⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ

₊˚⊹♡ what a night!

𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: chefinfluencer!jay x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS: to stalk her ex on the internet, y/n decides to create sugar talking, a fake baking business account. she's not prepared to receive real orders or accidentally go viral. then a renowned cooking influencer reaches out for a collab. this strategy just got more complicated... 𝜗𝜚 PLAYLIST: link here 🩷 𝜗𝜚 CONTENT: y/n and jay (still) mutually stalk each other's social media, clear class divides shown in this chapter, y/n feels pressured and insecure, written part (1.9k) after button dividers 𝜗𝜚 NOTES: focused less on social media posts this time just bc the writing got so long. finally finished this chapter only for me to open twinote and see they introduced ads lol. also ignore any blurry images in present + future mock up instagram posts, the website i use introduced a subscription tier and i'm not motivated to pay for it per month

✮ profiles 01 ✮ profiles 02 ✮ masterlist

The atmosphere in Eujioo’s car is a carefree, familiar one that grounds you after the emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks. Eujioo insists on driving, claiming bragging rights to transporting everyone to and from Chef Park’s restaurant. Jiyu sits in the passenger seat, fiddling with the aux and engaging him in debate about the latest cooking trends. You and Yujin sit shoulder to shoulder in the back, scrolling through reviews of Jay’s various sites and giggling at the one-star reviews. 

If not for the fact that you see Euijoo’s tie hangs askew thanks to the rearview mirror, Jiyu’s hair falls around her shoulders in carefully curated waves, and Yujin sits next to you in violet taffeta and scarlet lipstick, you could almost imagine this was a normal hangout.

You feel ready to take on the intimidating finery of Jay’s world with your friends by your side. You can also tell Jay invited them to make you feel more comfortable. Clever man.

Eujioo parks a few minutes away from the restaurant (“because this trip is supposed to be free and I’m not paying sixty yen for parking,” he says). You shoot a quick text off to Jay as your group approaches the venue, leaning against each other in a glitzy, perfumed bundle of giddiness. Jay immediately replies, giving you a specific phrase to use for the reservation manager. 

You can’t help but fall quiet as you pass the simple but elegant restaurant sign and approach the bronze-etched doors. Your friends stop their conversations to glance at you in support. You nod at them in gratefulness and close your eyes for a second, attempting to ground yourself.

Your first words to the comes out more of a squeak than a command. Fortunately the staff member seems to expect you. 

“Take a right, then a left, and head upstairs,” is all she says.

You manage a soft thank-you and lead your friends onward with a confidence you don’t feel. You wonder how many times this has happened, how many other girls this man has wined and dined.

At least none of them have met celebrities through pretending to be a baking business. You’re unique that way (or so you tell yourself).

When you and your friends get upstairs, you are met with mahogany double doors, design similar to the bronze-detailed ones at the entrance of the restaurant. Tentatively, you knock on the door, your friends standing behind.

Faint laughter and talking sounds from the other end. You hope it means something good.

Jay opens one of the doors, leaning against the edge of it and raising a hand to steady himself. He’s wearing a silk black button-up and a pair of black dress pants. You try not to stare too openly at the curve of his fingers or his rolled-up forearms. 

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” you whisper back.

His eyes really do turn into little moons when smiling. How devastating. 

“Ya, are you going to introduce us?” one of Jay’s friends yells through the doorway, and you’re both jolted back to the present. 

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Jay straightens and offers a more polite smile to you and your friends. “Please, come in. Sit wherever you’d like.”

Jay’s private dining room feels appropriately charming, much like the man himself. Dark navy walls surround you all, filled with pictures and knicknacks clearly from Jay’s personal collection. You notice an F1 poster with a driver’s signature, various pictures of Jay with well known celebrity chefs and food critics, and framed book pages and vintage records. The seating is a mixture of leather couches and beige-cushioned chairs, with one central table in the middle. Rather than a crystal chandelier, the room is illuminated by simple lamps, emitting a cozy glow. A dark curtain hides what you assume to be a floor length window overlooking Seoul. 

You barely get a moment to take everything in, because Jay’s friends are already greeting you and your friends. Sunoo waves at your little group and gushes about being excited to meet everyone with the infectious smile you’ve seen in his vlogs and online behind the scenes content. Sunghoon’s expression doesn’t change much, but he lifts his head in a nod.

“Order whatever,” Jay tells you and your friends. “I brought menus in case you might want something specific, but just get what you want.”

Your friends chorus thank-yous and find seats around the table, already chatting with Sunoo and Sunghoon as they figure out what to order. At least you don’t have to worry about any awkwardness in the room. They’ve always been cool like that—offering instant, welcoming warmth to those around them.

You forget you’re still standing until Jay steps closer quietly hovering a hand over your waist. “You doing okay?” he asks.

You force a nod. “Good. Thank you, this is really generous of you.”

“On the contrary, I think this is all a little selfish of me,” he replies, voice low with tenderness and something you’re scared to name again. “I wanted nothing more than to spend time with you this evening.”

Without fanfare he tangles your fingers in his and leads you to sit next to him, finding a place so you’re able to see your combined friends’ smiling faces.

“Shawl off?” he asks, hands trailing along the fringes as you finally open the menu. You hope he doesn’t see the slight tremble in your hands.

“I’m okay for now. Thank you,” you say. You hope you aren’t being too cold—it’s just hard to think this instant. Your swirling apprehension fades as you flip further through the menu. “Wait, are you still serving that spinach-and-cream fettuccine from your cookbook?”

“You read that, didn’t you?” he chuckles, but he seems more endeared than annoyed. “Yes, it’s one of the dishes I kept after trying some of them in-house and phasing out of them later. Younger me thought zucchini cupcakes would be more of a trend now than they are, apparently.”

“I don’t know, I’ve used zucchini in a few dishes and it works every time. Maybe you just need to rethink your recipe,” you grin.

“Maybe you’ll show me how sometime,” he murmurs.

“I’d like that,” you feel brave enough to say. The surprise and fondness in his eyes makes your foolish attempt at flirting worth it.

A waiter enters the room, notebook in hand, and you go around the table listing your orders. Jay, Sunoo, and Sunghoon stay silent, presumably having ordered their dishes. Jay rests a hand against the back of your chair and engages in a soft, business-focused conversation with the waiter. Yujin sends you an encouraging smile across the table. You send a slightly nervous one back.

“It’s okay, he’s totally whipped,” Sunoo mouths in your direction. Jiyu and Eujioo immediately press hands to their mouths to muffle their laughter. Even Sunghoon raises his eyebrows in amusement observing the scene, nodding in subtle agreement. You try to hide your laughter, but a tiny snort slips out.

Jay’s head swings back to you. “All good?”

“Fine, thank you,” you tell him, attempting to look innocent.

“Good.” He leans closer to you. “I want you to feel like you can relax.” His voice softens, as if you are sharing a secret in this crowded room, and oh, whatever tactics he usually resorts to are entirely, embarrassingly working on you.

Sunoo and Sunghoon act as if they’ve known you and your friends for years, telling past stories about Jay when he was in culinary school, asking thoughtful questions about your lives, and adding affectionately snarky commentary in between bites. Jay’s quieter, but he’ll toss in a remark every minute or so, genuine warmth in his eyes as he looks at you all. You’re listening to Sunghoon and Jiyu banter over the best classical music to perform to when the food comes in, and you realize with a start that you’re not nearly as tense as before.

“How’s Sugar Talking going, by the way?” asks Sunghoon. You realize with a start that Jay has probably talked about your business to his friends, if his praise for you during your conversations is any indicator. You wonder what they think of the whole thing—an apparently unattached chef becoming so invested in a tiny almost-dream.

“Yeah, really well actually,” you say after starting to eat your order. “I’m having to turn down orders because they’re too far for me to deliver to.”

“Are most of your customers from school?” Sunoo asks, twirling some noodles dipped in sauce on his fork.

“A good amount, yes. Every so often I’ll get orders from people on town or outside it.” You see Yunjin, Eujioo, and Jiyu making proud expressions out of the corner of your eye, and you let out a silent laugh. 

“What are you making the most of these days?” Jay asks you.

“Mostly cookies and cake pops, nothing elaborate,” you reply. “I made cupcakes a few weeks ago for Jiyu’s dance showcase. I have a request for a birthday cake in my DMs, though I’m not sure if I’ll take it yet…” 

“Why not?” Jay wonders, and your eyes widen. 

Oh no. 

“Um, mainly some personal reasons,” you ramble. “There’s nothing really worth mentioning that would damage the business.” 

Eujioo and Jiyu are already darting confused glances at you. Yujin gives you a look that says, we ARE talking about this when we leave the room filled with walking Wikipedia pages.

“I won’t pry,” Jay says, much to your relief. “Just know that you can turn a request down whether it affects future orders or not. That is well within your rights as an independent businesswoman.”

“I’ve never considered myself a businesswoman,” you blurt out. “I’ve always thought I was, like, someone who tries to keep up with business news while drinking tea and pretending to finish my TBR list.”

To his credit, Jay keeps a straight face. “TBR list? I’m not familiar with that term.”

“It means ‘to be read,’” you say, voice fainter with every word. “It’s basically all the books I tell myself to read and then never do.”

“I see,” Jay murmurs. You feel your face heating up and hope your friends aren’t paying attention to your nervous chatter. “I have something like that myself.”

“You do?”

“It’s not nearly as complex or impressive as your choices, I’m sure, but I have a tiny list of books I plan to get to eventually. Sometimes my mom will mention one and I’ll list it, or my friends give me recommendations.” He glances at his friends with a smile that makes a cheek dimple pop out. “Sunoo doesn’t look like the type, but he loves a good crime thriller. Sunghoon suggests abstract poetry or memoirs from industries I’ve never heard of. I try to read a book a month if I can.” 

Before you can fully think about it, you’re pulling out your phone and showing him your favorite book tracking app, watching his fingers fly across his phone’s keyboard as he creates an account of his own, and trying not to audibly gasp as he sends you a friend request right at the table. The rest of the time passes by similarly—lively conversation with your combined friends, food that makes you continually ask for the ingredients, Jay leaning over every so often to make a teasing comment or ask a question. It’s wonderful. It’s torture. You view the world in a blur of shimmering cufflinks and bubbling glasses of champagne and are unsure how you fit.

(Or if you fit at all.)

It’s nearing eleven when you and your friends head out, not without some resistance from Jay and Sunghoon. They both insist on calling drivers for your group, only for you all to agree in turning down the offer, grateful that you didn’t order drinks. You doze off on Yujin’s shoulder as Eujioo drives everyone home.

What a night.

₊˚⊹♡ je ne vais pa crashout

𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: chefinfluencer!jay x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS: to stalk her ex on the internet, y/n decides to create sugar talking, a fake baking business account. she's not prepared to receive real orders or accidentally go viral. then a renowned cooking influencer reaches out for a collab. this strategy just got more complicated... 𝜗𝜚 PLAYLIST: link here 🩷 𝜗𝜚 CONTENT: y/n and jay (still) mutually stalk each other's social media, light angst/insecurity from y/n 𝜗𝜚 NOTES: ch 5 might be uploaded later than usual bc there's a written part and i'm struggling with it so bad. also i'm going to be out of town for half of this week so activity should be a bit slower here! in other notes, learned about cool pavlova techniques while writing this! all tips come from this helpful article so neither i nor chef jay can take full credit. (also ignore the $ symbol in one post it's supposed to be yen)

✮ profiles 01 ✮ profiles 02 ✮ masterlist

── ୨ৎ ── after your sister’s death, you fill the loneliness inside you texting her old number. but what happens when someone replies?

⤷ idol!sunghoon x reader (f)

!! smau (12 pics), mentions of alcohol & insomnia, crying, enha mentioned.

masterlist: CH’s PROFILES ; PART 1 ; PART 2 ;

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @beomluvrr @heeshlove @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @princesstiti14 @mintchocoddeonut @lostgirlysstuff @firstclassjaylee @jazz7gnab @cyutecoree @hooniluhv @soullesslien @chowonasblog @heartmira @keeeholic @skz-enha @swehee @all4moi @desirxriki @jakeycakeys @envil @swiftjay23 @i4tzy @k-4ttiee @simjaeyunslut @shadesofc00l @cosm1cgarbag3 @vampyriki @user131422

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

niki x reader

word count: 18k (got carried away)

summary: a boy in swing class catches your attention and your interest piques when you wonder if your favorite dance partner has a special spot for you too

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Swing dancing was going to be your new thing. Why? Couldn’t really say, let’s just blame it on a feeling. You had signed up for a beginners swing series with a couple friends, thinking it would be a fun way to spend Wednesday nights and do something other than homework. Other than the couple spin and arm maneuvers you learned on a previous vacation, you knew nothing about swing -- nothing about dance in general. As a matter of fact, before the class started, you were under the impression that there was only one kind of swing. You were proven wrong very quickly. 

“What are their feet doing?” you turned to whisper to Karina, who seemed just as confused as you. 

“This is not what we learned before,” she whispered back. Clearly the two of you were on the same page. 

“Let’s just jump right into it, okay!” The instructor clapped her hands a couple times after the demonstration to get the group’s attention. “Just based on what we’ve demonstrated,” she referred to her dance partner, “if my role resonated with you more, I want you to stand on this side of the room. You will be the follows. And if my partner’s role resonated with you more, you can step off to the other side of the room. You will be the leads.”

The air was filled with the shuffling of feet as people moved to their prospective positions. You and Karina moved to the ‘follows’ side, which happened to be where most of the women ended up. You scanned the “lead” side of the room and waved to Jungwon and Jake, who were almost directly across from you. 

“Great! Now that we’re pretty evenly split, go ahead and find a partner from the other group! If you can’t find one, no worries, everyone will get a chance to dance with somebody during our exercises!”

You made eye contact with Jungwon, pointing at him and wiggling your eyebrows. He smiled and pointed back, already walking towards you. 

“What’dya say partner?” you ask, holding up your hand for a high five, which he gladly hit. 

“I say if you kill my toes, I will kill you.”

“Sounds reasonable,” you nod to yourself, standing side by side next to Karina and Jake, who had also paired up. 

There were a couple more leads than there were follows but the instructor again assured that everyone would get a chance to dance with someone. 

“Now, everybody, move towards the walls so we can form a giant circle! Make sure that you are able to see me standing in the center!”

Everyone did as they were told and then the lesson officially began. You and Jungwon faced each other, one hand held his shoulder while the other held his hand. His free hand sat across the small of your back. 

“This is called ‘close embrace’ everybody!” the instructor announced. “While in this position, I want everybody to try and do a simple two step together.”

The circle of learners again followed instruction. 

“My rhythm sucks ass,” you mutter, watching Jungwon’s feet to stay on beat. 

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he joked, giving you a side-eye to sell the point. 

“If I step on your feet, just know it wasn’t an accident.”

Just as you thought you were getting the hang of it, the music was halted and the follows were told to rotate one person to the right. You waved with faux sadness to Jungwon before grinning in Jake’s direction. Karina had already moved on to the next and was introducing herself. 

“You ready?” he asked, turning towards you completely and putting his hand on your back when the music started. 

“No,” you answered honestly. 

He laughed, already guiding you into the two-step. “At least you’re self-aware. Jungwon warned me about you in advance.”

“Traitor. I haven’t even stepped on his toes yet.”

“Key word: yet.”

You spare a glance in Jungwon’s direction to see him awkwardly dancing with another girl. She looked like she knew what she was doing a little bit too much, like she was trying to be the lead instead. 

Before you could point it out to Jake, the instructor called, “Leads, remember -- you’re responsible for communicating direction! You decide where to go! If your follow looks confused, that’s your fault!”

Jake chuckled. “That seemed targeted, huh?”

“She’s saving my dignity too,” you admitted, making eye contact with him and smiling. 

The music cut and everyone rotated. This time, the leads were told to throw in a couple triple-steps to spice it up. After a quick introduction and awkward hand placement, your new partner began to move and you had no choice but to follow suite. 

The rotations continued, each rotation the leads were told to follow a different pattern or tempo and the follows had to try and follow them. You were getting better but you wouldn’t say you were great yet. You had almost made it all the way around the circle, counting the number of rotations left until you reached Jungwon and Jake again. 3. 

You gave a small thumbs up to the man you had just danced with and stepped to your next partner. He was at least 6 inches taller than you with a stern expression etched across his face. He didn’t smile when you introduced yourself. He barely blinked. 

“Hi!” you chirped anyway, because someone had to supply the social energy around here. 

“...Hey,” he nodded, rigid as a board. 

You tried not to squint your eyes at his response, wishing he would give you a little more to go off of. Swing didn’t require talking in general since your bodies were the point of communication, but a little bit of small talk goes a long way. Clearly not with this guy though. 

Even though his demeanor was stiff, his dancing wasn’t. His hand barely touched your waist, yet you could easily pick up the directional cues he was giving you. And compared to some of the other people you had trouble following, his steps were confident -- deliberate -- and gave you plenty of time to register where he was taking you. 

You stole a look at his face. It was still as stoic as before. “So… you’ve done this before?” The question was asked carefully, trying to coax a response out of him. 

His expression didn’t change. “A bit.”

You nodded, waiting for him to elaborate. He did not. Okay then. 

“I hope you can’t tell I have no idea what I’m doing…” Maybe a joke would work?

You watched his eyes flick down to your feet. Non-judgmental, just assessing. “You’re doing fine.”

You blinked. That was… not exactly what you expected but still nicer than what he could've said. 

“Really?” You pressed, because you doubted encouragement from Mister Statue would happen again. You needed to savour this fleeting moment. 

He gave the smallest possible shrug, a movement so minimal you almost missed it right as the hand on your back gave the slightest pull forwards. You chased him. 

“You follow the cues,” he said after you had correctly assessed his hand movement and followed him through a three-step. “That’s all that matters.”

The smile on your face was instantaneous. Hell yeah. “Thank you. I’m hanging on by sheer willpower and caffeine.”

Something in his expression shifted. Could have been amusement but it could have also been a muscle spasm. Hard to say. 

You moved to the next partner, mentally counting again. Two more rotations. Almost back to familiar territory, thank goodness. 

When it was time, you were almost flinging yourself at Jungwon, desperate for a change in partners. 

“Dude, I’ve never felt so manhandled in my life,” you whisper yelled to him, trying not to be too loud over the music. 

“Karina said the same thing,” he laughed. “He seems… exotic?”

You spared a look at the man you had last danced with, immediately averting your eyes. “I just don’t think that much gusto is necessary,” you mumbled. “Please don’t over-gusto-fy this too.”

“That might be kind of hard,” Jungwon drawled and in the same breath did a dramatic step to throw you off. “It’s in my nature.”

The swing classes occurred every Monday and Wednesday night. On Fridays there were dance socials, a two-hour time block where anyone and everyone with a form of swing dancing experience was welcome to dance with each other. A bit of time had passed since your first lesson and the four of you were now 3 weeks into the beginner lesson series, but you yet to go to any social events. Not that you were complaining. Sometimes your toes were too sore from being stepped on by the end of the week to want to do anything anyway. 

You were especially excited about today’s lesson because you were beginning to talk about how to maneuver spinning. Finally, something flashy and not just stepping patterns and rhythms. 

“That’s right everyone,” the instructor clapped her hands to calm down the class. “Today we begin to experiment with a couple different turning techniques. Follows, this is your moment to shine!”

Gathering in a circle was second nature at this point, before even being instructed you had partnered up with Jake. You watched together as both instructors performed a demo in the middle of the circle. It was beautiful -- clean, smooth, and effortless. One instructor raised their hand, guiding their partner forward, and then she spun without a single stutter in her step. 

You sighed wistfully. “Imagine.”

“Gotta be AI,” Jake said from behind you. 

“Has to be,” Jungwon agreed. 

“I bet she’s never even tripped on her own socks,” Karina added. 

After a quick walk through with counts, you were left with nothing but your partner, a backtrack, and a mission to complete: perform an inside turn. 

“Okay leads! Try giving your partner a gentle spin. And follows, remember, you’re moving forward before your turn, not spinning in place. We’ll walk through it slowly.”

Slowly sounded great. Slowly was safe. Slowly was-

“Rotate!” she called after the very first attempt. 

You groaned. “She lies. She lies every class.”

The next couple partners were gentle enough, offering hesitating hands and half-hearted spins that did nothing to instill confidence in you. It felt less like dancing and more like being questionably directed. You almost fell once but caught yourself by grabbing your partner’s shoulder like you were boarding a bus, which you know both Jake and Jungwon saw because you heard them snickering over your shoulder. 

A few more rotations and you were face-to-face with Mister Statue again. He still looked exactly the same as the first class. Tall, intense, dressed in loose black clothes, a couple rings adorning his fingers. 

“You good with spins?” you quip. 

“A bit.”

Leading up to a spin, you and your partner had to move from closed embrace to open embrace, and then the lead would raise the hand holding the follow’s in the air to indicate the start of a spin. If the hands were simply raised up, you would spin clockwise. But if the hands were raised up and in between the two of you, you would spin counter-clockwise. It was a lot of new information to try and remember. 

Unsurprisingly, this guy knew what he was doing. His steps were precise and when he raised his arm, you didn’t even think twice about which direction to turn. You came out of the turn perfectly balanced. 

You snapped your head up at him, shocked. “Wait-- that actually worked? I spun?? And I didn’t trip??”

A beat passed. Then, “Yes.”

You beamed. “Alright, partner. Spin me again.”

If he had been anyone else, you might’ve gotten a grin or a playful laugh in return. But with this guy, you got a slow blink… and then the faintest tilt of his head, like he was surprised by your tremendous enthusiasm. 

He repositioned his arms around you carefully. The hand on your back was light and confident as always, making you excited. His other hand held yours and you felt your excitement pick up. Spinning was so much funner when you were doing it with someone who could actually lead you. 

He didn’t ask you if you were ready, he probably felt the adrenaline rushing through your fingertips. Step by step, he guided you into open embrace, fingers firm around yours but not tight. When he raised your joined hands, you felt the cue instantly and stepped forward and turned and--

Perfect again. 

Damn this guy was good. 

Instead of stopping after the spin, he pulled you back in by your joined hands into a closed embrace, continuing to two-step. 

“Okay, seriously, are you some kind of undercover swing-dancing pro?” you ask, genuinely curious at this point. How was every move of his so crafted and clean?

For a split second -- just a split -- his lips twitched. “No,” he replied. 

“You sure?” you teased, receiving the cue to go into open embrace. “I’m starting to think you were trained ahead of time to specifically make the rest of us look bad.”

“You’re better than you think,” he said. 

You did not expect him to say that. Praise? From him? You were so stunned that you stuttered on the next triple step he initiated. You dipped forward a fraction of an inch, losing the familiar support of his hand on your back until he caught the shift immediately and corrected it, guiding the rhythm between you back into place. 

“You’re okay, just keep the momentum.”

You nodded quickly, trying not to combust from embarrassment. “Sorry. Your compliment overwhelmed me. You know, you being a pro dancer and all…”

Your eyes refused to leave his shoulder and completely missed the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. 

“Not a pro,” he said softly. 

“You can keep denying it but I’m not buying it,” you muttered, daring to look back up. “I haven’t stepped on your feet once, and that’s because of you, not me.”

There was definitely a small smile on his face now. He was really pushing the limits of his facial movements tonight. 

“Just experience,” he said simply. 

“Experience doing what?” you pressed.

He guided you into another turn before answering and when you settled back into closed embrace, his hand slid naturally to its place at the small of your back. “Dancing.”

You huffed. “No shit, Sherlock. But like… what kind of dancing? For how long? Did you take lessons? Were you born with jazz shoes on?”

“The latter.”

“I’d believe it.”

You could feel his chest rise with slow controlled breaths, like he was deciding whether to indulge in your interrogation or stay silent in his black-clad, mysterious glory. Just as it seemed he was opening his mouth to say something, the instructor stopped the music. 

“You guys are looking good out there! Let’s try a simple spin out now!” Her words were followed by a demonstration and you excitedly turned towards Mister Statue. 

“This one looks fun,” you smiled, prepared to let him spin you into oblivion with full faith he wouldn’t let you hit the wall. 

He was reaching for your waist when the instructor asked, “Have you already danced with this partner?”

You couldn’t help the disappointment that settled in your stomach when a rotation was called and looked at him with visible dismay. “Rats. Don’t you worry, I’m gonna circle back here eventually.”

Slowly, the rotations led you back to Jake. “Save me,” you begged immediately, hands clasped in a fake prayer. 

“Oh boy,” he murmured. “Who thrashed you this time?”

“You know the guy who looks like he drinks protein shakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

Both of your heads slowly turned to look behind you. “Ah. I see.”

“Big enthusiasm, lot’s of arm power there.”

Jake nodded knowingly. “Karina said she almost dislocated her arm with him.”

“For his sake, I hope he doesn’t.” You held a fist up between the two of you. “Hands would be thrown.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t doubt it for a second,” he joked dismissively, just trying to stay on beat to the music. “Can you focus and stop stepping on my feet?”

“It’s not my fault I’m stepping on your feet. You should be a better lead.”

Jake stopped mid triple-step and gave you the most offended look he could muster. “Pardon?? I’m literally doing the exact same thing the instructor is doing.”

“Then why am I doing the exact opposite of what you’re doing?” you shot back, lifting your eyebrows pointedly and cocking your head. 

“Because you’re a terrible dancer,” he hissed under his breath, trying not to laugh. “Now please, for the love of everything, step back on the second beat, not forward.”

“You’re killing the vibe, Jake.”

“You’re killing my metatarsals.”

You snorted so hard you lost the rhythm entirely, but he corrected it quickly and helped get the both of you back into something resembling a beat. Rotation was called again and he exhaled dramatically. 

“Thank God.” He wiped imaginary sweat with the back of his hand. “I’m sending prayers to Jungwon.”

The first thing Jungwon said when you reached him was, “Karina said we should go out and get food after this.”

No hello was necessary. He knew exactly what you wanted to hear.

“Ooooo yes please. Did she say where?”

“Tacos,” he said immediately. “I think it’s that one place with discounted birria on Mondays.”

“That tracks,” you remarked with a laugh. “She sent me at least three TikToks about birria tacos last night.”

“So you’re already well indoctrinated,” Jungwon grinned. “Jake’s an easy yes too, just tell him there’s bottomless guac.”

You agreed. “He would sell his soul for endless guacamole.”

Jungwon led you through the new spin you were taught, catching you through a small stumble and resuming the previous tempo. 

“This one is hard,” you mutter, staring at your feet to not fall off beat. 

“Should I pull you in slower?” he asked, adjusting his hand to try an easier spinning method. It worked, but only slightly better. 

“I think if we just do this 50 more times, I’ll get the hang of it.”

“I think you’ll throw up from motion sickness before even reaching the 25 mark.”

“Ye of little faith.”

“That reminds me,” Jungwon added. “What are your thoughts on going to one of the socials soon? The next one is in four days.”

Your stomach flipped. It seemed a little more scary to dance outside of the practice room, like there would be pressure and judgement coming from the the wallpaper and ceiling tiles. “Maybe.”

“Jake’s already on board, but we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No, I think it could be fun,” you reassured. And terrifying but who’s keeping track. “Besides, it’s good practice.”

Your next few partners in the rotation were manageable -- nothing disastrous, but nothing exceptional. Just a blur of polite smiles, clumsy steps, and the occasional “Sorry, sorry, sorry” from someone who was definitely more nervous than you. One guy counted the beats out loud like he was defusing a bomb. Another kept accidentally turning himself instead of you. And another wasn’t even stepping, just swaying to the beat. 

But each rotation, your eyes flicked back to where Mister Statue was dancing. Every time you caught sight of him, he was guiding someone through a clean spin, or leading his partner through smooth transitions of single, double, and triple steps. Loose black clothing, rings glinting every time he raised his hand to signal a turn, clean movements when he didn’t even look like he was trying. You wanted to dance with him again and actually feel like you were dancing. 

The next partner switch brought you closer, just one rotation away. From here, you could see that his expression didn’t change as he danced, but his posture softened for partners who clearly needed guidance. He never looked impatient. Never looked bored. Just focused. You watched as he spun Karina out, excited that you would be able to finally try to spin like that with someone who knew what they were doing. 

Rotate, rotate, rotate you chanted in your heart, building up the anticipation. And then you found yourself stepping into place in front of him again. 

“You’re back.”

Was that a joke? And did he just talk to you first? 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily. Sorry,” you (hopefully) joked back. 

The music picked up and you were in his arms again, being led through the now-familiar steps. His lead was instantly recognizable, letting you relax a little. And then the hand on your lower back disappeared. This was it. You were gonna spin out--

His fingers loosened on the hand holding yours, raising your hand slightly and guiding you through a crisp twirl away from him before gently pulling you back and slipping his other hand back to your waist. He caught you before you even realized you’d finished the turn. 

“Oh my gosh that was so fun,” you gasped. “Can we do that again?”

“You like spins,” he observed quietly. 

You huffed out a laugh. “Only when you’re the one doing them.”

His fingers tightened just slightly -- barely noticeable, unless you were paying attention. You were absolutely paying attention. Aaaaand face palming at how awkward you realized you probably sounded and began to stutter, trying to save face. 

“I feel like I’m just getting flung around with some of these people.” There. That was good, right?

He just nodded once, as if your correction made perfect sense. “Momentum matters,” he said simply, pulling you through a smooth step that settled your balance before initiating a series of triple steps. “Control matters more.”

God. He talked like someone who lived inside a metronome. 

“Yeah, well, some of these guys have… a lot of momentum,” you grumbled. “Like, runaway train energy.”

His head dipped the slightest fraction, almost like a laugh. “Runaway trains don’t lead well.”

“You don’t say.”

“You follow better when you trust the lead.”

He said it neutrally, a casual statement. So casual you didn’t even think before responding with, “I trust you.”

There was a moment of silence. And then, “Good.”

Oh, God, please spin me away so it’s not awkward anymore. You both wanted rotation and didn’t at the same time. 

A quick glance at his face made you realize that he didn’t look uncomfortable at all though. Not even a little. He held your gaze for a couple seconds and then initiated another spin, effectively breaking the eye contact. 

“Okay, okay,” Jake swallowed a bite of his taco, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Best and worst dancer, go.”

That question didn’t take much thought. “Worst dancer is that one brunette guy, the one that I swear tried to launch me into the wall.”

Karina clapped her hands in agreement. “Yes! Oh my gosh! I swear he might’ve given me an ingrown toenail from stepping on my feet so much.”

“Jake, you’re a close second,” you chirped, taking out a huge chunk of your own taco as Jake scowled at you. 

“You’re one to talk,” he quipped. You denied any allegations thrown your way. 

Jungwon thought for a moment. “I think I would say the girl with short hair. The one that always has like 5 necklaces on.”

“It’s between her and the one with dyed red hair, for sure,” Jake seconded his opinion. “I feel like I’m the follow sometimes.”

You and Karina laughed as they shared stories, completely lining up with one another’s narratives. 

“Who would you say the best dancer is?” Karina asked you curiously. 

“Don’t lie,” Jake said. 

“Yeah, don’t pretend it wasn’t the guy with platinum hair.”

You choked on the taco, swallowing harshly and coughing. 

Karina hummed. “Ni-ki? Yeah, he might be my favorite too.”

Ni-ki. 

You wondered how she knew his name and you didn’t. When you had introduced yourself the first time, he hadn’t given you his name, but after the first couple times you danced together, you didn’t bother asking. It seemed past the time window for that kind of introduction. But still, she had known his name. 

“He’s kind of scary though,” she added between bites of food. “Like I’m scared to mess up in front of him.”

Scary? That wasn’t the word you’d use. Intense, maybe. Focused, sure. Scary wasn’t quite right. 

“He’s not scary.”

Three heads turned towards you simultaneously and you became acutely aware of how hot it was in the restaurant. You cleared your throat and lowered your taco. “I mean-- he’s quiet. And really tall. And he doesn’t talk much but he’s not… scary.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Glowing review.”

“I’m just saying,” you insisted, gesturing with your tortilla. “He’s actually really patient. Like, shockingly patient.”

“You would know, huh?” Jake deadpanned. 

“He’s not much of a conversationalist,” you tried to change the subject. “I’ve only gotten a few sentences out of him.”

Karina leaned forward like you’d just confessed something big. “Dude, he never talks. If he’s talking to you in even 2 word sentences, that’s like… huge.”

You blinked. “But it’s only about dancing and trying to follow his lead.”

“He’s coaching you through it?? That’s basically a verbal love letter,” Jungwon exaggerates. 

You kicked him under the table. “Shut up.”

“He told me his name when we partnered today. I think it’s the only thing he’s ever said to me, and only because I asked. Just ‘Ni-ki.’ Very monotone. But like… dancer hot, you know?”

Oh you knew alright. 

“Dancer hot??” Jungwon repeated with a laugh. 

“You know what I mean,” she insisted. “He looks like he’s really good at things. Like, on purpose or something.”

Your stomach tightened for reasons you were absolutely not prepared to unpack over tacos. 

“Did you know his name?” Jake asked, squinting at you over his glass of water. 

“No..” your words were barely over a mumble. 

“Bruh. No game, Y/N,” Jungwon shook his head disapprovingly. 

“I- I thought it was too late!” you defended. “We passed the name window! There’s a name window!”

“No there’s not,” Karina said.

“There absolutely is. If you don’t ask within the first 2 meetings, you really can’t ask at all.”

“You just made that up,” Jake retorted. “Sounds chicken to me.”

You jabbed your straw into your drink and twirled it. “It’s literally social etiquette. Like the same way you can’t ask a stranger if they want to split a mortgage.”

Jungwon looked at you alienatingly. “That is not even remotely equivalent.”

“Can we please talk about something else, goodnight.”

“I’m enjoying the current convo,” Karina shrugged, swirling a chip in the shared salsa bowl. “I think you guys have already talked together more than he ever will with me.”

“Face it,” Jake pointed at you with a chip of his own. “You’re his favorite.”

“Blasphemy,” you sputtered. “It’s not like that.”

Jake shrugged. “Sure it is. Everyone has a favorite.”

“I think he likes dancing with you too,” Jungwon agreed and your stomach did a triple-step of its own. “The guy definitely dances differently when you’re with him.”

“Does not,” you said, too quickly. 

Karina gave you a knowing stare. “Girl. We see things.”

“Dare I say he smiled today?” Jungwon drawled and you squinted suspiciously. Had he?

“I wouldn’t call any expression he’s given me a smile,” you defended. “His mouth twitched.”

“That’s a Ni-ki smile,” Karina said. “You have to adjust your measurement scale for people like him.”

“Could have been a muscle cramp,” you threw out there, knowing there was more truth in their statements than in your own. “Who was your favorite dancer?” you asked Karina, hoping they would all catch the hint.

There was a wave of reluctance among the group but they eventually let you off the hook. 

Ni-ki. He looked like a Ni-ki. They way he stood silently against the wall, watching the opening demonstration. Something about the way his hair sat, or the way his hands were shoved in his pockets, or the jacket hanging on his broad shoulders. Definitely a Niki vibe. 

You looked away before anybody could catch you staring, especially after that taco discussion. It wasn’t difficult to notice he was attractive, you had picked up on that the first time you had danced together. It didn’t feel like you were attracted to him, at least not before. That discussion had planted some dangerous seeds in your head. He was dancer hot. He didn’t even need to be a dancer to be hot. Was it actually out of character for him to respond to your questions? Had he really danced differently with you? And why weren’t you totally against that idea? 

“Don’t be weird,” Karina whispered, nudging your elbow. 

“I’m not being weird,” you hissed back, painfully aware of how empty your words sounded. Your thoughts were preoccupied in a spiral. 

“You’re day dreaming, babe. In his direction.”

“It’s called dissociating.” Nothing but the truth. 

Jungwon appeared on your other side. “Okay,” he said far too loudly, “so are we talking to him today or what?”

You choked on pure oxygen. “Jungwon, I swear to God-”

But the instructor clapped her hands loudly. “Alright everyone! Partner up, we’re gonna practice moving around the room today!”

Saved by the bell. Or the clap. Whatever. 

You found Jungwon and Karina found Jake, standing next to each other in circle formation. As risky as it was, you glanced across the room. Ni-ki was looking down at the floor, adjusting the cuff on his sleeve. Calm. Focused. Completely unaware of your eyes penetrating him. 

“You’re thinking outloud,” Jungwon said, in a whisper this time. 

“I’m not thinking at all.”

“You’re thinking ‘dancer hot’ or whatever it was,” he followed your eyes to the opposite side of the circle. 

“Shut up,” you shot back, facing him for the warm up and assuming the starting position. 

For the first three rotations, the class did warm-up exercises, reviewing the previously learned techniques, steps, and spins. There was a lot to remember. 

Partner one was nice. Polite. Made small talk about the upcoming exam season. Partner two apologized for stepping on your feet twice. Gave you a nice thumbs-up after your turn ended. Partner three was the out loud counter. It would have been more helpful if he didn’t rush the beat every time he initiated a spin. You began to tune him out, mind solely focused on where your next rotation dropped you. 

“Rotate!”

You quickly said thank you to your partner and wiped your palms on your jeans, knowing who was next. Your steps were tentative, for some reason more worried than before. 

Ni-ki. 

He was already turning towards you. And for the second time in 4 weeks, he spoke first. 

“Hi.”

Your brain crashed. It felt like seeds had been planted in your head after the previous discussion after practice. Did he act differently with you? Why? Were you looking too deeply into it?

“Howdy, partner.” Holy shit, Y/N. Cringe. 

You couldn't tell if his eyes flickered, maybe it could be classified as another “Ni-ki smile,” you didn’t know the scale Karina was measuring on. He held his hand out for you and you took it, stepping into his frame. His other hand found your back with the same steady, perfect placement he always had. 

There was a pause, like he was waiting for something. Was he waiting for you to say something? To yap like you always do? Maybe ask an overly personal and embarrassing question? God was testing you. You swallowed. 

“Hi. Again.”

His lips tilted upwards. A Ni-ki smile. For real. 

“Hi again,” he murmured back. 

Close embrace felt closer than usual for some reason. You were sure it was in your head, every one of his movements was perfect, the exact same every class. You weren’t any closer than you had been to him in any other rotation. 

The dance felt different and you knew it was your fault. He spun you out twice, each time letting you twirl once or twice before pulling you back in. He signaled a third spin and you followed, suddenly consciously aware that your friends could be watching the two of you dancing right now. They had pointed out things yesterday that they only would have seen if they had been watching you. 

Your feet faltered and you miscalculated how many steps you needed to get back from your spun out position. His outstretched arm gently pulled you back when you were lost in thought and you stumbled, tripping into his chest. 

“Relax,” he breathed, helping you correct your footing and find the beat again. 

“I am relaxed,” you lied through your teeth.

“You’re not.”

You stiffened. “...Okay, rude.”

Not a laugh -- not exactly -- but his chest moved like he was holding one back. 

“You’re tensing your shoulders,” he explained softly. “It makes the steps harder.”

“Shoulders matter?”

He nodded once. “Everything matters.”

Oh great. Now you had to be aware of everything you were doing, in addition to everything he was doing. Although paying that much attention to him wasn’t exactly required, it was just because you wanted to.  

You tried dropping your shoulders. They involuntarily raised themselves again after the next spin and he noticed immediately. His hand on your back shifted, just a light pressure downward, the gentlest nudge to cue your muscles to settle. 

“Sorry,” you were internally crying, but at the same time wanted to keep messing up so he would correct you. 

His fingers pressed just a little more firmly, like reassurance rather than critique. He guided you through a couple more slow triples, slowly building up the pace. You followed. Of course you followed. It was impossible not to. 

He spun you again. This time it was perfect. 

He caught you in a closed position without a stumble, without a wobble, without even a moment where you had to think about what your feet were doing. His frame was steady and his lead was precise. You started to smile, glad you were finally starting to loosen up and looked up, grin faltering when you realized he was already looking at you.

Not intimidating or scary. But not blank either, not unreadable. Focused, maybe? He wasn’t studying your movements or the best way to lead you, it was like he was studying you. 

Your breath caught just a little. It felt like the room went fuzzy. All you could register was his eyes on yours, steady and unhurried. His hand burned against the small of your back. 

“That was good,” he said. 

You blinked, locking in. “Thank goodness you said it first,” you breathed dramatically. “I was this close,” you pinched your fingers together as a demonstration, “to congratulating myself out loud. And that would’ve been embarrassing for both of us.”

“Maybe a little.”

You feigned a gasp, trying to break any of the leftover awkwardness. “Brutal.”

He shook his head once, features softer than usual. “I didn’t say you’re embarrassing, I said you would have been.”

“Important distinction,” you agreed and continued to follow his movements. 

“Don’t tense,” he gave a gentle reminder about your shoulders before giving you a twirl. “Good job.”

Spin me again just so I can hear you say that one more time.

You puffed out a breath. “See, with all the compliments I’m gonna get cocky. This is dangerous territory.”

There was more banter and you found it almost impossible to believe Karina when she said he reciprocated absolutely zero of her small talk. After getting over the initial awkwardness, Ni-ki had no problem engaging in conversation. 

You rotated a couple more times, being forced to dance with protein-shake-machine and the I’m-gonna-cough-every-5-seconds person. You didn’t like him much. 

“Remind me to wash my hands ten times when this is over,” you said to Jungwon, rubbing your hands again on your pants. 

“Don’t spread those germs to me,” he protested, retracting his hands from your reach. 

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever just got passed to me was passed to Karina first.” Karina had already moved on to Jake, spreading the germs further. 

“Nasty.”

At this point in the lesson, some of the new material had been introduced. You were instructed to practice moving backwards and forwards in a line instead of back to back, occasionally throwing in a spin to change the direction. This was one of the many moments you were thankful you were a follow and not a lead. 

“Dude, how am I supposed to turn us?” Jungwon expressed with exasperation. 

“Hey man, that’s your job, not mine. When you figure it out, let me know.”

“Great support system, thank you.”

“Any day.”

Class ended with everyone and their partner dancing in a circular path around the room. Those who wanted to travel quicker were further out in the circle and those that were taking it a little slower gravitated towards the middle. You and Jungwon were somewhere in the medium zone, just existing and trying not to collide with the herd of overenthusiastic beginners orbiting around you. 

Once he had figured out how to spin and switch directions, Jungwon was unstoppable. Even though you weren’t moving with impressive speed, he had mastered the art of weaving in and out of the other groups. 

“Watch out,” he said, voice slightly shaky as he steered you around a girl who had fully started drifting into another dimension. You narrowly avoided clipping her elbow. 

“That checks out,” you noted passively after seeing that her partner was none other than the protein man. 

By the time the final song faded, you were dizzy, sweaty, and completely ready to sit in a chair forever. 

“Alright everyone!” the instructor called out cheerfully. “Great work today! We’ll continue to build on these transitions next class.”

A chorus of gratitude and goodbyes echoed in the dance room. You released your grip on Jungwon and gravitated towards where Karina and Jake had ended their dance. Karina was talking about potential restaurants in the area to explore and Jake was listening absentmindedly, nodding to whatever idea she proposed next. 

“Tacos again? Burgers? Maybe something more snacky?” she began firing ideas in your directionl. 

You listened half-assed and found your eyes drifting across the room. 

Ni-ki stood near the mirrors, slipping his jacket on. He was alone, kind of in his own corner. He fit his headphones on over his ears, and glanced up through the glass. 

Your stomach flipped when his eyes landed on you instantly. You looked away just as fast. 

“You should ask if he’s going to the social on Friday,” Karina suggested, picking up on your sudden flustered state. 

“What?? No. Why would I do that?”

“Does that mean you’re agreeing to go?” Jake chimed in excited. “I think it could be a lot fo fun.”

“I’m in,” Jungwon said. 

“Y/N is definitely in if hot dancer man over there is in,” Karina added. 

“Fuck you.”

“Just saying… the Friday social is the perfect chance to have unlimited practice with your favorite lead.”

“I don’t have a favori-”

You cut yourself off when your gaze accidentally flicked back up. 

Ni-ki was still looking. 

Not necessarily glued to you, not staring intensely. Just watching with that calm, unreadable focus he always seemed to have while pulling the zipper to his jacket up. 

And when your eyes met his again, even for a second, his head dipped. The tiniest nod. Acknowledgment. Recognition. 

“Yeah, I wanna go to the social…” you said, somewhat resolutely. 

“Called it,” Jungwon whispered to the others. 

“...but not this week,” you finished, causing everyone to pause in their giggling. 

Karina pouted confused. “Why not this week?”

“I just… I don’t know. You guys can go, I think I just wanna practice a little bit more before jumping into a room full of advanced dancers.”

“I don’t wanna go without you,” Karina hooked an arm with yours. “I wanna go to the social but I don’t mind waiting a week with you. They have them weekly all year, there’s plenty of other opportunities.”

“I think you should suck it up,” Jungwon said, crossing his arms and Karina hit him. 

“If neither of you are going, I won’t go yet either,” Jake said. “I wouldn’t have anyone to dance with.”

The conversation continued as you packed your bags but you ignored all of them. Karina’s arm was still wrapped around yours and you could feel her words bouncing in your eardrums, but you were focused on the closing practice room door -- the door Ni-ki had just slipped out of. 

A week passed and you weren’t too much more confident than you had been the week before. Every day had been a cycle of self affirmation and mental practice. You were a good dancer and you were not going to embarrass yourself at the social. Absolutely not. A couple more twirling techniques and armwork had been taught in class, but nothing so difficult that you were unable to pick it up. The one thing you couldn’t figure out was Ni-ki. To be more clear, you and Ni-ki. 

You completely blamed your friends for the way your brain began to overthink every interaction. The shift in his hands on your waist whenever he was sending you out into a turn, the way he had said “good job” after completing a new spin for the first time… These were not abnormal or flirty interactions per se, but maybe you wished they were? Did you want him to be interested in you? Would it be such a bad thing if he was only being  friendly? And of course there was Karina, Jungwon, and Jake in the background playing into it, saying he was looking at you during break, or calling him your favorite dancer, calling him dancer hot, reminding you every day that even the way he drank from his water bottle was attractive. 

“Holy shit,” Jake said, peering through the doors. The social was in a different building and in a much bigger room than the one all of your practices had taken place in.  “There’s gotta be at least 80 people in there.”

“Wait, this is so cool,” Karina followed his eyes into the room. The social wasn’t just for students, there were people of all ages inside, practicing all kinds of different swing methods. Jitterbug, Charleston, Lindy, Westcoast… Some people were wearing dress shoes, some were wearing sneakers, one guy was fully in suspenders and wingtip oxfords like he was auditioning for Singin’ in the Rain. It felt more like you were walking into a bar with a dance floor than some random rented-out room. 

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but your eyes were already scanning the crowd for a certain somebody. 

“I feel underqualified,” you muttered. 

Jungwon gave a breathy laugh. “Underqualified? I feel fetal.”

Jake nudged the door open just slightly more, already slipping inside. “Well we’re already here. Let’s commit.”

The four of you moved along the sidelines of the dancefloor in awe, there was no hiding the infatuation showing across your face. Even just watching the action was exhilarating.

“We can bunker down here,” Jake exhaled. “Let’s call this the ‘bad dancers’ corner.”

“Oh hush,” Karina smacked his arm. “We can’t just sit awkwardly in a corner, that’s so weird.”

“Go on then,” Jake gestured. “Get out there.”

“I need a lead. Come with me.”

“I think I like my corner…”

Karina looked to Jungwon for support and he offered his hand out. “Come on guys, no one’s looking. This is just extra practice.”

Extra practice. Right. And as far as you knew, Ni-ki wasn’t here yet. He wasn’t here to witness any potential embarrassing disasters. You made up your mind and grabbed Jake’s hand. 

“It’s just you and me, buddy,” you said, dragging him away from the wall. “I think we’ll look less awkward dancing than just standing around, regardless of how juvenile our skills are.”

Soon enough, you lost track of time, having fun rotating between Jake and Jungwon, occasionally dancing with Karina and taking turns trying to lead the other. You were a terrible lead. 

“Should we try to travel?” Jungwon proposed, already mapping a potential path through the crowd. 

You scanned the room. “Sure. We’re blending in. Don’t make us look like amateurs okay?”

“No promises,” he said, stepping on your foot immediately. 

“Bro-”

“That one doesn’t count.” he said quickly. “I was calibrating.”

“Calibrating what, the floor??”

“The universe,” he said solemnly and leaving you no time to process his words before striding forward and forcing you to follow. 

You laughed, nerves loosening and the music becoming more familiar. You fell into rhythm together, a little wobbly but you were proud of the two of you. You were dancing at a real social. You were keeping up. You were not utterly humiliated at your performance. Jungwon led you through two laps around the room, arriving back in the “bad dancers” corner and joining Jake and Karina. 

“You should have followed us!” you exclaimed, urging Jake to get a little out of his comfort zone.

“We did!” he argued. 

“Well, we went to that side of the room and came back,” Karina corrected. 

“Movement,” he said. 

“You migrated three feet,” Jungwon snorted. 

“Listen, the guy near the speakers was doing fucking aerials or some shit and I fear for my life.”

Karina backed him up. “Moving too much was a dangerous endeavor.”

The music began to pick up. The new song was slightly faster, with a sharper rhythm, a song you recognized from class. Your group exchanged glances, you all remembered this one. 

Jake was about to offer his hand out but Karina quickly slapped his arm, sucking in a breath. “Wait, don’t turn around, don’t make it obvious.”

Immediately he made it obvious. “What, what’s happening?”

“Stop staring!” she hissed at him, continuing to swat any part of his body she could reach. 

Jungwon subtly glanced at the door and then looked at you, a motion you picked up on almost instantly. 

“Is it…?” you didn’t need to finish before he nodded. 

“Why am I excited?” Jake asked confused, turning away so as to not stare longer than he already had. 

“Don’t look,” Karina ordered you, which, obviously, meant you needed to look. 

And there across the room, slipping through the doors with quiet confidence was Ni-ki. His platinum hair almost glowed in the lights, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as always. 

You watched him scan the room once --

-- and his eyes landed on you. Almost directly landed on you. Like he expected you to be there. 

Your breath hitched.

“She’s done for,” Jake snickered but you didn’t hear. 

Ni-ki’s head dipped in that barely-there nod that you learned to be his version of hello. 

“You good?” Karina whispered to you. 

You were not good. 

You were spinning but you hadn’t even moved. 

And Ni-ki was already striding through the crowd, scanning the dance floor, finding your eyes again. 

“I can’t dance with him,” you panicked. “One of you needs to get me out of here.”

Jungwon almost looked offended. “What? Why? We literally came here so you can secure a date.”

“Yeah… and I might have told him we were coming tonight..” Karina visibly shrunk into her shoulders, looking up at you through her lashes. 

“You did WHAT?” Your voice was louder than you had intended and you clamped a hand over your mouth to quiet down. “Karina, why would you do that??”

“Well-- I mean-- It’s less awkward dancing if you make small talk so I asked if he’d been to a social before,” she stuttered out, “and he said yes and asked if I’d been to one and I said no but we were all planning on coming tonight…”

And he had found you instantly.

Karina grabbed your shoulders after you didn’t respond, trying to bring you back to the present. “Deep breaths, girl.”

“No breathing. If I breathe, he’ll think I’m available to dance.”

Jake blinked, confused. “But you are available to dance.”

“That’s not the POINT, Jake.”

You spared another glance in the direction of the door. Ni-ki was getting closer, cutting effortlessly through the crowd like the sea was parting for him. It kind of was. People kept stepping aside when they saw him walking. 

“He walks like he’s in a drama,” Karina commented, looking over your shoulder. 

“Stop looking at him,” you couldn’t stress it enough. 

“He’s literally almost here.”

“Nope,” you immediately pivoted behind Jake. “Hide me. I’m fragile.”

“Get your ass out the-”

“Do you want to dance?”

Your eyes snapped up, noticing an elderly gentleman standing in front of you and holding his hand out in offering. 

Oh. 

OH.

Not Ni-ki.

Disappointment?

Relief?

This was someone’s grandpa. Someone’s very polite, very sincere grandpa. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed, voice cracking embarrassingly high. Your eyes darted to where Ni-ki had been but he was gone. “Hi! Yes! I’ll follow?”

You were painfully aware of Jake wheezing behind you. Karina had covered her mouth and looked away and Jungwon was watching everything unfold, entertained. 

The older man smiled warmly. “I’d be happy to lead you for a song.”

You returned his expression, taking his hand and letting him guide you gently to the floor. You could do this. 

He started slow, letting you get accustomed to his signals and cues before ramping up the tempo to match the song. The style he led in was different from what you had been taught in class but you knew enough basic maneuvers to follow along. Any disclaimer about your skill level you offered him was shot down with compliments and praise, assuring you that you were following great. You were led through twirls and lines and steps you had never seen before, eventually giving into the awkwardness and laughing. 

“You dance very well,” he chuckled, pulling you in from a twirl and changing directions in half a beat. 

You laughed to yourself. If only he knew the amount of toes you had almost broken to get here. “Thank you,” you said instead, wincing as you narrowly avoided colliding with a couple whizzing past. “Sorry-- I swear I’m usually better at, uh, spatial awareness.”

“That makes two of us,” he replied lightheartedly, steering you to a more open area in the dance floor. “This crowd can get a little wild.”

No kidding. Someone near the middle was literally being tossed in the air. 

You made small talk with him, asking how long he’d been dancing, if he came to socials often, etc. A couple times you expressed your surprise at some of the moves he had successfully led you through, to which he proudly said you were a great dancer. As the song swelled to an end, he guided you through a final, gentle turn, catching your hand with practiced ease before releasing it slowly. 

“Thank you for dancing with me,” he said warmly. 

“No, thank you, seriously. That was amazing!” It was a completely different experience to dance with someone who had years of practice under their belt. 

He gave you an almost paternal pat on the hand before saying, “Enjoy the rest of your night,” and disappearing into the crowd.

Your dance had ended almost in the middle of the dance floor, and you spun around, trying to orient yourself once more and find the corner with your friends. It was pretty easy to spot them, they weren’t that far away, but oddly enough they were already staring at you. 

Jake’s jaw was on the floor, Karina’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, Jungwon was mid sip of water like he had forgotten how swallowing worked. You squinted at them, beginning to walk in their direction before you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

Your blood ran cold. Slowly -- terrified, curious? -- you turned around. And there he was.

He dropped his hand from you when you noticed him. “Hi.”

Don’t stutter. “Hi.” You would rate that response a 4/10, could’ve been worse.

Ni-ki’s gaze flicked briefly toward where the older man had disappeared, then back to you.

“Were you, um, looking for someone?” you asked, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.

He didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

“Oh.” Your pulse spiked. “Did you find them?”

His head tilted slightly, eyes steady. “Yes.”

You forgot how to breathe entirely. He lifted his hand, palm open. 

“Dance with me?”

Shit. Your brain started screaming. 

“Oh..” Beautiful response. Stunning. Truly poetry. “Gladly.”

You slid your hand into his before the nerves could talk you out of it. His hand was cooler than the older gentleman’s had been, but familiar. He pulled you a little closer, moving his other hand to your lower back in the exact same spot he always placed it. 

“You seem nervous,” he noted quietly. 

“I’m not.” Add that to the list of worst lies you’ve ever told. 

His brows lifted the faintest amount. “You are. You didn’t seem nervous earlier.”

Shit. “That was-- that was different.”

“How?” he asked. 

How could you tell him dancing with an old man wasn’t as scary as dancing with him when he’s an extremely attractive, ‘dancer hot’ man? You simply couldn’t. 

“That was like dancing with my grandpa, he just let me wobble around and pretend I knew what I was doing.”

Ni-ki’s head tilted, leading you through a familiar twirl. “You didn’t wobble.”

“Pretty sure I did.”

“No,” he said simply. “You followed everything he led.”

Your pulse spiked in realization. “Were you watching?”

He held eye contact, like he was playing chicken and said, “You were dancing,” like that was a reasonable enough explanation. 

Your stomach launched itself into orbit and you said nothing. What could you say in response to that??

“Shoulders,” he said plainly but you understood within milliseconds, dropping them instantly. “Good.”

Dear God.

“Let’s try something new,” he suggested, waiting to see your response before shifting from close embrace to open. “Take my other hand.”

You listened and grabbed the hand on your waist with the hand that had previously rested on his shoulder. 

“Okay, we’re gonna lean back just a little…” you followed his instructions, “now keep your arms loose.”

Think noodle, Y/N. You are a noodle. 

A couple beats later, Ni-ki had twisted your arms, initiated a spinning motion, one that you wouldn't be able to replicate even if you tried. At one point you were back to back, and then next second he was spinning, and then you were spinning, and then your hands were over your head, and then you were face to face again, completely awestruck. 

“What did you just do??” you asked, bewildered. 

“Did you like it?”

“That was crazy! Can we do it again?”

He led you through the motions once more, adjusting your hands, resetting the position with a gentle touch. This time, you tried to anticipate the timing -- bad idea. He sensed it instantly and gave you a tiny shake of the head. 

“Don’t think,” he corrected. “Just follow.”

You would follow him into oncoming traffic. 

The movement was fast, smooth, and addicting. The pull, the rotation, the shift of weight, the push of his palm, the reeling back in. 

You landed in front of him again, breathless and grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “That is insane. How did you even learn that?”

“Practice,” he shrugged.

“That’s not practice, that’s sorcery. Does it have a name?” you asked. “That whole.. tornado arm move thing?”

He blinked slowly, thinking. “You don’t need the name yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t need to think about it,” he answered simply. “You’re just dancing.” There was a brief pause, a beat or two, before he asked, “Do you want to try something harder?”

You almost laughed. Completing that last move was a major accomplishment for you and he wanted to do more? “Are you trying to end me?”

“No,” he said softly, stepping closer, hand sliding to your back again. “I’m trying to show you what you can do.”

A dip. That is what he suggested the two of you do. Less of a suggestion and more of a “follow the leader” type of thing. One minute you were spun out, held at arms length and connected only by the tips of your fingers, and the next you were pulled inwards -- spinning once, twice, three times. Just when you thought it was over, he let your hand go. A small feeling of panic rose as you continued spinning, not able to tell where he went. And then a hand slid back around your waist, halting your twirl and guiding you downwards. The sudden feeling of gravity taking over caused your hands to fly out, gripping his shoulders for a sense of security. 

His arm tightened around you,  supporting all of your weight like it was nothing. The dip wasn’t deep -- he was too careful with you for that -- but it was enough to steal every coherent thought from your skull. His face hovered above yours and you stared at the light from the dance floor reflecting in his eyes. 

“Breathe.” He lifted you back to your feet and you finally found the space to inhale. “Are you okay?”

“Define okay,” you sucked in a breath, mind swirling from the motions and the memory of the lights twirling around you. That was incredible.

He huffed a tiny laugh through his nose. “You followed it.”

“Followed? I almost died, Ni-ki.”

An actual smile spread across his face. “If you were falling I would’ve caught you.”

“Uh huh.” You needed a minute to recover mentally. You really really really wanted to ask him to do it one more time, maybe even 5 more times. 

The song ended and you looked up at him, an unspoken question lingering in the air. He caught it instantly -- of course he did -- but remained silent. His eyes flicked down to your hands that had dropped back to your side, then back to your face, like he was waiting for you to say it. Or maybe daring you to. 

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Perfect. Fantastic. Exactly the level of eloquence you were aiming for. “Do you…” you tried again, face getting embarrassingly warm, “maybe wanna dance again?” 

Something subtle softened around his eyes. “Yes.”

Your pulse exploded. “Yes?”

And he nodded, taking your hand in his again. The song that began playing had a fast tempo and the crowd instantly responded. The people around the two of you began to jump, their heels clicking against the wooden floor, their arms and legs flying in a new combination of maneuvers. 

Ni-ki noticed your hesitation. “You said you trust me, right?” You nodded, perhaps too quickly. “Then follow.”

The beat was quick, borderline chaotic, the kind of tempo that made you want to second guess every step. Everyone around you was launching into kicks and jumps and footwork you had never seen before. He felt your nerves boil up. 

“Are you ready?”

“Am I gonna die?”

“You won’t.”

He swayed momentarily to show you which beat he would start on and then took off, your body following instinctually before your brain could even catch up. He didn’t throw you into any crazy footwork. He didn’t expect kicks or jumps. He stuck to the simple basic stepping patterns, throwing in a simple spin or twist to keep you on your toes. The energy in the room pulsed around you but his lead carved a path that felt safe. The floor blurred, the lights blurred, but his hand on your waist did not. 

After a string of turns, he pulled you back into close embrace. Your hand landed on his chest instead of his shoulders and you tried your best to nonchalantly correct it. 

“You’re doing good.”

Ridiculous. This whole shabackle was ridiculous.

“Do you want me to make it a little harder?”

You hesitated but only briefly. If a little harder meant more complex dips and spins, you were 100% down. “Yes, please.”

You regretted the phrasing almost immediately. The please seemed to hang in the air like a neon sign. His eyes flashed and you gulped, not sure what he had in mind. 

“Stay close.”

Absolutely. 

“We’re going to travel,” he said, moving the two of you into open position, fingers staying at the edge of your hip bone. “Just follow the pressure.”

He carved a path through the crowd like he was following an invisible map. His hand stayed glued to your side, not pushing, but suggesting each turn, and you found yourself moving in perfect sync without having any idea how you were doing it. He spun you out once, then reeled you back in. Then out again but in the other direction. Then he caught your hand and switched sides, sending you under his arm with a move you had never seen before. 

“Wait-- what-- how did you--”

“Don’t think,” he reminded, voice calm despite the speed he was taking you.

You stepped backward, then sideways, then crossed your feet without tripping, letting him guide every shift of your weight. A new kind of momentum built between you -- faster, sharper, more connected. He pulled you through another turn, then another. You were carried through a deeper, swooping turn that left you breathless and laughing. 

“Ni-ki,” you said between breaths, “what are we doing?”

“Harder,” he said. “Like you asked.”

Move after move he pulled you. Closer and then farther and then closer once more. Your bodies close, his eyes flicking down to make sure you landed safely. You did. You landed right where he wanted you. And he looked… pleased. 

Walking into the practice room on Monday was more nerve-wrecking than dancing at the social had been, because now, everything that had happened had had time to settle in your head. Your hand remembered the shape of his, your spine remembered the support of his arm and the dip, your brain remembered every compliment or encouraging word he uttered to you. 

Karina rolled her eyes. “Relax,” she said. “He’s not even here yet.”

You reciprocated zero conversation. You were gonna play it cool. Cool was your middle name. Cool was your entire brand. 

She watched you for a couple seconds before saying. “You look like you’re about to be drafted.”

“I’m composed,” you said through clenched teeth. 

Jake and Jungwon joined the two of you after signing in at the front. 

“Can I get a turn and dance with Ni-ki next?” Jake asked. The question sounded open ended but was definitely targeted at you. “I want him to spin and dip me like that.”

“Literally, girl you were moving, “ Karina joined in, twirling on her toes as a demonstration. “Like a little Beyblade. Full velocity.”

“Please stop,” you hissed. “Both of you immediately.”

Jungwon took a long, thoughtful sip from his water bottle. “Honestly? I would also like to be dipped. Equal opportunity dipping.”

“Do you think he’ll say hi to you today? Or will he pretend Friday was a fever dream?”

“It was just a dance, guys,” you said, mostly to yourself. “I’ve danced with everybody in this room. Just because we danced doesn’t actually mean anything.” 

“But who else in here danced with you for four songs in a row and dipped you three times?”

“Yeah, no way he’s forgetting anythin,” Jake said. “Even when you weren’t together he was looking at you.”

“He did not-”

“Yes he did,” Karina cut you off. “He was watching you dance with people who weren’t him like he was witnessing a crime.”

The door opened. You didn’t even have to look. You felt it. The same way you felt the room shift when he found you at the social. Your friends stiffened, immediately halting their conversation and awkwardly changing the subject to Jungon’s upcoming soccer game. You still didn’t turn to the door. But you didn’t need to. You could hear him. 

Soft footsteps, a quiet greeting to the instructor, the shuffle of him putting down his bag. 

“He’s by the mirrors,” Karina whispered to you but she didn’t need to say anything. You knew. 

“He definitely already saw you,” Jake whispered into your other ear. 

“And he definitely has thoughts,” Karina nodded.

Jungwon smirked. “I think you should ask him to be partners first.”

Your stomach dropped to your knees at the thought. 

The instructor clapped her hands with a cheerful announcement, “Alright guys, let’s jump right into it! We’re gonna practice a couple simple dips today. Go ahead and find a partner and get into a circle.”

You didn’t need to see him to feel his attention slide across the room, landing on you. Not approaching you. Not speaking to you. Not making a scene. Just quietly noticing you. Maybe he was also remembering the dips the two of you had done together just a couple days before.

“I guess you’re getting your wish, Jungwon,” you commented. “What’dya say, partner?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, grabbing Karina instead. “Go ask Ni-ki.”

“Jake?” your eyes were pleading. 

“No can do, sorry.”

“Well I don’t see you with another partner?”

He immediately turned to one of the girls next to him and asked if she needed a starting partner. The nerve. 

You felt your heart pick up speed. Your friends had abandoned you. This was betrayal of another level. The room was shifting around you, leads and follows peeling off, partners forming and the circle widening. Jungwon gave you a pat on the back that vaguely felt like a eulogy and then took Karina by the hand and back away. 

Suddenly you were standing alone. The space next to you was empty and the realization dawned on you: you had to pick someone. You swallowed hard. Quick scan. Okay… There were still plenty of leads without partners, two guys chatting to your left, another guy across from you tying his shoe, one more to the right… And then like the universe was hitting you with a gentle shove, Ni-ki stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall. Not toward anyone, not toward you… just forward. Like he was waiting to see what you would do. 

Your nerves were doing high knees. 

Fuck. 

Someone approached you and you recognized him as the more awkward lead. Small talk was a bit of a chore with him but a sweet guy none the less, “Do you need a partner?” he asked. 

Panic. Panic everywhere. 

“Uh--” you floundered, racking for a response. Literally any response. 

He took a step in your direction and somewhere across the room, you felt Ni-ki go still. Your breath caught. You were aware -- painfully aware -- that if you said yes, Ni-ki would simply find someone else. He wouldn’t fight it. He wouldn’t interrupt. He’d just… let it happen. And you didn’t like that.

Your heart climbed in your throat and before you could even swallow your pulse back down, your mouth betrayed you. “I actually already have someone. Thank you though, for asking.”

Lie. Massive lie. Tremendous lie. 

The guy smiled politely, moving on to the next person and you crossed your fingers that Ni-ki hadn’t already begun the search for someone else. Slowly -- very slowly -- you turned your head. He was already watching you. He didn’t look confused, or surprised, just quietly waiting. Not approaching, but not choosing anyone else either. Not yet. Like he was giving you space to decide. 

Your hands went clammy and your knees threatened mutiny. Move, dammit, and you took single, tiny steps in his direction. 

The lift at the corner of his mouth was barely there. But it was still there. And it felt like the whole room exhaled with you. 

He watched you come to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. When you stopped in front of his feet, you realized you had no idea what you were going to say. You just assumed he would agree to be partners with you. This would be really embarrassing if he said no. 

You raised your hand up and racked your brain with something to say but your thoughts were spinning like a broken loading wheel. You could feel your cheeks igniting in fire and thought about ice cubes, trying to make the inflammation go down. 

He stared at you for a couple seconds before sliding his fingers into your own, not even waiting for you to verbally ask. Walking over and offering your hand was enough of a question for him. Falling into position was natural at this point. His hand on your waist, yours on his shoulder, cheek nearly against his chest if you weren’t careful. 

“You won’t drop me, right?” you clarified, clearing your throat just enough to get a single question out after the instructor’s demonstration. 

“Come on, Y/N, I thought we were past this.”

Was he scolding you?

You leaned back, making full eye contact with him. “Are you reprimanding me right now??”

A single, almost amused blink. “No. Just reminding you.”

“Of what? My mortality?”

“No, that you trust me.”

Oh. Well. That shut you up pretty quickly. 

You swallowed, trying to save face. “Okay well, sometimes trust evaporates under duress…”

“I won’t drop you,” he repeated, tone steady, using the hand around your waist to pull you back into him. “You know that.”

“Alright, leads! Try the dip slowly first -- don’t let your partner drop too far back, and remember to support their weight!”

“Drop your shoulders,” he said, and you did. Almost immediately he swept you into the dip, your back arching over his arm. It was a quick motion and within a couple seconds, he brought you upright again. 

The room erupted in laughter around you as pairs were tipping sideways, unprepared for the shift in weight or underestimating the strength needed to support their partners. 

You glanced around the chaos. “I feel like we should be failing. Everyone else is failing. Should we fail for solidarity?”

“No.”

You laughed. “Wow. Cold.”

“Let’s do it again.”

You opened your mouth to say something -- you weren’t quite sure what yet -- but he had already started lowering you again. This time it was slower. You felt each degree of descent and couldn’t help your hands from grasping his shoulders. 

“Shit, Ni-ki.” You hoped your words didn’t sound as panicked as they did in your head

He stared back at you, lips growing into a smile. “Pretty sure your hands aren’t supposed to be there.”

“Where else do I put them,” you half squeaked, refusing to give up the grip on his shoulders. “I’m almost completely horizontal right now.”

“You’re supposed to be. It’s a dip.” The arm under you tightened and his free hand grabbed one of yours to shift it toward the upper part of his arm. “You can put your hand here,” then he moved it to his chest, “or here.” You felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing. 

You froze. He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the placement but you were quite possibly hyperventilating. You couldn’t tell him putting your hand on his chest was even worse than holding his shoulders. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to. 

“Rotate!”

You jolted upright so fast you nearly head-butted him. He caught your elbow without thinking -- because of course he did -- and then released you to the next lead. You were told to practice dipping for a few more rotations without music, just getting used to the feeling of trusting more than just one partner. Trusting was a very generous word. 

The next guy almost dropped you on the first try. The one after that dipped you so fast, you felt like you were being shoved into the floor. By the time you reached the third lead, you were hovering somewhere between motion sickness and righteous betrayal. He kept apologizing and you kept saying it was okay and pretending you weren’t shitting your pants. 

It didn’t surprise you to find that none of the other leads seemed as stable in their dips as Ni-ki had been. You already knew his dancing was impressive -- but this just made it extra apparent. 

You hesitated when realizing Jungwon was your next partner, but his face lit up after seeing you. 

“Oh no. Nuh uh you’ll actually drop me, just for fun.” 

He feigned hurt. “I would never. I’m a gentleman. Haven’t dropped a single person yet.”

“Yet?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Whatever. I’ve literally watched Ni-ki do this thirty times. I’m a certified dipper.”

“That’s… not reassuring.”

Before you could protest, he began the dip. It started okay. Fine. Manageable. And then…

“Oh my-- JUNGWON--”

He panicked and overcorrected, jerking you up way too fast, launching you forward. Your arms windmilled in pure terror and he grabbed your shoulders to steady you. “See? Nailed it.”

“That was a hate crime,” you hissed. 

“Art is a better term…:”

Another rotation was called and threw a punch at his arm before walking away. “I’m watching you.”

Jake was a significantly better partner, in the sense that he barely even dipped you 45 degrees, which you honestly preferred to some of the other over confident leads. 

“Just so you know,” he had said, already sounding apologetic. “I’m not dipping you, I’m lowering you. Very safely. Very respectfully.”

“Perfect,” you sighed. “I want ‘grandma in a recliner’ vibes from you.”

He nodded and tilted you backwards for all of 3 seconds before uprighting you again. Calling it a dip would be generous. 

“I could have done that myself,” you tsked. 

“That’s why I’m the best,” he said proudly. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that nothing had happened and that that wasn’t a good thing. 

A couple more rotations and you were almost back to Ni-ki. Was it a little embarrassing that you wanted to be partnered with him that badly? Surely not, especially considered the whiplash you had been experiencing from almost every other partner in this circle. Excluding Jake of course, but not for good reason. 

But then class was over. Your heart sank involuntarily and you looked in Ni-ki’s direction, catching his eye. He wasn’t staring but his attention was very much on you. His head dipped, subtle as always, his version of hello. Or maybe goodbye this time?

“Y/N,” Jungwon called to you and tore your eyes away from the platinum haired boy. 

You walked back over to join your group, grabbing your bag from Karina who had already packed it for you, and turned back towards the mirrors. But he was already gone.

It was Wednesday now and you had spent the day hoping and praying for an excuse to talk to him. Technically, you could talk to him whenever you wanted, but that was simply an outrageous thought. You didn’t know how to start a conversation with him without at least trying to meticulously calculate it in advance. 

Jungwon and Jake were signing all of you in at the front again, leaving you and Karina to gossip without them 

“So…” she started. “Are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” 

You groaned immediately. “I would really really rather not.”

“But I really rather would. I think we need to,” she leaned in dramatically. “I think we absolutely do. Because the universe is messy and chaotic and apparently decided to resurrect your story’s villain.”

“He’s not my villain,” you muttered, though he could be pretty close. 

She arched a brow. “He ghosted you for four months, blocked you on basically everything, and then popped back into town asking people for your new number, which I didn’t give him by the way.”

“He didn’t ghost me…”

She stared at you in disbelief. “Y/N, your last message to that man was literally ‘did you get home safe?’ and he never responded.”

You groaned louder. “I don’t care anymore.”

“Lies.”

“I don’t!”

“You do.”

You hid your face in your palms. “I’m trying to be mature about this.”

“You ARE being mature,” she said, patting your shoulder sympathetically. “I’ll be petty for both of us. What a dick. He didn’t text you again, did he?”

“No.”

“Good, if he does, block him immediately, do you hear me??”

“Yes, yes, I hear you.” You took a moment to glance at the door to make sure the boys were still out of ear shot before continuing. “I don’t want to run into him again.”

“You won’t,” she said confidently. Then after a beat, “...except for the fact that you 100% will. This city has like three total hangout spots.”

You stopped responding, staring at the entrance.

Karina’s eyebrows shot up. “Why’d you freeze like that?”

You didn’t answer, because over her shoulder, you saw him. He wasn’t walking to his usual spot by the mirror where he usually leaned. He was walking. Directly towards you. 

“Don’t turn around,” you commanded and she gave you an inquisitive look. “And do not bring up Jay.”

“He’s right behind me, isn't he?”

“Don’t fucking say that.”

“Oh my God, he is.”

You gripped her arm, preventing her from turning around. “Don’t make it obvious, I swear to God.”

You could hear his shoes echo on the floor and made eye contact with him, trying to figure out why he would be approaching the two of you right now. He was about a yard away when you spoke first. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Ni-ki echoed and looked at you, and then at Karina. “Hi.”

“Did you get water…?” you asked, trying to fill the silence and he nodded. It looked like he was going to ask you the same question but reformulated his thoughts when he saw the water bottle already in your hand. 

“Today’s lesson is supposed to be harder.”

“Oh good,” you said. “Love that.”

“Don’t partner with someone else.”

Your brain blue-screened and you cocked your head in confusion. That’s not what you thought he was going to say. You had no problem agreeing, despite not knowing the terms and conditions, but it seemed sudden for him to randomly ask something like that. 

“It’s lift support,” he clarified, sensing your lingering uncertainty. 

You gulped and glanced at Karina. “Lift? As in, like off the ground?”

“It’s not a full lift. We’re supposed to start with weight transfers first.”

“Okay.” You still didn’t understand his point exactly but if he was asking you to partner up, you weren’t going to turn him down. “I’ll find you after break then?”

“I’ll come to you.”

He walked away after that, back to his station by the mirror and picked up his water bottle again, getting a couple more sips in before break was over. Karina wasted no time once he was out of earshot and stared at you, jaw on the floor. 

“Girl?? He literally just reserved you like a library book! Hello???”

“Reserve?? What are you talking about?”

“He walked up,” she held up one finger, “told you not to dance with anyone else,” second finger, “told you it was for a lift,” third finger, “looked you in the eyes like a six-foot-two romance novel,” fourth finger, “and then said ‘I’ll come to you’--” fifth finger, “which is basically mating call behavior.”

You choked on your water. “Karina PLEASE.”

She shook you by the shoulders. “No, because I know what I saw. And what I saw was manly intention.”

You slapped her hands away but said nothing. “We speak not a word of this to Jake or Jungwon.”

“Does that even matter? They’re gonna see him find you to partner up anyway. The stake on claim is pretty obvious.”

You pointed at her accusingly. “This is not National Geographic. There is no claiming, no one is claiming anything.”

“Ignorance is bliss I guess,” she shook her head in disappointment. 

She would have bickered with you forever, more nonsense about library books and how you were falling for the male mating call, but you were saved by the instructor. 

“Alright everyone!! Let’s wrap up and move back into circle formation! This section is going to be a little more complicated and we won’t rotate as much, so I advise you to find a partner that you trust!”

And across the room, by the mirror, Ni-ki pushed off the wall. Karina squealed beside you and whispered “Here comes your pickup” before hurrying off to find Jake. 

Jumping. You were basically just going to be jumping. You would be elevated with the assistance of your partner at the chosen height, sustained momentarily, and then the lead would lower the follow in a clean, controlled descent. Easy enough, right? Your pulse stuttered while watching the demonstration, suddenly ten times more grateful that Ni-ki had “reserved” you. If one of the other leads had tried to yeet you into the air with the same enthusiasm as their dips? You would be hospitalized. 

“I know that this can be a little intimidating!” the instructor prefaced to the circle of dancers. “So I only want you guys to jump about a foot into the air, okay?”

“Are you ready?” Ni-ki asked from behind you, voice calm in the way that somehow made your nerves worse. 

You nodded. You didn’t mean to, it just happened. 

“Okay,” he said, stepping closer. “Then come here.”

You turned around to face him and both of his hands slid to your waist, moving down a little bit to rest on your hip bones. Instead of just one, both of your hands rested on his shoulders, preparing to use them as support. 

“Can you walk me through it one more time?” you asked, looking up at him.

When he gazed down at you, you felt your stomach knot. 

“We’re both going to bend our knees a little and I’m going to tighten my hands on your hips,” he pulsed his hands slightly to show you what he meant and the knot clenched further. “When you’re ready, push off the ground and I’ll take your weight.”

“Right,” you said, replaying the demonstration over and over in your head. It should be easy. “It’s just simple physics. I love physics.”

He blinked. “This isn’t physics.”

“Uh, yeah, it is. Gravity, momentum--”

“Y/N.”

You froze. He so rarely said your name it caught you off guard. Say it again. 

“Ni-ki.”

“I’m not going to drop you,” he deadpanned. “So you don’t need physics.”

Well shit, who were you to argue with an explanation like that?

You braced, bent your knees, and looked at him again, almost waiting for a confirmation that you were doing it right. 

“Whenever you want,” he said, hands warm, steady, expectant. 

You gave a small nod and squeezed his shoulders. The jump wasn’t high or impressive, but it was enough. The support of his hands propelled you higher and then held you in suspension for a brief moment before slowly lowering you to the floor. You landed softer than you expected and his hands lingered on you for a moment, making sure you were balanced before dropping them to his side. 

“How was it?” he asked, already smiling when seeing your face. 

“Dude. I am so glad you’re my partner right now. That was so much fun.”

His smile stretched wider. “I think we should do it again.”

And you did, at least three more times. You were starting to feel like a projectile but you were loving it. The height he lifted you to got progressively higher and higher and by the fourth jump you actually laughed midair. 

“Ni-ki, I swear if you launch me into the lighting fixtures--”

“I won’t,” he said immediately after safely lowering you back down, eyes flicking up to the ceiling. “You’re not that tall.”

“Oh wow,” you side-eyed him. “Insult me and catch me at once. Incredible multitasking.”

The look that crossed his face almost looked like a smirk. It was gone in an instant but it was a tiny window to let you see how much fun he was having. 

A couple more techniques were practiced. Instead facing each other, the follow turned their back to the lead, placing their hands overtop the lead’s hands on their hips. This method gave you more height, something you learned you liked a little bit too much. 

The day’s practice session seemed to fly by significantly faster than any of the previous days, and you were not attributing it to the fact you practiced with Ni-ki the entire time. Before parting ways, he left you with the words “see you Friday.” In that moment you immediately decided you had no other choice but to go to the social again.

You walked over to your friends with a smile on your face, debating whether or not to tell them you were forcing them to go to another social before noticing the looks on their faces. 

“Where’s Jungwon?” you asked, looking around the room but he wasn’t there.

“We may or may not have a problem,” Jake said.

“A Jay sized problem,” Karina added. “And he may or may not have found you.”

Your eyes darted between the two of them. What did that mean? Where did Jungwon go? How did Jay find you?

“Jungwon’s outside the room right now distracting him so we can slip out,” Jake said, shoving your bag into your hands. “But we should probably go now.”

“Are you serious?” You really had no idea what was going on. 

They gave you the kind of look that said to stop asking questions and herded you to the door. Jake peeked his head out first before grabbing you by the arm and making a break through the hallway. Karina followed behind, glancing down other hallways in the building to make sure you weren’t spotted. But right before you could make it through the exit doors, Jake halted to a stop. If Karina hadn’t been paying attention, she would have run right into you. 

Around the corner you could hear footsteps and Jungwon’s voice. 

“Nope, not here either… wow, I didn’t think it would be this hard to find it.”

Jay’s voice followed. “Jungwon, why are you checking behind a fire extinguisher?”

“Shit,” Jake hissed, immediately reversing and backtracking through a different hallway. “Plan B, Plan B…” he chanted and you looked between the two of them. 

“Plan B??? What the fuck is Plan B??”

“There,” Karina pointed dramatically to the glowing red sign above another door. 

“We cannot run out of the emergency door!” you whisper-yelled. “We’re gonna set off the alarm. 

“Exactly, so we’re gonna use the stairs next to it and exit through the basement.”

“I can’t fucking breathe,” you gasped, still getting dragged through the halls.

The moment the three of you made it out of the building, Karina forced you to continue speed walking away until you were about a block south. 

“How did you know he was here?” you asked, glancing back concerned. 

“Jungwon went to use the bathroom and Jay was there, walking around the halls confused and asking if you were here. Apparently he heard you were taking a dance class.”

You tripped over your own feet. “How the hell did he hear that?”

Karina shrugged aggressively. “Girl, nobody knows how that man works.”

“He asked Jungwon if he could see you but Jungwon said you already left and he stayed behind because he lost his chapstick.”

“Chapstick?”

“He panicked,” Karina explained. “It was the first word that came out. He’s committed to the bit.”

“Why does Jay even want to see me?” you groaned. “I thought he made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested.”

“Because he has audacity poisoning," Karina offered after sharing a look with Jake. “I think his is a terminal case.”

“Stage four. No cure,” Jake added his own medical diagnosis. 

“I really don’t want to see him,” you said, tightening the grip on your bag. 

“And you won’t,” Jake said confidently. “Jungwon is currently sacrificing his life pretending to look for imaginary chapstick. Trust the system.”

Unfortunately, you weren’t sure you could trust the system. Why? Because it was Friday, a day you had been looking forward to so you could dance with a certain platinum blonde beauty. Except fate had a sick sense of humor and he wasn’t the only man in the social looking for you. 

Jake slowed beside you, his cheerful commentary dissolving mid-sentence. Karina stopped walking completely and Jungwon shifted forward subtly, like he was trying to block something from your view. But you had already seen him. 

Your stomach fell straight through the door. Showing up to practice was one thing but going out of his way to corner you at a dance was another. Jay -- your ex, your unfinished business, your recently resurrected villain -- was leaning against the wall like he owned it, button down shirt tucked into a pair of dress slacks. He scanned the room with the focus of someone hunting for a specific person. A person named you. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Your voice rose with panic, unsure what the next move was. “Why is he even here??”

Karina grabbed your arm. “We should run.”

Jake grabbed your other arm. “We should hide.”

Jungwon didn’t hesitate to fully block you from Jay’s view with his body, acting as a human shield. “Are you okay?”

“I think I might throw up.” And then your mouth went dry and your knees forgot to function. “He saw me,” you whispered. 

“Which one?” Jake whispered back.

“Which-- What do you mean which one??” you hissed. 

Karina pointed slowly in Jay’s direction in one hand before slowly raising another finger in the other. 

Platinum hair, dark hoodie, calm, unreadable face. All it took was a single glance around the room for his eyes to find you immediately. Your stomach was now in the basement. 

Jay had pushed off the wall toward you, taking slow steps, like he was rehearsing how to emotionally manipulate you again after a year. And Ni-ki was walking fast, cutting through the crowd with that same quiet, effortless confidence you knew too well, like the room belonged to him. Two men, both headed straight towards you. 

Karina began to panic. “Abort mission. ABORT MISSION.”

“You’re screwed,” Jake nodded, giving up on finding a solution to this impossible situation. 

“We should have stayed home,” Jungwon added, his role as human shield failing miserably. 

It was clear neither man had noticed the other yet. They were closing in on you from opposite sides of the room and you were actively running out of escape options. 

‘Okay, okay, think,” you said in a hushed voice. “There has got to be a loophole here.”

“Do we fake a medical emergency?” Jake asked? “Like, I can collapse. I can absolutely collapse. Right now.”

“Too late for that, they’re in striking distance,” Jungwon muttered and you glanced up to confirm. 

Jay was speed-walking now, desperation written across his face. Like he had something to say. Like you owed him the privilege of listening. 

“Okay uhhhh, I can create a different diversion,” Jake was rambling now. “I can yell ‘fire’ or accidentally trip into the crowd and knock 5 people over or--”

“Y/N.” 

The sound of your name nearly made you jump out of your skin. Jay’s voice was closer than it should be, which was about 2 yards away. But before you could turn or even process the spike of anxiety, another voice overlapped with his. 

“Hi.”

Lower, calmer, right in front of you. Your entire spine locked. Ni-ki had reached you first. 

“Hi,” you mustered up a single word, refusing to look back in Jay’s direction out of pure fear. You could feel Jay’s presence behind you, hovering too close, like if he breathed too hard you would feel the wind between your shoulder blades. 

Ni-ki’s attention didn’t waver from you and his eyes searched your face. “You alright?” He could tell something was wrong. 

“I’m fine,” you lied. 

His brow dipped in response. Not judging, just quietly unconvinced. 

“Y/N.” Jay’s voice rang again. More urgent, more demanding. 

You winced. 

Something in Ni-ki shifted, a cooling around his eyes, another step in your direction. He showed no other signs of noticing the other man calling your name. 

“Want to dance?” he asked, holding his hand out to you. His tone was soft, almost casual -- but the timing wasn’t. You knew it. Jay knew it. And Ni-ki definitely knew it. 

Out of your peripheral, you saw Jay falter in his advancement. Ni-ki’s hand was offering you a choice -- an invitation, not a command. You looked down at it, warm and waiting, and then back up at his face. There was no pressure behind his expression, no expectation. 

You reached for it. 

Your first steps were shaky, but not because of the dance. You could feel Jay’s stare burning into your back like a heater. His judgement was apparent, it was impossible not to notice. Ni-ki pulled you into close embrace, close enough to block the view of the man behind you, close enough to block anyone’s view. 

“You’re really tense,” he noted and spun you before you could respond. A tiny, involuntary sound escaped you in surprise. 

You missed a beat and stumbled back into place. “...that wasn’t graceful,” you muttered, trying to restore the dance. 

“I thought it was cute.”

You tripped, mortified. 

Ni-ki caught you instantly, one hand firm at your ribs, the other sliding lower to steady your hip. The correction was smooth, like he had known exactly where you were going to fall before you even stumbled. “Relax.”

“Not possible,” you whispered back. 

His face lowered briefly before searching your eyes again, something unreadable passed over his expression. Not annoyance or confusion, something more like calculation. As if he was trying to figure out what had you so rattled. But he didn’t ask. He had a feeling. 

He pressed his hand gently to your side, guiding your weight in the direction he wanted you to go. You were guided to a spin -- slower this time -- and when you landed back in his arms, your face nearly hit his chest. His gaze flicked past your shoulder, just for a split second. His jaw flexed once. 

“Stay close,” he said quietly. 

“I am close.”

“Closer,” he corrected, pulling you fully into his chest. Your hand flattened against him, having nowhere else to go. 

“Is this… normal dancing distance?”

His lips twitched in a smile. “For right now.”

He started traveling, a couple smooth steps back, one to the side, leading you in a clean path through the crowd. He wasn’t rushing, but he wasn’t lingering long in any one location. 

“We’re moving fast,” you said, unable to even look up at him from the way he was holding you. 

“We’re dancing.” He guided you through another turn. “Should I lift you?”

“Lift??” 

He nodded simply, both hands going to your hips and beginning to push you away, preparing you to jump. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

You didn’t want to argue. You trusted him. 

You followed his command and bent your knees, preparing to launch yourself into the air. He told you not to think about it, to just do it, so you did. Your feet left the ground and you felt his hands flex, propelling you higher and suspending you in the air. Instead of immediately lowering you, he took advantage of the position and used it to rotate the two of you, making you gasp in surprise. As he held you in the air, he spun, making the wind of momentum blow your hair back briefly before placing you back on your feet. 

“We’ve never done that before,” your eyes danced. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you responded like it was obvious. 

He offered to do it again, guiding you into another step, into familiar twists and turns that the two of you had done a hundred times. But then your gaze flicked over his shoulder and you saw him. Jay. Still watching. Still hovering at the edge of the room, eyes dark and locked on you like an accusation. 

Ni-ki must’ve felt the way your breath faltered. “Don’t look.”

You swallowed, throat tight. “He’s still staring.”

“I know,” he said, voice steady. “Don’t let him pull you out of rhythm.”

“Easy for you to say. Your ex isn’t--” You caught yourself, eyes widening. You really didn’t want to talk about this with Ni-ki of all people. 

He didn’t dig, his hand slid higher on your back with enough pressure to pull you out of your spiral. “Focus on my lead.”

The music climbed, the beat sharper. It felt like a scene from a movie, a heist, an escape. The two of you bounced from one end of the room to another, a mess of twirls and lifts and footwork. Ni-ki kept you from the edge of the dance floor, a thoughtful move on his end. Every move of his was intentional to keep you focused on him, to keep you from freezing. 

When the song ended, you were out of breath, still trying to catch up from the sprint of choreography he had led you through. Your hair stuck to your cheek, your hand still gripping his shoulder from momentum that hadn’t quite left your body yet. 

Ni-ki didn’t let go right away. He held you in place like he wasn’t convinced you were fully back on solid ground. 

“I like dancing with you,” you said, searching his eyes for a reaction. 

He didn’t respond for a moment. Not because he hadn’t heard you, but because he was processing. Then he exhaled, almost like a laugh. “I like dancing with you too.”

His eyes scanned over your shoulder, noticing something -- or someone -- without calling attention to it. Then he focused on you. “You want another dance?” His offer seemed strangely intimate in the chaos of the social. 

“Yeah. I do.” 

His fingers brushed yours again, ready to guide you back to the floor, but you froze. 

“Y/N.”

That wasn’t Ni-ki’s voice. 

His hand stopped mid-reach, suspended in the space between you. His shoulders didn’t tense, but something in his frame adjusted as he turned his head just enough to see who was behind you. But you didn’t have to turn, you already knew. He stood too close, close enough that you had to lift your chin up to meet his eyes. 

“I need to talk to you,” he said. Not a question. Not a request.

A demand. 

“Jay, I--”

Ni-ki moved before you could finish. It wasn’t aggressive or confrontational. Just a quiet, deliberate claim of space beside you rather than behind you. Jay’s jaw tightened. 

“Can you give us a minute?” Disdain?

Ni-ki didn’t react. He looked to you instead, a silent question lingering between the two of you. Did you want him to stay? Did you want to talk? Should he whisk you away?

Your pulse was painful. 

“I…” you began. 

Jay stepped closer. “Please, just a minute.”

Ni-ki’s hand brushed your elbow. He wasn’t going to leave you. 

“I don’t…” your voice wavered. “I don’t think this is a good time.”

Jay stiffened. “Y/N, I came all the way here to see you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you stated, firmer than you expected. 

The crowd around you kept dancing, completely unaware of the emotional nuclear standoff happening in the middle of the room. 

Jay’s eyes flicked briefly to Ni-ki. “I didn’t know you were--” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, like he didn’t want to name what he thought he saw. “--busy.”

You opened your mouth, no idea what was about to come out. But Ni-ki spoke first. 

“She is.”

Jay stared at him, stunned that this stranger had the “gull” to talk to him like that. 

“Seriously?” Jay stepped forward again, more frantic now. “Come on, Y/N. I just-- I drove across town because I thought we could--”

“You should stop,” Ni-ki said quietly. His words weren’t harsh or loud, just resolute. 

Jay blinked, blindsided by the interruption. “Excuse me?”

“She said no. Respect it.”

“This has nothing to do with you.”

“It does if you don’t leave her alone.”

It was too much for you. You glanced between the two of them, unsure what the right move was, if there even was one. You didn’t want Ni-ki to get involved on your part and put him in an uncomfortable position. You lifted your hands slightly, like you could physically push the tension down. “Ni-ki, it’s okay--”

“It’s not,” he said, eyes still on Jay. “He’s not listening.”

Jay opened his mouth again, but whatever he saw in Ni-ki’s eyes made him swallow his words and step back. There was a moment of silence. Before he turned away and you watched him leave the dancefloor. It was clear when he glared at Ni-ki from the sidelines that he had no intention of leaving yet, he would just wait it out. 

Ni-ki didn’t let go of your hand, even after Jay backed off. His grip wasn’t tight -- just present, like he was leaving room for you to decide if you needed it. 

“Do you want to sit?” he asked, already preparing to walk with you to one of the chairs on the sidelines. 

“No.” You shook your head. “If I sit, I’m going to think about it. I don’t want to think about it.”

“We can stand for a second.”

We can stand. He wasn’t leaving. You almost smiled at that, but then your eyes drifted towards the wall unintentionally. Ni-ki gently redirected your face back to him with the edge of his fingers. 

“Don’t look,” he said softly. 

“Why not?”

“Because he’s waiting for you to look. Don’t show him you’re thinking about it.”

“How do I do that?”

“Dance with me instead.”

He guided you into the first step, slowly like he was deliberately keeping the pace low enough for your mind to catch up. Your hand found his shoulder easier this time. His hand stayed firm on your back. He made no comment about how stiff you were even though you knew he felt it in your shoulders. 

“Where did your friends go?” he asked like he was giving you a distraction. 

“I lost them half an hour ago,” you replied, not even bothering to look around the room for them in fear you would find someone else instead. “They left me to the wolves.”

His hand flexed on your back, bringing you through a turn. “Are you calling me a wolf?”

You offered an apologetic smile. “Well not you exactly, just the situation in general.”

He hummed, the low sound almost covered by the music. “Good. I don’t bite.”

“I don’t know…” you drawled sarcastically. “That didn’t sound convincing.”

“I thought you trusted me?”

“I do,” you said, a little faster than you would have liked but he seemed pleased with your response. 

The music shifted into something warmer. The bass line rolled under your feet through the floors, making the glass in the windows shake, and the rhythm coaxed the crowd into a sway. Ni-ki’s hands slid from your back to your ribs, guiding you into a closer hold without asking. He nudged your hand higher on his shoulder, adjusting your positioning like you were something delicate he already knew how to handle. 

“This tempo is slower. Loosen your knees.”

You tried, you really did, but your body was still buzzing with nerves. He saw you struggling and shifted his grip on your body. 

“Match me,” he said quietly. 

He stepped back and you followed. He stepped left and you followed. He lifted his arm signaling a spin and you followed, turned beneath his arm before returning to his embrace. 

“You’re doing good,” he spoke and you offered a smile. 

His thumb brushed once -- absentmindedly, maybe -- against your hip as he guided you into a sway. The motion brought you closer than the dance technically required, chest brushing chest for a split second. For the first time ever, you heard his breath hitch. 

“Sorry,” you said automatically.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I-- I didn’t mean to step too close.”

“You didn’t,” he countered, guiding you through another subtle shift. “You were following.”

Following. Like he had led you there?

The thought made your cheeks heat up and your eyes darted away from him, unable to look into his eyes. But that was a bad idea. 

“He’s still watching,” you whispered. “I don’t know what he wants.”

Ni-ki’s hand slid up your back, resting between your shoulder blades. 

“You.” 

His answer was plain, making your heart both flutter and drop at the same time. 

“Doesn’t matter though.”

You looked at him confused. “What?”

He blinked back. “Because you’re dancing with me.”

You couldn’t dwell on the way that sentence made you feel for too long because your racing mind wouldn’t let you. “What if he comes over again?

Instead of replying, he dipped you. Slow, steady, and safe. Your back arched into his arm and your fingers curled into his shoulder like instinct. He held you there for a breath longer than usual, making you focus on nothing but him for a couple seconds. When he brought you upright again, your faces were only inches apart. His breath brushed your cheek. Your lips parted without meaning to. 

Ni-ki didn’t move away. He just looked at you -- really looked -- like he was rehearsing a line he didn’t know how to say out loud. The room began to feel impossibly loud, like someone had turned the volume up to the entire social. Laughter, stomping, clapping, music. You weren’t breathing or thinking, you could barely feel the floor beneath your feet. 

Your chest stopped expanding, your lungs felt like they were collapsing. You didn’t want to pull away from him, afraid even blinking would shatter the fragile tension that had settled between the two of you. The soft curve of his eyelid and straight eyelashes, the way his eyes flicked down to your lips for the smallest fraction of a second. 

A tiny inhale pulsed through him, so slight you wouldn’t have noticed if your bodies weren’t so close, if your hand wasn’t pressed to his chest, if your own pulse wasn’t perfectly synced with his. You were so close it was like you could hear every word he wasn’t saying. 

The moment stretched, suspended, balanced on the knife’s edge of almost. Almost too close. Almost too intimate. Almost too much. 

He swallowed once, throat tight. “Don’t move.”

You didn’t know if it was a warning or a plea. You only knew that your body obeyed instantly. Every muscle went still. 

His eyes didn’t leave yours. Slanted, dark, unreadable yet full of something. You could feel his body heat radiating through your fingertips, any place where your bodies were connected were suddenly on fire. Every breath sent goosebumps down your spine. The way his fingers were spread along your back, as if he was anchoring himself to you. 

But then you realized. A shift behind you. The air changed like it was cracked with a whip. You didn’t turn, you didn’t have to. The moment Ni-ki’s eyes flashed behind you for even a millisecond was enough confirmation. Part of you wanted to turn around, but you couldn’t. Not when every single cell of the man in front of you was pulling you in like a magnet. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, before logic could even form, your hand slid up Ni-ki’s chest, curling into the fabric of his collar. You felt his breathing falter before shallowing. 

“Y/N…” he murmured, uncertain. 

But you didn’t stop. 

You rose onto your toes, clinging to his shirt like a support system, and kissed him.

His hands tightened on your waist in pure surprise. He stood frozen, not pulling you in, not pushing you away, just holding you. When your mind began to reel with the consequences of your actions, you hurriedly pulled away, fumbling to formulate an apology. 

“I-- I didn’t -- I wasn’t thinking -- I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Ni-ki stared down at you as you rambled, his eyes stunned, but not upset, more like he was calibrating. 

You quickly dropped your hands from his collar after realizing they were still there and held them at your sides so they wouldn’t cause anymore trouble. “Wow, I actually can’t believe I did that. I swear I’m not usually like that, I’m just really flustered right now and I think I kind of really like you…”

The second the words left your mouth you froze. But Ni-ki didn’t. His hand on your back shifted, just enough for his thumb to move in a slow, steady path along your spine. He just watched you. Jaw tense, eyes sharp, and… uneven breaths?

You couldn’t. You looked down, opening your mouth to apologize again, to say sorry for putting him in this situation and that maybe he should dance with somebody else. But his hand was faster than your words.

Warm fingers caught your jaw, guiding your face back up to his. “I think…” he said, the hand on your back pulling you into him, your hips connecting, “we should…” his hand moved up your spine before finding your other cheek, now framing your face fully, “do it…” your noses almost touched, “again.”

You were hyperventilating. Your hands rose, shaking, and gripped the sides of his hoodie. “Do you want to?” 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I want to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

idol!jungwon x barista!reader

word count: 12k

summary: popular idol jungwon becomes a regular at your cafe and begins to leave you notes of napkins filled with lyrics... about you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The smell of ground coffee and cinnamon was comforting to you, it made you feel warm inside. And everyday you stepped into Dayglow Cafe to put your apron on, the smell alone made the alarm clocks in the morning completely worth it. The place was kind of a hole in the wall, tucked away from the inner city’s chaos, but still managed to have a decent flow of customers throughout the day. There were big arched windows to let the sunlight in, and soft lighting from rustic light fixtures that only turned on when the sun was low enough to be blocked by the buildings around you. Books lined the shelves and you prided yourself on having actually read each one -- sometimes you would add to the collection. The playlist of music in the background was a concoction of your favorite songs and some of your other friends. You each had a different style but somehow they blended together perfectly. Regulars came for the calm environment. And so does he. 

You noticed him the first time he walked in. Not because he was flashy or was wearing cool clothes -- but because he wasn’t. He wore a baseball cap and a mask, a black hoodie pulled low and baggy jeans. You grew accustomed to his order: vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and cinnamon. Then he’d tuck himself into the back corner booth. Always the same seat facing away from the door, head down, earbuds in, notebook or laptop open. No one ever recognized him. But you knew who he was. 

You had actually been a fan of his for years. And now, he was just here. Human, quiet, and alone. It was almost odd to see him in such a normal setting. In your setting. 

Your hands worked quickly, making his drink while your friend stood behind the bar, taking the orders of the next in line. To finish up his order, you added in one pump of cinnamon sweetener and sprinkled cinnamon on the top, snapping the lid on the cup. He was in his assigned seat, typing away at something on his laptop screen, and you took a deep breath, nodding to yourself silently before stepping out behind the counter and walking in his direction. 

You weren’t sure if he knew that you knew who he was. You never mentioned it and he never asked. The closest he ever got to addressing it was on his second visit. 

“Will that be all for you?” you asked, tapping the screen in front of you and glancing up at him, trying with the will of 100 men to keep your cheeks from going up in flames from just talking to him. 

“Yeah, but, uh,” he looked up at you, hesitant. “Would you mind not calling it out loud when it’s finished?”

You smiled to hide the confusion you were feeling upon his request. “Sure, would you rather have me bring it up to your table?”

“Is that possible?”

“Of course!” Anything for you. “I can have it out for you in about 5 minutes.”

Looking back, the request was a completely reasonable one. ‘Jungwon’ was not the most common name in Korean, so repeatedly calling it out everyday would start to gather attention. 

So here you were, walking carefully over to his little corner, drink in hand and a smile to match. 

“Here you go, Jungwon,” you said, and placed the cup on the table in front of him along with a plastic straw still in its wrapper. 

He gave you a small smile in return. “Thank you.”

For the first few weeks of his routinely visits, you played it cool. No lingering stares, no small talk. Just the drink and a grin and customer service. But, like, come on. It would be impossible to not watch him at least sometimes. 

You learned that he liked to face the window when it rained, and that he liked to tap his fingers along to the music mindlessly, and that he liked to drink his drink as fast as possible so that the ice didn’t melt and water it down. You learned that he was polite, which is something you kind of already knew but it was different when you were experiencing it first hand. He always said please and thank you, always threw away the straw wrapper and empty coffee cup, always wiped away any condensation left on the table. 

Around the third week of his frequent attendance, he forgot to put a mask on before coming to the counter and both of you just… paused. He’d blinked like a deer caught in headlights when he realized his mistake and you saw him mentally start formulating an escape plan. 

But then you said, “Vanilla latter with two shots of espresso and cinnamon?” before he even started to order, like nothing was different. He smiled -- genuinely -- and you both let it go. 

It stayed like that, quiet, easy. Until one Tuesday evening when Dayglow was nearly empty and a golden light spilled through the windows like honey. He approached the counter. You looked up from wiping down the espresso machine and found him standing there. His backpack was over his shoulders and it seemed like he was on his way out. His hands were stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie, rocking on the balls of his feet like he was debating turning back around. 

“Everything okay?” you asked, and he peered up at you from under the mask. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, curious.

“For not making it weird. Most people either freak out or ask for pictures.” You could tell there was a hint of a smile hiding behind his mask, just from his eyes. “You don’t do that either.”

You shrugged, trying to seem casual and just told him the truth. “I figured you wouldn’t come back if I did.”

He laughed. “That’s true.” There was a gentle pause before he added, “The cinnamon thing… You add more than most places. I like that.”

He was just too cute. “Well, cinnamon is the best part, isn’t it? I wanna keep the customers happy.”

That made him nod. “It’s nice.”

“It’s nice to know you like it enough to come back for three weeks straight,” you joked a little, glancing down at the rag in your hand and setting it aside. When you looked up, his eyes were on the floor, shifting his weight. 

“I guess I just like the quiet here,” he said. Then after a second, “It’s been a long month.”

You didn’t ask for more. Didn’t need to. You couldn’t even imagine the amount of tired he must feel from both the physical and mental fatigue of being in the spotlight all the time. 

“Some people come here to talk,” you started, “and some come here not to.”

He glanced up at you again. You could tell he knew that you understood him. 

“You’ve got a seat here whenever you need one. And as much cinnamon as you want.”

His eyes crinkled and he bowed his head. “I should go.”

“Have a good night,” you offered softly. 

He paused before turning. “You too.”

And then he left. 

For a month, his usual presence left Dayglow empty. You were a little concerned at first but it only took a couple minutes on any social media / entertainment platform to find out he was preparing for a comeback. 

Promotions, rehearsals, dance practice, studio time, interviews, travel. 

You saw clips of him everywhere.

Sharper clothes, brighter colors, louder crowds. You had forgotten his usual scene. Outside of the walls of this small coffee shop, he was an entertainer after all. And a good one at that. He looked so different on screen. Not unfamiliar, just… on. Like a performance. Like a switch. You had gotten used to seeing him tucked into that corner booth, hoodie up, sipping cinnamon-dusted coffee. 

You watched a couple clips of their comeback before turning your phone off and turning to look at his empty seat. Maybe you were just a crazy fan. He didn’t owe you anything, but it didn’t feel right to not see him there. 

Exactly 3 weeks later, he came back. 

You came in for your closing shift around noon, a couple minutes late, and rushed behind the counter to put your apron on. The cafe was quiet as usual -- not empty, just mellow -- and the steady hiss of steaming milk blended into the music humming through the overhead speakers. You were halfway through tying the strings behind your back when your friend, already behind the bar, leaned in and said, low, but amused, “Guess who’s back.”

Your heart gave a little jolt.

You didn’t have to guess, glancing over your shoulder so fast it probably gave you whiplash. Sure enough, there he was. Same corner, same quiet presence. No flashy clothes. He had his laptop open in front of him and a hand resting on his chin like nothing had happened. 

“He’s been here for a minute but hasn’t ordered anything,” your friend added, taking the strings from your hands and finishing tying the apron for you. 

You heard her but your mind was locked on him. He looked tired. But not the kind of tired that sleep could fix. Now that Enhypen’s comeback promotion season was over, he was able to rest. Though it looked like he needed a lot more than just rest. 

“I know his order,” you said, moving quickly to the espresso machine and making his drink with muscle memory. No one else in the cafe knew who he was, including your friends. You hadn’t noticed it at first, but Jungwon only ordered when you were at the register. It was nearly impossible not to look into it, especially when it would be an absolute dream to have your idol be interested in you. But you would just tell yourself it was just because you already knew who he was so he thought it was safer. That was the most logical reason. 

With almost giddy steps, you walked over to his booth, drink in one hand, plastic straw in the other. He didn’t notice you approaching. His head was tilted slightly towards the window, brows drawn together like he was somewhere far away despite being right in front of you. The light coming from outside hit just enough of his face for you to see the dark circles beneath his eyes, not hidden by makeup. 

“Jungwon,” you called to him quietly, making sure your voice wasn’t heard by anyone but him. 

His posture stiffened and his eyes flicked towards you immediately, like the sound of his name had tugged him back towards the present. He blinked once, slow, as if he needed a second to recalibrate, and then his gaze softened when it landed on you. 

You set the drink and straw down on the table. “Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you while you were…wherever you were just now.” Your tone was light. 

“I didn’t order yet,” he said, voice quiet and slightly hoarse, tired from all the performing. 

“Didn’t need to. I have it memorized.”

He moved the mask on his face beneath his chin to take a sip of the coffee. “Thank you.”

With his face uncovered, you could fully see the small smile he was giving you and mirrored it. It made you happy he was comfortable enough to do that around you.

“You look tired,” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you had the chance to reel them back in.

He gave you a breathy laugh. “I am.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and hesitated before saying, “I watched your comeback. And all your stage performances.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours again, something unreadable swimming behind them. 

“You looked good,” you complimented him to make up for your previous tired comment, and then quickly added, “Everyone thought so too.”

“Thank you,” his words were quiet and you took it as a sign to leave, bowing slightly and turning on your heels. “Do you mind…” he stopped you, “if I ask your name?”

You held your breath. Yang Jungwon wanted to know your name? Trying not to appear too excited, you looked back at him. “Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

He said your name like he was trying it out, seeing how it felt to say it out loud. There was a pause after, like neither of you knew what was supposed to come next. Mentally, you were dying at the sound of your name coming from his mouth, but you had no idea what he was thinking. To avoid making anything more awkward than it might already be, you went into customer-service mode. 

“Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” 

The next day, he came back again, absolutely rocking a pair of grey sweats. You saw him outside before he even rang the bell opening the door and smiled, taking over the register so he could order. 

“Hi, Y/N.”

It felt like you got sucker punched. You couldn’t stop your eyes from widening and just stared at him. “G-good morning.” God, you idiot. The stutter is too much, really. 

His smile reached his eyes immediately. “Can I have an iced vanilla latte with-”

“Two shots of espresso cinnamon, yes, of course,” you finished for him hurriedly and tapped the screen of the register, trying to act like your hands weren’t shaking. 

This time he laughed. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you couldn’t even talk, mind still reeling about him greeting you with your name. He remembered your name. And he used it. Mind you, this is the same guy that just performed in front of thousands of people chanting his name. 

He paid and before he could say anything you spoke first. 

“I’ll bring it to your table,” you managed to spit out, stepping away from the counter before he could say anything else that might make your brain short-circuit again. Actually, you bet he could say absolutely anything right now and it would make you melt. 

As you worked, you could feel his presence emanating from the booth. Not in a heavy, distracting way. More like static. Like he was just a frequency away from being in reality. He wasn’t doing anything abnormal, just sitting there and looking at notes and waiting for his coffee, but your heart wouldn’t stop hammering in your chest. You gave yourself a second to breathe while pouring the espresso, and then another second while dusting the top with cinnamon. 

You walked carefully over to his table and he looked up before you even got there. 

“I like the song that’s playing right now,” he said. “Did you pick it?”

You tuned in to the music in the background, recognizing the acoustic melody immediately. It was one of the songs he had posted about liking years ago and being the avid fangirl you were (and still are), you listened to it. 

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” you placed the drink down, reaching for a straw from your apron pocked to lay on the table as well.

“Mine too,” he agreed, fingers accidentally brushing yours when he went to unwrap the straw. Should you tell him you knew that already?

You bowed, thinking you should make your way back behind the counter when he stopped you. 

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?

“Of course,” you dipped your hand into another apron pocket, brandishing your favorite pen. Giving up your favorite pen to the Yang Jungwon would be a worthy cause in anyone’s book. 

“Thanks, Y/N.”

Contain yourself. 

“Any day, Jungwon.”

You returned to the safety that was the cafe storage pantry, fanning yourself with your hands and taking deep breaths, your thoughts focused on one thing and one thing only. 

Yang Jungwon, Yang Jungwon, Yang Jungwon. 

What a man, what a man, what a man. 

No one else in the cafe knew they were drinking coffee next to a worldwide icon. 

Slowly, you peeked your head around the corner, eyes falling on him and the pen in his hand, scribbling into his notebook. He could keep the pen for all you cared, but if he gave it back, you were going to find a way to frame it. 

It was nearing closing and you pretended to clean the counter. Again. For the fourth time. You were the only employee left and every closing duty had already been finished, you just needed to lock up. So you kept yourself occupied with busy-work, walking in circles in the pantry, tapping nonsense into the register before deleting it, looking at Jungwon, disinfecting tables, staring at Jungwon… Since he was the only customer that didn’t come up to the register when he needed something, you had gone to check on him two more times after giving him his first drink. Both times, he’d just look up with a small smile, say he was all good, and go right back to his notebook. He was content, focused, maybe even at peace. 

You didn’t go over again, concerned that you were disturbing him or looked too much like a fangirl. However much you wished you could be sitting across from him, staring at him work unblinking in case you’d miss something, you could not, under any circumstances, let him see you that way. 

Around 8:40, he started packing up. You did your best to keep your eyes away from him, pretending to be busy stacking plastic cups and lids, when you heard footsteps approaching. There he was again, standing at the counter with your pen in hand, mask under his chin. The last two customers in the store had just left so he wasn’t concerned about hiding. You liked that he could take it off around you.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing the pen down. “Thanks again.” 

You reached for it, noticing something else underneath it. A folded napkin.

He didn’t say anything about it. Your eyes met and he held your gaze for maybe a half second too long and smiled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Maybe you were crazy, but he said it like he meant it. 

You nodded, afraid your voice might betray you. “Goodnight, Jungwon.”

The bell over the door chimed as he stepped out. The breeze from outside filtered in for just a moment, cool and grounding. You waited until he was out of sight and ran over to the door, hurriedly flipping the open sign to say “we’re closed” and then ran back to the counter, grabbing at the napkin. 

It looked ordinary enough, folded in half twice, just like someone might do out of habit. You picked it up gently like it would crumble in your hands if you were too rough. Your fingers trembled as you unfolded it. 

His handwriting was small and neat -- the kind you’d expect from someone who wrote lyrics for a living. 

This is my favorite verse from that song, I thought you might like it too

“You are the quiet I look for in the noise”

~J

You fell to your knees in the middle of the cafe, just holding it, reading the words over and over again. You weren’t sure how long you sat there dumbfounded. The lyric echoed in your head. His favorite verse. That he gave to you. A gift? Maybe? You weren’t sure what it was -- not exactly. But you knew what it wasn’t. It wasn’t just a barista-customer thing. It couldn’t be. 

You rose to your feet slowly, folding the napkin up and tucking it into your back pocket. No longer did you need to frame your pen, this was the main attraction. You turned off the lights, locked the door behind you, and walked home with a smile that wouldn’t fade. 

When you gave him his drink the next time he sat down, you slipped your own napkin underneath it. There was no way you were going to be able to stand next to him when he read it so you left almost instantly, missing the way he watched you walk back to your position. From behind the pastry display, you glanced up at him cautiously as he unfolded your own note, his eyes scanning your penmanship. 

I like that verse too, this is my favorite-

“Even in a crowded room, I would only look at you”

~Y/N

Your heart pounded in your throat, waiting for his reaction. 

He read it twice. You knew he did, because he paused -- hands still, no sip of his coffee, no glance out the window like he usually did -- just his eyes on the napkin. His eyes flicked back to it after the first pass like he wasn’t sure he read it right the first time. 

You tried to look like you weren’t watching him, pretending to straighten the different flavored sweeteners on the shelves like your life depended on it. Your peripheral vision was working overtime. 

He didn’t smile right away, which made you more nervous than the actual act of giving him the note. Instead, he leaned back, arms crossed loosely, napkin still held between his fingers. And then he looked at you. 

Your breath caught, trying with all your might to persuade your muscles to keep moving. 

He folded the napkin once, then again, and carefully tucked it into the pocket of his hoodie. You could see a soft, hidden smile reach his eyes before he stood up and started walking towards the counter.

Internal panic rushed through your veins, almost causing you to drop a jar of honey. When he reached you, he didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned his forearms gently against the wood. Then, “That’s not from the same song.”

His voice was low. Amused. Knowing.

You froze, halfway through opening a drawer for no reason at all. “No, it’s not.”

“I know the song though.”

You turned to him fully, hands hiding behind your back so your fingers could fidget without him seeing. “I figured you might. I think we have similar music tastes.”

“I think we might.” There was a beat, one of those seconds where time seemed to suspend itself. “You picked a good line.”

You shrugged like it was nothing even though your heart was doing backflips. “You started it.”

He laughed a little, you would recognize the sound anywhere. “I did, didn’t I?” His eyes flickered down for the briefest second, like he was remembering what he had written in his note to you. “I didn’t think you would respond.”

“I didn’t know if I was supposed to,” you admitted. “But… it’s kind of fun.”

This time you could easily see the smile under his mask. “Good, I like it too.” He paused, like a hesitation, before asking, “Do you do that a lot?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Leave notes for people.”

You couldn't help but chuckle. Only for you. “Only for my favorite customers.”

He nodded, playing along. “So… I’m one of the favorites?”

“Do you want to be?”

He ducked his head, almost in a boyish manner, looking at you through twinkling eyes. “Can I be?”

“Of course,” you obliged. He earned that title the first time he walked through those doors. 

His head tilted with appreciation and he pushed off his elbows to stand up fully. “Oh, one more thing, can I borrow a pen again?”

Did you wait and hope and pray all shift to see if he would leave you another note? Yes, any sane person would do the same thing. You were torn between wanting him to leave so you could see if he wrote you something, but also wanting him to stay so you could just stare at him for as long as possible. When did you get so lucky?

He’d left the cafe like he always did -- a soft “Goodnight, Y/N,” as casual as a sigh -- and slid your pen back to you. And once again, there was a napkin folded beneath it. 

You waited a full five minutes after he left before allowing yourself to read it, emotionally preparing for what he had left inside for you to find. 

Another one of my favorites-

“Looked into your eyes and found my favorite eye color”

~J

Again and again, you read the note. A sound escaped you -- part laugh, part sigh, part overwhelmed squeal -- and you clutched the napkin to your chest like it was made of gold. Because wasn’t it? Another gift for you?

You struggled to find a way to respond. This didn’t seem like just friendly lyric exchanges, right? It wasn’t just you looking too hard into it, right? Your next words needed to match his energy, but what exactly was he giving you?

He read it twice, maybe three times? You couldn’t tell.

“But for you, I would”

~Y/N

Perhaps you had been a little too direct? Your pulse was visible in your wrist as you had a meltdown watching him. You really, really, really tried not to stare, but it was impossible. Even with a hoodie and mask covering his face, it was him. You watched him fold your napkin, just as carefully as the last, and put it inside of his pocket. 

He didn’t come to the counter that night for an exchange of good-byes. Just gave you a wave on his way out. 

You came in for your shift after taking the weekend off and was happy to be back, welcomed in by the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon. Almost by habit, your eyes wandered to his booth, but he wasn’t there. 

“Looking for your friend?” Your coworker asked and you hit her arm. 

“No, of course not.”

“He already left.”

Aaaaand your heart sank. He had come before your shift started and left before you even had the chance to see him. The thought of him sitting in his seat, not ordering and waiting for you to make his drink and never getting it, was ruining your day. 

“Are you serious??”

Your friend only shrugged. “He wasn’t here for that long.”

“But he was here.” You dragged your hands across your face. Shift ruined. 

With begrudging movements, you fulfilled your role as barista, mind stuck on him. You took the weekend off because of family matters, but that also meant that you hadn’t seen him for two whole days. Today made it three. You should be thankful it was only three days. You recognized you had been spoiled. 

The mop in your hands glided across the floor, leaving shiny tile behind you. Slowly, you inched towards the back of the shop, covering the floor next to his booth in suds last when something caught your eye. A napkin. Folded neatly and tucked into the curve of the booth’s cushions. The way you dropped everything and lunged for it was honestly shameful. 

“My memory asks about you all the time”

~J

You stood there, reading the line repeatedly. This was the first lyric you didn’t recognize. A warmth spread through your body at the thought of him writing you a note even when you weren’t there, leaving it somewhere intentional for you to find it.  You wondered if he meant what he wrote. 

The following day, he comes in in the evening, sitting quietly in his usual booth, not ordering right away. Your mind goes haywire when you see him, excited to know you're in the same room again for the first time in days. You bring his drink over and he thanks you softly. 

“Do you want to sit for a minute?” he asked, almost carefully.

Your breath caught in your throat. “With you?”

He nodded, a little, shy smile spreading on his face underneath the mask. “Yeah, I mean, if you don’t mind.”

You glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the wall and frowned in disappointment. “I don’t have a break for another 20 minutes. Will you stay that long?”

“I’ll wait.”

You felt your cheeks flush and turned away quickly to hide them. The next 20 minutes were the longest 20 minutes of your life. You kept shooting glances in his direction longingly, wanting nothing more than to sit down with him. He continued working, staying in his own world, blissfully unaware of the pining you were doing behind the scenes. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid beat of your heart as the timer on the register beeped softly, signaling your break had begun. Your hands were still slightly shaky as you wiped them on your apron, trying to seem casual. When you glanced up, you caught him already looking your way -- like he knew you were coming over any minute now. 

He didn’t look away either, that was the part that got you. Most people would have averted their gaze, pretended they weren’t watching. But not him. Jungwon kept his eyes locked on you. 

You swallowed the nerves and untied your apron, hanging it on the small hook just out of sight of the customers and walked over to his booth. He sat up straighter when you reached the edge of the table, closing his notebook. 

“Hey,” he said. 

You smiled back. “Mind if I sit?”

He shook his head immediately, sliding his drink slightly to the side as if to make more room for you, even though there was already plenty. “Not at all.”

You slid into the seat across from him, pulse thudding like it didn’t get the memo of acting cool. For a moment, neither of you said anything. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it was almost natural? Then he slipped his mask down. 

Your eyes widened and you instinctually looked around. He caught your movement and laughed. 

“It’s okay, I can’t drink coffee with a mask on.”

You felt a little stupid and shook your head smiling. “Right, of course.”

He tilted his head, watching you. “You look different without the apron.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I’m a changed woman, what can I say?”

He smiled, this time you could see it fully. “Less barista, more mystery girl who leaves me lyrics?”

You returned the grin. “You started that.”

“And you kept it up,” he countered. There was a quiet challenge in his voice. 

“I had to. You can’t just quote a lyric from one of my favorite songs and expect me not to respond.”

“I did good then?” He leaned forward a little, elbows on the table, looking at you. Without the mask on, you didn’t know how you were supposed to have an intelligent conversation. 

You nodded. “You got lucky.”

“Or maybe,” he said, fiddling with his straw, “I just pay attention.”

Your grin faltered for a moment, trying to process whether it meant what it sounded like and raised an eyebrow. “You pay attention to your baristas that closely?”

“Only the ones who fight back with lyrics,” he said with a shrug, like he wasn’t teasing you right now. He was teasing right? Flirting even?

You tried to look unimpressed. It didn’t work. “Do you do this at every coffee shop you go to?” 

Your question was laced with ulterior motives. 

He shook his head slowly, eyes unwavering, still on you. “No, this is the only one I go to.”

“O-oh.”

His answer landed heavier than you expected it to. You tried to hold his gaze but it felt like standing too close to a flame. 

“Did you find the note I left? It wasn’t here when I got here earlier. I was hoping you were the one that grabbed it.”

There was no way to tell him you had added his note to the rest of your sacred napkin collection without sounding weird so you just said, “I did.”

His lips curved, not a full smile, but enough that it felt like a secret you’d been invited into. “Good.”

You traced your fingertip along the edge of the table, staring down at the faint grain of the wood because looking at him too was too difficult. He was too pretty. 

“I didn’t recognize the lyric,” you admitted, almost afraid he would be disappointed and think you didn’t have similar music tastes afterall.

“I know,” he said gently. “It wasn’t one.”

Your head snapped up at that, eyes widening. “It wasn’t?”

He shook his head once, slow and deliberate, still holding your gaze. “That one was mine.”

The weight of his words began to settle in. He had gone from trading lyrics with you, to giving you one of his own. A flirtatious one at that. 

“Wow,” you fumbled, searching for words to appease the awkwardness you were suddenly feeling. “You should become a song writer, maybe even an entertainer.” Your words were teasing, joking with him about something only the two of you shared in this cafe -- his identity. 

His eyes crinkled in amusement, like you’d caught him but he didn’t mind. “Yeah?” He played along. “Think I’d be any good at it?”

“The best.”

You saw a flash of something cross his face, an emotion you couldn’t place. 

“You really think so?” he asked, and even though it was a playful question, there was something earnest tucked beneath it, like he actually wanted to hear your answer. Like he actually cared.

You looked at him with an expression that let him know you meant it. “Yeah, I really do.”

He blinked once, then looked down at his drink as if he needed a second to recover. “Careful,” he murmured, tapping the edge of the plastic cup. “Or you’re gonna end up in one of my songs.”

Your heart practically slammed into your ribs. How could you respond to that without sounding over the moon? “Is that a threat?” 

His smile curved. “Depends,” he said. “Are you scared of being written about?”

You tried to play it cool, leaning forward to meet him in the middle of the table. “Not if the lyrics are good.”

He raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering toward you with something bordering on mischief. “They’d be good.”

Any coherent thought left your head and you looked away, not able to hold eye contact anymore. It wouldn’t be delusional to say he was flirting right? You glanced down, pretending to smooth a wrinkle on your sleeve, anything to hide the flush you could feel creeping up your neck and burning your ears. “Well, then I guess I’ll take my chances.”

Jungwon let out a soft chuckle, and then, for a moment, he was quiet. His thumb idly traced the condensation ring his cup had left on the table. You watched the way his smile lingered even after the laugh faded. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever done this before,” his words were quiet. 

You stared. “Do what?”

“Keep going back somewhere for coffee, or talk this much with someone that’s not in the industry, or ask someone to sit with me.”

His words were sincere and it made you hesitate to answer, not sure how. You could’ve brushed it off with a “lucky me” or some self-deprecating quip about how you didn’t know why he was talking to you either -- but you didn’t want to. 

“I’m glad you did,” you said, just as quietly, meeting his eyes. “Seriously, it’s nice to know that you like coming here to hide. The door is always open for you.”

His gaze stayed steady on you, and then, a light nod. “Thank you.”

The conversation turned lighter, you asked about what he was working on every time he came in, what it was like performing, if he had a favorite food, why he liked dancing -- and he answered every question. He would ask you questions about working at Dayglow and what you did when you weren’t on shift, he was curious about whether you were in school and what you were studying when it wasn’t the summer season. The shift was nice, it was like talking to a friend. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Your break’s almost up.”

You let out a breath, half a laugh. “Were you keeping track?”

“No,” he denied, then with a smile, “I was counting down.”

You made a face, and gave him a playful side-eye. “Careful, I might just have to write a song about you first.”

His laugh followed you all the way back behind the counter. 

The cafe was busier than usual towards closing. There was an event at one of the venues nearby and once it was over, people started gravitating to Dayglow. You frowned a little and threw a glance at Jungwon, catching his eye as people continuously flowed in. There was an exchange of smiles and you mouthed an apology at the fact your once quiet refuge was bustling with activity. He shook his head but smiled. 

You were stuck behind the counter, taking order after order and occasionally rotating with your coworkers to make the drink instead. Muscle memory was handy when you had to make each drink quickly, calling out names and smiling as they came up to take their order from your hand. 

“Have a nice night!” you called after them as they left, blowing out a deep sigh and tiredly looking back to his booth. He wasn’t there. Disappointment plastered across your face. With the crowd, you hadn’t seen him leave. 

Hurriedly, you looked at the clock. There was still 15 minutes left of your shift. 

“Hey,” you slide up behind one of your coworkers. “Did you see the guy in that booth over there leave?”

“Hmm?” she turned and looked to where you were pointing. “Oh, him? Yeah, like 30 seconds ago.”

“What??” You whipped towards the door, now even more sad that you had just missed each other. 

“What’s with you two anyway?” she persisted, nudging your arm. “You spent your break over there instead of in the back.”

“We’re just friends,” you said, brushing her off. 

“Is he cute at least?”

You nodded, no words were necessary. If only she knew. 

The last couple minutes of your shift were a bore. You were tired and there was no eye candy for you to look forward to. It wasn’t until you were headed towards the back to grab your bag that you saw it. A napkin. Folded neatly and tucked just barely beneath the napkin holder at his usual booth -- so subtly it could have gone unnoticed all night. Your heart did an embarrassing somersault as you walked over and picked it up.

Didn’t want to say good-bye in front of your coworkers. Maybe this can make up for it?

~J

Tucked inside was a code. Upon further inspection, you realized it was an entry ID for Enhypen’s upcoming fansigning event. Your eyes widened and you clutched the napkin, eyes frantically searching the store like he would still be nearby, watching. But he wasn’t. It was just you, the napkin, a gift, and a seat still holding the ghost of his presence. 

You slid the note carefully into your bag, being extra careful as this one contained a ticket to the fansign. It didn’t even matter if you were scheduled to work that day, you were calling off. 

The two of you had fallen into a new routine. You would always sit with him on your breaks, you would tell him your schedule for the next couple of days so he knew what time to come in -- and he always did. 

He sat in his booth, sometimes scribbling lyrics, messing around with a studio file on his laptop, sometimes sketching little figures in the margins of his notes, sometimes just waiting, half distracted until he heard the quiet timer announce your break and would look up to find you. It became the best part of your day easily. He started branching out to try other items on the menu that you recommended, just to get you to taste-test them first. He would look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention -- eyes soft, curious, like he was trying to memorize you. 

And you were memorizing him too. Not the idol persona you already knew -- the quiet, hidden one. His habits, his laugh, the way he covered his mouth when smiling or when he was shy, how he would blow his hair out of his eyes when he was focusing. Your connection was building. You were trying not to look too much into it. But it was hard not to. 

Not when his eyes lingered on you after you walked back to the counter. Not when he’s says “See you tomorrow?” with that almost-smile, like he was asking a question and making a promise, all at once. And not when every time he left, he would leave a folded napkin behind for you. 

One day, you had the opening shift instead of closing, running around the cafe getting it ready to open right at 10am when your phone buzzed. Curiously, you looked down seeing a link to a thread on Weverse. The title caught your attention and you dropped the cleaning rag in your hands to open it. 

Anyone know who this is? Saw him at Dayglow Cafe and he looks like an idol ^^

Your heart sank when you saw the picture attached, recognizing Jungwon instantly. You scroll through the comments. They were full of speculation, enthusiasm, curiosity, people were tagging other fan accounts or guessing names. But it was unmistakably him, sitting in his regular booth, working on his laptop, sipping a vanilla and cinnamon latte. 

You felt hurt for him. That quiet, hidden world you had been lucky to provide for him was suddenly shattered and laid bare for everyone. 

Naturally, it was busier today. Everyone wanted the chance to see him, to sit in his booth. You hated how the booth wasn’t his anymore, filled with fans taking selfies where he once sat. 

The pattern continued for weeks, even after his company had taken down any post relevant to his attendance at Dayglow. Sure, it was good for business, but that wasn’t important to you. You missed him and the way he would smile when you slid him his drink or when you sat down next to him. 

On your breaks, you would make yourself his drink to enjoy by yourself, like the smell would draw him in. You didn’t want to admit that every time the door would jingle, you hoped it was him. Maybe today was the day he would come back? Was that selfish of you?

You didn’t get another napkin during that period. You didn’t get a life update from him during breaks. The only way to stay connected with his well-being was by tuning in to his livestreams or entertainment shows. But those didn’t really help. The version you had memorized wasn’t the Jungwon the world talked about online. And now that the world had found that version too… he was gone. 

You couldn’t blame him.

But it didn’t stop the ache every time someone asked, “Is this the booth he sat in?” or took a photo of the chair he used like it was some kind of landmark. 

The first time you heard it, it didn’t register. It was only the background music afterall. 

“What a romantic,” your coworker sighed, steaming milk next to you and nodding along to the song playing. 

“What?”

“Jungwon.”

The name made you pause. “What?”

“His new single,” she laughed at your reaction. “Come on, Y/N. And you call yourself a fan.”

After tuning out the background chatter of customers, you were surprised you didn’t recognize his voice in the speakers sooner. 

You said vanilla felt like home

Our conversations brewed slow

Sugar on your fingers, song in your sigh

Leaving lyrics like breadcrumbs and I memorized every line

Warmth in your silence, cinnamon in your grin

Finding peace where the noise should have been

A folded napkin said more than I could ever say in a booth

I like my coffee with you

I crave it more than caffeine

Now that I know you exist, how do I not want you

You couldn’t keep listening. You had to hide. You needed to collapse or go to the ER or literally anything that would give you space. Something about checking inventory in the back left your mouth as you excused yourself, slipping into the stockroom and shutting the door gently behind you, pressing your back to it and sinking to the floor. 

Your fingers trembled as you searched the song up on your phone. I like My Coffee with You. Knees pulled to your chest, phone glowing in your hand. 

He remembered everything. Every drink, every break, every lyric on a napkin. He had written a song about you. Like, he actually did it. 

You weren’t sure what you were feeling. Confusion? Over-the-moon enthusiasm?

Then your eyes lit up and you quickly typed something else into the search bar -- Enhypen fansign event -- and scanned the screen for the date. 

3 days. 

Going was the obvious move. It was a chance to see him. He had personally invited you. Nerves be damned. 

So here you were. Dressed up in an outfit that totally didn’t take you 2 hours to pick and hair done in something other than the ponytail you wore to work everyday. It was something new for him. 

You had never been to one of these before, only seen clips online of lucky fans interacting with idols they looked up to. Nothing could have prepared you for how surreal it felt, standing in a line of fans, wristband snug on your arm, holding a copy of the comeback album you had bought on the way here in hands that wouldn’t stop sweating. 

The minute he walked onto the stage, you were helpless, eyes glued to him like you were in withdrawal and craved his attention. His lyrics replayed in your head over and over like some kind of emotional self harm. 

Now that I know you exist, how do I not want you?

Was he going to act normal? Pretend you were just another fan? Maybe that’s what you were. Maybe you were crossing lines and it wasn’t actually about you. Maybe it was just good song material, nothing actually serious. The thought made you stutter in your steps. Was showing up a mistake? If he wanted to see you, he knew where to find you, but he hadn’t shown up. Maybe he didn’t want to see you. 

No, Y/N. Grow a pair. 

Your heart thudded harder as the line moved forward. 

Heeseung was first and you shared a smile with him. 

“Hi!” he greeted you happily and you slid your album towards him. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you replied, refusing to look over in Jungwon’s direction. It was too late to run now. 

“Pretty name,” he commented and you laughed. He pushed the album back towards you. “Do you have a favorite member?”

“Jungwon,” your words were instant. 

“Ouch, what about me?”

“I like you too,” you teased. But you were here for Jungwon. 

The conversation was funny because Heeseung knew nothing about you but you knew everything about him. Outside of the persona he presented as an idol, you got to know him from Jungwon as well. During breaks, he would share tales and pictures of each member, revealing stories and making you laugh. 

Next was Sunghoon, then Jake… then Jungwon. 

You took a deep breath, heart pounding like a drum in your chest, and moved forward. When you raised your eyes to look at him, he was already looking at you. He had been watching you from the moment he heard you introduce yourself to Jake, listening to your conversation and just praying time would move faster and talk to you again. 

“Y/N,” he said, voice low but clear, like he’d been waiting for this. 

You felt the world narrow down to just the two of you, everything else falling away. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he added, fingers playing with the sharpie in his hand, not looking away from you. 

You smiled, trying to steady your voice. “I wanted to see you again.”

“Did you…” he hesitated, but then shyly asked, “Did you hear the song?”

Your breath caught and you revealed the albums in your hands. Not just their comeback album, but his single as well. 

“I did.”

He took each album carefully, signing the comeback album first. “What did you think?”

His question hung in the air between you, quieter than everything else in the room and yet somehow heavier. You could tell he wasn’t just asking if you liked it. He was asking if you understood it. If you had heard yourself in it. 

“It was pretty,” you said and nodded, trying to meet his gaze but failing. “Really. One of my new favorites.”

His eyes softened, though you didn’t see, and his hands found yours. At first, you panicked, looking at him with a questioning stare before remembering this was normal at fansigning events. This felt different though. There was something else in his touch. Unspoken. 

“It was about you,” it was so quiet you knew you were the only one who could have heard his words. 

It’s not like you didn’t know, but hearing him say it outloud made it real. 

“I’m sorry about the picture,” you spoke. “If I saw who took it, they would be banned from Dayglow for life.”

He smiled, just barely. His thumbs brushed over the backs of your hands. It was a sweet feeling. 

“I’m sorry for disappearing. I just didn’t want to risk anything or make it worse.”

You shook your head. “Stop it, I didn’t say that because I wanted you to apologize. I just… missed you.”

He looked down, unreadable expression on his face. Then he let go of your hands to pick up your copy of his solo album, uncapping the sharpie again. He paused, thinking, then started writing, too long for it to just be his signature. 

When he handed it back, your eyes fell to his words immediately. 

For the girl who makes coffee taste like home

Wait for me after this?

~Jungwon

Your breath was sucked from your lungs. The noise around you -- fans chatting, camera shutters clicking, the low hum of staff voice -- faded to static. All you saw was his handwriting. It was the first time he left you a note and signed it with his name. His full name. Like he was no longer hiding. And then his question? Wait for me after this?

You looked up slowly. His eyes watched you, nervous and hopefully, quietly bracing for your reaction like it mattered more than any crowd, any chart, any stage. Your lips parted but before you could speak, the staff was gently urging you to move alone. Jungwon looked like he wanted to say more, like he would stand up and follow you, but all he could do was grab your hand once more -- tight -- and whispered, “Please wait.”

And you nodded because you would. Of course you would. 

His shoulders eased at that, tension slipping away with the barest exhale. Then his lips quirked up -- not the practiced, camera-ready smile you’d seen a thousand times before, but the one you remembered from the booth in the back of Dayglow. The one that only ever seemed to be for you. 

You clutched the albums to your chest, moving along but not wanting to. Even when you sat in front of Jay, even when he had to turn his attention to the next fan, you felt the weight of that look still resting on you.  

You weren’t sure where to go or how long to wait. 

The staff had ushered you out with the rest of the fans once the event wrapped up. You had caught Jungwon’s eye before he left the stage and exchanged looks, a reminder that you would see each other again soon. So here you were, standing awkwardly near the venue’s side exit, fingers fidgeting with the corner of your jacket. 

You were trying to think about his lyrics again, or the way he whispered your name again for the first time in weeks, or how his hands had felt wrapped around yours for those few suspended seconds. 

A few fans lingered nearby, hoping for a glimpse, but security kept them moving. You got pushed along with them, not sure how you were supposed to fight back without sounding crazy. “No! I’m supposed to meet Jungwon here! He told me to wait for him!” No one’s gonna believe that. 

You ended up around the block, trying to make it obvious where you were if he was to exit from the building and stared at your shoes, debating whether to stay longer or just chalk it up to wishful thinking. But the signed album in your bag kept you rooted where you were. He asked you to wait. So you would. It was the least you could do for somebody that wrote you a song, right?

10 minutes. Then-

“Y/N?”

You turned. 

He was already moving towards you from the shadow of the building. He wore new clothes, a dark sweater and baggy jeans combo paired with a bucket hat and mask. He was trying to be inconspicuous but you recognized him immediately. 

It took a minute to register that he was actually there, not a daydream stitched together from lingering eyes and napkin notes. 

“I thought you left,” he said, eyes searching yours, relief bleeding into his words. 

“I got kicked out,” you tried to say lightly. 

 You both stood there, two people who had been dancing around something for so long, and now it was here. No cafe counter, no corner booth, no fansign table between you. 

He huffed a small laugh, the kind that sounded more like an exhale of tension than anything else. “I should’ve seen that coming.” He scanned your face and stepped closer. “I was going to sneak out sooner but the managers were hovering.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I waited. Are you sure you don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”

“I want to be here,” he said resolutely. 

Sincerity covered every word. It wasn’t the carefully measured tone he used in interviews or the guarded charm of the idol he had to display. This was just him. Just Jungwon. 

Your lips tugged up in a smile involuntarily. “Okay,” you said, finger furling and unfurling the hem of your sleeve, nervous energy buzzing under your skin. 

For a minute, he didn’t do anything. Just looked down at you, like he was drinking you in. Like he was memorizing you all over again. His eyes dipped down to your bag again, to the place where the corner of his single album still stuck out, and he shook his head with a small smile. 

“You really came,” he murmured almost to himself. Then to you, “You look different.”

You glanced down at yourself, at the clothes you stressed over. “It’s not my work uniform. I figured I should dress up for the occasion.”

“For me?” he clarified with his eyebrows raised and you punched his arm playfully. He laughed, rubbing the spot where you’d made contact though it clearly didn’t hurt. “I’m just saying, you never looked like this behind the counter.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t realise there was a dress code I was supposed to follow.”

“There isn’t. I like the apron and coffee stained shirt.”

You groaned. “Oh my goodness stop.”

“It’s poetic,” he teased and stepped closer. Once he was close enough to reach out, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his fingers around your wrist, like he had to make sure you wouldn't disappear. “Let’s go somewhere else, so I can take the mask off.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but he didn’t need one. In no universe would you ever say no. You let him pull you by your wrist, following willingly, down the quiet side street where the venue lights faded into soft shadows. 

“Have you eaten?”

You shook your head and he grinned. 

“Me neither. Can I take you out to eat?”

“Is this a date?” you asked inquisitively, praying he’d say yes. 

“If I said it was, would you come with me?”

“That’s a ridiculous question. Of course.”

He slowed a little, just enough to fall into step beside you instead of leading you. His fingers loosen on your wrist until they slide down to lace with yours instead. Your heart jumped so hard you almost tripped over your own feet. 

“Then yeah,” he said simply. “It’s a date.”

For a few steps, neither of you spoke. He guided you out of the narrow street to where the city opened up ahead. Neon signs flickered over late-night restaurants, quiet enough that nobody paid the two of you any attention. 

“Anywhere you want,” he said, squeezing your hand once. “Pick a place.”

You hesitate, looking to him for help. “Where can we go where you’ll be okay? You should be able to eat comfortably.”

You saw his eyes squint in a smile. Cute. He looked like he was weighing a couple options and then nodded slightly toward the end of the street.

“There’s a spot a couple blocks from here that our manager took us to last year. It’s super lowkey. Kind of ugly from the outside though.”

“Perfect,” you said, already smiling. “I love ugly restaurants.”

He laughed softly. “I know. You told me once. You said the sketchier the outside, the better the food.”

Your steps faltered just a little, surprised he remembered something so random. But you shouldn’t be. Jungwon had always listened to you like that and it was something you always appreciated. 

“That was like, week two of knowing you,” you said, still shocked. “I barely remember saying it.”

“I do. I remember a lot of things.”

You didn’t respond. How could you? Something about the way he said it made your throat feel tight. He tugged you forward gently, keeping your fingers woven with his until the neon lights thinned out, replaced by the soft yellow glow of a little diner squished between a laundromat and a shuttered bookstore. 

It did look ugly from the outside. Paint chipped on the sign, a crooked “OPEN” light buzzed in the window. 

“I’m sold,” you said. 

“I knew you would be.”

He pulled the door open for you and ducked inside after you, keeping his head low until you both slid into a booth in the far back. He sat facing the wall with his back to the restaurant and pulled off his mask. You watched him take a full breath without the restriction of the fabric. On the exhale, he locked eyes with you and laughed. 

“What?” you asked, your voice soft with curiosity. 

“It’s just…weird. You’re sitting with me, on a date.”

On a date. 

“I think it’s weirder for me than for you.” 

“Why’s that?”

Do you tell him about the poster of his face you hung up in your room 5 years ago? Or that you used to keep his photocards in your phone case? There’s no way. 

So you shrugged. “Because you’re Yang Jungwon, kind of a kpop icon.”

“But you’re Y/N.”

Exactly. But he didn’t mean it the same way you did. He said it so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world -- like your name carried the same weight to him that his did to you. 

“What does that mean?” you asked, trying to sound teasing but it came out shaky. 

“It means,” he said, leaning on his elbows towards you and tilting his head. “That you’re not just some girl. You’re… you.” His eyes flicked down to your hands on the table, where they were picking at your nailbeds nervously. “The one that knows how to make my favorite coffee, and writes me lyrics on napkins and waits for me when I ask her to.”

You swallowed hard, pulse fluttering in your throat. Just when you opened your mouth, the waitress came over. 

She acknowledged Jungwon with a smile but nothing more. He was right about it being lowkey. 

“Do you want to split something?” Jungwon asked you, opening the menu for you.

Dream after dream was just coming true for you today, wasn’t it?

“S-sure.” Damn stutter. 

You got an order of sundubu-jjigae, a soft tofu stew with beef and kimchi, one of your favorites. 

The food arrived quickly, the steam rising to blur the atmosphere between you. Jungwon picks up a spoon first and gently stirs the pot, careful not to splash. His brow furrows just slightly -- a look you recognize from the cafe when he was deep in thought over something he wasn’t quite ready to say. 

You take a spoonful of rice and dip it into the soup, letting it soak. “Can I ask you something?” His knee brushed yours under the table and you tried to ignore it. 

He hummed, taking a spoonful of his own and blowing on it to cool it down. 

“Did you… mean it?” you paused before clarifying. “You know, the song you wrote.”

The spoon stops halfway to his lips. He doesn’t move for a second, like your question pinned him there. The steam between you curls and swirls, softening the edges of his face but not the hardness of his gaze. 

He set the spoon down slowly while your fingers tightened on your own. “I don’t write things I don’t mean,” he said slowly, bucket hat casting a shadow over his eyes. “Every line in that song came from somewhere real.”

Your pulse knocked once, hard. “But-”

“I didn’t know how else to say it.” He offers a nervous laugh. “It’s easier to put it in music than to just… tell you.

“So when you sang ‘I like my coffee with you’...”

His lips twitch in a small smile. “I meant you. I like you”

You exhale shakily. Something in your chest is fluttering uncontrollably and you wonder if he can hear it over the soft clatter of utensils in the restaurant around you. You didn’t know how to respond, so you just looked at him. His eyes were waiting. Watching. Not demanding anything, but hoping. 

“I wasn’t sure,” you said. “I didn’t know if I was just… projecting. Like maybe I wanted it to be about me so I convinced myself that it was?”

“Y/N, do you remember one of the first days I came into the cafe I ordered the same drink like 5 times? You got so annoyed but I was just trying to find reasons to keep talking to you.” 

You looked at him horrified. “I can assure you I’ve never once been annoyed with you.”

Jungwon smiled in a teasing manner. “You looked annoyed. You’d push the cup toward me without looking up, like you were trying not to roll your eyes.”

“I was nervous,” you admitted before you could stop yourself. “Like I didn’t know how I was supposed to act around you.”

“If I wanted someone to treat me like an idol then I wouldn’t have been hiding in the corner. I just wanted you to treat me like… a person.” His gaze catches yours again. “Like you always did.”

You were melting.

“I meant the song,” he repeated. “All of it. Every single word. I like you. The person that writes beautiful lyrics on napkins, remembers my coffee order, smells like vanilla and cinnamon, the person that waits for me…”

His words hit your chest, your ribs, your breath.

“I like you too.” 

It felt a little silly to say something like that in front of him when you were sure you had made it obvious. But to Jungwon, he showed relief, like he too wasn’t sure if his feelings were reciprocated. Then he grinned, sheepishly. 

“Thank goodness,” he said and ducked his head slightly. He looked shy in a way you hadn’t seen before. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him bite his lip. “I was trying to play it cool,” he laughed. “But I think I rehearsed this moment, like, twenty different ways.”

You giggled, over the moon that he not only liked you back, but that he practiced this moment. “And this was the version you went with?”

“Surely you know nothing ever goes the way you think it will, right? I had Jay pretend to be you but he was absolutely terrible.”

“Jay?? You told them about me?”

“Well… yeah. Should I not have?”

“No, I just…” you contemplated. “Did they know who I was earlier today?”

“I don’t think so? They don’t know what you look like, I don’t have a picture of you.”

The sentence made your mind spin. He said it like he wanted to have a picture, like he wanted to have you in his phone. 

“Oh, well I guess it would probably be a little weird to just have a random barista showing up in your camera roll, right?”

His brows knot tightly and he shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

You made eye contact and he cleared his throat. You changed the subject. “So… what did you tell Jay then? How did that even come up?”

He grinned, like he was grateful for the shift, but also like he was excited to talk about it. “I told him there was a really pretty girl at the cafe I liked who wrote better lyrics than me and makes the best coffee.”

Your face exploded in red. 

“And he made fun of me for like an hour before helping me rehearse. He was absolutely awful at it.”

You laughed, picking up your spoon again to take a bite. “I kind of want to see his version now.”

“No you don’t,” he said with mock seriousness. “He told me I should pretend to spill coffee over myself and say something dramatic like, ‘I’ll never recover from your espresso eyes.”

You nearly choked on the spoonful of soup you had just put in our mouth. “Oh wow, what a flirt.”

“He also said I should drop dramatically to my knees and cry out, ‘Where have you bean?”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t go with that version,” you said, the two of you now giggling together over the food. 

“Did you like this one better?” he asked, and you nodded. “Good. I don’t think I could have handled espresso puns and rejection in the same night.”

“You wouldn’t have been rejected,” you corrected him, almost looking at him like he was crazy. 

“Really?” he looked at you, seriously wanting the answer to the question. 

“Yeah. Jungwon, half the streams on your single are probably me.”

“Ehhh,” he said, denying your claim, even as a smile took over his expression. “Half??”

“Don’t make me regret telling you,” you said, a little defensive. 

He held his hands up in surrender, still grinning like an idiot. “Okay, okay, I’m honored. Truly. My most loyal fan.”

You hid your face with your hands in embarrassment until he leaned forward and pried them away, holding them in his. 

“I guess I owe Jay-hyung a dinner. He bet you’d say yes.”

You laughed, tightening your hold on his hands to let him know you wanted to be there. “You can thank him for me. But not for the espresso puns.”

“Oh definitely not.”

You enjoyed the rest of the food, diverging the conversation into other subject, not pertaining to the two of you. It was nice to catch up on everything that had happened in the month he had to hide from the cafe. It was a familiar rhythm to fall back to. It was getting late, the soup had gone lukewarm, the rest of the restaurant was emptying, but neither of you cared. You stayed there until he got a text from one of his members, telling him he needed to start heading back soon. So he said he would drop you off at your apartment first. With the streets almost empty, he kept his mask off, tucked under his chin.  

“Not to bring up the elephant in the room,” Jungwon said cautiously, peering at you from under his hat, “but we should probably talk about where we’re going to go from here.”

His fingers were intertwined with yours, a feeling you didn’t think you were ever going to get used to. He backtracked slightly.

“I’m not saying that to freak you out, I just don’t want you to feel like I’m leading you into something messy without talking about it.”

“Messy?” you tilted your head up at him. 

He exhaled, looking forward as you walked down the street. “Schedules, fans, the way my life works… There’s always someone watching. I mean, you were there for the cafe drama. But if we’re… this” -- he motioned vaguely between your joined hands -- “I want to be fair to you. I want to do what you want to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, if we were to officially start dating,” the way he made eye contact with you when he said it was exciting, “then we should decide whether to make it private or public. Us, I mean.”

You nodded, understanding what he was implying, steps slowing without meaning to until he stopped the two of you completely. 

“I don’t want to assume anything,” he added softly, turning to face you. “This isn’t just about me anymore.”

You looked at him, really taking him in. His hair falling over his eyes from under the hat, the faint pink dusting his cheeks. “What would you want?”

He hesitated, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to keep it ours. Something private and safe. But the other part of me wants to stop pretending I’m just some creepy customer at your cafe.”

You laughed but he looked at you like he was serious. “Well, neither of those options are easy, are they?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’d rather decide together than have it decided for us.”

You smiled softly at him. He was being so sincere, it was endearing. “You’ve been thinking a lot about this, haven’t you?”

He let out a sheepish laugh, glancing away. “I’m giving myself away…”

“I think…” you pondered for a second, and observed his reaction, “I’d like to keep it private for now. At least until we know what we’re doing. I want to be with you without all the noise in the background.”

Jungwon’s shoulders softened at your words, relief flickering in his eyes. “Private, then,” he echoed. “As long as it means I still get to hold your hand like this, I’m okay with it.”

You moved without thinking, stepping forward until you could wrap him in a hug. “Thank you for asking me, that was really sweet.”

His arms snaked around your waist and your back, tucking his head beside yours. “I want to get this right,” he said softly. 

Your heart fluttered and you pulled back, just enough to look at him. “Well I think you’re doing a great job.” His eyes were full of warmth and anticipation you’re sure you were mirroring. Almost instinctually, you reached up to cup your hands around his face and stand on your tippytoes, gently pressing your lips to his forehead. “Does this mean we’re officially together?” you asked. 

Jungwon smiled, his breath a little shaky and leaned down, catching your lips in a soft, tentative kiss. Your brain short circuited upon contact, leaving you like a dumb, smiling idiot when he pulled away. 

── ୨ৎ ── after your sister’s death, you fill the loneliness inside you texting her old number. but what happens when someone replies?

⤷ idol!sunghoon x reader (f)

!! smau (8 pics), mention of death, profanities, men hate cause why not.

masterlist: CH’s PROFILES ; PART 1 ;

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @beomluvrr @heeshlove @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @princesstiti14 @mintchocoddeonut @lostgirlysstuff @firstclassjaylee @jazz7gnab @cyutecoree @hooniluhv @soullesslien @chowonasblog @heartmira @keeeholic @skz-enha @swehee @all4moi @desirxriki @jakeycakeys @envil @swiftjay23 @i4tzy @k-4ttiee @simjaeyunslut @shadesofc00l @cosm1cgarbag3 @vampyriki @user131422

theres a lot of smaus that i read

dont shoot me (jungwon fluff// ongoing) by @wonsade ^^smau

balling or bawling (heeseung fluff// finished) by ^^smau

@yoisoobin

am i not your baby anymore (riki angst? fluff? idk its a mix// one-shot so far 👀) by @yugkii ^^smau+written

couple vlogs(riki fluff// ongoing) by @yuxriki ^^written

my girl (riki fluff// oneshot) by @yuxriki ^^written

you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love series (enha + evan fluff// ongoing) ^^smau by @juwonsicle

candyfloss (jay fluff// ongoing) smau by @pcktwon

gaming frenzy (heeseung fluff// ongoing) smau by @sunooade

im getting married to a robot (sunghoon fluff// ongoing??👀) written+smau by @esoriae

to the girl whos always a lesson and never the one (jungwon fluff// oneshot) written by @inked-chaconne

₊˚⊹♡ celebrity crush in reverse

𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: chefinfluencer!jay x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS: to stalk her ex on the internet, y/n decides to create sugar talking, a fake baking business account. she's not prepared to receive real orders or accidentally go viral. then a renowned cooking influencer reaches out for a collab. this strategy just got more complicated... 𝜗𝜚 PLAYLIST: link here 🩷 𝜗𝜚 CONTENT: angst angst angst (poor y/n is put through the wringer but she'll be in her healing era soon), y/n and jay mutually stalk each other's social media, mentions of past nudity and intimacy in essay y/n shares 𝜗𝜚 NOTES: everyone stream florescence this summer <33 i found that the essay y/n quotes on her story is by an author named brianna wiest, go and support her work! also thank you so much for the love you've given this wip already, it makes my heart warm <3

✮ profiles 01 ✮ profiles 02 ✮ masterlist

₊˚⊹♡ unlike unlike unlike!

𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: chefinfluencer!jay x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS: to stalk her ex on the internet, y/n decides to create sugar talking, a fake baking business account. she's not prepared to receive real orders or accidentally go viral. then a renowned cooking influencer reaches out for a collab. this strategy just got more complicated... 𝜗𝜚 PLAYLIST: link here 🩷 𝜗𝜚 CONTENT: y/n stalks jay on the internet, jay and sunghoon secretly check y/n's social media posts, mention of a drunk dare, slight angst at the end 𝜗𝜚 NOTES: almost done writing the fifth chapter hehe...expect an update later this week possibly. also made a playlist with the songs mentioned in the first two chapters + some more i felt fit the vibe! hope you enjoy :))

✮ profiles 01 ✮ profiles 02 ✮ masterlist