but the light in which fell over eunju’s face now, dimmer than last time, a better cover up for how shy she actually was set the mood to something different, something that confirmed any lingering counter thoughts about what he felt before.
“you’re cute,” eunju says, grins. “i made it to the top ten, are you proud of me?” it’s an encouragement she hadn’t known she’s needed to hear but she revels in it nonetheless, especially now that she’s been questioning how worth it it’d been to participate in the competition at all. it’s a kind of support she hadn’t known she’d been missing over the course of her tenure as a mini idol. she likes it. she’d blush again if she weren’t already on fire, but at least she knows it goes both ways, that she’s not the only one unwavering in the need to see the other succeed.
more often than not these days, she’s found herself frustrated with the lack of appreciation that junho and his band receive. they deserve it, if their music is anything to go by, if their personalities are worth anything to the public. he looks good on stage. he shines then, shines now.
he’s bad for her focus, really, in the grand scheme of things. she should be more focused on arpeggios and scales than what his favorite food is, what kind of toppings he likes on his ice cream, if he was the kind of kid to play on tire swings or if he’d spent the peak of his youth playing first person shooters in his bedroom. important things, too, though - his dreams and aspirations, where he sees himself years down the lines, if he sees her there, too.
“maybe a couple dozen,” she concedes, playful, giggling when his lips meet her skin again - it tickles, tingles and her giggles hitch into sighs, the spot behind her ear a weakness much like the slope of her neck, the curve of her waist. “you’re really funny or whatever, when you’re not busy being a pain in the ass.”
it feels real now, in the hush that falls over them when his hands bare her shoulders. her breath catches in her throat when the weight of it all catches up with her. “i really like you, too,” it’s a soft declaration. “fancy that.” there’s something light-years more intimate about this, them, than anything she could've anticipated in the days leading up to this moment - to the finally, the heaving sigh of relief now that they've found the opportunity to indulge in each other. it’s a risk, every aspect of what makes them what they are, and yet the daunting does little to quell her desire to have him. it’s the little things, really, the playful kisses and the coy banter, fingers tangled idly as they chat mindlessly about everything and nothing at all. stolen moments at msg when there’s an excuse, a made-up reason for him to be there, the live wire spark that lays between them buzzing with the threat of what would happen should they bridge the gap.
they’d set the world ablaze.
even now, the heat is stifling in the best of ways. she shifts under him, frees her arms just enough to take the straps off altogether, lowers the bodice of her dress until she’s naked from the waist up. it’s an invitation, one that goes without saying, but she kisses him again anyway. she feels shy, sure, vulnerable, even, but there’s little else that she’s been quite as certain of as this. “i think you should make it up to me now,” she prompts, breathless, a callback to earlier.