d⁷elusional

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the keycard clicked. the lock light flickered green.

you pushed the hotel room door open with your hip, one hand still tangled in jeongguk’s hair. his mouth was on your neck before the door even swung shut behind them. his breath was hot, unsteady, not the calculated rhythm of an agent undercover, but something rawer.

“camera,” you breathed.

he pulled back just enough for his eyes to meet yours. dark. focused. a single bead of sweat traced a path from his temple to his jaw. “sweep’s done. we’re clean.”

your fingers tightened in his hair. “check again.”

a beat of silence. his hands dropped from your waist. the loss of contact was a physical thing, your skin prickled where his palms had been, the silk of your dress suddenly too thin, too warm.

“paranoid,” he muttered, but he was already pulling out his phone, thumb swiping across the screen in quick, practiced motions.

you walked to the window. twenty-three floors below, the city sprawled in grids of amber and white light. somewhere in that neon maze, kang dae-jung was counting his money and sharpening his knives. three months of undercover work. three months of playing the devoted girlfriend to jeongguk’s ambitious security consultant. the persona had a name—yuna, a former flight attendant with expensive taste and a habit of laughing too loud at rich men’s jokes.

you hated yuna.

behind you, jeongguk’s voice was low. “room’s clean. no rf interference. no heat signatures through the walls.” a pause. “aera.”

he said your real name. you turned. he was standing by the bed now, phone discarded on the nightstand. the streetlight through the window caught the sharp angles of his face, the jawline that had gotten them into half the private parties in this city, the mouth that had convinced kang’s lieutenant they were just another couple drowning in luxury.

“we have four hours before the extraction team moves into position,” she said. “we should go over the floor plans again.”

“we’ve gone over them twelve times.”

“then thirteen.”

his jaw tightened. “you’ve been avoiding looking at me directly for the past six hours. what happened at the gala?”

a muscle in your thigh twitched. you locked your knees. “nothing happened.”

“when kang put his hand on your back—"

“i handled it.”

“—you flinched.” jeongguk took a step toward her. “yuna doesn’t flinch. yuna leans into that kind of attention. you almost blew three months of work because you couldn’t—”

“i flinched because you were staring.” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. sharp. accusing. “you were staring at kang’s hand on me like you wanted to break every bone in his fingers. not like a partner watching my back. like something else.”

the room held its breath. jeongguk’s expression flickered, a crack in the careful mask he’d worn since the day they’d been assigned together. “you’re imagining things.”

“i’m a trained observer.” you crossed her arms. “and you’ve been compromised.”

he laughed. a single, humorless sound. “compromised.”

“you’re too close to this. to me.”

“we’re pretending to be a couple. we’re supposed to be close.”

“there’s supposed and there’s whatever this is.”

he moved then, not fast, but deliberate. two steps closed the distance between them. the warmth of his body reached yours before his hands did. you tilted your chin up to hold his gaze.

“you want to know what this is?” his voice had dropped, roughened at the edges. “three months of sharing a bed and pretending to sleep. three months of your perfume on my shirt and your laugh in my ear while i smile at men who deserve a bullet. three months of watching you become someone else every morning and watching her fall away every night the second the door closes.”

her pulse was hammering at the base of her throat.

“we made a deal,” you managed. “keep it professional.”

“you brought up the flinch.”

“because it’s a liability.”

“is that what you think i am?”

his hand lifted. hesitated. then his knuckles grazed your cheekbone, just a whisper of contact, and your breath caught. you could feel the calluses on his fingers from range practice, the slight tremor that had nothing to do with fear.

“you’re the best agent i’ve ever worked with,” he said quietly. “and the worst thing that’s happened to my focus in years. both things are true. both things are going to get us killed if we don’t—”

you kissed him.

the decision bypassed her brain entirely. one moment you was standing there with your arms crossed and your arguments lined up like bullets in a magazine. the next, your mouth was on his and your fingers were gripping the front of his shirt and you were pulling him towards you with a desperation that felt like falling.

he made a sound against your lips—hunger—and then his hands were in your hair and his body was pressing you backward until your shoulders hit the window.

the glass was cold through the thin silk. he was not. “aera.” your name came out ragged, half-buried in the curve of your neck. “tell me to stop.”

you didn’t.

your fingers found the buttons of his shirt. fumbled. the third one down popped loose and your palm slid against the bare skin of his chest. heat. muscle. the frantic rhythm of his heart under your hand.

his mouth traveled down your throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin above your collarbone. a sound escaped you—small, involuntary, nothing like yuna’s practiced giggles.

“is this still a liability?” he murmured against your skin.

“shut up.”

“yes ma’am.”

his hands found the zipper at the back of your dress. pulled. the silk loosened, slid, and then the dress was pooling at your feet and you were standing in nothing but black lace and the glow of the city skyline.

he stepped back. just an inch. just enough to look at you.

“jesus,” he breathed.

the way he said it—reverent, wrecked—sent heat cascading down your spine. you reached for him, but he caught your wrists.

“wait.” your body protested. every nerve ending was screaming for contact. but you waited.

“we’re doing this,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. “but i need you to know— right now, this room, this isn’t the assignment. this isn’t kang or the mission or any of it. this is you and me. just us. if you can’t give me that, tell me now.”

his grip on your wrists was gentle but unyielding. his eyes were the color of strong coffee, and just as bracing.

you twisted her hands free, not breaking his hold, but reversing it. now you were the one gripping his wrists. now you were the one pulling him closer.

“you’ve had me compromised since week two,” you said. “when you memorised how i take my coffee and started leaving a cup on my nightstand every morning before i woke up.”

something shifted in his expression. softened.

then he was kissing you again, and there was no hesitation this time. his hands mapped the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips, the dip of your lower back. you pulled his shirt off his shoulders, let it fall, traced the lines of ink that curved over his ribs—a design you've seen a hundred times in surveillance stills and never once touched.

touching it now felt like breaking a rule.

she wanted to break more.

he walked you backward. the edge of the bed hit the back of your knees. you sat, pulled him down with you. the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, and you wrapped your legs around his waist like you'd been doing it for years instead of hours of choreographed public displays.

his mouth found the hollow behind your ear. “you make this sound,” he said, voice barely audible, “when something actually feels good. not the yuna sound. the real one. i’ve been trying to hear it for weeks.”

“creep.”

“observant.”

you laughed—a genuine, surprised laugh—and he swallowed it with a kiss.

your hands moved to his belt. the leather was stiff, the buckle complicated. you fumbled. he paused. looked down at you. “you do this a lot undercover?”

“shut up.”

“because your technique—”

you got the buckle open. his smirk vanished. you tugged the belt free, popped the button of his trousers, and slid your hand inside. he inhaled sharply, his hips jerking forward into your touch. the fabric of his boxer briefs was damp.

you looked up at him through her lashes. “you were saying?”

in answer, he reached behind your and unclasped your bra. one hand slid the strap down your shoulder. then the other. then he was lowering his head and his mouth was on your breast and your back arched off the mattress.

there. that sound he’d mentioned. the real one. it escaped her throat before she could stop it. he made a noise of approval against your skin and did it again.

your fingers dug into his shoulders. the world narrowed to the wet heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the way his hips ground against yours in a rhythm that was far from practiced. there was no choreography here. no marks to hit, no cameras to play to.

just his body and yours and four hours of borrowed time.

he pulled back just long enough to shove his trousers and briefs down, kick them off. you almost let out a gasp, "jesus… you're big."

"you think?" he murmured, voice rough with nerves and pride, half-smiling against her lips before kissing her again. it wasn't like he’d ever measured himself or compared… but hearing it from you? made his chest swell.

your hand hovered for a second, like you wanted to touch but weren't sure if you should yet. jeongukk caught it gently, pressing your palm flat against his stomach instead of where you both really wanted it… giving them you to adjust.

still holding your hand, he guided it lower—slowly… giving you time to pull away if you wanted. you didn’t. instead, your fingers finally curled around him. jeongguk sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth at the contact.

you started with slow strokes, curious more than confident, and each glide sent sparks through his nerves his breathing turned uneven, lips parting as quiet sounds escaped him without meaning to. a small whimper here… a shaky exhale there. it was overwhelming in the best way possible—the intimacy of it all hitting harder than anything physical could have.

jeongguk's hips twitched involuntarily when your thumb brushed over the wetness at his tip—a quiet, precum-coated evidence of how ready he was for you.

he hadn’t even realised it had happened… too focused on your touch. but now that you noticed? his embarrassment flared—face heating up instantly.

you didn’t tease him though. instead, your thumb swiped gently through the moisture, spreading it slightly before continuing to stroke with more deliberate pressure this time.

jeongguk bit his lip—hard—to keep from making another embarrassing noise… but failed miserably when your squeezed just right.

the sound that slipped out of jungkook was embarrassingly high—almost a whine—as your grip tightened just right. his hips jerked forward slightly, chasing your hand without thinking.

he was so sensitive… every stroke, every brush of skin made him twitch and tremble like it was too much—but also not enough.

you noticed, your eyes flickering up to watch his reactions—the way his jaw clenched, how he bit his lip to stay quiet.

you slowed down… teasing now. torturing him with feather-light strokes that drove him crazy but didn’t give relief.

you pull your hand away and hook your thumb on your panties, slowly sliding them down. jeongukk couldn't keep his eyes off of you. he slowly got onto his knees, making eye contact through his lashes, asking you for permission to let him taste you.

once you gave him the look, he kissed your inner thigh first. soft, teasing, then moved inward, his tongue parting you with one slow, deliberate stroke. you cried out, your hips bucking against his face. jeongguk groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks through your clit. he licked again, slower this time, savoring the taste of you. his tongue circled your entrance, dipping inside just enough to make you whimper, then sliding up to focus on the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top.

"fuckk jeongguk—" you moaned, hands gripping his hair. he didn't answer with words. he answered with action, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking gently while his finger pressed inside you. one finger, then two, curling to find that spot that made your vision blur. his tongue kept working, relentless, alternating between broad flat strokes and quick flicks that had you gripping his hair, pulling him closer.

"don't stop," you cried out. he didn't. he kept his pace slow, torturous, drawing out every moan, every gasp. his tongue circled your clit in lazy loops while his fingers pumped in and out, building you up without letting you fall. he wanted you to remember this. wanted you to feel every second.

he breathing grew ragged, your hips grinding against his face. "i'm close," you gasped. "i'm so close." it was almost embarrassing how fast he made you cum. 

he pulled his mouth away, and you whimpered at the loss. but his fingers kept moving, curling harder, faster.

"not yet," he said, voice hoarse. he kissed his way back up your body, leaving a trail of wet heat across your stomach, your breasts, your throat. "i want to feel you cum around me."

he gave his cock a few strokes, coating it with his precum. the first press of him against your entrance made them you freeze.

condom. you should say something about a condom. the thought floated through your mind, distant and irrelevant. they’d both been tested. they’d both been—

“i’m clean,” he said, reading your mind. “and i’m not going to—”

“i know.” your voice was steadier than you felt. “i trust you.”

the words landed heavier than you'd intended. trust, in their line of work, was a currency more valuable than information. more dangerous than any weapon.

he held your gaze. asked one more time with his eyes: "you sure?" you didn’t answer with words—you just kissed him harder, your legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him down. that was all the confirmation jeongguk needed.

with a slow, careful push, he slid into you—eyes fluttering shut at the overwhelming sensation. warm… tight… perfect. better than anything he’d imagined.

you gasped against his lips—but not from pain. more like surprise at how full you felt… then quiet pleasure as they adjusted together.

"oh fuck," you let out the whiniest moan he'd ever hear. jeongguk echoed you exactly—"oh fuck"—under his breath the second he was fully sheathed inside you. it felt too good… overwhelming in a way that made his vision blur for a second.

he stayed still, forehead pressed to yours as they both breathed through the intensity of it. your fingers dug into his back slightly, your body slowly relaxing around him, getting used to the stretch.

"fuck— you're so big, gguk," you moan. jeongguk's heart squeezed at the nickname—"gguk." it made him melt, and also swell with pride (in more ways than one). "you like that?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick as he rocked into you again—deeper this time, still slow but building.

you nodded, your lips parting around a breathy moan. you weren't lying either; his size definitely filled you completely… stretching just right without hurting.

jungkook kissed down your jaw, cheeks flushed from pleasure and affection for you.

he leaned down, his lips brushing your ears as he spoke, "you feel so damn good around me," he growled, "so tight… like you were made for this."

then he nipped her earlobe before adding, "wanna make you scream my name… wanna fucking ruin you." you gasped at his filthy words. "oh shit!"

and then? jeongguk picked up the pace—harder thrusts, chasing that promise in his words. he grinned at your "oh shit." he loved that reaction. loved knowing he was wrecking you with every deep thrust. "that’s it," he murmured against your neck, "let me hear you…"

then his hand slid between you, finding where you were connected and pressing a thumb right over your sensitive clit—rubbing in slow circles while still pounding into you.

you cried out this time—a louder sound than before—as pleasure spiked through every nerve. jungkook watched with hooded eyes… addicted to how you looked like this because of him.

his mouth crashed onto yours again—messy, biting kisses as he pounded into you with zero restraint now. his voice dropped to a filthy whisper right against your ear: "gonna make you cum so hard… wanna feel you squeeze me while i fuck you."

then his free hand gripped your thigh, hiking it higher around his waist to change the angle—going even deeper. you let out a pornographic moan, your nails scraping down jungkook’s back as pleasure spiked through every nerve. you was close… so damn close… and he wasn't stopping until you shattered.

“look at me,” he said. you did. his eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, but focused entirely on your face. watching. cataloging every flicker of pleasure, every gasp, every clench of your jaw.

he wanted to see your fall apart. the realisation sent a shock of heat straight through your core. “jeongguk.” his name cracked on your tongue.

“i know.” his hand slid between your bodies, found the slick heat of your clit, rubbing circles. “i’ve got you. let go.”

you shattered. your back bowed. your thighs clamped around his hips. a cry tore out of you—loud, unguarded, nothing like the controlled sounds you'd trained herself to make.

"uh—shit— i'm gonna.. where do you want it?" he pants. "inside. i'm on birth control." you quickly reply. as soon as you finish your sentence, he cums inside you. his groan muffled against your shoulder as he pulsed inside you. eventually, he slowly pulls out, watching your releases leak from your pussy. "fuck.." he pants heavily.

you lay there, tangled and shaking, as the city hummed twenty-three floors below. his breath was hot on your neck. your fingers traced lazy patterns on his shoulder blade.

“we should—” you started.

“don’t,” he said. “don’t make this into strategy. not yet.”

you closed her mouth. three minutes. then five. then his phone buzzed on the nightstand. instinct snapped you them both upright. he grabbed it, scanned the screen. his expression shifted.

“what?” you were already reaching for your clothes.

“extraction’s been moved up.” he looked at you, and the agent was back in his eyes. but underneath it, something else flickered. “kang’s men just pulled up outside the hotel.”

⚬──────────✧──────────⚬

Auntie Lin’s only piece of advice after you announced your acceptance of your first corporate job: Small talk is your best friend. The advice hadn’t registered in your mind until you facilitated a meeting with executive management where the first five minutes of silent judgement nearly made you quit the job until you asked, “Any weekend plans?”

You learned the power of small talk and how obsessed executive leaders were when it came to bragging about their personal lives outside the office. The advice worked so well, management gave you an unprompted promotion two weeks later.

Nothing wrong with being the personality hire if it helps you climb the corporate ladder. 

Okay, well, no, you had history with this company.

Your father’s connection with the talent acquisition management landed you an internship at this very company right out of high school, so you didn’t need to reestablish your rapport after graduating from university.

You’re still a hard worker. Yes … objectively speaking, nepotism played a part in your current successes — you don’t shy away from that fact.

Your charming and curious personality only got you so far, but the magic always stopped with one person.

Jeon Jeongguk.

Hard case to crack and even harder to not stare at when he’s within your vicinity.

He’s polished, well-spoken, and … let’s just say there are things you shouldn’t say or think about in a place of work, let alone towards someone in the senior management team. He hardly smiles and if he does, it’s never towards you.

Right now? You think the least Jeongguk could do is crack a smile at your joke to break the tension in the virtual meeting. No one liked hearing bad news and you became the bearer of bad news as you explained to the client why a deliverable will not be made by the proposed timeline.

Delivering bad news was a manager’s job and unfortunately, your manager entrusted you with this responsibility right before she left for maternity leave, raving about how it’ll build your leadership and communication skills … right, right.

Jeongguk was the other leader overseeing the project. His team met all the deliverables, so there was no real need for his attendance other than pure formalities. 

This was your chance to show him what you were capable of. 

“Mr. Choi, we apologize for not making the deadline. With half the team on leave, the estimated completion date will need to be extended as a result.” You explain.

Jeongguk sits and watches you exchange words with the client. The mic button remained on mute during the many moments you would’ve benefited from his direction or support. You didn’t think you’d have to go through a humiliation ritual the day before your big trip for your best friend’s wedding in Italy. It’s your turn to have your mic button on mute as you let the client chew you out in front of your peers.

“Mr. Choi.” Jeongguk interrupts.

Thank god, finally. 

“The deliverables will be completed by the original proposed due date. I will personally see through that.”

You exhale in relief once the client settles back into their chair, demeanor shifting from their outburst moments ago.

You [3:32 p.m.]: Thank you, Jeongguk.

As expected, he doesn’t reply. 

The meeting wraps up on a positive note thanks to Jeongguk’s interception. Everyone bids each other farewell until you hear a call of your name.

“Stay on the call. Need to discuss a few things with you.”

Confused, you aren’t sure why he doesn’t ask you to walk ten steps to his office to chat privately. You swallow and one by one, all of your colleagues leave the meeting until it’s just you and him. 

He sighs, letting his agitation come out freely now. He loosens his tie and fixes his frames on his nose.

“So …” you begin.

“Do you know what your first mistake was on that call?” He sneers, a complete one-eighty from the well-mannered speaker he was during the meeting.

“I’m–uh, not sure.” You reply honestly.

“‘We apologize,’” he repeats your words, “there is no ‘we’ in this — you were the one that didn’t meet the service level agreement. Learn to take accountability for your own shortcomings.”

Ouch.

He continues, “You also failed to offer any alternatives or incentive for the delay. This is about being reputable — customer experience dictates future collaborations with new clients. If this one goes sour, we lose our clientele.”

Each word morphed into daggers piercing and digging into your self-esteem.

The finishing blow?

“That being said, you will finish what we originally promised the client.”

“But,” your heart drops at the mention of working during your time off, “I’m not going to be in the country.”

“I’m sure there’s internet wherever you’re going.”

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

“And then! He said I’m paid salary, not hourly, so it doesn’t matter how long I need to work — I just need to get it done.” You complain to your colleague, Mina, who happened to work under Jeongguk’s section. 

“Oof, sorry girl.” She pours the coffee into her cup, unsurprised by her boss’ expectations. Setting the pot back onto the warmer, she leans against the counter. It’s just the two of you in the breakroom, free from prying eyes and ears. “So what are you gonna do?”

You groan. As much as you’d like to ramble and moan about how unreasonable Jeongguk’s demands were, you knew he was right about needing to take accountability.

“Well, if I push in some work in the early morning and night the first couple of days in Italy, I should be able to get it done.” You sigh. “Just hate it.”

Mina pats your shoulder and gives you a reassuring smile, which soon changes into a bewildered expression as she digs her fingers into your shoulder.

“Oh, hey bossman, here for a coffee refill?” Mina’s voice strains, projected to the space behind you.

You turn and there stands Jeon Jeongguk in all his glory. While you had the privilege to see him earlier today during the virtual meeting, nothing compared to the real deal. Dressed in an all-black suit, Jeongguk looks ever immaculate. His face is free from his metal-framed glasses, but they leave their small indentations on the sides of his nose. The deadliest combo came in the form of his hair pushed back, exposing his wrinkle-free forehead.

If it weren’t for his wired earphones and outdated iPod you caught him with during his walk, you would’ve never guessed his age. Technically, you still don’t know the exact number but Anna in Human Resources hinted he’s in his mid to late thirties.

Whatever. Age is just a number and hasn’t stopped you from trying to befriend the older man. 

“Yes, my third one today.” He muses.

“Anything the team and I can do to help wrap up things for you before your vacation?” Mina probes.

Wait. You never caught wind of that.

“No,” he shakes his head, “thank you, though.”

Your heart stirs at the low timbre of his chuckle, surprised at his abilities in displaying any other emotions outside his stoic expression. You theorize it comes easier with an established rapport. 

Maybe you’ll try your luck today.

“How long are you going to be out for?” You ask, moving to the side so he has better access to the coffee pot. His scent naturally fills your space — a mixture of fresh laundry and cedarwood. 

“Two weeks.”

“Oh, same here!” You beam. 

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that quite a bit this month.”

You warm in embarrassment; though, the feelings get swept underneath the rug at another fact.

He listened — more importantly, he remembered your many musings. 

“I’m going to Italy.” You remark, hoping he’d give a little more detail on his own vacation if you shared a bit about your upcoming adventures.

Jeongguk freezes momentarily and clears his throat before setting down the nearly empty pot.

“That’s nice.”

Seizing the moment to continue the conversation, you throw out details of your trip, namely for the wedding you’ll attend as maid of honor for your best friend.

“And they’re going to have this lovely venue near the beach. It’s going to be great.” You marvel.

“Ugh, I’m jealous,” Mina pouts. “Are you going to be doing something fun during your time off, Jeongguk?” 

You watch him with expectant eyes.

“Tending some family matters.”

That’s corporate lingo for: it’s personal, so none of your business. Everyone knows to back off on the topic at that point.

Taking a sip of his coffee after mixing a pack of Splenda, he offers a tight-lipped smile, “I have to head back to the desk. Enjoy your break.”

Alone with Mina once again, you look at her with defeated eyes.

“He’s just introverted and private, babe. I wouldn’t sweat it.” She waves.

“I’ve been here for over a year and he’s never like this to management or clients.” You sigh. “Maybe I’m the problem.”

It’s hard to not take things to heart being a natural born people pleaser. You want to be liked and if you’re not, at least know why; except, Jeongguk kept things strictly work related with all the little pocket of interactions you’ve had with him. 

If you were brave enough, you’d ask him about it over coffee or lunch — anywhere that might give you a glimpse of who he is outside of work. 

“Don’t mind him. In about twenty-four hours, you’ll be in Italy! Last time you updated, the best man was a little wishy-washy about the wedding? How’s that going?”

“Jihyo said Seojun got it sorted out, so they’re okay.” All you know from the matter is how much of a struggle it was to get a definite answer from his best man. Prick move and unnecessary stress for the wedding party. Had you been in Seojun’s position, you would’ve cut losses and moved forward without the best man early on.

Planning a wedding was difficult enough, let alone dealing with difficult people in the wedding party. You pray he steps into his role as the best man to lessen the to-be-wedded couple’s worries. 

“Good. Wedding drama’s the worst.” Mina nods. “Still haven’t recovered from finding out my cousin’s husband was fucking his cousin.” 

The gossip session goes for another fifteen minutes until you begrudgingly head back to finish up some last minute tasks. You weren’t going to be that coworker who leaves a bunch of unfinished work for your backup. 

Another thing you didn’t want to be was like your father, but you’re no different by the time you finish your pending tasks at 9:52 p.m. You do a quick once-over your automatic out-of-office notice and send out a list of items for your backup to look after before stuffing all your belongings into your workbag.

Going home was always your favorite time of the day, granting you the chance to walk past Jeongguk’s office. Even from where you’re standing, the lights in his office are the only ones still on out of all the managers on the floor.

His door remains slightly ajar throughout the day aside from the times he’s on a call or speaking to one of his employees. An ‘open door policy,’ Mina explained. Wants the folks on his team comfortable coming to him with their needs or questions.

You didn’t need anything, per se. There were plenty of questions floating in your head, but none that would qualify as work-related or professional. Things like … where are you going for vacation? Would you like to grab dinner together? … Are you seeing anyone? 

Your short almond shaped nails tap on his metal name plaque outside his office.

He looks up from his computer, the monitor’s brightness setting doing little to hide his exhausted stare. One brow raised, he cocks his head to the side.

“Come in.”

You take in your surroundings: a shelf containing all his Employee of the Year awards, empty “In” bin as opposed to a stacked “Out” bin, and half-finished cup of coffee. Above all, no pictures of his family or signs of life outside of work.

A stark contrast in comparison to your cubicle full of small trinkets, pictures of your loved ones, and cards you’ve received from both your coworkers and clients.

“Just wanted to say goodnight and thank you again for joining the meeting.” You say. “I followed up with the client with your recommendations and they’re happy with the timeline.”

He nods. “I’m glad it worked out.”

“Well,” You rock on your heels, not wanting to leave just yet, “I’ll see you in two weeks. Hope you have a nice time off, Jeongguk.”

He leans back into his deskchair, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he studies your face. His black dress shirt stretches and expands tightly at a passing thought; at the last second, he makes his resolve in foregoing the notion for simpler words.

“Likewise. Safe travels to Italy.”

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

Despite the two layovers and many near-death turbulences later, you arrive in Venice, Italy in one piece. Your best friend, Jihyo, was the first person you see at the gates, smile lighting up the building when she finally spots you through the crowds. These days, she glows more with her soon-to-be husband, Seojun.

You’ve met him only a handful of times and he’s always been kind. You don’t know him well enough, but as long as your friend was happy, so were you.

Which is why she’s going all out for her wedding — it’s her chance to do what she wants with those who care for her. Jihyo’s parents unfortunately did not extend their support and care. They were so against the idea of her marrying a person of no status, her father threatened to cut off all ties and funds if she were to go through with marrying Seojun. 

“My favorite person is finally here!” She squeezes you in her arms. “How was the flight? Are you hungry? We can go get a quick bite.”

“Jihyo, love, slow down,” Seojun comes from behind and offers you a kind greeting. “You must be exhausted. We can head back to the hotel. Just waiting for my uncle to clear customs.”

“Oh! Do you know when he’ll land?” You ask.

“I think he was on the same flight as you, so he should be out soon.” He pulls out his phone to answer a quick text before scanning the area. 

“Think that’s him.” He squints. “Uncle, over here!” He extends his arm above his head. 

You expected a fifty year old balding man, not senior manager, Jeon Jeongguk. 

Fuck.

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

You didn’t think you’d ever ride in the same car as one of your managers, especially one you had a dire crush on. You definitely didn’t think you’d be seated in the back of a rental car with him in Italy for your best friend’s wedding.

This whole scenario has to be straight out a romcom … or, in your case, a horror film.

You open up the notes app in your phone and type out a quick message: Do we tell them we know each other? 

What you really wanted to ask was: Why the hell didn’t you say anything about this being the “family matter” you had to take care of?

He takes your phone from your hand and begins typing something before handing it back to you. Nothing from your original note was edited, but a second later a notification comes through.

Jeongguk [4:56 p.m.]: No. Too complicated. You [4:56 p.m.]: Okay..

“Uncle.” Seojun looks at the rear mirror. “How’s work been?”

“Busy,” he sighs. “But it’s been getting better.”

“I’m glad. Hope these two weeks will give you the break you need. You didn’t bring your work laptop, right?” He presses.

Kind of cute seeing the younger male lecture his uncle — cuter seeing Jeongguk grumble at his nephew’s nagging.

“No promises.”

“Speaking of work,” Jihyo chimes in, “How you coping with work?” She turns her entire body from the passenger seat to look at you.

The passengers in the car go silent for your reply, feeling Jeongguk’s shift from the work status inquiry.

“Fine.” You answer quickly.

“Really? That one manager didn’t give you more shit right–”

“Jihyo!” You interrupt, quickly covering up with an awkward laugh and stiff smile, “ Ha-ha … no, it’s been great!”

“Wha–? But you were venting about having to work during the trip … Honestly, that manager’s lucky he’s hot.”

“Ji–”

“Hot?” Jeongguk asks with a raised brow. There’s a lift in his voice, forcing you to bury and shrink deeper into your seat.

“Allegedly.” Jihyo replies mindlessly. Oblivious to your discomfort of the topic, Jihyo continues, “You still gotta sneak a picture of him when you can, babe. I need to see if his pretty privileges warrant this sort of power trip.” 

You’ve heard summers in Italy were magical. You wish for some of that magic to touch you right now — the kind good enough to make you disappear all together from this awkward conversation.

“Huh.” Jeongguk props his elbow by the car’s window ledge, palm covering his mouth. “I’m curious too.” 

Jihyo changes the topic to the itinerary she made for the wedding party; however, you couldn’t be bothered to tune into the details. Knowing Jihyo, she’ll eventually send the party a spreadsheet of the schedule.

You [5:02 p.m.]: Please ignore Jihyo 🥹

Your heart accelerates at the appearance of the infamous dots signaling Jeongguk’s reply in the making.

Jeongguk [5:03 p.m.]: I’ll try. Power trips make it insanely hard to.

You chew on your bottom lip out of habit, feeling the sweat gather behind your neck. Hand fanning your face, you glance over and notice a slight shake in Jeongguk’s stature. He’s still facing away from you and towards the window, but from the reflection, you can see the corners of his mouth lift.

Endorphins rush through your bloodstream at the thought of making him happy.

While chasing your happiness has always been your life motto, you wouldn’t mind chasing for Jeongguk’s happiness too.

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

On Jihyo’s itinerary, she deliberately left Venice off from the rest of the wedding party arriving later at the actual wedding site. The next two days were solely meant to spend more time with the maid of honor and best man.

The first day in Venice naturally got cut short with your arrival time; so, the only thing Jihyo planned was a nice dinner after you and Jeongguk settled into your respective rooms. Dinner rolls by with just you, Jihyo, and Seojun perusing the menu for the umpteenth time. The seat, meant for Jeongguk, remains cold and empty. After about thirty minutes and a couple text messages, Seojun confirms with the waiter to remove the utensils and plate — something about his uncle not feeling well.

“Okay, but he’ll be at dinner tomorrow, right?” Jihyo frowns, eyes full of worry.

“Yes, love.” He smiles. “Just old man tendencies and jetlag got the best of him. He’ll be there tomorrow.”

Back at the hotel, you had half a mind to check in on him and just as you built up the courage to knock, the door swings open to reveal a Jeongguk you’ve yet to ever witness: dark grey compression shirt with five-inch inseam shorts. He has his wired earphones in and looks well rested, contrary to what Seojun mentioned at dinner about two hours ago.

“Oh, are you feeling better?” You ask, hand retracted and tucked behind your back.

His brows twitch, fingers removing one of the buds out his ear. “Sorry?”

“Seojun mentioned you weren’t feeling well. Are you better now?”

“Yep.” He answers.

Awkward. 

“Where you headed to? It’s late.” You rock on your heels, afraid you might’ve overstepped with your light interrogation.

“Saw a small running trail nearby, just wanna get some movement in.”

“Would you like—”

“Well, goodnight.” He places the earpiece back in and walks off, the scent of his fresh linen deodorant trails along with him.

“—company?” The end of your sentence comes out in a tiny whisper, the question dying on the tip of your tongue as his figure disappears in the distance.

It was going to be a long two weeks, but you’re optimistic for a chance to change the tides with Jeongguk. Maybe even get to know him a little better or collect more versions of who he may be outside of work before this trip ends.

Arms linked with Jihyo, you walk down the small alleyways of Venice the next day, marveling at the tiny trinkets on display. Seojun and Jeongguk were always a couple steps behind, mainly taking note of the repeating gelato flavors at each stand. Your ears perk when Jeongguk chuckles at Seojun’s excitement of finally finding a stall with a new flavor. His laugh rings deep and rich, something you’re rarely afforded at the workplace.

You hold up two carnival masks to your face. “Which one suits me better?” You preferred the pink one in your left hand, but the green in your right hand spoke to you as well.

“Mm, you know I’ll always favor pink, but is there room in your suitcase?” Jihyo inquires.

Well, no, but you could always buy another suitcase. 

“All going to end up as clutter once you’re home.” Jeongguk mutters to himself, eyeing the other trinkets on the shelf.

Whether or not it was directed at you, you put the mask back with the rest. The shop owner smiles, a little dejected at the missed sale, but with the numerous tourists filtering through the alley, he’s bound to make his daily quota by closing time.

The rest of the day is spent on trying new food — your favorite being the bruschetta flight near the waters. Again, Jeongguk and Seojun were always a couple steps behind, chatting about god knows what while you and Jihyo swap gelatos between every two or so licks. Venice was packed — mainly with tourists, but in a specific alleyway you all decided to turn into held a different kind of danger.

Pigeons. Lots of them. 

One could argue Venice might be the motherland to birds; you’re not in any position to disagree as you cower between the birds staring down at your group from the railings. They swarm around your feet, begging for whatever you’d offer or accidentally drop.

Lucky for you, a shop owner comes and throws out bits of their baguettes. All the pigeons flock over in pursuit of their (probable) tenth snack for the day. You breathe a sigh of relief for the small deterrence, walking quicker to escape from the flock.

“Phew, thought we were goners back there.” Jihyo jokes, looking back at the boys.

At the last second, a seagull swoops in and takes the unfinished gelato right from your hand. You let out a blood curdling scream, hand immediately letting go of the cone. You grab Jihyo by the shoulder and chant for the birds to take her as an offering instead.

Everyone within the vicinity laughed, some tourists offered a sympathetic smile and asked if you were okay. Among the laughter, Jeongguk’s chuckle echoes loudest in your head. It had never been your goal to become the group’s court jester, but you wouldn’t mind making it your life’s sole purpose for this version of him.

Seojun checks his watch. “Jihyo, baby, we still have five more hours to kill before our flight over to Sicily. Should we head back to the hotel? Uncle said he’s tired—”

Smile wiped off his handsome face, Jeongguk nudges the young man in the arm. “Don’t use me as a scapegoat.”

You never realized how much the two men resembled each other, catching you off guard when Jeongguk hooks his arm around Seojun’s neck, and rubs his knuckles over his nephew’s head. Their laughter comes out the same, pairing well with their toothy grins.

“We only have one last item on the itinerary.” Jihyo says, a fond smile at the sight of her happy fiance. “I wanted to do a little gondola ride.”

Most tourists seized the golden hour for their boat ride too, which sent you and your group on a hunt for an unoccupied gondola, eventually finding two docked boats on the opposite entrance of Venice.

“I’ll pass.” Jeongguk says with a hand up.

Jihyo pouts, pointing in your direction. “But she’d be all alone.”

“Oh, um, I don’t mind staying behind.” You smile, doing your best to not sound disappointed at the lost experience. “Can always ride a boat at home.”

“But Miss, when will you ride a gondola in Venice while the sun is setting?” One of the gondoliers pitches.

“He’s right.” Jihyo nods. “Please, Jeongguk?”

He’d rather not waste money on a tourist trap … one look at Jihyo’s pleading eyes in combination with his nephew’s displeased stare has him folding on the spot.

Defeated, he sighs, “Fine.”

Jihyo cheers, skipping over to the first boat lined up where Seojun waits patiently with a hand out for her.

Their boat rows off first and five minutes later, it was yours and Jeongguk’s turn to step into the gondola. He holds out his hand to steady your step, boat wobbling as you plant your first foot down. His hold lingers a little longer even when you’ve successfully made it into the boat. Eyes peering up at Jeongguk’s tall stature, your body heats up under his watchful gaze.

“Steady now?”

“Yes.” You chirp.

“Good.” He lowers you both carefully onto the small seats. Once secured, the gondolier begins his descent through the canals.

Naturally, you strike up a conversation with the gondolier, asking how many rides he averages a day to which he politely answers, ‘too many to count.’ The conversation goes on for another five minutes until Jeongguk sighs, a subtle signal for you to stop and take in your surroundings instead.

Despite the on and off whiffs of the decade old sewage lines rooted in the city, the ride descends to the narrower alleyways one would miss on foot. Water levels rising, the gondolier signals you both to duck at an approaching bridge. You hadn’t realized you didn’t duck low enough until you feel Jeongguk’s warm palm at the base of your head, urging you lower.

His hand rests there until it’s time for you both to lift your heads up again. So warm and thoughtful, unlike how he’s been treating you at work.

You might explode at the silence, finding the need to address the elephant in the room. What were the odds you’d be alone with Jeongguk again? What are the odds you’d be riding on a gondola in Venice, Italy with Jeongguk?

“Do you hate me?” You blurt out, immediately embarrassed at your sudden forwardness. The gondolier peers from the side and looks forward again, slowing his rowing motion with his oar. 

Jeongguk’s brows furrow, lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t hate you.”

“It seems like you do. You always are just so …”

“So …?” He trails along.

“Mean.” You frown. Feeling more foolish for your lack of proper vocabulary words for such a serious confrontation, you do your best to explain. “You seem to get along with everyone else at work and even here. You’re nice to everyone but me.” 

He stares straight ahead, tongue probing against his cheek. He doesn’t respond right away and you deflate at your wasted effort in an attempt to understand Jeongguk beyond the cubicle. You only hear the waters splashing against the gondola as the oar steers you both to another quieter route. 

If Jeongguk didn’t hate you before, he probably does right now. So evident in his silence and unwillingness to discuss this topic, you wonder to yourself … were older generations this bad with expressing their emotions and thoughts? Your father was a great example, and while you don’t want to generalize an entire generation, Jeongguk drives a hard bargain.

“How’d you get into Cientra Corporations?” The question rolls out of Jeongguk with no hint of curiosity.

What did your place of work have anything to do with his alleged animosity? 

“I applied for an opening.” You answer.

His chuckles, full of mock and taunt. “When?”

You frown, a little taken aback by the conversation now turned into an interrogation.

“I think a month before my graduation?” Your stomach churns from the unpredictability of his next words.

“Right, of course.” Jeongguk looks to the side, eyes tracing the water stains on the old brick buildings.

“I’ve had plenty of internships during undergrad and I graduated early with honors.” His demeanor only makes you overexplain your qualifications. “My recruitment was done through a fair hiring process.”

“The position was not in the budget.” He rolls his eyes, his crossed arms accentuates his muscular build. If you were more shameless, you’d let your eyes linger at his chest for a little longer despite how his next words batters your pride. “Freshly graduated with little to no experience landing a mid-entry position?”

You’re not ashamed to admit you had a foot in thanks to your connections. Of course, you were unaware a position had been created just for you, but to insinuate you didn’t deserve your place … now, that was not something you’d take lightly.

“I’ve worked hard with all the opportunities—”

“As one should.” He interrupts. “But all your ‘opportunities’ only became yours because they were taken away from someone else. There were at least ten other highly qualified applicants in the candidate pool.” 

You open your mouth, but Jeongguk beats you to it, “One summer internship at Cientra wouldn’t have gotten anyone else into the company.”

Now that shatters you. You had really thought you stood out in the pool considering you had previously applied and interned for the same company. Now you’re rethinking whether you’ve also gotten the job purely from connections.

Fighting through your imposter syndrome, you stand your ground. “At the end of the day, I was chosen and I take my job seriously. I can’t change what’s already set in stone.”

“That’s your privilege speaking.” He leans against the backrest. “I’ll only repeat this once: I don’t hate you.” Extremely hard to believe after your self esteem’s been kicked to the curb. 

And despite the sour mood, you still try to salvage what you can. “Okay,” You breathe, “Regardless of how you feel about me, can we get along for the sake of the wedding?”

“Of course.” He rolls his shoulders, discomfort clear from the small chair setup. “Trying to make this wedding as seamless and pain-free as possible.”

You piece his aversion to the wedding now. The last minute confirmation of his attendance and lack of enthusiasm for the trip’s activities … it all checks. The gondolier rounds to the ride’s starting point and docks the boat where you and Jeongguk need to quickly alter your attitude in front of the unsuspecting couple.

Jeongguk stays behind to tip the gondolier, murmuring his apologies for the tense ride. From a distance, you overhear the gondolier snort, saying something on the lines of how he should be tipping Jeongguk for the soap opera level conversation.

Your act works — neither Jihyo nor Seojun suspected any shift in moods because Jihyo was too busy begging for another cannoli and, of course, Seojun being the exceptional fiance he is, advised you guys to return to the hotel first to prepare for the flight while he ran to the specific stall Jihyo requested for.

“Uncle, you go on ahead with the girls.”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I’ll come with you.”

On the train ride back to the hotel, Jihyo lays her head on your shoulder. “I think Uncle Jeongguk hates me.”

That makes the two of you.

She continues, “I know this wedding was rushed, but I thought he’d warm up to the idea of us by now.”

Very out of character for Jihyo to sulk over the minute things in life. You’re not one to talk, knowing firsthand what it’s like to wish for someone’s approval.

“Hey … it’s been less than two days. And who cares what he thinks? You and Seojun are in this for life.”

“I know, I know. Seojun just adores his uncle, you know? That’s his only family.” Jihyo frowns. Unlike him, she’s grown up in a big and affluent family her entire life — well, now cut in half since her choice to marry Seojun, a man of no title or status. She can bear the disdain from her own family, but she doesn’t want Seojun to lose his one and only family member over their choices.

“I was thinking,” Jihyo begins, suddenly sitting upright with determined eyes. “You know, you’re always so fun and great with people … could you maybe get to know Uncle Jeongguk and put in a good word for me? Just until the time of the wedding at least.”

You’ve never seen her this desperate. You ponder back to the conversation on the gondola and if there were little to no chance of making things right with Jeongguk yourself, how were you going to do it for Jihyo?

You’re no better than Seojun and eventually give into her plea. 

“Okay.” You smile, arms embracing her.

All checked out of the Venice hotel, your party makes it through the airport’s security checkpoint just in time for the flight to the actual wedding destination: Sicily.

Italy is magical and Sicily proved every part of that belief even in the cab ride over to the rental property. Windows down, you let the warm breeze run through your locks, uncaring if the sea salted air clung onto your hair and skin. The tips of your hair unknowingly float over and graze Jeongguk’s arms, marking and reminding him of your presence whether or not he welcomed it. 

Jihyo really went all out and booked the dreamiest villa. The villa had everything: a fifteen minute walk to the wedding venue, close to local shops and restaurants, and here’s your favorite: the beach. It’s perfect … almost as perfect as the living situation Jihyo had planned out. No brainer, she and Seojun would get the main house while you and Jeongguk would occupy the cottage a couple steps away.

“Dinner in fifteen minutes? I have a reservation with the restaurant down the street.” Jihyo shrugs her duffle bag higher on her shoulders to which Seojun immediately takes after he unloaded all the other suitcases from the trunk.

“Isn’t it a little late for dinner?” Jeongguk reads his watch.

“Customary to eat later in Italy.” Jihyo smiles.

Jeongguk checked off all the body cues to decline. His resolve crumbles yet again from another one of Seojun’s stares, ultimately agreeing to dinner after settling in.

The first thing you and Jeongguk noticed upon entering the cottage was the stuffy and warm air from the windows being closed for too long. No matter how hard you push and yank the panes, the windows just wouldn’t budge. With a sigh, a strong source of heat presses against your backside.

The scent of fresh linen only welcomes you after laundry day and whenever you’ve switched out your bedsheets. Your mind wanders around scenarios of being welcomed by this exact scent and warmth in bed, sheets needing to be constantly changed afterwards.

Fuck.

Jeongguk’s fingers pull at the knobs above the window sill. Using way less force and energy, the window cracks open with ease and the crisp crash of waves in the distance meets your ears. Nothing was louder than the beating in your chest — must’ve been your imagination when you thought Jeongguk stayed a beat longer behind, breath sucked in from the proximity.

You replay the scenario in your head even at the dinner table. 

The times you’ve looked up from your plate, you’ve unconsciously caught Jeongguk staring in your direction too. He looks away, suddenly mesmerized by the shoreline. His attention pulls at some clapping in the background, waiters and waitresses nearing your section of the restaurant. Your smile widens as they circle your table, confused but pleased by the grand gesture.

Setting a small cake down on the table and resuming their singing, you peer over at the frosted words: Happy 37th Birthday, Jeongguk!

Jeongguk keeps his smile at a sensible level, not wanting to show too much excitement. 

After the employees leave, Seojun beams, “Jihyo arranged this. Nice, huh?” He has his arm around her shoulder.

“Yes, very. Thank you, Jihyo.” Jeongguk smiles, warm and sincere. 

Bellies full, you all walk back to the property. Everything seems to fall into its natural place. Jeongguk lets you shower first and because you’re self conscious of taking too much time, you cut your usual routine by half. You’re seated at the same window sill again, watching the shoreline. 

The lights in the room turn on and you startle. Looking back, you catch a half naked Jeongguk drying his wet hair with a small towel. Bare torso on full display, you gulp at the sight while unknowingly clenching your thighs together. 

Thirty-seven looked good on Jeongguk.

You hope you looked this good at that age, but you have a long way to go. At twenty-two, you know your two little tattoos, one on your lower back and the other on your forearm, will look completely different in fifteen years. They’re nothing like Jeongguk’s, especially with all the intricate tattoos going up his arm, stopping at his chest — both old and new ones. In the office, you’ve only seen a snippet of his tattoos on his forearm, now you’ve been granted full access. Which you’re reminded that everything that happens in Italy will have to stay here. Water break chatter with Mina will exclude these details, saving these memories just for yourself on lonelier nights.

Jeongguk sucks in a breath, surprised at the sight of you. Should be in bed and knocked out from today’s festivities, but you’re there in your silk pajamas, shorts riding dangerously high in your seated position with your knees hiked up to your chest. His jaw clenches, fixing himself a glass of water at the kitchen sink. Hips pressed against the sink counter, he drinks the water, letting a couple droplets dribble past his chin and sharp jawline.

Summers in Italy were magical, but were they usually this hot?

You edge closer to the window sill, praying for the night breeze to snap you out of whatever spell you caught at this hour.

“Jetlagged?” He asks, rinsing the cup. You blink at his question, a little confused at his initiation. It warms you, but you know better than to latch onto this small exchange. 

“A little.” You let out a disgruntled sound as you get up. You think you’ve must’ve hallucinated Jeongguk’s frustrated exhale at your change of position. “You?”

“Mhm. Not as bad as the first night. The run helped.” He replies.

You have all the reason not to get along with him, let alone strike a normal conversation; though, you bare your warmest and genuine smile, “That’s nice. I’m glad.”

“Yes. Well. Goodnight.” He clears his throat.

The lock on your door clicks first, back pushed against the door for some grounding and support. Your bones click against the hard surface, ears cluing in for any sounds from your temporary roommate on the other threshold. His door shuts too, followed by a deep sigh.

There’s some shuffling followed by a drop of what you assumed were clothing. Hot and consumed by your thoughts, your mind spirals at the image of him in nothing but his briefs.

God, this was going to be a long trip.

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

The internet connection in this villa was probably the worst thing Jeongguk has ever encountered in his life — even worse than the time he went abroad for school during his prime. It was another neighboring country, but still … how hard was it to get an adequate signal? 

He’s tried everything. Sitting in odd places, being closer to the router — nothing’s worked. 

He looks out the same window you were seated at last night, hoping to find an answer before he hurls his laptop out. 

Until he sees you.

You’re seated outside near a lemon tree between the two accommodations, laptop perched on the patio table while you tug at one of the nearby branches for a quick sniff at the fruit. Your eyes shut in bliss, lemon distracting you with its fresh scent.

You’ve done well to distract Jeongguk from his work too. As much as he’d like to hold onto this vendetta, he knows the grudge was misdirected and undeserving. He also knows a part of his hesitancy with you is who you are. Knows the reasons why you were hired aside from the connections you had. And although you had a good personality, he can’t call you a personality hire if you knew how to do your job.

He won’t deny your accomplishments in school, allowing you to graduate with high honors by the time you were twenty. You were an adequate worker, but again, only because you were given unfair advantages — tools and resources that were taken away from someone else more deserving and eligible. 

His grudge stretched beyond that, having been on the other receiving end of losing opportunities because of his upbringings. So yeah … maybe he’s biased.

You, on the other hand, want to hurl your laptop for other reasons. The laptop sits on top of the patio table, waiting for you to begin your long half day of work.

The metal legs of the empty chair across from you scrape against the concrete floor.

“Mind if I join you?”

You straighten from your slouched posture, surprised eyes meeting his neutral expression. Vacations were meant for fun, not the work you were trying to escape from. With Jeongguk here, you really can’t slack off. You quickly clear your items from the small table and gesture for him to sit.

“Terrible connection in the cottage.” You remark. “Gave me problems all morning.”

He hums, typing away on the laptop to make up for the lost time. You fall back into your work too seeing that there was a good motivator.

On your left side, there’s a small bowl of olives paired with the wine Jihyo delivered to your shared cottage. Jeongguk stares at the bowl, following one of the olives held by your fingers and popped in between your plump lips.

A small puff of air escapes through his nose at your winced expression from the initial burst of flavors, washing it down with a swig of wine.

“Would you like to try?” You push the bowl towards him.

“Didn’t look all that good.” He stares up, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Though small, you detect a teasing tone in his comment.

“It was … different. But!” You perk, “When will we be in Italy again, in a beautiful villa eating olives while working?”

Answer? Never.

Such a ridiculous thought that he reaches into the small ceramic bowl to plop an olive into his mouth. The bitter tang of the small fruit amplifies on his tongue from your expectant stare.

Not unpleasant, but there were plenty of other cuisine choices in Italy worth trying. 

Though, when will Jeon Jeongguk be in Italy again, in a beautiful villa eating olives while working with your melodic laughter resonating in his ears as you scoot your wine glass over to him?

Tongue no longer graced with the olive’s bitterness, a new type of bitterness spreads as Seojun and Jihyo announce they’re headed to the beach.

“How much longer do you need to work?” Jihyo pouts, hands on her hips as she peers down at your laptop. She’s not reading anything you have opened, deeming them unimportant especially when you should be spending time with her.

You offer a sheepish smile, afraid to voice your true thoughts in front of management. Jeongguk keeps his face trained to his screen, brows twitching in an attempt to hide his bemusement.

Had it been anyone else in front of you, you’d throw your hands in the air and say ‘Fuck it.’ But it was Jeongguk … one of the higher-ups you’d always admired — whose opinion you immensely cared for. 

“Uncle …” Seojun frowns. “You promised you weren’t going to work.”

“Code red. Need to take care of this.” Jeongguk explains.

Seojun sighs, the expression resounds his frustration to his uncle’s work habits.

In the short span of time working at the company, you’ve never seen Jeongguk falter; yet, the man seated across from you wavers at his nephew’s disappointment.

“It’ll be quick.” He remedies.

You also know Jeongguk took his time. He’s meticulous and wants everything right the first time around. It appears Seojun knows this too, not taking his promises too seriously, and grunting a small ‘okay’ before he takes Jihyo’s hand to lead them both to the beach.

Jeongguk purses his lips, a vexed expression he doesn’t let linger for long. You shouldn’t meddle with family affairs, but you couldn’t help thinking back to the missed dinners, absent parent recitals, and text messages telling you to not wait up late from your father. 

“Work’s never that important.” The words slip past your mouth before realizing it.

Jeongguk isn’t afraid to voice his response too, seemingly prepared for your judgment. 

“Easy for you to say.” His eyes narrow. “Some people aren’t afforded breaks.”

You take another bite of the olives, hoping the flavor would conceal the shame. The invisible wall between you and Jeongguk grows higher and thicker, making it impossible to penetrate. You refocus on the task at hand. 

Three hours pass with the sound of birds and ocean in the background — the sounds would have been enough for anyone to relax into their work, but all it does is make you yearn for fun. Makes you think anything might be better than being with the man seated across from you. Which is so unlike you when just a week ago, you’d do just about anything to be closer to him in the office. 

Every five minutes, you have to look at the shoreline and the people enjoying the summer rays. It was a good distraction until the envy sets in.

Another deep sigh.

“Go.”

“Huh?” You look up from your laptop. 

“I have access to your document in the shared drive. You won’t be leaving any time soon at the rate you’re moving.” He takes off his glasses, index and thumb pinching and rubbing to relieve himself of any tension. “Go spend some time with Jihyo.”

You almost think it’s a test until he looks at you questioningly for not having moved. You scramble to close out everything after a quick thank you before going back into the cottage to change. You shouldn’t feel guilty as you slip into your swimsuit and cover-up … shouldn’t feel guilty exiting the property, sneaking one final look back at the patio.

You shouldn’t ache the way you do for Jeongguk’s content smile when he nears the lemon tree.

Even Jeon Jeongguk needs breaks too.

You blame the aches from having laid down in the sand for an hour and not at the image of him back at the villa taking on your unfinished work. He made his decision, so why are you still feeling this way? 

“Uncle!” Seojun beams. “You made it.”

At the acknowledgment, you lift your head up and it’s none other than the man who’s plagued your mind since you’ve left the villa. He’s changed into lighter clothing, a short-sleeve button up over his white tank top with some beach shorts. The tight tank top hugs around his figure, ab ridges outlined from his small chuckle. The contraction intensifies when he looks down at you and over your stringy two-piece bikini.

He clears his throat. “Was able to wrap up what I needed to get done for the day.”

“Good.” Seojun replies. “Should enjoy our time while we can.”

Jeongguk’s face falls; immediately, the moment’s swept away when Jihyo calls for Seojun to help her take pictures. 

The older male settles next to you, mindful to not kick up any sand in the process. The couple eventually go to get some refreshments, leaving both you and Jeongguk under the rays of the sun.

He doesn’t say much … actually, he doesn’t say anything as he stares out to the bluest waters. 

“Thank you, Jeongguk.” You say. “You didn’t have to.”

You wonder if your father had acted the same at work, taking on additional workload he didn’t necessarily have to at the expense of missing out on moments in your life.

Jeongguk isn’t your father. He didn’t have obligations to you. Didn’t need to sacrifice his own time for your sake.

The center of a candy was usually the sweetest — perhaps if you keep at it, you’ll discover more of Jeongguk’s sweetness too. 

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

Being around Jeongguk has been a tad more tangible now that you’ve spent a few hours together the next couple of days working in the morning, ending the nights over dinner with the couple. 

The next evening, Jihyo has you all crammed in a kitchen for a cooking lesson with a private chef. You’re on garlic peeling duties with Jeongguk, fingers sticky from the essence of the individual cloves, so sure this scent was going to linger on your skin.

Jeongguk remains unaffected, diligently peeling away. At the sight of you rubbing your sticky fingers together, he chuckles.

“Just wash your hands in between.”

The advice works. While you’ve barely peeled half a clove, Jeongguk was already on his second. 

“Did you have ‘pro-garlic peeler’ on your resume?” You try teasing.

He pauses, a small smile on his lips as he continues peeling the cloves.

“My sister had me on garlic peeling duties whenever we cooked.”

As far as you’re aware from Jihyo, the topic of Seojun’s mother was unspoken … only knowing she passed when he was very young. 

You work a little harder peeling the leftover cloves, running your hands under the faucet to rid yourself of the stickiness. The stickiness retained in your chest whenever Jeongguk peers over at your pile of perfectly peeled garlic. It’s retained throughout dinner and the glasses of wine served during and after a meal, following you as the group takes a walk on the beach the night before the rest of the wedding party was scheduled to meet for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow.

Jihyo yawns and announces she’ll head back to the villa to rest. Naturally, Seojun follows along. You expect Jeongguk to do the same, but he sits on the brick wall staring out at the beach.

You tuck your hair behind your ear and a strong, pungent scent greets you. Hand discreetly at the front of your face, you sniff.

“The smell doesn’t leave for a bit.” Jeongguk says. “My sister always recommended lemon juice and a little bit of soap.” 

“Have you tried it?” You ask, tucking your hands underneath you to hide the excitement of Jeongguk initiating a conversation with you. 

He shakes his head, “I like the smell of garlic.”

Be it from the glasses of wine served over dinner, you’re bolder as you ask about his sister. And he’s just as loose-lipped as he recalls memories of her. You learned she was four years older than Jeongguk, her first job was at their aunt and uncle’s convenience store, and they were ultimately left to fend for themselves the moment she had Seojun at eighteen.

Every story, small chuckle, and silence of the memory of his sister only softens the hard, jagged edges around Jeongguk.

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was,” he concedes, “Would’ve loved Italy too.” He speaks into the sea-salted air. He leans back, hands anchoring himself up as he looks up at the clear night sky. “Maybe give her son an earful about marrying too early.” She’d know firsthand how she lost out on her own developmental years as a result of having Seojun early with a man that wanted no part in fatherhood. Though, a small part of Jeongguk knows his sister would’ve adored Jihyo.

Back at the villa’s garden, you make a quick detour to the lemon tree, picking one from the bottom branches.

The lemon doesn’t get used quite yet when you both enter into the stuffy cottage. You and Jeongguk reopen all the windows to let some fresh air in.

You eye the unopened wine bottle — the night’s gone too well to end like this. Lemon placed on the counter, it’s spared and unscathed for the time being as you pop off the cork. 

Wordlessly, you pour and slide the glass over to a receptive Jeongguk.

One glass turns to three over the course of the night. The alcohol loosens the year’s worth of work tension, eyes blinking slowly as he swirls the glass around.

“Do you plan to stay with the company until retirement?” You ask.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If I have to keep overseeing project leads who can’t make their deadlines.”

Had you both been less drunk and not seated on the high stools of this lovely cottage in Sicily, you’d be more offended. Eyes bemused and lips curved at your exaggerated gasp, Jeongguk brings the glass of wine to his mouth, red staining and deepening the natural shade of pink on his lips.

You’ll take this. It’s a development in comparison to what you’ve experienced in working with the company … not to mention the ride on the gondola. You like this Jeongguk. Where he isn’t going on a tangent about deliverables and Key Performance Indicators.

“What about you?” He asks.

You swallow the last of the wine in your glass. “I’m not sure.”

Honestly, you thought you’d be at another place of employment after your one year anniversary at the company. Yet, you’re still here.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Answered like a person with one foot out the door.” He shrugs.

“I don’t mind the company.” You pout.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re young. There’s more out there.”

“You’re staying.”

“Never said I was.”

Wait … you hadn’t accounted for the fact of Jeongguk leaving one day. He has so much more years of experience than you, so having a promotion elsewhere would be a cake walk. One of your incentives to stay might disappear one day without warning and it frightens you. 

“The benefits are nice.” You reason. “It’s worth staying for.”

“The benefits are standard. Hm.” He purses his lips. Then, an expression you’ve never once witnessed stretches across his face. “That hot manager Jihyo mentioned can’t be enough incentive to stay.”

“She’s lucky she’s my best friend.” You groan. 

He laughs through his nose, “You’ll know if a company is worth staying for. Don’t be afraid to venture out.”

Friends and family have often told you to look for a higher paying job after every promotion — never concerned whether you’re content with where you’re at.

You find it hard to believe just a couple days ago, Jeongguk was grilling you for being a nepo-baby, and now he’s mentoring you over wine. You take in his words, letting them swirl in your mind before shaking away thoughts of the future. 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nods, taking another small sip, “If only Seojun listened more like that. That brat.” He lowers his head with a fond smile, orbs glimmering like the wine glass caught in the light.

You should hold off from asking any overbearing questions and end tonight on a high note, but that just wasn’t your style.

“Do you not support their marriage?”

“It’s unfavorable.” He sighs. “I’m sure Jihyo’s nice—”

“She is.” You interrupt.

“But she’s reckless and so is my nephew. They didn’t think this through.” A pause. “Doing things out of love only gets you so far.”

If life wasn’t about love, then what could it possibly be about?

He chuckles and mumbles to himself, “She’s too much like her.”

“Huh? Who?” Your brows scrunch from the cryptic words, trying to decipher who he was referring to. Foolish of you to think he’d answer as he gets up and empties his glass of wine into the sink, eyes locked on the counter where the lemon resides.

You were going to ask if he’d like to use the lemon too; though, he beats you to your question when he tucks in the stool.

“Get some rest, we have a long day tomorrow.”

You exert all your energy into the lemon, squeezing and wringing out the halved fruit to distract you of the confusion. Have you pushed for too much? Were you out of line wanting to know more about Jeongguk? You hope the lingering thoughts of your cottage mate disappears with the garlic stench after a thorough soak. 

After your shower, you take one last peek at his door and the light emitting from the small slit persists even through the late hours. Was he still working or also plagued with the thoughts of tonight’s conversation?

It’s a little past midnight when you emerge into the kitchen again to get a glass of water only to notice a slightly ajar front door.

101 Dumb Ways to Die would commend you and your efforts to close the door. Your fingers touch the doorknob, ready to twist and secure the locks. 

You die a little inside when you spot a figure outside near the lemon tree.

Jeongguk. 

He sits there, staring at his hands before he lifts one of them up to his face. A small sniff, then his hand falls onto his lap again.

You lean against a nearby wall, hand clutching the glass of water close to your chest.

He bends down from his seated position and grabs a fallen lemon, uncaring if it came from the top or the bottom branch. Suddenly, he stands up and makes his way back to the cottage again.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell, scrambling to go back to your room but your foot catches onto your other ankle and you’re sent flying to the floor with the glass of water held close to your chest to brace the fall and potential damage.

Aside from a wet shirt and the bruise forming on your knee, the glass was still intact. What wasn’t intact was your pride as Jeongguk opens the door to find you laying on your side.

His eyes widen, immediately crouching down to check your conditions. “Are you okay?” 

You could fake an episode of sleepwalking and walk back to your room, wet shirt and all, but then you’ll be labeled as the colleague who sleepwalks.

“Oof,” You grab his extended hand, the one without the lemon, and pull yourself up to a sitting position. “Y-yeah, um, just wanted some water.” You peer down at the pool of water around you and flush harder.

He grabs a nearby cloth to clean up the mess and when he’s done, he holds his hand out again, “Can you stand?”

You nod, hand engulfed in his warmth as he tugs you up along with him. You walk stiffly next to him and thank him after he hands you a spare towel in the kitchen. 

You should return to your room to nurse your broken pride; yet, your feet stay planted as Jeongguk gets out the cutting board.

“Oh, there’s still half a lemon in the fridge.” 

Nodding, he retrieves the lemon and he squeezes the sliced half with ease. He dips his fingers in first, spreading the juice all over his hands and in between the crevices just as you did. You watch his fingers spread the juices all over the top of his veiny hands, light from the kitchen emulating the glisten on his skin.

A tingly sensation starts at your fingertips and you clench your fists tightly before it travels up your arms, unsure why your body is reacting at the simple act.

God, did you hit your head on something during the fall? 

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, breaking you out of your daze.

You blink, body automatically moving around to check for any soreness. High knees in place and a twist to your side, you confirm your health condition. You do one last stretch, intertwining your fingers and reaching up to the ceiling.

All’s well, so it seems.

Actually, no.

The action lifts your camisole, exposing the lower half of your stomach. Jeongguk’s gaze dips to your full hips and areas where the sun can’t fully reach. 

“Yeah, all good.” You swallow, arms coming down and holding your hands behind your back.

Lights shut off, you and Jeongguk make your way back to your bedrooms, steps heavier as you near your door. 

Suddenly, your hand reaches out, weak fingers wrapped around his wrist. He looks down at you with a raised brow, unmoving, so you tighten your grip around him. 

“I saw you outside.” You confess, voice small and hesitant. “Are you okay?”

Jeongguk didn’t owe you an answer. But after all the time spent leading up to this moment, you think something should’ve changed by now. 

His jaw clenches, eyes swirling with a mixture of uncertainty and discomfort as he considers the option of being honest.

He purses his lips and shakes his head no. 

Be it your underdeveloped prefrontal lobe or your innate desire to fix a troubled man, your fingers tighten around his wrist.

“Is there something I can do–” The latter part of your question gets cut short at another shake of his head. 

Your default solution is to deflect and lessen the embarrassment with cynicalism and a humorless laugh. “I know you hate me and all–”

He laughs, too — the dullness masking the irritability behind your unfinished statement.

“I don’t hate you.” He pauses and ponders his next words. “Whatever I’m going through right now has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

Maybe … if you do make it about you, Jeongguk might forget about his bigger worries. The day has gone so well and all your effort’s about to be undone with what you do next. You step closer, gleaning at his reaction and any indication of his repulsion from your proximity.

“If we didn’t work at the same company, how would you feel about me then?” You ask.

His stare darkens. Pattern recognition from all the other fleeting moments in Italy only pushes you to do something you’d never have the courage to in a professional environment where you’d both break all code of conduct. 

What happens in Italy, stays in Italy … right?

“We’d get along.” You answer for him.

“We’d be strangers.” He corrects. “I don’t need twenty year old friends listening to my problems.”

Good thing you’re not twenty and good thing you don’t want to be friends with Jeongguk. In the span of this conversation, you and Jeongguk now share the same air and warmth as you press your front to his hard chest. He doesn’t pull away from your softness whether it be through the silky camisole, your nature, or exposed skin … he lets himself soak in what you offer him.

And when you tip-toe closer to his face, he doesn’t move, allowing you to do as you like despite all signs in his head telling him to turn you away.

“We’d get along.” You repeat, eyes bold and hopeful as you stare into his hooded ones. “You’d let me help you forget about your problems.”

Cause you’d create new ones for Jeon Jeongguk as you press your lips to his. 

The original hold you had on his wrist ceases as your nimble fingers find refuge on the ends of his cotton shirt. Your thighs tense from the vibrations of his small groan, the pleasure pangs intensifying when his hands cup your jaw. Lips soft and so rightfully slotted on yours, your eyes flutter shut and embrace the abundant hues of yellow and green similar to the villa’s lemon tree. 

The crisp citrus scent from his fingers warms and melts you further into his lips. He parts his mouth slightly, and for a moment, just a moment … you hope he’d run his tongue on yours.

Your hope gets wringed out like the used lemons residing in the wastebin the exact moment he says your name and pulls away, chest moving in tandem with his strained breaths. 

“This isn’t right.” He breathes, swallowing as he steps back to create some space between your bodies.

“I–”

“Goodnight.”

His door shuts, no different than how he shuts you out of the life you hoped to get a better glimpse of. Your fingers trace your lips, remembering how he felt against you before he took everything including your pride with him. You also shut your door, only bringing humiliation and rejection back in with you.

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

You barely slept. 

Instead, you chose to put in the extra work you needed to meet your deliverables for your client. You locked yourself in the bedroom — rather brave through the shitty internet connection until it was time to meet up with the rest of the bridal party who arrived last night.  

“So,” Yebin starts, “I hear the best man is a hottie and you’re staying in the same cottage as him?”

You splutter into your drink, quickly grabbing the napkin on your lap to dab away the cascading liquid on your chin.

“Uh, wha–”

“Jihyo mentioned it in the group chat. What? Been too busy with him to catch up in the thread?” She wiggles her brows with a playful grin.

You push your body forward to give Jihyo a tiny glare. She sits prettily at the top of the table, the only person wearing white while the rest of you were in different variations of yellow to match the wedding theme.

“What?” She says with a mouthful. “He is objectively handsome. Not a surprise, I mean, look at my Seojun.”

“Isn’t he in his forties?” Another one of the girls asks.

“Thirty-seven.” Jihyo corrects. “We celebrated his birthday recently.”

“Basically forty.” Yebin retorts and turns back to you. “So what’s he like?”

You’re thankful for the soft breeze in the midst of Italy’s humid summer — helps you cool the sweat sitting uncomfortably on your skin, both from the rising afternoon temperatures and last night’s memories. 

“He’s … fine.” You pause and try to come up with other adjectives to better describe him, ultimately coming short and resorting to a foolproof excuse. “We haven’t really spoken.”

“Oh, please. Aside from his nephew, Jeongguk’s more friendly with you than he has been to me.”

Yeah, ‘cause you also work in the same building as him forty hours a week for the past year, but no one here needs to know that. The conversation eventually shifts over to Jihyo’s wedding itinerary, makeup and hair plans, and what the other girls plan to do after the wedding dinner rehearsal. You enjoyed your time in the smaller group, but you also valued the community the other girls brought in this part of the trip. You visit the nearby boutiques, splurge on things you could most definitely find back at home, because … when were you going to be in Italy with your girls again?

“Remember, be there at 8 p.m. The venue’s gates close five minutes after.” Jihyo reminds.

“Yes, ma’am. Got it marked down in our calendars.” Yebin yawns, still slightly jetlagged and ready for a much needed nap after the day’s festivities. You and Jihyo drop off the girls at the front of their hotel and begin the walk back to the villa. Would’ve been quicker to take a cab, but Jihyo wanted to walk off her second gelato and you didn’t mind not being in the same vicinity as your cottage mate all that soon.

“You nervous for tomorrow?” You ask, steps slowing as you both near the villa.

“No,” she smiles fondly at a passing thought. “But I am anxious for the future. Don’t know how long it’ll be till my parents want to talk to me.”

You’ve thought about the times you’ve fought with your parents — nothing as big as marrying someone they didn’t approve of. Hopefully Jihyo’s parents will come around. Love, from a parent at least, should be unconditional. 

She reads your thoughts with a chuckle and nudge to your shoulder. “Hey, I’m okay. It’s me and Seojun against the world.”

“They’ll come around.” You reassure. “You also have your friends too, so you’re never alone.”

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

“And then, the maid of honor and best man will walk here.” Violetta, the wedding planner, points down the long stretch to the altar. 

She looks over to the group, trying to single out the girl with that title since Jeongguk was the only male aside from the groom. You step out, having avoided Jeongguk all day with the wedding party, there are just some things you can’t avoid.

You avoid looking at the older man, keeping your stares locked on the wedding planner and aisle markings.

“Oh, to be maid of honor.” Yebin mumbles jokingly and the group of girls erupt into a small fit of giggles.

Jeongguk pays no mind and extends his arm for you to hold. Practice. Yes, this was still a rehearsal. You might’ve imagined his tense inhale as you press your body closer, breast pushing against his arm to see if the action could produce a similar sound or reaction.

Nothing.

After the rehearsal, you and Jeongguk still avoid each other like the plague, unwilling to address the elephant in the room. You try to sleep, tossing and turning all night until you made the executive decision for some much needed fresh air.

Part of you worries Jeongguk might also be outside, claiming the lemon tree as his area of respite. Can’t be his if you claimed it first. Unfortunately, the spot was occupied … not by him at least.

Pulling the metal chair, Seojun looks up, startled, but relaxes at the sight of a familiar face.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks.

“Yeah. Too stuffy in the cottage.” You lie, unwilling to admit the actual source of your unrest. “You?”

“Yeah.” He looks into the distance, worries swirling in his orbs. “I think my uncle’s right.”

Your brows pull together, head tilting in confusion.

“We’re too rash. Jihyo’s parents might never speak to her again and it’s all my fault. And I,” Seojun begins to crumble at the weight of his realization. “I don’t know if I’m enough for her to lose everything.”

You know more than anyone that there are some things money and power can’t buy. Jihyo wasn’t risking anything because Seojun was everything. Because if life wasn’t about love, then what was it about?

“You’re enough for Jihyo.”

“Uncle said–”

“Screw what Jeongguk thinks.” You interrupt, gasping at your sudden abrasiveness. “Wait, I don’t mean any offense to your uncle …”

His laugh could’ve woken up the entire villa, but you’re thankful to see this side of him in comparison to how he was a moment ago. 

“No, no,” he chuckles, “I know he’s not the most likeable person.”

“He’s not … awful.”

Seojun nods, tilting his head down to conceal a tender smile you’ve witnessed whenever he was around Jihyo — now you understand those were reserved for his loved ones. “He used to be different … lighter, does that even make sense?”

You agree, waiting for Seojun’s next words.

“Uncle was fun.” You learn how Jeongguk would take little Seojun to the zoo every year because his mother would be too busy with work, along with the late night video game sessions he would partake in despite his busy university schedule.

“He was in his second year of university preparing to study abroad … I don’t know much, but something didn’t work out and another student was chosen instead of him. Mom worked hard so that she could support uncle and his dreams.”

“Worked too hard — damn workaholics.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know he means well not wanting me to rush into things without a proper safety net.”

You think back to a younger Jeongguk navigating life alone with a young child … he couldn’t have been any older than you — a baby raising another baby with no one to turn to.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Seojun shakes away some thoughts, “I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you. I’m sure you’re tired–”

“No, no,” You wave your hands. “I don’t mind. You’re marrying my best friend and whether her family or Jeongguk approves, it doesn’t matter. I’ve seen how happy you make her — how relaxed she is around you.” You offer a warm and comforting smile to which Seojun returns at the mention of your friend. “We’re both in this for Jihyo’s happiness. You deserve to be happy too.” 

“Yeah, we do.” He replies, shoulders sagging in relief.

You linger outside a little longer after Seojun’s departure, begrudgingly going back into the cottage. Before entering your room, you take one look at Jeongguk’s room, noting the small sliver of light from underneath his door.

You remember all the late nights waiting for your father’s lights to turn off … wondering when you’d be enough for his attention. And as you shut your door to your room, you hope that was enough to garner Jeongguk’s attention too. 

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

Jihyo loved everything about yellow. Loved the song by Coldplay and loved her flowers yellow — thinks she saw yellow when she met Seojun. Her bridesmaid dresses had to be yellow, as with everything in the wedding.

You see yellow everywhere too: the sand in the distance, wedding favors in the form of bagged perle di sole candies, and the boutonniere pinned on the left side of Jeongguk’s vest.

Yellow blurs around you during the ceremony, tearful gazes exchanged with the other bridesmaids. 

Jihyo had always centered her world around her friendships — no man has ever been enough to pull her away from that value. Though, as she stands across from Seojun, her hands in his, it seemed as though nothing could’ve pried them apart from each other’s gravitational pulls. Your eyes peer over the wedding attendees, taking in their expectant stares and proud smiles — even Jeongguk seemed to have softened at the sight. 

When it was time for the vows, you hand them over to Jihyo from behind, who took them without turning around, eyes still locked onto her soon-to-be husband.

She takes a steadying breath before speaking: “Seojun. These past years with you have been the happiest of my life. I could’ve never imagined meeting anyone like you. Now, I won’t call you my best friend, because that spot is taken and I think my lovely maid of honor might have some things to say about that–” The wedding party sounded a collective chuckle. You smile to yourself, eyes instinctively finding Jeongguk’s, who had already been looking your way in confirmation of your title.

“But I’m so happy to have found you, that I’m able to call you my friend, lover, and now, husband. I know a lot of people thought we were rushing into this, and they might be right. It is early, but I’ve never been as certain about anything as I am about wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. Seojun, you are the most wonderful and kindest person — better than I can ever hope to deserve, I love you.” Her voice had become increasingly more unstable as she went and she quickly wiped her eyes, not wanting to ruin her bridal make-up. Seojun wasn’t fairing any better, softly cupping her cheek and kissing her lips, whispering a small gratitude to her.

“Excuse me?” The officiant interrupts. “We’re not quite there yet.” 

Laughing, the pair separates and refocuses their attention back to the ceremony. You turn to your fellow bridesmaids after hearing a quiet sniffle from Yebin. You carefully lean back into her, nudging her shoulder in comfort. 

“Jihyo, you son of a bitch.” The girl mutters, dotting the corner of her eye with a tissue. 

You chuckle, moving back into your position after assessing everyone’s conditions.

When you find the confidence to check on Jeongguk, he’s just as affected and politely turns away from the couple to hide his emotions.

At the wedding reception, you watch Jihyo and her husband dance to every song on their playlist, joined by their guests, eventually being the last ones standing as the night progresses. The ache on the soles of your feet grow by the hour, and you find yourself sitting alone, nursing your drink and watching your best friend soak in happiness.

Yellow persists in the form of strung lights on the small dance floor. Though, a new opponent, green, enters when you catch some wedding guests approaching an unsuspecting Jeongguk.

As the maid of honor, you should stay for the night even if it’s nearing 2 a.m. Selfishly, you can’t bring yourself to. You tell Jihyo you’re not feeling well and that you’re going to walk back to the cottage to rest. She looks at you with concern, but she nods and asks you to text her once you’ve made it back.

Ten steps out the venue, you hear some whistles and chuckles. Shit. You walk quicker and a slimy hand wraps around your wrist.

The men smile at you, saying something you can’t really decipher. If all fails after your persistent ignorance to the Italian language, your heels make an excellent weapon of defense.

“C'è un problema?” A familiar voice says in the distance.

Immediately, the man releases your wrist and holds his hands up. The group of men shuffles away, mumbling to themselves as they look back at your savior.

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks.

“Yep.” You answer quickly, steps resuming in the direction of the villa.

Jeongguk follows closely behind you, silent as he has been all night.

“Aren’t you supposed to stay with the bride? Maid of honor duties.”

“Aren’t you supposed to stay with the groom? Best man duties.” You retort with no malice.

“Touché.” He contemplates his next words. “I’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”

Your brows furrow, and an immature part of you assumes you’re the reason for his early departure. He quickly follows up with, “There’s a fire I have to put out at work.”

The bitter memories of your father leaving for work resurfaces again. Would it be so awful to not think about work and be with his loved ones?

You wave off those feelings and express your gratitude instead. “Thanks for helping me back there. You never mentioned knowing Italian.”

Would’ve come in handy during the ample times you all had to order food, but this was not the right moment to joke. 

“Studied some basic phrases before going abroad. Didn’t end up in Italy though.”

You freeze a little, remembering the small detail Seojun mentioned the night before about Jeongguk’s missed opportunity. 

Silence takes over and continues even as you both face your bedroom doors.

“Jeongguk.” You say, before he enters his room. “I hope what happened between us doesn’t impact our work. Please forget it happened — I’m truly ashamed and sorry.”

He nods, jaw clenched and tense. 

“Have a safe flight home. See you in the office.” No other words are needed in your retreat back into your room.

The knot at the back of your neck strains and you can’t wait to finally shed your makeup, tight bun, and dress.

You [2:18 a.m.]: Made it to the cottage 💛 Bestie Ji [2:19 a.m.]: GOOD Bestie Ji [2:19 a.m.]: JEONGGU SAI HES HEDIN TO COTT TO Bestie Ji [2:19 a.m.]: ILY Bestie Ji [2:19 a.m.]: im drun

You smile at your phone, typing a quick reply and before you hit enter, you hear a knock on your door.

Door swung open, your eyes widen at the sight of Jeongguk, tie loose around his neck and hair tussled as if he ruminated for an eternity before knocking your door.

“It’s been nice with you in Italy.” His arm from behind comes to the front with a small object. You remember it from your last day in Venice: the green masquerade mask. “Safe travels home.”

You take the little green mask in your hands, frown deepening at the sentiment.

“Why would you get this for me?” You ask.

His tongue probes against his cheek, eyes coming down to look at your figure in your yellow halter dress. The same fleeting stares you’ve grown accustomed to in the time spent in Italy, unaware these glances have always existed without your knowledge back at home. He laughs through his nose and shakes his head.

He brings his eyes back to your face. “You’re a smart girl, graduated with honors and all … so think a little harder for me.”

You shake your head, afraid of the aftermath of another wrong move that could jeopardize your heart.

“I don’t know if I can …”

Leaders take the initiative — you’re nowhere near that point in your career and life. Jeongguk recognizes this too, which is why he walks you backwards into the room. His fingers trace the intricate beadings on the mask still in your hands.

“Here, we’re just two people who met through the people we love. No roles or responsibilities. I only know you as Jihyo’s friend. You’re just … you, and I’m just Jeongguk.”

“And who are you, Jeongguk?” You place the mask onto a nearby dresser, eyes never leaving the man in front of you.

He looks down at you again, a type of stare only capable of burning and tainting every inch of your being. He’s afraid to admit who he really is — what he actually wants, knowing he can’t fully have even if it was ready for him to take. Though, with only a couple hours to spare in Italy, he wants to use what little time he has on an experience he would never let himself indulge in back at home.

It’s what vacations are meant for, right?

“Someone that wants your help. Someone that wants to finish what you started two nights ago.” He answers.

It doesn’t make sense with you — he doesn’t make sense with you just like when he leans down to press his lips on yours. The kiss is punishing, no colors of yellow like the kiss from two nights ago. Yellow is only meant for lovers and Jeongguk is no lover. Would be the only logical reason you’d now see black and blue  — colors of old bruises and wounds left unattended for too long, and Jeongguk has far too many to count. 

“Fuck,” He says in between kisses, shrugging off his vest, “Tell me to stop.”

You whimper, shaking your head and looping your arms over his neck to bring him closer. He pushes his tongue past your lips, savoring the way you moan around and suck on his wet muscle. 

The only thing that makes sense is how your dress, the only yellow left, needs to come off. Your hands move behind your neck to undo the tight knot, letting the top fall down your front. Taking Jeongguk’s large hands, you take note of their softness, like sand — so malleable and so much harder to hold. You place them on your breasts instead. 

He groans, the sound so painful and full of want to give into his desires.

“This can’t mean anything.” He says through a harsh breath. “You know that, right?”

“It’s okay.” You reply, moaning again as the pressure from his hands increases. “I’m … I’m okay with that.”

You’re not and Jeongguk knows this too. He’s aware of the subtle glances in the time he’s worked with you, your shift in demeanor when he enters a room, and how your eyes search for his approval when none was ever needed. He knows you won’t be okay with this just being a one night stand or quick fuck, but it has to be because you and Jeongguk don’t make sense.

Not under the dull fluorescent lights of the company building, not in Italy.

His teeth grazes your skin, leaving a trail of pain and pleasure behind its wake. You quiver and his body presses harder against yours in panic that if he leaves any space in between, the distance would only grow should he second-guess. 

Dress bunched up at your midsection, he turns you away, eyes immediately landing where your mistake from your teenage years resided right above your pert ass. 

Was this going to be another mistake too?

Your hands brace yourself on the dresser, arching from his hand tracing down your back and down your ass. He pauses and waits for your nod to proceed. Palm up, he runs his hand over the pathetic cloth you’d call your underwear now completely soaked through and scrunched to the side of your pussy.

He sucks in a breath, “Kissing gets you like this, hm?”

You shudder, praying he eventually moves. His middle finger probes gently at your sodden folds, gathering your arousal. He stays doing this for a couple minutes, listening to your soft sighs, wondering when you’d begin to beg for him to continue.

And when you don’t ask for more, it aggravates him realizing he’s the one who needs more out of something that’s supposed to be meaningless. As the older adult, he should be the gentleman with better restraint, but he’s here in your room seeking something he can’t find anywhere else:

A distraction from all the buried guilt and pain — for once, he wants to win.

He somehow gets you perched on the dresser, head between your thighs as he eats you out both as a punishment and reward. The bottom half of your dress hangs over the side of your hips, thighs spread wide open as Jeongguk thrusts his tongue into your cunt.

He knows this is just sex … worse that you’re a younger colleague whom he has vehemently denied his attractions for. But he’s here in Italy where he’s tasted olives, rinsed his memories of past loved ones with citrus … he should enjoy this trip — enjoy you. Because when was Jeongguk going to be in Italy again fucking you in a shared cottage?

“Jeong–fuck, m-yeah, right there.” You cheer, fingers carding through his hair.

Your encouragement only spurs him on to work harder, lapping over your swollen clit until you tense and cease all noise in concentration for the impending orgasm. It’s all over when you fight his hold and win the battle with your legs clamped tightly around his head. You cum with a small sob, thighs shaking around him as he continues to eat you out.

He replaces his tongue with two fingers, lazily pumping his digits in you while he kisses your lips with the taste of you still on his tongue. Meanwhile, you fumble clumsily with his buttons and zipper, jaded by how much you want him.

He’s just as eager, moaning and grinding his cock into your hand when you’ve finally freed him of his confinements. 

Hoisting you in his arms, he brings you to the edge of your bed, groaning at how you automatically spread wider on the softer surface. So ready for him to do more with you until he realizes:

“Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

You hold yourself up with your forearms, legs still spread wide open for him despite his hesitance to move forward. His teeth sink onto his bottom lip, troubled dimples appearing as he stares at your glistening pussy clenching around nothing. 

“I’m on birth control.” You assure and add, “You can pull out if you want.”

What’s another bad idea added into the pile?

He strokes over his length, squeezing harder at the tip and lines himself up. You whine and circle your hips from the hard poke at your entrance, arousal coating his bare cock. He doesn’t push himself in just yet, watching as a bead of precum smears at your opening … a silent territorial marking. 

You’re his for tonight.

His thumb lands on your clit, rubbing it up and down. You keen, eyes shutting to concentrate on the added stimulation around the bundle of nerves.

“You’ve always been too rash on your decisions.” He pushes the tip of his cock into you, teeth biting the inside of his cheek. “Gotta work on that.” As if he’s not about to make an irrevocable mistake himself.

“High risk, high rewards … r-right?” You stammer through a shaky breath as he pushes more of him into you, uncaring that there’d been little to no prep. But that doesn’t matter, all your fantasies were coming true at this very moment and you’ll take whatever he gives you.

He gives you two more orgasms. One with your ankles by his ears. The other one where you lay on your side, memorizing the way his fingers dig into your skin as he pumps his thick shaft into you. You hike your knee closer to your chest to allow him to sink even deeper into you, hitting a specific spot repeatedly to burn figments of stars behind your lids.

The room’s hot and musty — didn’t help that neither of you remembered to air out the cottage upon arrival, but no one cared about that at the moment. Your sweat gathers behind your knees and drips down the slope of your thighs as Jeongguk continues fucking you into the mattress with an intense need.

“Gonna cum.” He announces, jaw going slack as his balls grow heavy with the need to release. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Want you to cum for me.” You nod, and the slapping of his skin on yours grows as he moves quicker and harder. 

You moan, brows scrunched in anticipation for Jeongguk to pull out and the feeling of being stuffed full by him will cease all together. And through your past experiences with other men, sex typically ends once they cum, so you ready yourself for the mirage to end — ready yourself to face reality again. Your lower half relaxes, waiting for him to turn your body so that he could unload everything on your stomach.

Two things happen.

He pushes deep inside you, stilling as he fills you with his arousal.

Hands soft as sand, cradle your jaw for a searing kiss to conceal words he shouldn’t utter to a colleague, let alone a direct report.

Minutes pass like this and you come to find out: sex doesn’t stop when Jeongguk finishes inside you.

He lays down next to you and hoists your body on top of his, movements swift in slipping his sensitive cock back into your cum-filled hole. He hisses, fighting through the overstimulation in acceptance of the punishment for all the terrible acts he’s committed with you. Again, both a punishment and a reward as he lets you ride him, watching the way your hips roll smoothly over his. Your mixed juices trail down his length and over his balls the more you move and bounce.

He doesn’t tell you to give him another orgasm, knowing you’re working hard to get there again. 

“Don’t wanna stop. Wanna do this with you all night long.” Your breath hitches as the pleasure shifts into a type of pain no one can see. And no matter how you try to fight the physical effects of the hardest orgasm of your life, your body gives into the exhaustion and slumps over Jeongguk’s sweaty body.

In your slumber, you feel the sand, the breeze, and the absence of another human body. The next morning only proves your reality when you wake up clothed and sore from last night’s affair … with Jeongguk nowhere in sight.

You frown, tucking the sheets closer to your chin and watching the tree branches scrape against your opened window. The air in the room was no longer stuffy, ridding any evidence of what you and Jeongguk did.

Summers in Italy were magical. 

Though, the fact stands: magic was nothing but illusions, deluding you from the truth. And you feigned indifference when Jihyo tells you Jeongguk had gone home for an important project — you ignored the hurt and betrayal. You had never been enough for your father to come home, so it was easy to turn a blind eye at the heaviness in your stomach from the thoughts of hoping you’d be enough to make Jeongguk stay.

Another couple of days in Italy go by with those illusions till the truth sets in the day you return to work.

A couple coworkers stop you on the way to your cubicle, asking you for a trip recap. Your debrief takes longer as intended — half due to wanting to avoid work and the other half as a result of your efforts to leave out key details of a certain someone. 

You could’ve taken another path to your desk — one that kept you from the usual ajar door. Perhaps the magic followed you back home and you’ve alluded to think Jeongguk’s stares trail after your figure when you walked past his office.

The magical illusions continue as you settle into your cube, a bright yellow sticky note on your keyboard with a familiar handwriting reads: Lunch at Romano’s. - J

Even if the center of the candy happened to be sour, you have to see through it — you want to see through it.

fin.

a/n: missed me? cuz i’ve been missenU. ahh, ahh?? 🥹 i’ll see yall in about 1-2 months with something new! in the meantime, go send your well wishes to the bday girlie!! toodles ♡

also s/o to my bestie @takeitawaykenny for beta’ing!! love ya pookie