throws his hands up in defense. “Is that really a horrible thing, though? Won’t it help business?”

Your head falls back, hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud. Sure, it was good for business, but setting it up would be tedious. Knowing Jeonghan, you would probably be the one left to do it, too. As much as you adore your best friend, he wasn’t one to work too terribly hard unless it was an emergency.

“Besides,” he continues, “I got you his name and number.”

You glare at him. “For a nonexistent loyalty program, Hannie. I can’t just randomly text him.”

“True,” he shrugs, “but at least you know his name, now. We don’t have to refer to him as Romeo anymore.”

The paper is limp in your hands. You figure you can’t be too mad at him. You never can, though. As frustrating as Jeonghan can be, you know he means well–especially when it comes to you. So, you give him a smile. 

“Soonyoung.” You coo. “So pretty.”

The rest of the week rolls by boringly, but Soonyoung has been savoring every last bite of his cookies. He’s trying to make them last as long as he can. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Jihoon that he’s been breaking the diet plan every day, but what his friend doesn’t know won’t kill him. Besides, both cookies were so good. He’s been eating one for dessert after his usual dinner of chicken and rice every night. It’s become routine: he cooks, he eats, and once he’s done with the dishes, he grabs a cookie and hops on his computer with Seungcheol. But tonight, Seungcheol has different plans. 

“We should check out that new bar in Yongsan.” 

Soonyoung swallows the last of his amaretto cookie. “I wasn’t really planning on going anywhere, though.”

“It’s almost the weekend!” Seungcheol argues. “Besides, when was the last time we went out? I’ve been dying for a drink.”

“It’s Thursday, Seungcheol. Besides, Jihoon–”

“Dude, I have not been following his diet plan.” His friend suddenly admits. “And I know you’re not, too. Neither of us has that much discipline.”

Soonyoung laughs. “I guess I can’t argue with that. I got some cookies from that new place downtown and have been making them last all week.”

“Did Jihoon tell you we tried them a few months ago?” Seungcheol asks. “I go in there at least once a week, now. My favorite cookie is the classic sugar. Can’t go wrong with simplicity, right?”

Soonyoung hums in agreement. “I got a few shortbread ones for free. Then I went back and got the Danish butter cookies and the amaretto cookies.”

He hears Seungcheol’s game controller in the background as he swears under his breath. He sighs. Soonyoung hears him shuffle a bit when Seungcheol says, “Are we going to go out or what? Shua just messaged me saying that the bar is already pretty crowded. He’s waiting for some guy he met online, I guess.”

Soonyoung hasn’t known Joshua as long as Seungcheol has, but the guy seems nice enough. He moved to Seoul from Los Angeles a few years ago for an internship at a fashion magazine, then ended up getting hired. Relatively quiet, but so was he. Soonyoung never opens up until he knows someone well enough to feel comfortable doing so. 

Going out tonight means he needs to shower and make himself presentable. He figures Seungcheol will overdo it, trying to snag a one-night stand or impress people he has no place impressing. It’s not that Soonyoung dislikes clubs, but he prefers going when there’s something to do instead of just standing around awkwardly and listening to the shitty EDM they play over the speakers: like a karaoke bar, or an arcade bar–anything other than what Seungcheol has in mind for tonight. 

Then again, he was wanting to start having fun again. Make a life for himself or whatever. As he drags a hand down his face, he finds his next words spilling out before he can stop himself, “Fine. Give me an hour to get ready.”

“Sweet!” Seungcheol exclaims. “I’ll be by to pick you up soon."

You’re already drunk, and you haven’t even been here for a full hour. As you clumsily chase your straw, Jeonghan is guiding you to sit down. The dress you are wearing has a little bit of alcohol spilled on it from the prior beverage you had. As you sit on the barstool, your friend practically collapses beside you. 

“Jesus,” he exhales, “you really weren’t kidding. You still can’t hold your alcohol.”

You grin, then take another sip of whatever fruity cocktail you had ordered. When you swallow, you set the glass on the counter. “Mmm but this is fun. I’m enjoying this bar.”

“That’s good, at least one of us is,” Jeonghan mutters. 

Looking around, you quickly notice how fast this place has gotten busy. It seems as though the crowd piled in here shortly after you two arrived, and you wonder how anybody is even able to move on the dance floor right now. As your gaze drifts over everyone, it promptly stops on a familiar face. 

“Hannie!” You gasp, tugging on his arm. “Soonyoung is here.”

“Who?” Jeonghan frowns as he tries to follow where you’re looking. When he finally notices, he laughs. “Oh. Romeo.”

“I thought the whole point of getting his name was so we didn’t have to call him that anymore?” You pout, leaning against him for support. 

“He hasn’t been by, and I forgot about him already.” Jeonghan shrugs. He sits up a bit straighter as he notices something else. “His friend is cute, though.”

It’s hard to tell which one he’s referring to, seeing as Soonyoung came with two other people. One of them is completely jacked, and you’re almost certain his bicep is bigger than your head. The other one, however, seems to be more Jeonghan’s type: he’s very handsome, with sharp features and silver earrings that dangle from his ears. When he smiles, you hear Jeonghan’s breath hitch.

“Should we go over there?” You ask, pulling your head up to look at your friend. His cheeks turn pink as he faces you.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, “nah. I don’t have enough liquid courage in me, yet.”

You slide him the rest of your drink. “You don’t have any at all. Take the rest of mine.”

He doesn’t waste a second, bringing the glass to his lips and tossing what was left to the back of his throat. When he swallows, you turn in your stool to look at Soonyoung again. Being drunk amplifies him so much. As if he couldn’t get any more attractive to you, the warm feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach is convincing you that no one will ever be as attractive to you again now that you know him. 

Soonyoung shifts slightly, now facing you. When he laughs at something the muscley friend says, his gaze flickers for a second, catching yours. Your eyes widen at the same time as his. Then, he smiles. He waves. You die (or something that feels close to it). Jeonghan has to lift your arm for you to wave back, and now you really want to die. You quickly turn your back to him, laying your head on the counter. 

“Why would you do that?” You groan against the sticky mahogany surface. 

“You'd better sober up, because he’s walking over.” Jeonghan nudges your side. 

Walking over? Why? Was his one visit to your shop enough to warrant him approaching you in public like this? Not that you were complaining, of course, but your drunken mind can’t seem to process the thought fully. When Soonyoung calls your name, you sit up a little too quickly. You sway a bit, feeling a hand grab your shoulder to steady you. You’re preparing to thank Jeonghan, but when you look over your shoulder, it’s not your friend who is touching you. 

“Whoa, someone’s having fun.” Soonyoung laughs as he slides into the seat on the other side of you. 

You swallow. “Hah! Yeah. Um, yeah. Something like that.” You wipe your palms on the skirt of your dress, hoping to relieve some of the sweat that has started to accumulate. 

Soonyoung’s friends begin to follow suit, and you notice Jeonghan stiffen beside you. Before you can turn and say something to him, Soonyoung clears his throat. 

“I hope you don’t mind me coming over.” He quickly says. “I know it was probably weird, now that I think about it. I just–this isn’t really my kind of scene. I needed to get off the dance floor.”

That makes more sense. Of course it would, because someone you’ve met once wouldn’t just walk over to you like this. You smile, reaching for your drink, when you remember you gave the rest of it to Jeonghan. You frown. 

“Oh, it's okay.” You finally say, looking back at him. “I’m so sorry, I’m pretty drunk right now. I am a little embarrassed–”

“Don’t be.” Soonyoung shrugs. “I mean, that is what people come here to do. My friends are already tipsy, too, so I’m used to it right now.”

As if on cue, the muscley friend claps a hand against Soonyoung’s back. With him being up close, you quickly recognize him. 

“Oh, Seungcheol!” You exclaim. He’s become a regular at the shop. He’s a chatterbox when he comes in, but you don’t mind. He’s always very polite, and conversations with him are easy. “Good to see you.”

Soonyoung looks between the two of you. “He comes to get cookies that much? I didn’t realize you guys were on a first-name basis.”

“He’s our favorite regular.” Jeonghan chimes in. His voice is softer than normal, and you figure it’s because of Soonyoung’s other friend (who happens to be standing in front of Jeonghan right now).

Soonyoung scoffs, then takes a drink of whatever is in his glass. It’s something dark in color–probably whiskey, if you had to guess. Of course he would drink whiskey. In your mind, whiskey was the sexiest alcoholic beverage out there. You know, if drinks could be sexy, anyway.

“Well, you know, that could be changed.” You hum. “You could come by and take his spot.”

Jeonghan laughs in disbelief. You swear for a second the tips of Soonyoung’s ears turn pink, but it’s too dark in here to be able to tell. He sets his drink down, then looks back at you. 

“As the favorite?” He asks with a light smile. “What do you base rankings on?”

You shrug, leaning against the counter in front of you. “Well, having a good personality is a must. Also, you have to be funny. And you have to come by more than once a week, because Seungcheol is already there every week. But if we’re going by looks alone, you’d already have the top spot.” 

“Ouch.” Seungcheol frowns, sitting beside Soonyoung.

When it processes what you just said, your expression drops. “Oh, my god. I’m sorry, that wasn’t–”

“No, no,” Soonyoung waves you off. “I’ll take the compliment. Glad to know you think I’m more attractive than Seungcheol. I’ve been dying to know if the cookie shop owner thought I was cute.”

Jeonghan coughs next to you to hide his laughter, and it takes every ounce of you not to elbow him. You draw in a nervous breath, then force a drunken, crooked smile. 

“Don’t let it get to your head.” You reply. “And definitely don’t think about it too much, because I’m drunk, so it doesn’t mean anything.”

Soonyoung smirks. “Right, of course.”

You clap your hands together, desperate to turn the conversation in any other direction. When you catch Soonyoung’s other friend in the corner of your eye, you decide it’s Jeonghan’s turn to suffer a little bit. 

“I don’t believe I got your name?” You grin, extending your hand out to him. When you give him your name, he returns your smile and shakes your hand. 

“I’m Joshua, but Seungcheol just calls me Shua.” He responds. He glances over to Jeonghan, who’s nervously sitting beside you. “What was your name?”

“Oh.” Jeonghan offers his hand. “I’m Jeonghan. Sorry.”

Joshua laughs. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I guess…um…”

“Jeonghan and I don’t meet new people like this too often.” You cut in. “I mean, we see a lot of people at the shop every day, but it’s been years since either of us has gone out like this. Aside from each other, we don’t have many friends in Seoul anymore.”

Soonyoung takes another drink, then swirls it in his glass before setting it down again. “Was that hard being away from each other for all that time?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “I mean, Jeonghan and I both stayed pretty occupied. Between filming and traveling, I barely had time to think. Jeonghan was running his own restaurant, so that left zero free time for him as well.”

“Huh.” Soonyoung nods, clearly confused by something. But then he says, “I guess when you’re dating someone for a while, you don’t need to talk every day anymore.”

You and Jeonghan go completely quiet before breaking out in gut-aching laughter. Soonyoung and his friends seem surprised by the reaction, so when your laughter slows, you face him. 

“Jeonghan is gay.” You clarify. “I am so painfully single. I have never once been with Jeonghan, nor would I ever want to.”

“What about you?” Joshua gestures to Jeonghan. “Are you single?”

Before your friend can make a fool out of himself (much like yourself), you interject, “He is even more painfully single than I am. I at least got some while I was gone.”

You hear Soonyoung cough beside you, choking on the bit of whiskey he had just drank. He pushes the glass away from himself, then cards a hand through his already tousled hair. Even with a flushed face from the alcohol and his messy hair, he looks divine. He turns back to you, and the corners of his mouth twitch. 

“I’m so happy I’m learning so much about your dating life.” He remarks sarcastically, but there isn’t any edge to his tone. If anything, you can tell he’s hiding back a smile. “I’m not sure when we crossed the threshold of cookie talk to sex talk, but I’m not complaining.”

You can’t tell if he’s flirting or not. It's dangerous territory for you to be in while you’re drunk, because you seem to overexaggerate conversations as you process them while you’re in this state. Still, your cheeks warm, and you quickly bring your hands up to your face as if that was going to hide the blush in any capacity. 

“God, I need to shut up.” You finally say with a nervous laugh. “It’s very hard for me to stop talking when I’m like this.”

Soonyoung shrugs. “So don’t stop.”

You are quick to shake your head and stand, but stumble slightly as you do so. Soonyoung reaches out to steady you, and you push him away. 

“No, that–that would be very bad.” You draw in a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’ll say, and there’s a lot on my mind right now. Like how loud it is, and you being here, and also Jeonghan freaking out over–”

“Ok!” Jeonghan stands with you. “Yeah, that’s enough.” He ushers the bartender over and orders water for you. “We should probably head out once you finish that. Just drink it slowly, or you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

“Ah, you’re gonna head out?” Joshua asks. “Can I get your number before you go, at least?”

Jeonghan looks back at him. “Mine?”

Joshua laughs. “Yeah, yours.”

The two of them start to awkwardly flirt and exchange their phones while you slump against the bartop again. Soonyoung bumps your shoulder with his. 

“This was fun.” He comments. “You think you’ll remember this tomorrow?”

“I hope not.” You whine, but part of you hopes you do–at least the good parts. Like the fact that Soonyoung approached you first, or the fact that he’s been teasing you and smiling at you, or even how delicious he looks right now. You want those to stick with you forever. The rest of it, though, can leave. Those are going to be the moments that you’re going to think about when you can’t sleep at night. 

But Soonyoung…you definitely want to remember him. 

When you trudge into the bakery the next morning, the headache that you woke up with only amplifies. Thankfully for you, Jeonghan was already here getting a head start on baking. He looks up from the mixer and laughs when he sees you.

“Good morning, sunshine.” He coos. 

“Don’t even start.” You mutter, tossing your things into the small office at the back of the kitchen. “I told you we shouldn’t have gone out.”

“Well, I’m fine.” Jeonghan corrects. “But I’ll note it for next time so we can take it a bit easier. Maybe bingo at the retirement center is more your speed?”

You don’t even have it in you to argue, really. So you settle on glaring at him while you lazily tie your apron on. After a half-assed attempt at tying your hair back, you wash your hands and begin working on the next batch of cookies for the day. 

Today's menu includes some of your personal favorites, but you always save them for the weekend. It’s your own way of making it up to yourself for being open seven days a week with no staff other than Jeonghan and you. While Jeonghan works on the classic sugar cookie, you begin on your grandma’s recipe for chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate chip is the easiest to bake, and so is the classic sugar cookie. But something about your grandma’s recipes just made them so much better. Maybe it was just nostalgia, but either way, it’s your homage to her–your way of continuing her legacy.

“I’ve already finished on the yakgwa,” Jeonghan says with a yawn. “I think all that’s left are the mochi cookies and the macarons. The no-bakes are in the fridge right now for when the breakfast rush comes through. I did the peanut butter protein ones for today.”

“Did you start on the coffee?” You ask as you break an egg into your mixer. 

“Yeah, right before you got here.” Jeonghan hesitates, as if he wants to say something else. Instead, he opts to start on the next batch of cookies. You watch as he moves through the kitchen a little quicker than normal, bumping into some things as he does so. 

You drop your hands by your sides. “Okay, what is it?”

“Huh?” Jeonghan whips his head around. 

“You’re not telling me something.”

“No–”

“Jeonghan,” you sigh, “please just tell me.”

He sets his supplies down on the table across from you. His Adam’s apple bobs as he nervously swallows, then draws in a deep breath. 

“Dongseok is back in Seoul.”

Well, that’s a name you’d forgotten about. You managed to forget it pretty well, too, all things considered. Whatever you were expecting Jeonghan to say wasn’t that, though. The last you heard about Dongseok, he had moved to London for his own cooking endeavors. The three of you went through culinary school together until…

“How did you find that out?” You ask, forcing yourself out of your own thoughts. 

“He texted me this morning,” Jeonghan admits. “Wants to come by and see you. I told him I didn’t think that would be a good idea.”

Actually, it’s the worst idea ever known to mankind. You promised yourself if you ever saw him again, you’d take it upon yourself to personally castrate him–and you weren’t one to break a promise. It had been so long since you heard from that lowlife that you didn’t even consider he’d hear about the cookie shop or even come back home. Part of you was holding out hope that he’d get hit by a double-decker bus in London, but clearly the universe didn’t see your wishes out on that one. 

“Yeah.” You finally manage. “If he ever comes here, Jeonghan–”

“I know.” He quickly cuts in. “That’s why I told him no. I just thought you should know he’s back. It’s going to be a bit harder to avoid him, now.”

All you can do is hum in response as you drop your gaze to your ingredients again. You continue working on the cookies, but part of you feels even more sour now than when you came in this morning. Your history with Dongseok is…complicated. And messy, and really, really long. Jeonghan, as close as the two of you were, didn’t even know all of it. Dongseok has been (or was) in your life for longer than Jeonghan has. But you weren’t about to sabotage their friendship because you and Dongseok were dealt a bad deck of cards. That’s how you tried to justify not telling Jeonghan, anyway. But Jeonghan always figured there was something more than what you told him, you could tell. He’s smart enough to put the pieces together, but Dongseok was just territory neither of you ever really walked in. 

Until today, anyway. 

“We can put the yakgwa out with the no-bakes,” You say, desperate to change the topic. “Go ahead and get the lobby opened for the day while I finish in here.”

Jeonghan says your name, trying to get you to look at him again. You ignore it, though, because this isn’t a conversation you want to have while you’re horribly hungover. Or in general, really. After waiting a few seconds for you to respond, you hear your friend sigh, then exit the kitchen. 

You knew you were going to hear about it later, though.

Jihoon throws his gym bag onto Soonyoung’s desk, causing him to jump at the sound. Soonyoung looks over to his coworker, who looks pissed. 

“I know you guys went out last night,” Jihoon states. “I ran into Joshua at the gym this morning.”

“Dude,” Soonyoung groans, “it’s barely eight in the morning. Can I wake up a little bit more before we talk about this?”

“You know,” Jihoon continues, clearly ignoring Soonyoung’s request, “I wouldn’t be as mad if you guys didn’t lie to me about sticking to our diets. I know that you’ve been eating those cookies every day for the past week–Cheol ratted you out.”

“Jesus Christ.” Soonyoung turns his back on Jihoon, refocusing on his computer. “If you’re done, I’d like to continue working now.”

Jihoon grabs his bag again, then slumps over to his own desk. Soonyoung hears him ranting to himself angrily, but he cannot bring himself to care in the slightest. He also makes a mental note to chew Cheol’s ass when they get on to game later tonight. 

Soonyoung focuses on his work when he’s quickly pulled away again by the sound of his phone buzzing. He glances over at it, finding himself smiling at the notification:

UNKNOWN: Thanks for signing up for cookie rewards! As a thanks, enjoy a cookie on us! You now have two available rewards to use. Reply ‘STOP’ to stop promotional text messages.

He completely forgot he signed up for that at the beginning of the week. His mind begins to wander back to last night, and he laughs to himself. Soonyoung had a lot more fun with you and Jeonghan than he would care to admit out loud, but Seungcheol and Joshua already gave him enough heat for it on the way back last night (which promoted Soonyoung to give Joshua shit for flirting with Jeonghan the whole time). He knew you were a little bubbly when you first met, but drunk, you were a blast… even if he learned a little too much about you. 

He goes back and forth, toying with the idea of your comment to take Seungcheol’s top spot as the favorite customer. He wants to see how much he could fluster you sober. It was so easy to make you blush last night that Soonyoung thought he was imagining things at first. Seungcheol was insisting that you liked Soonyoung, but really, Soonyoung figures you’re probably just a flirty drunk. Jihoon gets the same way on the very few occasions that he drinks. 

Still, the thought has yet to leave his mind. Now that he knows Jeonghan isn’t your boyfriend like Jihoon assumed, that means flirting with you is a free game. You’re cute, and he enjoys his time with you. Well, the two times he’s spent with you, anyway. Soonyoung chews on his bottom lip, debating if he should swing by. He stares at the automated text for a bit longer as your words play on loop through his head: that you thought he was cute. He’s sure that if anybody passes by his cubicle right now, he’d look a bit crazy with how much he’s grinning to himself.

Then he finally decides that today is a really good day to redeem those loyalty rewards.

Perm Taglist: @bananabelle @aelin-tiny @weasleytwins-41 @codeinebelle

There’s an unspoken hatred between you and your coworker, Jeon Wonwoo. 

Okay, unspoken is not the right way to word it. The two of you are actually very spoken about it. Being near him for longer than ten minutes is enough to set you off the edge. He’s just so rude. He’s brooding, and grumpy, and never has anything nice to say or contribute to anything. He always thinks he’s entitled to everything, and it makes you want to rip your hair out. You’re thankful every day that you work in different departments, because god only knows how much worse it would be if you had to work together.

See, Wonwoo is a programmer. He works in engineering (AKA a bunch of boring nerds who type numbers all day. Right up his alley). You, on the other hand, are an animator. When you first got hired, you figured that Wonwoo must’ve hated how cool and awesome and talented you were compared to him. Anybody with a lick of common sense (and good taste) could tell you that animation was way more exciting than, what, staring at code? 

That had to be the reason he hated you so much from the start, because nothing else made sense. There was no fight, no argument–nothing to start this boiling feud between you. It was like your existence was reason enough for him to be an asshole.

Unfortunately for you, your departments sat on the same floor. Engineering was right around the corner from art, so it took months of strategy and planning to find ways around seeing him. You’ve memorized his daily schedule so you can avoid being in the breakroom at the same time as him. He takes his lunch around one every day, so you take yours a whole hour earlier. He leaves work a little after five, so you leave a little before. The less you needed to be around him, the better. 

Besides, it was for the good of the whole company, as well: the amount of complaints the two of you had received for arguing so much was embarrassing, to say the least. Wonwoo tried to say you were instigating it, but you wouldn’t even be arguing in the first place if he kept his stupid mouth shut. If it wasn’t one thing, it was the other. Yesterday your food smelled too bad, the day before that your sweater was too bright a color, and the day before that you laughed too loud and he ‘could hear it from the first floor’ (which you know is bullshit because you work on the sixth). 

Needless to say, he is insufferable. 

Today is no exception to that fact. The second you scan your ID to clock in, Wonwoo is side-eyeing you from his employee mailbox. You, being the bigger person you are, stick your nose up and brush past him. You cannot engage with whatever snarky comment he’s thinking of saying, because that will not be good. You already woke up in a bad enough mood today: your alarm went off late, the water in your building got shut off so you couldn’t shower, and your favorite bakery was out of the pastry you get every morning. Part of you almost dared Wonwoo to cross your path today, but you knew that one more argument could land you both in the boss’s office. You did not want to jeopardize your squeaky-clean record on him, of all people. 

“I can smell your lunch from here, Picasso. What is that, fish for the nth time in a row?”

You stop in front of the elevator. You don't bother looking over to him when you say, “Keep your nose to yourself, geeksquad.”

He scoffs, but doesn’t push the matter further. You figure he’s doing the same thing as you–keeping his record clean, that is. As far as you knew, he also had never had any disciplinary marks on his employee profile. Which, truly, is baffling to you. He’s got the worst personality and an even worse attitude at work. How he’s been here for so long is beyond you. Talented or not, you’ve never been able to understand why HR puts up with his snark. Maybe with your luck, he’d quit in the next few years. All he does is complain about work, anyway. 

The elevator door opens, and before you get the chance to step on, Wonwoo slides in front of you. You frown and try to follow him, but then he hits the ‘door close’ button, and you’re stuck in the lobby. 

Because, of course he would do that. Of course he would take your elevator ride and comment on your lunch and do everything in his power to make your Friday miserable. 

Pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek, you decide that you will not let this get to you. Drawing in a deep breath, you press the button again and wait for the door to open once more. When it finally returns, you can still smell his cologne in the small space; sandalwood is now permanently ruined for you. You grimace as you press the button for the sixth floor, then let your back lean against the wall behind you. 

Above you, the floor numbers flicker slowly as they change, and the elevator comes to a stop. By the time you get to your desk, Seungkwan is already hunched over your shared workstation with his brows pushed together. Seungkwan started at Carat Entertainment around the same time as you, and he quickly became one of your closest friends. Between late-night snack runs, traveling around the world, and questionable nights in town, Seungkwan weasled his way into your life as your ride or die. As much as you enjoy being around him, though, sometimes he can be a tad overdramatic. 

As you toss your bag onto your desktop, Seungkwan looks up and sighs in relief. “Thank god you’re here. I’m having trouble with this build I’ve been working on.”

You hum as you saunter over to him. Peeking over his shoulder, you watch as he attempts to troubleshoot his project. Everything starts normally: you see the start-up menu boot up fine, the character select looks good, but then when he gets into the game mode, the movements of the character begin to lag. When he tries to interact with anything, the lag is even more apparent. 

“Did you check the motion settings?” You ask as you pull a stool up beside him. 

“Yeah, I’ve exhausted everything.” Seungkwan groans. “Motion settings, blend timing…none of it is fixing the issue.”

Shrugging, you take the tablet from him. “Well, if it’s nothing on our end, that means it could be an engineering issue. Specifically a Wonwoo issue. He was working on this with you, right?”

“Uh,” Seungkwan clears his throat, “yeah.”

Just to be safe, you maneuver through the same tests that Seungkwan already ran. If you had to guess, it was probably something in-engine that was causing the issue. His character starts to glitch at a transition point, which means the movement controller is probably fucked. 

AKA: Wonwoo’s problem. Not yours. 

You hand him his tablet again. “I’d bring it up to him, then.”

“Sure.” Seungkwan shifts uncomfortably. You can tell he’s trying not to get caught between another piss-off with you and Wonwoo, so you offer him a reassuring smile. 

“Kwan, we are not doing anything wrong by escalating the problem to engineering.” You reply. “We’ve worked through our tests, and now that we know it’s not us, we need to involve Wonwoo. Besides, I’m not on this project with you guys. It’ll be fine.”

Seungkwan tucks the tablet under his arm. “I guess that’s true. It’s just…you know how he gets when someone tries to say he’s wrong. It’s almost worse than you.”

That elicits a laugh from you. You couldn’t argue with Seungkwan on that fact, though. You may be stubborn, but Wonwoo was even more so. As if he wasn’t egotistical enough, being told he’s wrong was like throwing a cat into a tub full of water. He takes feedback as a personal attack, and it’s a little pathetic. 

“He’s an adult,” you say as your laughter slows. “He’ll live. It’s good character development.”

From: Choi Seungcheol - Lead Developer To: Group: Art Department, Sub-Group: Animation CC: Boo Seungkwan, Jeon Wonwoo Subject: Animation Blends - Investigation Hi team,  I’m forwarding a ticket that concerns animation blending. It’s been brought to our attention that there may be an issue with some in-engine mechanics, and we are investigating it.  Jeon Wonwoo is the programmer assigned to the ticket. If there are any questions, please keep them limited to the ticket thread. For the time being, halt any ongoing animation work for the game. Once everything is cleared, we will let you know.  Thanks, Seungcheol

Well, that escalated. Your advice to Seungkwan has now indirectly involved Wonwoo in your day, and you are considering going home sick. Burying your face in your hands, you let out a dramatic groan. Beside you, Seungkwan leans back in his chair. 

“Well, this sucks.” He announces. “They assigned the grouchiest programmer to the ticket. Do they not realize how shitty our day is about to become?”

You turn to face him. “What did you say to prompt all of this?”

Seungkwan's eyes widen. “Me? Don’t turn this on me! You’re the one who told me to bring it to engineering!”

Before you can argue with him, you see Wonwoo walk into your department. His hands are in his pockets until he gets to your work station and pulls up a chair. He settles into it with the backrest forward as he leans against it. He looks a little too calm right now, and it unnerves you and Seungkwan. You both exchange a quick look when Wonwoo holds his hand out. 

“Let me see the build, Seungkwan.” He deadpans.  

Seungkwan hesitates as he hands the tablet over to him. “It happens at the transition point right after character selection.”

Wonwoo is quiet as he goes through the same motions that the two of you already had. His expression is flat, but you can see his jaw clench in irritation as he works. He has a vein on his neck that is sticking out, which tells you he’s mad. You’ve seen it come out a few times when you argue with him. In the reflection of his glasses, you can see the game begin to glitch, just as Seungkwan told him it would.

After finishing a few tests, he hands the tablet back to Seungkwan. 

“It’s not the animation.” He says simply. His tone is too neutral, and that only adds to your nerves. You can tell how upset he is physically, but the fact that he’s staying so composed is new. It's an unknown territory.

“So, it’s engineering?” Seungkwan asks. 

“I didn’t say that.” Wonwoo stands, then pushes the chair back to where he got it. “I think it’s a shared problem.”

“Shared?” You chime in. 

Wonwoo looks at you briefly, then begins walking away. “That’s what I said, Picasso.”

You were not about to let him leave like that. You stumble to your feet, hurrying after him. At this point, complaints be damned. 

“You just saw that it wasn’t an animation problem,” You retort. “If it’s not us, that clearly means it’s the movement controller. Or something else in the code. The code that you made, by the way.”

Wonwoo stops, and you almost run into him. He turns to face you, then leans down to your level. You hate it when he does this. Holding your tongue, you fold your arms across your chest.

“It’s not an animation problem.” He agrees. “It’s also not an engineering problem. I just said it was shared, but I need to run a few of my own tests to be sure. I don’t just assume.”

You scoff. “I did not assume. I ran through the right process, Wonwoo. I did my own tests, and when those came back fine, I turned it over to engineering. Is that not the right way to handle this?”

“It is.”

“So what are you insinuating?” You press. 

“Am I insinuating something?” He counters. The corners of his mouth twitch like he’s finding this amusing, and you want to punch him more than ever. “I’m just speaking plainly.”

You draw in a deep breath in a final attempt to calm yourself down. Then, you force a polite smile. “Fine.”

“Fine.” He echoes. You watch as he turns and disappears back into the engineering department. 

It takes a whole two hours before you’re getting another email. But this time, it’s only addressed to you. 

From: Choi Seungcheol - Lead Developer To: Y/L/N, Y/F/N CC: Jeon Wonwoo, Hong Joshua - Lead Animator Subject: RE: Animation Blends - Investigation Please find your assigned work order below. If you have any questions, let Wonwoo know.  Thanks,  Seungcheol

Unbelievable. Attached to the email is, in fact, a new work order that’s titled: 

JOINT INVESTIGATION - ANIMATION BLENDS - ASSIGNED STAFF: JEON WONWOO, Y/L/N Y/F/N.

If there is a God out there, you’re sure at this point they have it out for you. This is a personal attack from the universe, and you can’t help but wonder why. Your first instinct is to ask Seungcheol to take you off the ticket, because who in their right mind would think it’s a good idea to pair the two of you together? But you already know the answer, because it’s the same one they give you every time you get stuck on a work order together: “You’re the best in each department. We need the best to figure this out, so figure it out”. 

Which, really, you’re flattered to be considered the best. What you’re not flattered about is the fact that being the best automatically means that Wonwoo is constantly in your orbit. At this point, your department leads are just begging HR to get involved because of the way they keep throwing you two together. 

As if on cue, Joshua, your supervisor, knocks on the door. You push yourself to your feet and grab your tablet. 

“I know, I’m going.” You grumble. “Just know I’m mad about it, though.”

“You always are.” He replies with a hum. “When you’re done with Wonwoo, I do need to see the two of you in my office. Seungcheol is calling a meeting.”

Well, that’s not good. 

“What for?” You ask, turning to look at him. 

He takes a deep breath. “Nothing horrible. We’ll discuss it later. Just fix this animation blend, and I’ll see you soon.”

He disappears back into his office, and you want to slam your head against a wall. Maybe throw yourself into traffic. Whatever it takes to get out of this work order and this surprise meeting. Basically, anything to be away from Wonwoo.

You hesitate before leaving your department, and the walk to engineering feels like torture. When you open the door to their corner of the sixth floor, Wonwoo’s back is to you. He’s already typing rapidly, staring at a screen full of code that makes zero sense to you. The chair next to him is open, so you promptly slide into it. 

He doesn’t say anything. He continues working and is obviously ignoring the fact that you’re here, now. You set down your tablet and clear your throat loudly. Still, nothing. 

“Earth to Wonwoo?” You wave a hand in front of his face, and he pushes it away. 

“I’m working.” He mutters. You roll your eyes. 

“I can see that.” You reply as you boot up your tablet. “Didn’t you see? I’m assigned to help with the work order.”

“Lucky me.”

You both fall into a very angry silence. Wonwoo’s typing becomes a bit more aggressive, which only fuels your fire to tap a bit harder against the screen of your tablet. You can feel the other engineers nervously watching, like the two of you are a bomb that’s set to detonate any second. 

“You’re too close.” Wonwoo suddenly announces. You feel his foot push your chair away from under the desk. “And you’re working too loudly. I can’t hear myself think.”

“I’m too loud?” You drop your tablet into your lap. “I’m on a touchscreen, Wonwoo. You have the loud ass keyboard. Maybe you should get your eyes checked again, because clearly your vision has gotten worse if you can’t see that.”

“Your presence alone is too loud.” He argues, not taking his eyes off his screen. He’s still typing, and that pisses you off even more. “You’re so loud all the time. Your voice, your breathing, your tapping. Just for one day, I’d love it if you would shut up and keep your opinions to yourself–”

You move before you can think, and pull the plug on his computer. Someone gasps from behind you, whereas Wonwoo is quickly standing. He’s pushing you completely out of the way, now, to hurry and plug it back in. As the screen flickers back to life, he finally looks at you. 

“What is your problem?” He asks. “Are you crazy?! None of that was saved! The file is going to be even more corrupt now–”

“My problem?” You stand as well, tossing your tablet aside. “You’re finding any excuse to ridicule what I do. I mean, my breathing, Wonwoo? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Both of you, stop.”

The two of you turn towards the doorway where Seungcheol is standing. He looks tired and annoyed. He drags a hand down his face, then steps to the side. “Come with me, please.”

Wonwoo doesn’t move immediately, so you grab your things and move first. He trails behind shortly after as you make your way down the hall towards his office. You’ve never had a reason to come in here before, but it looks like how you’d imagine it to. There aren’t many decorations, and everything is either black or grey. He has a single pencil holder on his desk with maybe five pens in it. In his own words, his office is ‘no bullshit’.

Seungcheol is a little intimidating. Way more than your supervisor, that is. He’s nice, but you’ve seen him get mad before, and that was reason enough to try to stay clear of him as much as possible. However, thanks to Wonwoo, you’re about to be at the receiving end of his anger.

Joshua is already sitting in there when you arrive, and he looks equally as tired as Seungcheol. You and Wonwoo take the two open seats in front of Seungcheol’s desk, and then it's quiet. Seungcheol closes the door and sighs. When he sits, you can feel your heart rate quicken. 

“I want to start by saying you two are some of the best employees we have in the agency.” His voice is even, but wavers on the edge of irritation. “However, this kind of behavior has to stop. Joshua and I have been talking, and we think it would be best to try to remedy this before it gets even worse than it already is.”

Neither you nor Wonwoo has the dignity to talk, so he keeps going. 

“We have a new game proposal that has come to our attention from our supervisors.” He explains, leaning back in his chair. “But, in order for it to get funding of any kind, we need to create a mock-up of the game. Just a small, playable version to show what the finished product could look like with full funding. This game has the potential to be a big deal for the company, so we can not mess it up. Which, in turn, means we need our best workers on the project.”

“Since the two of you can’t figure out how to work together on your own,” Joshua chimes in, “we will be requiring you to work together on this project. That means genuine collaboration and communication. No more using Seungkwan as a mediator or opening tickets to try and solve problems.”

You think you might puke. Beside you, Wonwoo is still. You’re both at a loss for words, because why would they think this was a good idea? They just saw how the morning played out with their own two eyes, so they think the appropriate solution is to force you to work together? The whole situation is laughable and ridiculous. So horrifically ridiculous, in fact, that you wonder for a second if this is a nightmare. It’s the only logical explanation right now. 

“What’s the game?” Wonwoo asks. His voice is low, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s pissed by being quiet. 

Seungcheol reaches into a drawer and pulls out a manila folder. There’s already quite the stack of papers inside, which makes you wonder how long they’ve been building on this idea before deciding to greenlight it. He passes the folder to Wonwoo, who begins shuffling through the notes. 

“Fantasy RPG,” Seungcheol replies. “They want to make it an open world, with a ‘choose your own path’ style of gameplay. There’s everything between romanceable characters, vast options for customization, and over a hundred different endings to the game. The mechanics are going to need to be pretty impressive for us to get the funding we need.”

The project did sound like fun. It piques your interest enough that the idea of working with Wonwoo almost sounds tolerable if it meant you got to design the characters for it. Almost. Wonwoo closes the folder again and tries to pass it back to Seungcheol, but you reach over to take it from him. He glances at you for the first time since the argument, and your blood boils all over again. His jaw tightens as he turns to his supervisor. 

You flip through the notes, seeing a few rough sketches for concept art. It’s got everything between character names, weapons, armor, and even animal companions. Your mind is already swirling with ideas as you chew on your bottom lip. The vision is painting itself in your mind, making you eager to sketch it all up. You’re thinking of a darker concept, judging by the description of the game. Deep purples, ugly, olive green tones, with maybe a touch of mustard yellow for the ogres–

“We need a final product to present to investors in six months.” Seungcheol continues. You look up at him again. Six months was not that much time. You’d have to start on this, like, yesterday. “I’m anticipating overtime will happen occasionally, so HR has already approved whatever extra hours will accumulate between now and August.”

You glance over to Wonwoo, who is now sitting with his arms folded across his chest. You can’t fully read his expression from where you sit, but you’d kill to know what was going on in his mind right now. As you close the folder and pass it back to Seungcheol, you take a deep breath. 

“Okay.” You manage. Not that you had much of a choice in whether or not you were assigned to the project, but you knew one of you had to at least acknowledge the plan. Clearly, Wonwoo wasn’t going to. “I’ll start on some designs–”

“Don’t tell me.” Seungcheol gestures to Wonwoo. “Tell your partner.”

You feel the tips of your ears heat up. Is he seriously playing mediator right now? Swallowing, you turn to face Wonwoo. He’s still not looking at you. 

Clearing your throat, you finish your sentence, “I’ll start on some designs and color palettes.”

A few seconds pass before Wonwoo looks at you. He stands, then sticks his hands into his pockets. “Sounds good. I’m going to work on gameplay mechanics. I’ll get some demos ready.”

With that, he turns on his heel and exits the office. A tiny part of you hopes the door hits him on his way out, but it doesn’t. It never does. 

When you get home, you sink into your couch and pray the cushions swallow you whole. Your cat, Dubu, comes running from the bedroom and promptly plants herself onto your lap. You watch as she stretches out, then rolls over onto her back. 

Dubu came into your life when you first moved out of your parents’ house. So, five years ago now. Truthfully, you’re not sure where you’d be without her. Dubu has been your lifeline for every long, sleepless night, every breakup, and every hiccup you’ve had involving Wonwoo at work. Today was no different, and you’re certain she can tell when you’re having a bad day. She’s purring loudly, staring up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. For her, you probably did. You just wish you could do it for someone else, too. 

“Oh, Dubu,” you sigh, “what’re we going to do? They’re making Wonwoo and I work together.”

She meows as if she understands. She doesn’t, but you keep going anyway.

“The game is cool.” You hum as you gently scratch her tummy. She blinks slowly. “It’s fantasy. Maybe I could draw some cool dragons in it. Or maybe I could draw Wonwoo and have him get blown to smithereens in the tutorial.”

If only that’s how real life worked, too. Not that you want Wonwoo dead per se, but you wish there was a way to just…re-animate or re-code how things could be. You wonder a lot what must’ve happened to make him such a grouch, or if he came out of his mother’s womb naturally being an asshole. How miserable his life must be if he behaves that way every day. 

Does he even have a life outside of work? You’ve never considered that thought before. Who was Jeon Wonwoo outside of the office? Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you dig your phone out of your pocket and open up Instagram. It takes all but one search for his profile to pop up. 

You want to laugh at how ridiculous it seems. The only semi-accurate aspect about his profile is the fact that he’s barely smiling. Now that you think about it, you wonder if he’s just allergic to smiling in general. Have his friends seen him smile? His family? You want to shudder at the thought of being related to someone so…Wonwoo. Your eyes land on one particular recurring commenter: kimhaeun. She’s calling Wonwoo handsome and saying she misses him, and you barf a little in your mouth. If anyone has seen him smile, maybe it’s her. Poor soul. Dating someone as pretentious as him must be miserable–assuming they’re dating, anyway.

Dubu meows again from your lap, which shifts your attention back to her. Tossing your phone aside, you begin to scratch the top of her head. She paws at your phone playfully, which makes you smile. 

Until her paw somehow taps the ‘follow’ button. 

When you gasp, Dubu jumps off your lap and runs to the other room. You quickly unfollow him, and pray to god he didn’t see anything. You’re not sure you can handle that kind of embarrassment at work on Monday. Besides, who the hell is going to believe your story that your cat followed him?

“Jesus, Dubu.” You exhale as you make sure to fully close out of the app this time. 

You set your phone back down on the couch and wander to the bedroom, where Dubu is hiding under the bed. You manage to coax her out and scoop her into your arms again. As you give her a kiss on the head, your phone dings in the living room. You and Dubu wander back to the couch, and you peer down at the screen. 

wonulikesgames Followed You!

Monday rolls around, and you’re not so sure how you feel about going into work. The only plus side is that Wonwoo isn’t showing up at the same time as you today, so you can peacefully clock in and head up to your workstation. Tucked under your arm is your sketchbook, where you’ve drawn a few mock-ups for character designs. You spent your whole weekend on them and were truthfully pretty proud of the final product. The game was a big inspiration, though. If the project gets the funding it needs, you already knew you would buy a copy once the company finished making it. 

Video games were something you enjoyed from time to time. Honestly, when you got into animation, you were hoping to do something more along the lines of movies or cartoons. It hadn’t crossed your mind to animate for video games until your friend, Hansol, encouraged you to apply for the position at Carat Entertainment. Hansol, much like Seungkwan, is one of your best friends. He went to art school with you, but he left Carat a few years ago to work in an art institute somewhere in Europe. When he lived here, you, him, and Seungkwan were inseparable. You and Seungkwan had even taken a trip to see him a few months ago, and you’d forgotten how fun it was to have the three of you in the same room. 

With Hansol leaving Carat, though, you were promoted to his old position. Going from a concept artist to an animator was a dream come true. 

Well, until it began to involve Wonwoo. 

You’d known of Wonwoo when you were first hired, but your paths hadn’t started crossing until the promotion. Prior to that, you’d smile at him in the hallways, and he’d just ignore it. You figured at the time he was just awkward. When you finally had to work with him, you quickly found out that he just sucked. And as much as he sucked, you despised the fact that he was good at what he did. Like, why do shitty people also get to be talented and smart? It’s a waste, in your opinion. Some of that could go to other programmers you enjoyed, like Jihoon or Soonyoung. They weren’t assholes. Why couldn’t you collaborate with them?

You round the corner towards your workstation, where Wonwoo is spread out with his laptop. Seungkwan is tucked in the corner, looking scared out of his mind that the devil himself is there. Your jaw tightens as you set your things down. 

“Good morning.” You say flatly. 

“Sure,” Wonwoo mumbles in response. “My computer is broken in engineering. Brought my laptop to work here instead.”

“You couldn’t just work on your laptop in engineering?” You question. “You’re taking up too much room. Seungkwan needs to work, too, you know.”

“We’re working on this together, aren’t we?” He counters. “Besides, I have demos to show you. Seungkwan already told me he didn’t need this workspace today.”

Your head snaps up, finding Seungkwan’s gaze immediately. He mouths, ‘Sorry!’. You roll your eyes. Considering there was no way out or around this, you decide that there’s no point in wasting your energy on it. You slide into your chair as you boot up your tablet. 

“Well,” you sigh as you begin to spin, “I have some character designs to show you, too. Glad we both did our work over the weekend.”

Wonwoo is quiet as he types. You’re not sure when he’s planning to show you these demos, so at first you just wait. Your gaze darts back and forth between Seungkwan and Wonwoo, trying to figure out if you should say something else or let Wonwoo approach the topic first. Figuring your colleague wasn’t going to be talking anytime soon, you decide to leave the ball in his court. Spinning in your chair, you face your tablet again. As you begin moving your physical sketches onto the device, you hear a chair get pulled up to your left. You glance, finding Wonwoo there with his laptop.

Of course, he’s ready to show you when you take your attention off him. 

You spin to face him, and he gives you a look. It’s not one you can entirely read, but if you had to guess, it was annoyance. It only makes sense that he would hate someone spinning in their office chair. He probably doesn’t spin in his at all because he’s a fun hater. Just for that, you continue to spin back and forth to piss him off even more. 

“So, I made the mechanics pretty simple as far as the actual combat goes,” he begins as he faces the screen towards you. “I think the focus should be more storyline-based than combat-based, going off the notes. I’ve created a total of fifteen different fighting strategies so far. Obviously, most of them will depend on the weapon type, but I figure we can flesh that out with whatever you’ve drawn so far.”

He begins to play through his demo. You watch as the filler characters (AKA blocks essentially) move through the space. Wonwoo seems focused, and you hate that he’s so aware of what he’s doing. You hate that he’s good at this. But what you hate even more is the fact that the gameplay looks good. Like, really, really good. Once the demo ends, he looks over to you. His expression is deadpan per usual, but it’s slightly softer, like he’s looking for approval of some kind. 

All you can manage to give him is a shrug. “It looks fine.”

“It’s better than fine.” He states. “This is the best combat I’ve made since starting here.”

You know he’s right, but you’re too prideful to give him that justification. You begin spinning in your chair again as you think of what to say that won’t give him any kind of ego boost. Suddenly, his hand grabs the backrest of your chair, promptly stopping you. 

“Would you knock that off?” He asks. “Show me your sketches.”

“Fun hater.” You grumble. You turn your back to him to grab your sketchbook, then pass it to him. “All my sketches for the game are towards the back of the notebook. It’s labeled, so you shouldn’t miss–”

“I found them already.” He cuts in. Then, he goes quiet again as he slowly flips through each page. You watch as his eyes carefully examine every drawing, like he’s genuinely observing it and not just glancing. On one page, you watch him trace over the illustration with his hands. He hesitates for a second, and before you can lean in to see what picture it was, he closes the notebook and passes it back to you. “They’re fine.”

You guess you deserve that. Taking the notebook back, you sigh. “I’m going to work on transferring these over to my tablet, and then I’ll begin on animation.”

“You don’t have to tell me everything you do,” Wonwoo says, as he turns his attention back to his laptop. “As long as it gets done, I don’t care.”

You blink. “This is a collaboration, in case you’ve forgotten. When I collaborate, I personally keep my partner in the loop on the status of each stage. You know, like a normal person.”

“But I don’t think that requires giving me every detail,” Wonwoo argues. “Obviously, updates are good, but I don’t need to know what you’re doing every second of your day, Picasso. Frankly, I couldn't care less what you’re doing with your day.”

You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek. For some reason, his words pack a bit more punch than normal. Dwelling on it, though, wasn’t going to fix anything. When you turn back to your tablet to keep working, you’re expecting Wonwoo to go back to the workstation. Instead, he stays firmly planted at your side, typing away on his laptop as if he didn’t just insult you a few seconds ago. 

Time rolls on, and the two of you are so quiet that after a while, you forget Wonwoo is even there. You bob your head to the music in your headphones and sway in your chair as you shade and finish some character designs. The color palette you picked looks exactly as you envisioned, and it makes you feel a swell of pride. Almost like reassurance that you do know what you’re doing, and your art degree is paying off.

As you’re shading in the last dragon from your sketches, you hear Wonwoo shift beside you. You glance over to him, and he’s stretching his hands above his head. The sleeves on his white button-down fall slightly when he removes his glasses to rub his eyes. When he puts them back on, he glances at the time. It’s already one, which means you missed your lunch. It is, however, time for his lunch. So, you watch him stand. He locks his computer, but leaves it next to you. 

“I’ll be back in an hour.” He announces. 

And with that, he exits the department and disappears towards the breakroom. You drag a hand down your face, as Seungkwan all but trips over himself running over to you. 

“That was so weird!” He hisses, spinning you to face him. “He just…sat there. All morning. Is he coming back? Will it be like this for this whole project?”

You push Seungkwan off of you. “He just said he would be back in an hour, Kwan. Were you even listening? And, no, it’s only like this until his computer is fixed.”

“What is the project they have you working on? Joshua wouldn’t say.” Seungkwan slides into the seat that was previously occupied by Wonwoo. 

“It’s just some new game they’re trying to get greenlit.” You roll your eyes. “They’re making Wonwoo and I work together as a disciplinary action.”

Seungkwan makes a face at that. “So, what, how long are you going to be stuck on this with him?”

“Six months,” You groan, burying your face in your hands. “The only redeeming factor is that the game is so cool. I really want to be part of it, but the fact that it means dealing with Wonwoo–”

“Hey, on the plus side, he’s only insulted you once so far today!” Seungkwan chirps. “He seems to be staying quiet.”

“For now.” You mutter. 

He had a point, though. As much as it pains you to admit it, the morning hasn’t been awful. If the project could stay like this for the duration of the six months, you might actually make it out alive. 

“Besides,” Seungkwan shifts closer to you, “between you and me, I heard he got a job offer somewhere else.”

As if today couldn’t get any better. You gasp, fully turning your body towards Seungkwan. This deserves full attention, so you shut your tablet off to listen. Seungkwan leans in so nobody else can hear. 

“I was in the breakroom an hour ago,” he explains softly. “Soonyoung and Seokmin were in there, talking about how Wonwoo had a meeting with Seungcheol on Friday after you guys left. I guess some big-name company in the States offered him a job, and it pays really well.”

“Do you think he’ll take it?” You ask. 

Seungkwan scoffs. “He’d be stupid not to. That’s what Seokmin said, too. I mean, this could be a big break for him. Besides, he had a messy breakup a few months ago. Like, bad messy. So why would he stay?”

Your mind wanders back to the girl you saw in the comments on his Instagram profile–Haeun. Was that who he broke up with? Maybe that’s why she commented that she wished she were with him on his most recent post. Yikes. Well, really, maybe not yikes. She was now single, so you would count that as a win for her. Maybe she’d see it eventually, too. 

“Oh god, I am praying so hard he takes it.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “Could you imagine life without Jeon Wonwoo?”

“I’d imagine you’d be a lot more delightful to be around.” Seungkwan remarks. 

You kick his leg from under the desk. He winces, then kicks you back. It doesn’t hurt, though. Seungkwan never could put much power behind his physical attacks. He was too nice to do that. 

You turn back to your tablet, then happily sigh. “Maybe that will be my motivation for this project.” You hum as Seungkwan returns to his own desk. “One more day of working with him just means I’m one day closer to never seeing him again.”

You don’t even realize it’s late until you finish transferring your final sketch over. You stretch, then glance up. Outside, it’s dark. The office is quiet except for the sounds of Wonwoo’s typing next to you. Grabbing your phone, you glance at the time. 

8:47 pm

“Oh, my god.” You say, but a yawn slips out instead. You’ve missed lunch and dinner now, it seems. Dubu will be mad at you when you get home. “It’s almost nine.”

Wonwoo, unmoving, replies, “I know, I saw that a few minutes ago.”

You stand and power off your tablet. As you begin to put all your tools and supplies away, you find that Wonwoo begins to follow suit. 

“You didn’t have to stay if you knew it was late.” You comment. “I have a tendency to lose track of time.”

He packs his laptop into his backpack. “I wasn’t staying because of you. I was staying because I had work to do.”

“Right,” you laugh in disbelief. A few seconds pass before you add, “You’re so grumpy all the time.”

Wonwoo looks up at you as he puts on his jacket. “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t like you.”

“Well, that’s been established.” You roll your eyes as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Whatever. I’m too tired to argue with you right now.”

As you turn to leave, you hear him quickly say, “Wait. You think I’m just going to let you leave alone?”

You press your brows together. Before you have the chance to look at him again, he’s already by your side. As if he could read your thoughts, he clarifies, “It’s late. This side of town isn’t fantastic at night, and I’m not going to just let you leave by yourself. I hate you, but I’m not a complete asshole.”

The two of you begin walking in silence towards the elevator, and you are incredibly unsure of how you’re supposed to feel in this moment. Jeon Wonwoo, the same person who can never be bothered to do anything for anyone, is now walking you to your car. You already know you’re going to have to call Seungkwan and Vernon when you get home to debrief this. They’re always in the loop on your ‘Wonwoo Moments’, as they’ve dubbed it.

When the elevator doors close behind you, Wonwoo leans against the wall. He sighs, then says, “I saw you followed me on Instagram.”

The blood rushes from your face. You bow your head towards the ground to hide the fact, then clear your throat. “Uh, yeah, that was an accident. I unfollowed you.”

“I know.” He replies. “Why were you looking me up?”

“Jesus.” You laugh, burying your face in your hands. “You’re so straightforward, dude. Have you never casually stalked someone before?”

When you lift your head to look at him, he’s already staring at you. He’s deadpan (shocker), but the fact that he was looking at you makes you feel…weird. It’s not bad, but it’s not good. You don’t really know what it is, but your stomach kind of flips over itself. 

“No.” He answers flatly. “I’m not on social media much.”

“I noticed.” You hum. “Your last post was from four months ago.”

“No, I posted last week.” He corrects. You think for a second he’s biting back a smile, but you can’t tell with the dim lighting of the elevator. The doors open, and the two of you are stepping off. 

You scoff, looking away from him. “Whatever. You get my point.”

Outside, the February air is crisp as it hits your face. You wrap your arms around yourself as you both trek across the parking lot towards your vehicles. True to his word, Wonwoo walks you all the way to your small, white SUV. When you stop beside it, you’re not sure why you hesitate. But Wonwoo doesn’t move, either, so you sit in the silence. 

Seoul is still alive around you, with the sounds of cars passing by and the twinkling lights of the city. It starts to snow lightly, and you consider saying something. Anything. But before you get the chance to act on it, Wonwoo is taking a deep breath. 

“Good job today.” He says. “Your designs were really cool.”

“Oh.” You give him a polite smile. “Thank you. You too. I kind of lied earlier. I really liked your combat mechanics.”

Wonwoo laughs, and for the first time in the seven years you’ve known him, you see his smile. His head dips for a second before he meets your gaze again. 

“I figured you did.” He admits. “But, I did, too. So I guess we’re even.”

“I guess so.” You say. “Goodnight, Wonwoo.”

“Goodnight, Picasso.”

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