🌿🐰🎼

It’s early November, and winter is showing its frosty teeth in Chicago, ready to bite. It’s a fast transition from warm to freezing cold, or at least fast enough for neither you nor anyone in The Beef notice the appropriate amount of layers you need to wear before the wind becomes unforgiving— All except Tina, that is. She goes around telling everyone to “Layer up, come on!” like she does with her kids. Not many listen.

Everyone bails as soon as service and cleanup is over, shivering while they exit the building, Richie muttering about “Fuck Chicago, I’m moving south,” as he clings harder to his jacket and books it outside. You assure Sydney when she tries giving you her scarf (“I’m just commuting! All inside!” she tries to say), and accept the joking condolences from others for your walk home.

You take longer than usual to gather your things, maybe if you wait here long enough you can magically think of a way home that doesn’t involve a fifteen minute walk in almost 30 degree weather, or it will get warm exactly long enough to not freeze. But you are ready to leave before any of those things happen, and you head to the door the same time Carmen does with the keys in his hand.

“No slaving away in the office tonight?” Your brows raise, it’s an attempt to lighten the gloomy mood that the weather has set over the already tense place, and he takes it as it is. An almost there smile makes home on his face before he shakes his head lightly.

“Not tonight.”

Carmen doesn’t make an attempt to take the conversation further, not that you were expecting him to. You take his silence the same as his usual demeanor, caused by too many thoughts and not enough energy.

That is almost the case, his mind is occupied with calculating if he should (and why he even wants to) elongate his way home to walk you to yours.

It’s not logical, in no way whatsoever, he could take The L and stay fairly warm with a short walk home, but his brain is coming up with excuse after excuse to walk you to yours, then head home freezing like an idiot. The arguments against it—pneumonia, hypothermia, death, or more realistically, a runny nose at most and discomfort— all fade into an annoying buzz in the back of his head as he doesn’t take the turn to go to his place but instead keeps walking alongside you when you step out onto the street.

You come to a pause, turning to the side to look at him with brows raised and then Carmen feels like everyone on the street (which is about three people) are going to turn and point at him, laughing. But no one is there, it’s just you looking at him, and you look more confused than anything.

“You’re walking the wrong way, chef,” you smile a little, hugging your coat tighter.

“I’m aware. I’m walking you home.”

He forces his voice to be confident and casual, almost as if this is the most normal thing for him to do. He’s mildly aware this isn’t bizarre to do— He’s walking you home, coworker and friend, that is not unusual. His mind, however, won’t stop running until—

“Okay, your loss,” you shrug with a chuckle, grabbing his arm and starting to walk again, “I’m freezing, come on.”

He relaxes immensely, a strange feeling filling him (not like he will address it) and somehow his hand covers your freezing one.

Fifteen minutes feel like fifteen hours when it’s this cold, and you’re surprised to notice that in basically less than five minutes, you and Carmen are huddled together as you walk.

“So… when is spring again?”

Carmen chuckles at your question, his breath visible in the cold, “About a billion months away.”

“Right, right, so like… next week.”

You nod, trying to quicken your pace without success. You settle back into silent marching towards your place, and Carmen would be regretting his decision if you weren’t basically glued to his side. He hopes it’s cold tomorrow too, and maybe if you forget your coat, or scarf— Should he bring a scarf? He could keep one to lend it to you, and maybe then you’ll walk like this again—

“Do locks freeze?”

You break the silence, and his deep thoughts, with a question he has no fucking answer to, but he feels grateful nonetheless.

“I… Maybe?”

“If the lock to The Beef freezes tomorrow, do we get the day off?”

Carmen gives a chuckle, but shakes his head, “Okay, you think if it freezes, I can’t ever open it?”

“Who the fuck eats a sandwich in the freezing cold, come on. We could have… a cold-day.”

He huffed, “It will be a cold day.”

Carmen laughs when you groan and push him, but for some reason even he doesn’t know, he grabs your wrist and pulls you back next to him, not making a move to bring you close like you were before, but holding you there. It appears that he didn’t need to pull you closer anyways as you move closer to share warmth again.

“Don’t do that, it made a breeze.”

“Oh really? Did it now?”

“Fuck you,” and you don’t respond further, you don’t need to. You can see your apartment as you turn the street, and for Carmen it’s both the horrible sign that your walk together is ending and a step closer to warmth.

You come to a stop in front of the door, standing in front of him instead of next to him now.

“So… think about that day off tomorrow.”

He chuckles, rocking in place to keep some warmth as he fishes his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket to busy himself. He places one between his lips and lights it before he replies.

“You’re not gonna let that go?”

“Of course I will, when I have time to think on it and process it— Maybe on a day off.”

You both start laughing, one of your hands over your eyes and his staying put. Carmen takes a drag from the cigarette as he shifts to take a step back, when he feels something fall onto his cheek. Both of your heads snap up as snow starts falling down the sky.

“Oh.”

You breathe out, and Carmen’s eyes fix on your face instead of the sky. A smile makes way onto your face and his mirrors it unconsciously.

“Snowing,” he comments, still smiling.

“Not just snowing, the first snow of the season. I’d say year, but it snows until fucking April.”

He laughs, and your gaze falls back onto him with the sound.

“Guess I gotta get inside. And you gotta get home.”

Your comment doesn’t exactly sting, but it’s not really pleasant to be reminded of the fact that pretty much every moment with you is fleeting.

“Yeah, gotta.”

He breaths out hiding his expression behind his hand with the excuse of taking a drag. His brows furrow when you swipe the cigarette from his hand, and for a moment he thinks you’re going to smoke it, but instead you lean to press a kiss to his cheek, then give the cigarette back.

“Goodnight. It was a nice walk.”

You don’t really give him a chance to respond. Well, he has the time, he is just frozen and all he can manage is a wave.

He stands in the cold for a few more moments before starting to walk again towards his place, dropping the cigarette to the floor with his mind on an endless loop of your kiss. Maybe a day off would do everyone some good, especially him.

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you and minho had always joked that the practice rooms at jype were haunted, but if anything really lingered inside those walls, it was the memory of two exhausted trainees who somehow found comfort in each other long before either of you realised it.

you were both dancers first, dreamers second, and too stubborn for your own good. the instructors liked to pair you together because you matched well: clean movements, the same kind of perfectionism that drove you to stay hours past the official end of practice. it didn’t take long before staying late became a silent agreement. he’d be there, you’d be there, both pretending it was coincidence.

you still remember your very first day so vividly. you had walked into the studio clutching your trainee folder a little too tightly, scanning the unfamiliar faces. minho had been leaning against the mirror, and his expression seemed unreadable. you remembered thinking he looked absolutely breathtaking, but intimidating. sharp eyes, sharp jawline, sharp tongue as you were just to find out.

“you’re standing in my spot,” he had said without even glancing at you properly. you blinked. “i didn’t see your name on the floor.”

he finally looked at you then, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he couldn’t help it. “wow. bold on day one. you’ll fit right in.”

most trainees might have backed away, flustered or intimidated. but something about his tone told you he wasn’t actually annoyed, just testing you.

when the instructor started practice, minho sighed, standing next to you. "fine. stay in my spot. you’re welcome,” he muttered.

“i didn’t thank you,” you replied.

that made him look at you a second time. and for a brief moment, you saw the softness hiding behind all the sarcasm, the kind that didn’t show itself to people easily.

from that day on, minho’s comments became a fixture of your training life. “your footwork’s sloppy today,” he’d say.“what a coincidence! so is your attitude,” you’d answer without missing a beat. he’d roll his eyes, but the corner of his mouth would twitch every time.

somehow, you read him effortlessly from the beginning. his deadpan jokes, his quiet acts of kindness, the way he nudged a water bottle towards you when he thought you weren’t looking. minho wasn’t easy to understand, not for most people, but you picked up on every subtle shift in his expression, every sarcastic jab that actually meant he cared. and he noticed that you noticed.

maybe that was why, before either of you knew it, he had become your closest friend. your person. the one who stayed long after everyone else left, dancing beside you until the sky turned pale with morning.

and maybe that was why falling for him felt less like a decision and more like gravity. completely out of your control.

the turning point happened on a random monday. you were stretching on the floor when the door slid open and the instructor ushered in someone new.

she looked nervous in that hopeful way new trainees often did. polite smile, stiff posture, eyes scanning the room like she was trying to memorise every face all at once. you offered her a small smile back, because you remembered how it felt.

minho barely glanced up at first, too focused on retieing the laces of his shoes. but when the instructor introduced her and said she’d be joining your group training, he lifted his head.

“great,” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “a monday surprise. my favourite.” you elbowed him lightly. “be nice.”

“i am nice,” he said, straight-faced.

you stared at him. he sighed. “fine. i’ll pretend to be nice.”

during warm-ups, she struggled to keep up with the tempo. minho noticed immediately, because of course he did. despite the sarcasm, he was annoyingly observant. when she fumbled a turn and nearly bumped into him, he caught her elbow before she could fall.

“careful,” he said, tone neutral but not unkind. “your weight’s too far forward. try shifting it back.”

she blinked, grateful. “oh– thank you..." she trailed off, hinting that she didn't know his mame.

“minho,” he cut in. “lee minho.”

you watched them from across the room. he’d help anyone who looked like they were about to break an ankle. he wasn’t smiling at her. he wasn’t giving her the soft patience he saved for you on your worst days. but still.

still, something in your chest tugged uncomfortably when she lingered near him during water breaks. when she asked questions only he could answer. when she started hovering a little too close, laughing a little too loudly.

and minho… didn’t exactly push her away.

his friendliness had that polite stiffness. the version of him that appeared in front of people he didn’t fully trust yet. but you didn’t see the stiffness. you didn’t hear the subtle sigh he let out when she clung a little too much. you didn’t catch the look he threw your way whenever she asked for help, as if silently asking you to save him.

from your angle, from your insecurities, it all looked painfully simple. minho liked her. and somehow, that thought settled in your stomach like sinking stones.

after that, you started stepping back, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. fewer jokes. fewer late-night practices. fewer easy smiles thrown his way.

you told yourself it was for the best. you told yourself he was too busy with her to care. but minho noticed anyway. he always noticed when it came to you. he just didn’t understand why.

during stretching, he nudged your foot with his own. “you look like an elderly doing that,” he said, tone light, the usual teasing in it.

normally, you would’ve shot back something sharp. instead, you just hummed, not even lifting your head.

minho frowned. “wow. no comeback? should i check for a fever?” you forced a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes but you hoped would be convincing enough. “i’m fine. just tired.”

that made him pause in that serious way he got when he was genuinely concerned. his eyes softened, shoulders lowering slightly.

“you should get more rest,” he said, voice dropping to something gentler. “you’ve been pushing too hard again.” you shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter. “i’ll be alright.”

"i don't want you to overwork yourself."

"minho, i'm okay, really."

he stared at you for a moment longer, as if trying to read the real meaning behind your half-smile. then he grinned, catching you off guard.

“how about ending practice early for once?” he suggested. “we grab some food and then you can actually go to bed before 3am.”

this time, your smile came naturally. “yeah. that sounds nice.” he tilted his head pleased. “great. i’ll go change after this. wait for me outside, okay?”

you did. you waited… and waited… and waited.

after half an hour, the hallway felt too cold. so you walked back inside, checking the practice rooms one by one. that’s when you found them.

in the far room, minho was going over a segment of choreography with the new trainee. his hands hovered near her waist, not touching, but guiding. she wasn’t as careful. her hand lingered on his shoulder, then slid down his arm, her laugh soft. your stomach twisted.

minho’s back was to you, so you didn’t see the way his jaw clenched. you didn’t see how he subtly shifted away every time she got too close. you didn’t hear his voice, becomign increasingly impatient, muttering, “we’re done for today. seriously, i have to go.”

all you saw was the picture in front of you. and that was enough to make your chest tighten painfully.

you stepped back quietly, not trusting yourself to take a full breath. disappointment washed over you, a sinking weight. you turned around and headed home without a word, without a message. for the first time in months, you walked home alone.

you didn’t see minho finally disentangle himself, bowing politely while clearly trying not to look annoyed. you didn’t see him hurry out of the room, checking the hallway twice, then three times. you didn’t hear him curse under his breath when he couldn’t find you. you only saw your phone light up, messages coming in one after another.

« where are you?? »

« did you leave already? »

« what about dinner? »

you turned off your screen.

training the next day felt heavier. maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was everything sitting uncomfortably in your chest, maybe it was the way you kept replaying that practice room scene like a loop you couldn’t shut off. minho noticed instantly that something was off.

“you look like death,” he said as he dropped his bag beside yours.

you didn’t laugh. you didn’t even look at him. you just mumbled something that vaguely resembled, “good morning to you too."

he paused, thrown off just enough for you to catch it in your peripheral vision. his brows knit together, the smallest crease forming between them.

“are you still tired?” he asked, softer this time.

“yeah,” you said, keeping your eyes on your shoelaces.

minho opened his mouth as if to say more, but the instructor called everyone to line up, and he let it go, for now.

training was brutal that day. fast tempo, intricate footwork, too many corrections. by the time break finally came around, you were sweating, breath shaky, shoulders tight with exhaustion.

but you refused to take a break, wanting to go through the choreo once more. that’s when hyunjin approached you.

he had always been kind to you. polite smiles, soft greetings. he offered you a bottle of water, eyes gentle.

“you’re pushing a little hard,” he said, not scolding, just observing. “want to go over the steps together?”

normally, you would have declined out of habit, because minho was always the one you practiced with. but today… today felt different. today, you didn’t want to face the confusion or the hurt. so you nodded.

hyunjin smiled, relieved as if he’d been waiting for you to say yes for longer than he'd admit.

you practiced together in the corner of the room, him counting the beats softly, correcting your posture with careful, respectful touches. nothing flirtatious hidden behind, just gentle help. he made you laugh once with a silly impression of the instructor, and you were too tired to hold it in.

that laugh caught minho’s attention. you felt his stare before you saw it, prickling against your skin. when you finally glanced his way, his expression was tight, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed just slightly.

you looked away first. he didn’t.

for the rest of practice, minho’s mood was different. harder. his movements sharper, his sarcasm a little too quick, his corrections to other trainees clipped and impatient. when hyunjin walked you through the turn sequence, minho let out a scoff loud enough for everyone to hear.

you pretended you didn’t notice. you pretended it didn’t sting.

after practice, hyunjin walked with you towards the hall. you talked about nothing, just light chatter about music and the upcoming monthly evals. he made it easy to breathe again.

you didn’t see minho behind you, watching the two of you walk away together, expression darkening by the second. you didn’t see the way he almost kicked the doorframe, just to let out the frustration chewing at him from the inside.

and you didn’t hear the words he muttered under his breath bitterly, “so that’s how it is now.”

the next day after practice, you were packing your things quietly, mind set on going home, maybe showering, maybe pretending your heart wasn’t a mess of tangled feelings. you haven't spoken to minho all day. at least nothing more than a quick "good morning".

minho hovered nearby, pacing a little, tying and retying the strap of his bag like he was waiting for something. or waiting for you.

you didn’t say anything first. so he did. “so,” he said, voice dripping with lazy sarcasm, “will hyunjin walk you home today too? or was that just a one time thing?”

you froze. your hands stilled on your zipper, breath catching before you could force your expression neutral.

“why does it matter?” you asked, not looking at him.

“oh, it doesn’t,” he snapped back, far too quickly. “just didn’t know you replaced me already.”

that one hit deeper than you expected. you let your bag fall to the bench and turned towards him, jaw tightening. “really? you’re giving me crap about that?”

minho’s eyes flashed. “i’m just calling it how i see it.”

“how you see it?” your laugh came out hollow. “minho, you’ve practically been glued to her. every time i see you, you’re teaching her something or letting her hang off you like–"

“like what?” he cut in sharply, stepping closer. “like i’m being nice for once? sorry, didn’t know that was a crime.”

you clenched your fists. “it's just... unlike you. but it's not even about that. it’s the fact that you ditched me for her.”

he blinked, thrown off. “ditched you? when did i–"

“the night we wanted to grab dinner,” you said, voice cracking despite your best effort. “i waited for you for half an hour. and where were you? in the practice room with her, letting her touch you every five seconds and–"

“you think i wanted to be there?” he cut in harshly. the room went quiet. you swallowed, throat tight. “looked like it.”

“well you didn’t look,” he shot back, frustration spilling over. “you didn’t see me trying to leave. you didn’t hear me telling her i had to go. you just saw what you wanted to see.”

that stung. partly because it wasn’t fair. partly because it was exactly what you had feared.

he stepped closer, anger tightening his shoulders. “and you’ve been off with me for days. barely talking. barely looking at me. should i have guessed this was why?”

you held your ground, but your voice wavered. “it just… felt like you didn’t need me anymore.”

minho let out a humourless laugh. “really? that’s rich. because it kinda felt like you’re the one who didn’t need me.” your chest tightened painfully.

somewhere between the tension, the jealousy, the misunderstandings, and the exhaustion, the fight was no longer about the new trainee or hyunjin.

it was about you. the distance. the hurt neither of you had known how to speak aloud.

your voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “if you didn’t want me around anymore, you could’ve just said so.”

minho’s face twisted, "god, you’re impossible,” he muttered. but beneath it, something inside him cracked. and everything was about to fall out at once.

minho’s jaw tightened, his voice lifting only by a fraction, just enough for you to hear the frustration shaking inside him. “you were the one who told me to be nice to her,” he said, each word controlled. “you asked me to give her a chance. so i did. for you. because i thought it’d make you happy.”

you stared at the floor, fingers curling and uncurling around the strap of your bag. the weight of his words pressed against your chest, and they were suffocating. you opened your mouth, closed it again, opened it one more time.

finally, you whispered, “i didn’t know you being nice to her would make me jealous.”

minho swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “jealous?”

you nodded, barely. “i know i have no right to be…”

he laughed in disbelief. “if you don’t have the right to be jealous, then what the hell does that say about me?” he ran a hand through his hair, pacing, “god, just seeing you with hyunjin–" he cut himself off, shaking his head, turning away like he needed distance before his emotions boiled over completely.

you didn’t let him get far. “he was just being nice to me,” you said softly. “i thought i could use some help since you were… unavailable.”

minho froze. he spun around so fast it startled you. in three long strides, he was in front of you again, closer than before, anger simmering beneath his skin, but something else burning far hotter.

“then ask someone for help who doesn’t want to get in your pants.”

your breath hitched, “minho! that's absolutely not–" he didn’t let you finish. he stepped closer, eyes dark and locked on yours like he was done pretending, done holding back. “someone who doesn’t look at you like he wants to take your clothes off.”

you instinctively stepped back, pulse fluttering out of control. you didn’t even realise how close the wall was until your back hit it.

minho caged you in without hesitation. his hands slid up the wall and planted themselves on either side of your face, his breath fanning across your cheeks, uneven and tortured.

“because that truly drives me insane,” he said, every word rasped between clenched teeth. “he doesn’t deserve to have you.”

your eyes flicked up to his, pulling him in without meaning to. your lips parted, a shaky exhale slipping past them. minho’s gaze dropped to your mouth for a split second too long. that was all it took. he leaned in, voice a low, breaking whisper.

“because you’re mine.”

and his mouth crashed onto yours with weeks of swallowed frustration and unspoken longing poured into a single breathless moment. his hands moved from the wall to your face, fingers firm along your jaw as he angled you perfectly, deepening the kiss like he’d been dying to do it for far too long.

your mind was stunned with shock and adrenaline, but your body didn’t need time to think. your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, kissing him back with all the desperation you’d tried so hard to hide.

the moment your lips moved against his, something inside minho seemed to snap and melt at the exact same time. his kiss deepened instantly, growing messier, like he’d been holding himself back for so long that now he physically couldn’t. he angled your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks in frantic strokes, and you felt his whole body lean into you, chest pressed against yours, breath mingling in uneven bursts.

you tugged him closer, needing him closer. you weren’t thinking anymore, just feeling. the warmth of him, the tremble in his jaw, the soft groan that escaped him when your lips moved a little more urgently against his.

minho’s hand slid from your cheek down to your waist, then around your back, pulling you flush against him with a needy strength that made your knees buckle. he held you like he couldn’t stand the thought of even a breath of space between you.

you melted into him, completely. your arms looped around his neck, your fingers brushing the soft hair at his nape, earning another breathy exhale from him. his lips moved hungrily against yours, then softer, then desperate again, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kiss you hard enough to make up for weeks of tension or slow enough to savour the fact that you were finally in his arms.

he kissed you like he had wanted this for months. like he had dreamed of it in the empty practice rooms and swallowed it down every time you laughed with someone else.

your heart pounded against his chest, and you could feel his racing just as wildly.

at some point, he broke the kiss only to breathe, forehead resting against yours, his chest rising and falling fast. his lips brushed yours again softly, before he whispered against your mouth, “and i’m always available to you.”

the words knocked the air from your lungs. you closed your eyes, hands still clinging to him. “i’m sorry, minho,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “for acting like that.”

he didn’t even hesitate. he kissed you again. this time slow. like he finally had what he’d been craving, waiting for, breaking over. his hands stayed at your waist, grip softer now, thumbs stroking lightly.

when he pulled back, just enough to look at you, he gave you a tiny, breathless smile. “will you finally have dinner with me now?”

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Jisung noticed her approach from the corner of his eye, quickly nodding to The intern Jeongin to stop what they were doing.

"Can all of you shut up? What if we had guests sitting." She whisper yelled at them. As they quickly put the towels away and continued cleaning, the cook made his was over to the sommelier.

"Who pissed in your drink, beautiful?"

"Fuck off, Jisung. I just wanna be done for today. I need this weekend." She rolled his eyes at him, noticing the grin on his face ridiculously beautiful face.

"Im sorry, we'll hurry up okay?" She mumbled a thanks and paced away again.

"Y/n, wait!" She turned around again in a 180° motion.

"You wanna come drinking with the guys and me?"

"And feel left out the entire time? No thanks."

"Come on, Y/nnie! It'll be fun!" The pastry chef, Felix, yelled from somewhere behind him.

"I'll make it fully worth your while, i promise."

"Let me think about it." She told them and walked away for real this time.

-

It was around 1 in the night when all of them were finally all done. Some of the cooks had left already but 5 of them were waiting for the sommelier to be done so when she finally made her was to the dressing rooms they cheered for her.

"Are you actually gonna come with us?" Felix asked her with hope in his voice. She nodded and they all cheered even louder. She wondered how loud all of them could all be, thinking she had already heard the full extent of it in the kitchen.

It was Jisung, Chan, Felix, Changbin and Minho waiting for her. They had sent Jeongin and the other intern home, they wanted to come but they needed to go to school early. Their weekend was Monday and Tuesdays as those were the days the restaurant was closed but those were also the two days the intern needed to go to school.

"Wait are you really coming? Kinda didn't think you would." Jisung teased her, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Why wouldn’t i?” She questioned them.

“Well you’re kinda always fully business. We’ve never really seen you have fun so we didn’t think you did fun.” Chan confessed to her trying not to sound mean but it didn’t really help. She did have fun sometimes. Not her entire live revolved around work.

Well I do have fun sometimes so if yall can leave and let me get dressed, ill be out is a couple of seconds.” 4 out of 5 boys left the room and apologised at the same time, Jisung stayed behind.

"Can't i watch?" He asked with a desperate undertone, after which Chan dragged him out of the room.

She couldn't help but sniffle a laugh.

-

A little later the 6 of them made their way into the street where all the bars were. She hadn't been there in at least a year because of her job, the guys were very familiar with the placed they walked passed, making comments as to why they didn't walk inside

"Too many chicks."

"Firstly don't call them chicks. Jisung. It doesn't make you look cool. Secondly, since when is too many girls a problem?" She questioned him. He smugly smiled at her.

"Don't need any. Got my number one girl right here." He winked and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She left it like that, not disliking the feeling of an arm around her. His arm specifically.

They follwed Chan into a bar they seemingly were all familiar with.

"143" she mumbled the name and as they walked in she felt Jisungs stare on her. Pushing past the crowd of people, she felt his arm slipping of her shoulders. He walked in front of her and just as he was about to lose her, he reached for her hand and pulled her closer. She mumbled soft sorry's around her and the group made their way to the dance floor. Finding her place she started to move a little to the loud music.

"Let me get you a drink, what do you like?" Jisung yelled over the music. She didn't hear him so she pulled him closer to her to make him ask her again.

"What can i get you?"

"Vodka Red Bull please?" She had to look up at him a little through her eyelashes.

"Really? Miss ‘i sell thousand dollar wines every night like its nothing’ drink a basic red bull vodka?" He laughed at her but not in any way that would hurt her. She laughed with him and nodded with a smile. He left her there to get her her drink. Without him she felt a little lost and didn’t know what to do. They really weren’t lying. So didn’t do fun things. Her idea of fun things was staying longer and work and mapping all of the wines. When he returned with the glasses he handed her hers and she took a big swig of it.

“Wow take it easy, beautiful.”

"Lets get shitfaced tonight." She grinned and cheered at what he said with the rest of their colleagues.

“Why do you wanna get shitfaced?”

“Because I don’t know what Im doing Jisung. I can’t even dance.” He grinned and her and placed his hand on her waist. Pulling her against himself.

“Just follow me, okay? I got you.” He laughed, kissing her cheek and taking another chug of his drink.

And shitfaced they got. The rest of the night was filled with drinking and dancing. Lots of dancing. After the what felt like 100th shot the bodies got closer together. Jisungs breath heated up her neck and her cheeks. His hand was still on her waist as they moved simultaneously. Her ass pressing into his crotch and his pressing his lips in her neck every once in a while. As long as she didn't stop him, he saw no point in them stopping.

From the back, she looked up at him. Her eyes drunk and her hair sweaty and sticky. Their bodies where wet from fallen beer and sweat. They probably looked beyond drunk but it all didn't matter. Right here, right now, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes upon.

"Lets all go home." Chan said around the group, to which most agreed.

He questioned himself. Did he even dare to ask? He eyes looked into her searching for a sign. Something for him to gain the confidence. And there it was, just a simple shimmering in her drunk gaze.

"Wanna come back to mine?" It was only a whisper but his words sounded like sirens in her head. Don't do it. You work together, this is a bad plan. Think of your carreer.

But it all didn't matter at this moment.

She pressed her lips to his and in the hasty kiss mumbled a yes. He grinned at her and wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

The walk to his house were filled with gentle touches as they slowly got there. They had lost the others way back at the bar but they didn’t care and they didn’t try to stop them. He pressed her against the front door the second she closed it behind her. His arm rested above her and the other one slid from her waist to her jawline. Pulling away he smiled down at her.

Maybe there was a way she wouldn't regret this in the morning.

-

The sun burned in her eyes when she slightly opened them. The bedsheets perfectly wrapped around her and the pillow was softer than she was used to.

This wasn't her pillow. Her breath stoked in anxiety. Where was she? Then she noticed the arm wrapped around her waist. Turning her head she looked back at the sleeping guy behind her. She muttered out a couple fucks and peeled the arm away from her. Slipping away from his body as silently as possible not wanting to wake him.

Sitting on the edge of his bed she grabbed her phone. 9.30. Quickly putting on her clothes and without a sound she left the appartement, not caring about the messy hookup look she was rocking. Luckily she didn't have to see him next Monday and Tuesday.

The next to days where spend question her decision. She thought about quitting her job, not wanting to face the guy out of embarrassment. But maybe that was taking it way too far. It was just a hook up. Sure she thought he was funny, handsome , kind and very hot but it all didn't matter. They worked together and you simply don't date colleagues.

When she walked into work the next day she could already hear the guys busy in the kitchen. They would see her when she made her way over to the bar and when they did she heard them whispering. It was about her, of course it was. All of them had seen the two of them leave together.

She tried to ignore them but her eyes kept wondering over in admiration. Sure, they all joked around when it was quiet but nothing stopped these guys. The hours they make are nothing compared to hers. It was passion and art.

Her eyes crossed Jisungs and it made her jump a little. She quickly looked away and tried to ignore his burning gaze. And as quickly as the day started it was over again. A part of her hated the silence. It was killing. They weren’t talking to each other and that didn’t only mean Jisung and Y/n. All of them ignored each other. The kitchen didn’t talk to the waitresses and quickly picking up the vibes, the waitresses didn’t talk to the kitchen. It was Wednesday so they were lucky it wasn’t busy but if this had happened on a Saturday they would have been in total shit.

Her phone dinged and she quickly looked at it, her heart skipping a beat.

Suddenly the room felt a lot smaller. Did the walls have eyes? She felt so watched so when she looked back at the kitchen she expected him to be looking at her and she was right. Not only him, also his friends. They patted his back and walked away from the kitchen towards the changing rooms.

The girls from her staff made her way towards her.

“Y/nnie, we’re done with everything you asked us. Can we leave? Some of us have school in the morning and today like, really sucked.”

“Of course girls, text me in the group chat when you all get home safely and goodnight.” They all said goodbye and got ready to leave.

“We hope that you and Jisung figure out whatever is happening!” And with the they left her completely speechless. It was only them. And finally it was time to talk. Her eyes wondered back to the kitchen where the light was now turned off except for the orange heating lamp of the pass. Underneath layed sugered cherry tomatoes to dry. She walked to the kitchen to see if Jisung was still there but she didn’t see him.

The hand on her shoulder made her jump.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine Jisung. You wanted to talk?” It’s like she dismissed it. Like it didn’t matter. He looked at her a bit shocked.

“No no this is not how we’re gonna do this. Were gonna sit down and talk. And with that i mean that you’re gonna explain why you ran out on me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to sick down on one of the sofas the restaurant had.

“I don’t think I can do this Jisung.”

“You’re gonna have to because right now its hurting me.”

“How is it hurting you?” Sh asked him, looking him deep in his eyes. She saw hurt and pain in them.

“Because right now I cant help but think that I was so awful to you that it made you run away.”

“Its not that Jisung.”

“Then what is it. What made you run out on me after the best night of my life?” He grabbed both of her hands in his, forcing them to stare at each other. Tears pooled in her eyes as she sought the words the wanted to speak.

“Because im scared. Jisung.”

“You? You’re not scared of anything. You’re Y/N, you’re the person everyone looks up to. The person everyone goes to when they need anything. You’re the backbone of the restaurant.”

Me? Jisung, im scared of everything. Im scared of my future, im scared of what to do, of taking charge, of who i am. But most of all im scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life that way that I felt that night that i was with you.” Her lips fell in a smile with the tears on her cheeks. The confession was a heavy burden on her shoulders but it was finally lifted. Jisung reached for her cheeks wipping the tears away. She leaned into the touch of his hand she smiled.

“I know that this, us scares you but please give me a chance to prove to you that im worth it. That im worth the risk.”

“I know you are Jisung.” He finally dared to smile back at her. He leaned in slowly, his hand still on her cheek.

“Can I kiss you again, Beautiful?” She nodded and excepted his loving kiss. She still remembered all the kisses they shared two nights ago but this one was different. It held promises, and finally work wasn’t the only thing on her mind.

It was him, all him.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙

𝑨/𝑵: oh em ghee this one took such a long time im so sorry ive been working sooo much. I hope you like it🫶🏼