hyunjin 🎨

For one perfect second, the bow almost had it. He almost had it. The ending. That little neat scene closure, folded and pressed between his fingers like the black card sliding back into his wallet. Payment approved. Smile intact. Bow delivered with the exact amount of civilized behavior enough for cameras, neat enough for a fancam... if this was from the hallways of Inkigayo or Music Bank.

A clean exit.

A pretty exit

A deeply offensive exit.

Sarcasm, mockery, that utterly conceited tilt of his mouth sitting there as though it was the final curtain call. Like he had paid, smirked, bowed, and somehow declared himself released from the crime scene with custody of one contaminated iced americano and the satisfaction of leaving her there with pastries purchased under duress. Laughter spills, bright and melodic, a little sound before the mouth and tongue could stop it, sharp with disbelief and amusement. Not loud enough to make the entire staff and customers turn. But not quiet enough to be mistaken for politeness.

No.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

❝ Wait, uhm⸻ ❞

Fingers pinched the thin strip of paper from the counter, lifting it like a warrant. The paper curled slightly at the end, warm from the machine, printed ink already dark and sharp against white. An itemized list of damages. One iced americano. One kouign-amann. One spring onion bagel. One man’s confidence, pending review.

❝ Excuse me? Can I add something to the name for the order? ❞

The barista looked back up, poor civilian caught in the crossfire, already tired, already involved. Then was only met with a practiced smile curling upon her lips, bright and sweet. Too sweet that it came with a limited edition shade of a lip tint.

❝ Can you put the name under Jennifer's Boyfriend? ❞

An important detail, thoughtful, as though discussing a reservation and not committing identity fraud in a café at 4:17 in the afternoon. Well, it does sound more official. Like a tax document. Eyes now returning to the man who's been so greatly generous with his saliva and his black card.

❝ ⸻Oh, sorry. Actually, can you make it Hwang Jennifer? ❞

Let him bow now.

Her fresh cup.

The one untouched, uncompromised, untainted, previously innocent beverage, now caught within his grasp after he had taken a generous sip from the rim like some kind of caffeinated warlord claiming territory. Eyes stared at it, then at him, then back at the cup. A blink. Now witnessing how this man had kept choosing to proceed to contaminate the evidences. Twice. Fingers remained around the first cup, the original disputed one, the watered-down victim of their earlier custody battle. Ice knocking faintly against plastic. Condensation gathering beneath the palm, contents already looking exhausted from being part of this conversation.

❝ So this is a pattern. Good to know. ❞

Voice staying low, still remaining elegant and composed enough to pass as polite from a distance yet lethal enough up close to make the nearest sugar packets, especially the stevia ones, reconsider their loyalties. Posture unchanging, shoulders relaxed, chin tipped slightly upward beneath the brim of the cap.

❝ First you drank from your coffee, which was apparently my coffee. Then you drank from my coffee, which was apparently your coffee. Unbelievable. ❞

Now moving, neither to the cup nor to him but toward the counter. One hand lifting, delicate, just to catch the barista's attention. Movement small, graceful, harmless, embodying the boompala-ness of it all despite co-authoring the fourteenth book of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events.

❝ Excuse me? Hi, can I please order another iced americano? Different cup. Different name. Different timeline, if possible. Under Jennifer. Oh, and please add two pastries. One kouign-amann and a spring onion bagel. ❞

Gaze sliding sideways toward the culprit of the hour, eyes settling on him with a serene expression before it slips back into unhinged.

He's paying.

The absolute certainty in her voice was beautiful. It was a flawless piece of performance art, and he appreciated the composition of it too much to look annoyed. "Jennifer," he murmured, his voice a low, smooth purr that slipped right under the barista's cheerful confirmation of the total. He didn't even glance at the register. Instead, his hand reached into his jacket pocket, his fingers sliding out his wallet with a fluid, unhurried ease that made the entire transaction look like a scripted scene from an old film. He didn't pull out a card immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the marble, tapping the plastic edge of his black card against the counter, right next to the brand-new, uncompromised iced coffee he was still holding hostage. He looked her up and down, his eyes half-lidded, cataloging the serene, victory-lap expression on her face with a quiet, dangerous amusement. "A spring onion bagel?" he echoed softly, his tone dripping with a playful, razor-thin mockery. He tapped the card once more against the counter before sliding it toward the barista without breaking eye contact with her. "You have a very expensive habit of losing arguments, you know." He let the payment approve, the quiet beep of the card reader signaling his complete surrender of the funds.

As the cashier handed back his card, Hyunjin slid it back into his wallet with the same unhurried precision, completely unbothered by the sudden dent in his balance. He didn't wait for the pastries to arrive, nor did he offer to share the fresh iced coffee he was still holding. He pocketed his wallet, his eyes dropping to her face one last time, catching the lingering smugness of her little victory under the brim of her cap.

Lisa watched him laugh without interrupting it. For a second, it caught her off guard. Not because it was loud or dramatic, but because it felt real. Unfiltered. The kind of laugh that slipped out before someone could think twice about it. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her own mouth. Her gaze stayed on him as he stepped closer. Neither of them had really stopped looking since she'd gotten into the car since Bali, really. The kind of stare that had long since stopped being accidental. A quiet contest. A challenge. "Is that your way of admitting defeat already?" The question came soft, amused. She knew the answer already. "We haven't even made it to dinner yet." Still, she didn't look away. Not when he stepped into her space. Not when his eyes stayed locked on hers. Not even when he admitted she had occupied more of his thoughts than he'd originally let on. That part lingered. More than she intended. The touch at her back finally broke the moment. Barely. Just enough for her attention to shift toward the hidden doorway as it opened. And then she understood. The warmth spilling from below. The scent of oak. The complete absence of people. Her gaze drifted slowly through the restaurant as they descended the stairs, taking everything in without rushing.

The privacy.

The atmosphere.

The fact that for once nobody was watching.

By the time they reached the counter, something softer had replaced the skepticism she'd walked in with. Not surrender. Just appreciation. When Hyunjin pulled back the stool for her, Lisa paused beside it instead of immediately sitting down. Her eyes lifted to his again. A small smile appeared. "Okay. " A faint smile lingered. "This is dangerously close to being worth the wait. "

Her gaze drifted around the room once more before returning to him.

"I like it." Simple. Honest. Then, naturally. "Don't let it go to your head though."

A warning, or maybe a challenge?

"You really committed to the bit, Hyunjin-ah." The nickname rolled off her tongue effortlessly. Then, finally, she slid onto the stool. As she sat down, Lisa shrugged off her leather jacket and hooked it over the back of the chair. The lace top beneath caught the warm amber light for a brief moment before she settled comfortably against the counter. Crossing one leg over the other, she rested an elbow lightly against the counter and looked around the hidden restaurant one more time. "Although... "

Her eyes returned to him.

Calm.

Amused.

Still challenging.

The head chef, catching the playful tone, simply offered a small, knowing smile from across the counter, entirely unfazed by the idol's teasing threat. With practiced, silent precision,  the chef placed two beautiful, heavy crystal tumblers on the dark walnut surface in front of them, followed by a bottle of premium, Japanese single malt whisky resting on a small wooden tray.

Drip, drip, drip...

Somehow has started to play a metronome for bad decisions.

There's my saliva in it.

Silence stretching, staring. No, not blinking. Actually staring. One that sat down, crossed its legs, opened a manila folder and began preparing its charges. A slow, almost sharp inhale follows through the nose. Quiet. Controlled. Publicist-approved (probably). Tongue pressed against the inside of the cheek, not because the sentence had affected her, obviously. Please. There were federal agencies for things like this. The human body occasionally needed somewhere to place the sheer administrative burden of hearing a fully grown man, in his late twenties, saying something like that in public and then look so pleased with himself afterward.

Saliva.

He said saliva.

In a café.

Over an already watered down iced americano.

With witnesses.

❝ You are so lucky I have had all my vaccines. Do you have any diseases? ❞

The question slips out of her lips softly, almost sweetly. One hand remaining around the cup, fingers loose, present, claiming the plastic as evidence if not property. The other lifted, knuckle brushing beneath the edge of her own lower lip as if to check whether this has been a terrible mistake or simply surviving a minor outbreak of such male audacity.

❝ No, seriously. Because you said that like it was supposed to be a threat and not something I should report to a medical professional. ❞

Lips curving into a small smile that's lethal. The coffee grinder snarled behind them. Perfect timing. A small mercy from the universe.

❝ And do I like it? ❞

It echoes, tone shifting just enough for amusement to lace through the disbelief now, curling fine and sharp as a needle with each chuckle.

"'(H)yunjin? Iced Americano?"

Lisa’s gaze lingered on the building for a second after the engine died, taking in the understated exterior, the kind of place people only found through money, reputation, or the right name whispered to the right person. No cameras shoved in her face the second she stepped out of the car. No managers blowing up her phone because someone spotted her somewhere “inconvenient."

It was thoughtful.

Carefully chosen.

She liked that more than she expected to.

The silence settling inside the car felt different now, quieter, heavier somehow. The city noise dulled outside while his attention stayed entirely on her, impossible not to notice in the confined space between them.

Not that Lisa minded being looked at.

She turned her head slowly toward him as he spoke, dark eyes flicking briefly to the hand resting against the console before returning to his face. Then lower for half a second when his gaze caught on her necklace.

Lisa noticed that too.

Of course she did.

A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth as their eyes kept finding each other with almost dangerous consistency slow, unwavering. An unspoken battle of who would look away first, while neither of them ever really intended to lose.

Then, naturally, she tilted the moment slightly back in her favor.

"Look at you."

Her gaze continued to remain on him, same amused look on her face as his.

"Calling in favors, secret little restaurants… all this over a girl you “kinda” missed."

The tease was lighter this time. Less sharp. Just enough to poke at his ego without ruining the moment he’d clearly put effort into. Reaching for the door handle, stepping out first, the cool Seoul night wrapping briefly around her as the heels of her boots met the pavement with quiet confidence. The city lights caught against the dark silk and leather, long black hair shifting lightly over her shoulder as she straightened.

She paused beside the car instead of walking ahead immediately, one hand resting loosely against the roof while she glanced toward the hidden entrance, then back at him with faint amusement lingering in her eyes.

"Well?"

A slight lift of her brow.

Hyunjin tapped a quick, five-digit code into a concealed keypad hidden behind a loose brick. With a heavy, metallic click, the iron door swung inward, revealing a dimly lit, subterranean concrete stairwell lined with warm, amber accent lights and the faint, mouth-watering scent of sizzling marbled beef and oak wood. He gestured down the steps, a smooth, courtly motion that carried all the effortless flair of a performer. "After you," he murmured, his eyes locking onto hers one last time before they entered, a silent challenge daring her to see if the reality inside lived up to the month of anticipation.

Voice tucked beneath the noise of the café, soft, too softly, low enough that it only belongs to the narrow slice of space between them. Low enough to not become a scene. Low enough to preserve the illusion that two internationally recognized idols were not currently turning one iced americano into a custody dispute with emotional damages. A blink, then another. Eyes dropping to the cup, sliding closer once more, that extra half-inch dragging a thin wet ring along the counter, its condensation smearing beneath the plastic another evidence trailing and marking itself. Exhibit B. Premeditated. Hostile.

❝ And for the record, I was not about to cry over caffeine. I was about to pursue justice. For basic order management. ❞

The said disputed iced americano sits in the middle, sweating quietly, black coffee and water ratio becoming more and more flawed, less favored by any caffeine enthusiast. Tragic and honestly offensive. One cup. Two names. One stolen sip. One man standing too close and looking far too pleased with himself and his own doing for someone currently implicated in beverage theft.

Fingers curling lightly around the cup, not lifting it, just claiming contact, her own flag planted.

❝ And no, drinking after you does not bother me. ❞

Tone of voice dropping into something dry, almost conversational.

❝ What bothers me is that you said it like it should. ❞

Those famed pair of boba eyes, narrowing and sharpening while a tiny crescent of a s smile finally appearing as it cuts through the neutral line of her mouth like a blade tucked into ribbon. Pleasant. Polite. Too polite, almost someone smiling in customer service when faced with a very entitled patron.

❝ Is that supposed to be your strategy, Hyunjin-ssi? Steal my coffee, drink from it, move it toward me like a peace offering, and then wait for me to faint dramatically because your lips touched the straw? ❞

Thumb tapping the plastic lid, once, quiet, accusatory.

❝ Please.❞

Discarding the straw and lifting the cup.

❝ Does it bother you, that I'm not bothered at all? ❞

Lisa sank comfortably into the passenger seat, the soft click of the door shutting between them, only making the space feel smaller somehow. Warmer. More aware. She watched him quietly while he spoke, dark eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face lit by the passing dashboard lights, catching the amusement sitting underneath all that carefully controlled confidence. Strategic.

That made her smile slightly.

Not sweet. Not soft. Dangerous, if anything.

"Strategic?" she repeated slowly, like she was testing the word for herself.

Her gaze moved over him once more, deliberate this time.

"That’s cute."

The compliment somehow sounded more like a challenge coming from her. She noticed the way his hand brushed close to her knee when he shifted gears. Intentional enough not to be accidental. Careful enough to see if she’d react.

Lisa’s eyes flicked downward briefly before lifting back to his without hurry.

Still calm. Always calm.

"A whole month just to decide you missed me." A faint tilt of her head followed. "You really do take your time, Hyunjin-ah~" No accusation in it. If anything, she sounded entertained, the way his name rolled off her tongue smooth, like she knew exactly what it would do to him. At his last question, she didn’t answer. If she had objections, she’d still be home with Leo and Lola instead of sitting in his expensive car. The Seoul lights slipped across her face as the car merged into traffic. Lisa leaned back comfortably now, crossing one leg over the other with effortless confidence, like she already belonged there. One arm rested loosely against the door while the other played absentmindedly with the long necklace resting against her chest, fingers tracing the chain slowly. Her gaze drifted between him and the streets passing outside, lingering just long enough each time to be noticed. "So…" her voice came smooth, unhurried.

"What place is supposedly good enough to make up for the thirty-day wait?" A small pause.

Then the corner of her mouth lifted again nothing but playfulness in her tone.

Eyes watching how the cup lifted, the straw angled just right towards the lips then in between them, taking a sip for approximately more than 30 secs, like actually sipped her iced americano. Then, the cup returning to the counter, an inch closer to her side of the ring with a silence that could have been polite if one ignored the tiny apocalypse happening behind her vision. Coffee settling black and plain beneath the lid, condensation beading down the plastic cup in helpless little trails, already crying to what was about to be held into court as it starts to accumulate against the counter like evidence. Knuckles still remembering that brief brush of contact. Annoying. Not important. Barely anything, honestly.

Jennifer.

Not Yunjin.

But Jennifer.

Her name slipping out of his mouth too easily, way too easily. Too quietly. Too... intentionally. Which could only mean one thing—recognition, the kind that had dressed nicely, pulled up a chair, and decided to make itself comfortable.

Too damn comfortable.

❝ Desperate? Wow. Okay. ❞

Weight shifting slightly, one booted foot pressing deeper into the wooden floorboards. Shoulders staying relaxed, arms folding beneath the chest with the sort of practiced ease that suggested this was completely unaffected. Calm. Civilized. Very mature. The very epitome of Boompala. Not at all trying to decide if this man had just weaponized her government name in public.

❝ First of all, I'm not desperate for a taste of your stolen bean water. And second of all, they called something that sounded like both of our names so I don't think you can fully claim my iced coffee that confidently. ❞

A pause, gaze flicking back up to where his face was hiding beneath that cap.

❝ You also moved it closer to my side. ❞

Gaze lowering pointedly to that incriminating one-inch migration he had apparently expected her not to notice. Exhibit A. Voice still low, still carefully tucked beneath the café noise. One finger lifting, hovering near the cup but not touching it.

❝ Which, legally speaking, feels like a confession. Or guilt. Or poor spatial awareness. Which would be sad, actually, so pick a struggle, Hwang Hyunjin-ssi. ❞

Lisa slowed her steps slightly when he stepped out of the car. Not enough to call it hesitation, more like recognition. Expression unreadable in the way she had mastered over years of cameras and people constantly trying to read too much into her face. But her eyes flicked over him once, quietly taking in the adjusted hair, the familiar confidence, it amused her. "Mm." A soft hum left her first as she stopped near him, close enough now to catch the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the cold Seoul night air.

"You texted me like five minutes ago~" The corner of her mouth lifted slightly at that, subtle but there. Then her gaze narrowed just a little when he lingered instead of moving back from the car door. Still looking. Still doing that. Lisa noticed. Of course she did.

"Besides… "

A small pause, eyes still on him.

"It took you what? A month to get here? "

The words came smooth, teasing, but measured. Never fully giving away where she stood. A faint shift in her expression followed, just enough to edge into something sharper.

"But for a look like that… "

Her gaze stayed on him a second longer.

"I suppose I can also forgive the wait. "

A beat.

Then, quieter, almost like she was turning his own words back on him with intent.

" Or maybe not. We’ll see. "

We’ll see.

She was sharp. Dangerous, even. The way she had effortlessly thrown his own words right back at him, using his rhythm against him, made his blood run hot. He loved a challenge, and Lisa wasn't just meeting him halfway, she was rewriting the rules of the game on the fly. He walked around the hood of the car, his eyes fixed on her silhouette through the windshield, before slipping back into the driver’s seat. The enclosed space instantly filled with her presence, a faint trace of her perfume cutting right through the familiar scent of his leather interior. Hyunjin buckled his seatbelt, turning his head to look at her. The dim dashboard lights caught the sharp angles of his face, casting long shadows that hid the true depth of the intensity in his eyes. He rested one wrist on top of the steering wheel, shifting his posture so he was leaning slightly toward her. "A month?" he repeated, his voice dropping into a low, amused register that felt entirely too intimate for the quiet confines of the car. "Come on. A guy has to be strategic. If I asked you out the second we touched down in Seoul, you would’ve thought I was desperate." He gave her a quick, wicked little smirk, not denying the accusation for a single second. He liked that she noticed the timeline. It meant she had been counting the days, too, even if she’d never admit it.

The message sat on her screen for a few seconds longer than it should have.

i’m outside

Lisa didn’t move right away. Leo noticed first, head lifting slightly from where he was lying near the couch, alert but calm. Lola, half-asleep on a blanket, didn’t care at all. Lisa, though… she stared at the screen. One month. Bali came back in fragments. The music. The bar. The dancing. His teasing smile when he stole her water bottle just to make her chase him for it. It hadn’t felt like anything specific at the time, just another night, another face in a crowded room full of familiar faces. But somehow, it stayed anyway. Not loudly. Just… there. And then later, him disappearing into the crowd without a word. She had noticed. She just hadn’t had the space to do anything with it. Too many other things at once, schedules, company pressure, the recent breakup fallout still circling her life like background noise she couldn’t fully turn off. Even now, she wasn’t really getting a break from anything. And yet his message sat there like it didn’t care about any of that.

it's been a while. Kinda missed u

That made her lips lift slightly, not a smile exactly, more like a quiet reaction she didn’t bother to stop. Her thumb tapped the screen once. Then she stood. No rush. No visible shift in expression. Just that quiet decision made without overthinking it. Leo got up slightly as she moved past him.

" Stay." she said simply, not even looking back. He stayed.

Lisa walked to her room. Leather jacket. Fitted pants. A lace top underneath that wasn’t trying to be loud, just expensive in that effortless way she always carried. Long black hair cascading down her back. She paused for half a second in front of the mirror. Not checking. Just there.

Bali flickered again, not the dancing, not the noise, but the feeling of him somewhere in it. Present enough to notice. Gone enough to be remembered.

Her expression didn’t change.

She grabbed her keys.

When she finally emerged, he felt his breath hitch slightly, though he kept his posture entirely fluid and relaxed. She looked devastating. The effortless wealth of the lace top, the sharp structure of the leather jacket, and the way her long black hair caught the faint glow of the streetlights as she walked, it was exactly the Muse he had been drawing from memory for the last four weeks. Only better. Seeing her in three dimensions made the sketches in his notebook feel entirely hollow. He didn't wait for her to reach the car. Hyunjin pushed his door open, stepping out into the cool evening air. He leaned one elbow casually against the roof of his car, his dark eyes locked onto her as she approached. The cool, teasing confidence from Bali was back in an instant, masking the intense obsession that had been brewing in his head for a month.