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It was not enough to nullify your rights towards affection, you trampled all over his heart knowing fully well, fully aware that it was hurting him. And what for exactly? What is it about loneliness that makes you feel complete? No one was supposed to like being alone.

Under the predicament of a strung out soul, you were an infant when it comes to affection and yet you acted so highly, almost convincingly so, that it scared you. To your misconstrued judgment, in your defense, Ian did everything Seokjin did, and still didn’t love you. Funny how a single misinterpretation of one's' act could ruin a genuine act of love by another. You almost convinced yourself that Seokjin didn’t love you, he was just acting. Until you saw him in the hospital one day, wiping down your mother’s face and arms with the tenderness of a birth child— unwarranted, uninformed. He came without notice, by himself after he saw your Instagram, wallowing how busy you were.

You hid behind the door to the ward, holding your breath as if you were under water. At the time you didn’t quite understand why you felt the way you did. Hand over your heart, beating violently of something it’s trying to tell your brain. Given your scientific, matter-of-factly brain, you rationalised the whole situation, pretending you never saw it, erasing the memory entirely. As if it never existed. But now in this concrete empty home, it was the only memory you find of him. Grazing your fingers over the spine of the library books he had built for you, you find a little bit more. You closed your eyes trying to remember how he smells, the sound of his laughter, trying not to forget how he looked when he is angry, happy, confused, sad and in pain. What if these memories fade as well, what’s left of him to you? Why does it matter?

He didn’t look back. Not even once.

He just left you there at the family court, walking away with unstaggering steps. Just fading away. One lunge after the other. The sways of his shoulder. The view of the back of his head. You remembered the hesitance when he placed down the tip of the pen to sign the divorce paper, but you were also well reminded about the strike of the pen so swiftly drawn over typed writings. When the lawyers of both sides left the room to you two, it was the longest, loudest silence you have ever heard in your entire life. You were aching to sputter a word, any word to liven up the situation so you said,

“It wouldn’t be right if I kept the ring, now would it?” you chuckled awkwardly, twisted the sapphire ring from your ring finger and planned to lay it down on the table next to the paper. You didn’t dare to look up to his face, because you’re afraid that you would react strangely emotional and blow your cover of a cool ex-wife. Funny how you took off that ring several times every time you met Namjoon and had no difficulty in doing so but this time, it felt like you were shedding a part of your own skin— your identity. You’ve lived the days as his wife long enough that it has become you. This time, you twisted the ring harder but like it had a life of its own, it wouldn’t come off. The skin around in reddens with your assault and just then, Seokjin took your hand into his own, towering over you. His shadows casted over you entirely as he stood in the way of the only ceiling light in the small room. His long fingers loom over your little hands, his massive figure casting a shadow over you.

You couldn’t look past his chin.

Gentle. Tenderly, he eases the wedding ring out. The ring itself was rebellious. Would not be taken out by anyone else but the person who put it there. The ring slid out effortlessly and before it came off completely, you leaned your forehead on his hard chest. Thud. It took everything in you to not flood the room with tears, your breathing shallows and your throat constricted. You felt him take a deep breath in and his ribs expanded. Was  it resistance? Regret? Anguish? Why did you lean your head on him? Is it begging him to stay? Or is it a recollection of the memories of what used to be and what is no longer? The scent of the fabric he wore, the thinning desire to continue with the masquerade. Was it relief he felt? What is this agonizing feeling of uncertainties? This typhoon you have tied down to a fragile chair by a house that’s been swept away?

You felt his hand crept up your ribs, his arms around your small frame. He pressed his body on you, with you standing under his chin. The world continues to spin madly on. He shrinks himself in order to be closer, it felt. Standing on tiptoes isn’t enough for you, your arms circled around his neck pressing up into him like your existence depends on it. Memories play like a montage in the back of your mind— the night on the ship, the fights, the hand holding in the car, the shoving, the video calls, the cooking, putting on his tie, the bouquet on the kitchen counter, the kiss. How he had been the main source of your strength and your anger. How the world is silenced when he is around. He was your comfort and you know, this was the last time you would ever feel this safe. How will you bury the mountain now?

He was your daydream. The battle you chose was incomprehensible. Blame it on your ego.

He didn’t say a word. He peeled your arms from him, turned around just as quick as his hand, captured the ring from the table and headed for the door. You couldn't even catch a glimpse of his face. The last of him you saw, was the side of his face and knuckles grabbing the door open and closed. Your heels glued themselves on the ground, unable to move. Helplessly, you watched your typhoon go, the noose loosens, vanishing in your wake. With your left hand covering the right elbow you watch as the door completely shuts. Sliding the hand down over your left knuckle and you feel no ring, and it all becomes too real. You were breathing underwater it seems. No amount of oxygen was enough to fill your lungs. Seokjin sent Yoongi to drive you home. You were just a vessel of nothingness in the back of his BMW. With glazed thought and empty eyes, you stare out the window wordlessly.

A soft call of your name reeled you out of your trance. His eyes filled with concern, reflected from the rearview mirror at you.

“I just felt like…” you paused, “I made a huge mistake.” Yoongi nodded but didn’t offer any comfort word after. Maybe because he didn’t know what else to say.

Stopping at the house, Yoongi pulled the brakes up and walked you to the front porch. He hands you a worn looking postcard. Pinching the ends of it, you sighed shakily.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you rushed to say and entered your home. Leaning your back to the door, your tears fall uncontrollably. You folded yourself at the base of the door, hugging your knees with the last bits of strength you mustered and cried like a child.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” you said to yourself.

Like a scientist, you decided to understand the rationales behind these reactions. You were shut off emotionally, hiding everything in a box. You recollected the incidents that happened, and see why you could have mistook Seokjin’s gestures as a friendly manner when it wasn’t. As you were reassessing the situation, you realised that you had been comparing Seokjin’s actions to that of Ian’s. Ian was also this, or that, Ian helped you financially, accepted you against societal norms. And he did this all with a platonic love in mind. And you misread that. Someone like Ian doesn't fall in love with someone like you. Why would Seokjin be any different?

He looks frail but his smile had that twinkle in them, still. In his grey hoodie and worn out jeans, he stretched one arm to collect you into a brief meaningful hug. He presses up against you and releases you promptly. The rehab centre has an open air balcony for visitors and it was surrounded by the forest, tall shrubs of trees, shielding the wild sun. They served milk tea that was a little bland for your liking with some home baked biscuits on the sides. Ian’s eyes dropped to your ring finger and noticed that the ring was no longer there. His smile fades. It didn’t look like it was what he wanted. You were unsure of what his stand was with the fake marriage. You knew about their brawl, about Seokjin throwing a harrowing punch across Ian’s face for talking bad about you. But you don’t really know what Ian really thinks.

“We divorced,” you declared, “But I’m not here to talk about that.”

At this, Ian’s eyes lifted in wonder. Now he really cannot predict what made you visit him.

“I was sitting alone on the kitchen table after the divorce and started to think why it was so difficult to accept the love that was given to me,” the pad of your finger traces the brims of the saucer, as you spoke in trance-like voice, “I realise that I didn’t want to be wrong. I was wrong the first time,” you looked up at him. Ian chewed the insides of his cheek, as he sat there, held hostage by your words. He leans forward, on his elbows, lacing his fingers together. His mouth opened and closed several times but no words escaped. “I set the bar so low for myself, that I would fall for anyone that gives me an ounce of attention and to this day I don’t know if you knew how I felt,” you shrugged.

“I was guilty, I led you on,” Ian said in a hurry as if you would run before you could hear him, “I knew. And for that I’m sorry. I am an asshole.” “Calling yourself an asshole doesn’t make everything okay. The consequences of your actions is I lost the ability to know what love is and what isn’t,” you slightly raised your voice and Ian responded by collecting your tiny hands in his but you weren’t about to give him the pleasure of holding you. “You do not want to be associated with a low-class working girl, but you don’t want to act right and leave her be. I didn’t come here to collect your apology, I came here to tell you what you’ve done to my psyche. I also come here to see how you’re coping with your addictions. I felt like I needed closure with you before I could move on.”

“I don’t know how to correct this, I’ll be real with you,” he said in his Australian accent, “It was unbecoming of me to show you love and hide cowardly under the facade of a close friend. I did have feelings for you so it was easy to show concerns. I genuinely cared. I just let my ego run my life and settled for the one I should rather than the one I want.”

“When I saw how Seokjin loved you, I realised that I was never the man for you,” Ian added, “The damage is done. You couldn’t love Seokjin because of what I did to you and you coming here to tell me all about it is generous of you. You and Seokjin never left my mind since the wedding night happened. Suri, Suri knew about it but I guess a part of her still treasures you. I coped with coke for the longest time, confident that I’m only at peace with it inside my system. Suri has gone through a lot. That’s why I’m trying hard to become sober… She’s pregnant now you see.”

Your eyes fluttered in hope. Here you are, in your ruins and him building a life with the remnants of you. Could you have hated him more than you already are? Of course not. Suri deserves a good life with the man she chose to love. Especially the little soul she is carrying inside her.

“I am happy for you, I hope you hold on to that. She needs you more than ever now,” You beamed, “Don’t you see, Christian?” you stretched your arm and enveloped his tattooed knuckles with both of your hands, “You never needed all that shit. You’re present here, more than ever, with a child that will soon see you as their hero… no matter how imperfect you think you are…” You gave his knuckle a little squeeze before retracting back into your seat. You caught his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he turned to the side, unsure if he truly believed what you said, but the glimmer in his eyes right after, shows you that he was willing to try. And that was enough.

Flinging an arm gently over his neck, you rested your chin over his shoulder, tiptoeing at his monstrous build, you whispered, “You don’t need it to feel happy. You never need it, don’t you forget that…” You nuzzled your cheeks against his and held onto him a few seconds longer.

“Goodbye, big boy,” you huffed as you pulled and lunged away from the hug, cheeks and smiles and Ian called out your name once more. This time, it didn’t feel like yours but the way he said them was familiar enough to strike a chord from within you that it made you respond.

“Hm?” you turned. “You sure?” Ian asked, crinkles in his eyes as he smiled.

“About what?” “Him.”

Then it dawned on you that he was speaking about Seokjin and how you came to realise that it was indeed Seokjin that you wanted.

“Spent too much time on my own and figured out something” you explained, as you walked sideways to the exit.

That was a summarised response. Living in the house Seokjin had built for you felt selfish.

It was mine. Then why does it feel so empty?

It was your idea. But it was his making. He had ensured that every part of this house was littered with pieces of him. It was impossible to erase that. Every time you sit on the kitchen counter, you remember how he sat here solving a crossword in a newspaper. And in the living room, where he would make commotions while playing Mario Kart. And the massage chair in the corner of the room where you would watch him sleep peacefully as if he hadn’t just picked a fight about pickles in your burgers and how it made its way to his. The bickerings were a daily thing, if not an hourly activity in this house. With the pandemic running at full course and the lockdowns becoming an everyday occurrence, you see more and more of him and at the time, you would do anything to not see him. Even if it means sitting in the bathroom with the door locked and your phone. This large bungalow wasn't large enough at the time.

Now it feels hollow. Can’t believe you would say this, but you really missed the fighting. You missed coming home to his car blocking the driveway, and walking into him trying to get a glass of water from the water dispenser. Fighting over the space on the bed. Now you leave his side empty. Just in case.

Admittedly it would be selfish to want him because you missed him, correct? If anything, he should know why you want him here. If you miss him because of the bickering, the annoyance he brings, what difference does he make from the dust that piles on your desk every now and then. Seokjin is no furniture. You have to finally acknowledge your feelings towards him and Lord knows it wasn’t easy for you to admit ‘love’, provided that you came from a family that had everything but that and money. That was what drew you to Seokjin. His family and yours had that in common. The fact that you both understood that love on the screens of a television isn’t realistic at a young age. Seokjin was betrayed by his own perception of love with Rachel and even though, bravely tried to love you despite knowing he would get hurt.

Coddled in bed alone, you imagined if he was here and he loved you and everything was okay. He would have that peaceful look on his face, he lays his head on his hand with those big doe eyes and gentle whispering voice asking you, “Are you okay?” You would answer, “Now I am.” Now you have this duvet draped over your body instead of his arms and warmth. The feeling of his skin against yours. His supple lips— oh, what you would do to taste them again. Seokjin would come visit you at night like this, metaphorically speaking— where you pretend your fingers were his and the sounds you make were for him to hear. His fingers, yours. Sleek, slippery. But oh, they’re not big enough, are they?

You sighed, chest deflated at the high you were chasing, now turning into a fatamorgana— a mirage of a rush that escapes your grasp. Your drenched fingers lay defeatedly by your side as you struggle to regain composure and the impending shame that swallowed you afterwards. You can’t even please yourself. Is this the first sign of codependency?

Where is he? Where could he be? Is he suffering like you are?

A Google search wouldn’t hurt, now would it? It’s free and fast and you can clear your search afterwards. Not that it matters if anyone finds out. Isn’t it natural to want to know how your ex husband was doing?

He was… He magically disappeared. You know how CEOs are quite mysterious because they are busy spending money and working on new projects? Guess Seokjin took the role quite literally. The Kim Holdings had grown over the years with minor to no setbacks. The stocks had been steady despite the divorce news being released last 3 months. No one really cares about it. Hardly any words about it, which you could probably thank Seokjin for.

But wait. What’s this?

You scrolled down to see several lecture videos on Kim Seokjin. It looks like he is giving out lectures to university students at several universities in many countries. He even wrote a book about investments. Seems like he had grown to trust his instincts more. You always mentioned that he had a killer, spider-sense when a stock is about to crash and he is 99.9999% right. Your heart swelled with pride with the achievements he had— strange because it had nothing to do with you. He was being his amazing self and you, well you… are still figuring out what it is about yourself.

They say, if you strip someone of their name, status and richest, you’ll know why you love them. You mauled over the thought of Kim Seokjin without the Kim, the CEO and the billions. What is it about Seokjin that you love?

You like that he doesn’t interfere with your work. You like that he has common sense and makes coffee since he is the morning person. You like that he drives well and you don't have to worry about sleeping in the car. But that was all you love about him that centers around you. Try better. What is it that you love about Seokjin that isn’t about you?

He is a hardworking, steadfast, and thoughtful person. He was not afraid to trust even when he had been betrayed countless of times, even by the individuals that were close to him. He does what he wants, when he wants to. He is playful and doesn’t think much when he gets to his childish side. He loves animals, gentle and always tender with them. And above all… He acknowledges his mistakes and tries to be a better person even when you hold his past against him. Which was a dick move, you admit. Shallow and unprecedented one at that. Now you know you only did it to justify your feigning distaste toward him. He made countless attempts to show you how guilty he felt and you had moved past the whole incident within the first two attempts, but alas, and blame it on the ego you had— he never knew that his attempts were acknowledged.

_____

Ninety-seven days. Ninety-seven days after the divorce.

The number resonated in your head as you walked into a full auditorium with your Birkin bag and the students bowing in respect while they stayed seated in their chairs as you climbed down the stairs. Namjoon lifts his hip in order for you to walk in the row where he was. He fetches his leather bag from the chair next to him and he grumbles, “Didn’t think the head of the viva presentation would be late today…”

“The head of the viva presentation had some issues with a certain file that was corrupted,” you said through a soulless smile thrown at your colleague.

“Still?” Namjoon swiveled his head at you, “You know, if files keep getting corrupted, it's probably because of PornHub,” he lowered his voice at the end. And you gave him a squinted eyes and replied, “Speaking from personal experience?” You clicked your tongue at him and he retorted, “Well played, well played.”

“Since it came from your students, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was,” you arched an eyebrow and took out the forms for you to jot down marks for the students presenting today.

“I’ll email you the PDF copy right now,” he fishes out his phone and starts tapping at lighting speed, “There,” it made a swish sound, “Now, if the peer review is released within a week, that would be superb.”

You audibly gasped as you opened the file he sent from your phone, “435 pages, within a week? Namjoon, you want the moon? I can get you the moon instead.”

He chuckles handsomely, “Always know what to say… maybe next month is long enough?”

You puffed your cheeks and gave it a thought, “I have a vacation next month. It’s New Year and I want to see the snow, not some badly jumbled up words of a thesis in an attempt to not plagiarise,” you paused, “A pretentious scientific report if you ask me. I’d rather watch fireworks.”

At this, Namjoon’s smile faltered a bit. Because it means you’ve made a choice. One that isn’t him. Sometimes he regrets ever deciphering the words on the postcard Seokjin sent you— you know, the one Yoongi handed over to you on the day the divorce was finalised? If he knew it was from him, he wouldn’t have. But then he would have played God and you were already in turmoil with the fate you had. He wouldn’t like that either. He’s bitter, but he’s not a jerk. The postcard had a picture of an Apple Blossom flower in a mild hue of pink with a cryptic sentence that reads,

“Astilbe, in Verbier when the earth circles the sun once more.” - KSJ.

The latter part of the sentence was clearly new year. So you thought, he might be wishing that you have a good new year. A trip around the sun takes 365 days, which indicates the sentence refers to the time before the end of the year. In the Victorian language of flowers, something that Namjoon was obsessed with since he was a plant-dad since his senior high years, the sentence made perfect sense to him that he was surprised that you didn’t know it when it was meant for you.

Then it dawned on him that it was a test. Of his love. Of his sincerity. The words made sense to him and the messages were transferred from him to you. Seokjin trusted Namjoon to relay the message to you. How did he know Namjoon was going to be there and look at this postcard at your home? Seokjin knows that when he is out of the picture, Namjoon will try his luck. From the way you spoke about Namjoon in the phone call with him, he knew that this man is going to jump in his place when he is out of the way. It is safe to say that Seokjin had zero confidence in getting you to stay with him, especially after sending a cryptic love note that Namjoon would understand, but if he was a good person, which Seokjin knew he was, he would. He hoped.

Taken back to the present time, Namjoon tutted his tongue and hung his head low as the students began their viva presentation. His focus should be on assessing the research presented, but all he could think of is you and how fleeting he was, in the State of you. Making sense of the world where he will lose you, is losing you, and eventually loses you.

“I have you to thank for it,” you leaned to his ear and he closed the distance just to feel your warmth, “For making me understand the words.”

____

Two-hundred and thirty-two days. Since the divorce.

The glares from the screen illuminates his delectable face. His jawline was made prominent from this light. His side profile, down the slope of his nose, the beginning of his lips and the last of his chin. The snow is falling violently outside the French window of his residence. It was his own voice in the laptop, playing. He was monitoring his previous lecture.

“High risk, high return,” he outlined, ”It’s the most famous, most known theory when it comes to investments, correct?” Seokjin watched himself switch to the view of his back as he wrote the theory and illustrated a simple graph to explain this theory. Through his round glasses, the green reflection of the screen moved when he moved, folding his leg underneath him trying to spot any mistakes he had made in his explanation. What would she think of it? Would she have enjoyed the lecture? With that thought, Seokjin’s eyes drifted to the view of the opened curtain to where the snowy outsides were. His eyelids fluttered close. To the night where everything changed. Before the divorce finalised.

“I didn’t take my time the first time… I was brash, rough and in a hurry,” he said with a soft voice, “It won’t be like that.” Seokjin’s eyes glinted a gentle gaze. His thumb on your neck, on your pulse, rubbing up and down— mindlessly.

“And you left in the morning without a word too,” you replied with a sad undertone in your voice, “Really made me feel used.” Unwanted and discarded.

“And I beat myself up everyday for it.”

It was drizzling outside. You are both inside in his Lamborghini, underneath a street lamp overlooking the empty beach and no one is around because it was almost 2AM. Soft music playing in the background. That familiar fig undertones from his cologne you always seem to catch whenever he is around. You suggested this. And he didn’t disagree. The light chardonnay from the party is now clouding your thoughts. Your senses are heightened and you have this overwhelming need to touch him. One side of his face in the shadows, it’s hard to make up the expression he wore. You turned to face him.

“Let’s compare hands,” you suggested in a low voice. Seokjin gave you a confused look.

“I saw couples talk about it online,” you innocently beamed, “Thought we’d try…” Seokjin scoffs lightly looking out the window then back to you, “Do you know why?” “Isn’t it what lovers do? To be romantic?” you answered confidently.

Seokjin’s lips parted a little. Unlike earlier, his eyes turned slightly dark and mischievous. Like he’s holding the secret of the universe. You took his wrist nonetheless, taking his silence as an excuse to ridicule your harmless request. You gasped. Scooting closer to him.

“They’re quite big… they’re twice bigger than mine,” you were in legit shock. “You act like you’ve never seen them before,” he grins, “It’s been inside you…” “Really?” you feigned, “Must be too fast I hardly felt it.” He hollowed his cheeks, taking the burns in like a man.

“This doesn’t feel romantic, why do they do it?” you released his wrist and propped your elbows on the divider between the passenger and driver seat before Seokjin took your wrists and demonstrated, “I can hold both of your wrists in one hand.”

“Okay and?” He immediately lifts them over your head, his face inches away from you, “Either this,” his nose ghosts over yours, his cologne once again all you could smell and taste, “Or this,” he separates them apart, just to place them behind you. Holding both your wrists in one hand like he said. Then it daunted to you that those were restraints during sex. Your breathing becomes heavier and your iris is blown. With his free hand, he brushes away the baby hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear.

“You like that?” he murmurs softly and you let out a gentle gasp. It didn’t sound like you at all. But with his face so close to yours, you could hardly think straight. The ‘restraints’ made you arched your back obscenely. Deep looks in your eyes, perched at the edge of the leather seat. The callused pads of Seokjin’s finger gliding one side of your face stirs something inside you. Your lips parted slightly in response to him getting closer. Seokjin leans over the divider easily, given his bigger and sturdier build. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, his eyes never the sight of it. Fixation. He inches closer, closing his eyes and touching your cheek with his— he moves painstakingly slowly, lightly and tenderly touching your lips with his own. A proper first kiss. Not driven by lust or blind desire. He is not kissing you because he wants to bed you. He kissed you to show you how he feels. Because when all words are exhausted, actions speak the loudest.

Warm and full. Enticing. Seokjin tries to memorise it— how they feel, how they taste. He lingers, taking his time to pull away when you escape his weak restraints to grab him by his neck and devour him. He moaned into your mouth as you lifted yourself onto the seat and he bracketed your hip and hoisted you to sit over his lap, very well on top of the tent in his pants he no longer wanted to hide. Straddling him, and exploring his mouth with your tongue, Seokjin tilts his head back so you could gain more access to him. This was precisely why you wore a pastel skirt today.

Parting a bit to grin devilishly at him, “I’ve always wanted to make out in the Lambo,” you panted and Seokjin responded with a grunt, pulling your hip down his clothed erection just so he could get some friction going. He knows it will feel good for both of you. Escaping his lips, you tipped your head back. His teeth grazed your neck, latching on your skin like his life depends on it.

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you in this car ever since I got in,” you breathlessly say. He was so far gone that he couldn’t speak, intoxicated with the feeling of your buttcheeks in his hand. His fingers hook on the brims of your panties but decided that slipping his hand under the fabrics would be quicker. You elicited sinful sounds directly in his ear, mewling his name like prayers. The things those voices do to a man. Grinding against his chest, his face buried in your nape, his tongue lapping up every skin he had access to— the whole thing just equates madness. Incredible unwarranted madness that it ignited the demon in you. Seokjin had a taste of it when your fingernails scraped his scalp and yanked the root of his hair, forcing him to look up at you.

“Let me see that pretty face, how does it taste?” you growled sexily in his face before licking one long stripe of your tongue on one side of his face. It was Seokjin’s turn to let out a moan. His eyes glazed to the view ahead as he felt— for the first time— the disarming, the ruins of him in your hand. He was unprepared with your bold side and he is loving every bit of it, albeit, weakened by your raunchy persona. All this time he thought he was the adventurous one, the one that engaged in dirty talking but you’re topping him by the minute. Your dominant side shone through and it made him shiver in his seat. He forgets how to form words, quivering, whimpering mess underneath you as you suck his earlobe, nip and bite them.

He mustered a string of mewling, communicating with you with his dilated eyes.

“Use your words baby,” you unbuttoned his dress shirt, biting your smile as you catch his lewd expression— eyes wide, lips wet and glistening with want— all the while grinding on him in circles.

“W-want more,” he stifles like a child, “P-please…”

“Does the baby want more?” you cooed, “Of what, exactly, sweetheart?” you scooted farther back in his back sitting on his knee where he audibly whined at the loss of the heat on his erection. But you only did that to unbuckle his belt so you could slip your hand into his boxer. You noticed that a wet patch began to form where the tent was. Seokjin leans back into the seat in a quiet protest, and his hand scrambles to claw the apples of your butt so you could return to grind on him where he needed you.

“Want to be inside you,” he pants, chest heaving, “Please please please let me be inside you… Can’t- can’t take it anymore,” he clamps his lower lip in a sinful mixture of agony and ecstasy.

You tapped his hip so he could lift them, and slide down his boxers. His erection sprung free, painfully red, hot and weeping pre-cums. You gasped delightfully, “So pretty… you’ve been hiding this from me all this time… how selfish!” you stroked him gently and he peeks at you through his hooded eyes. You caught the tears forming at the corners, he was on the verge of crying. It was adorable that he could very well have his way with you like he did in that cabin that night in the ship, but he didn’t. He is submissive and a willing participant to your own version of torture. You take your time with your hands over his rod; fast, slow and fast then slow again. Edging him. You want to see him struggle with wanting release but also wanting to be a good toy for you. He makes wonderful sounds.

Just as he was about to cum, he begged for you to stop. And you do this repeatedly. “Please!” he yelled, “I’ll do anything you want, please let me cum inside you…”

“Watching you struggle is what I want,” you replied, wickedly. He lets out a deep groan, squirming in his seat. With all his remaining strength, he sat up and linked his forehead on yours and delivered a searing kiss. Your hand slows down from stroking him, and he unravels them from him. He pushed the seats back so you have more room from the steering wheel.

“Fuck you real deep okay? Hm?” he whispered hotly against your smile, “Want you so bad…” he slipped his tongue in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip desperately. Your heart constricted when he said those words. His right hand travelled underneath you to push your panties aside. His fingers easily slipped into your core— they were drenched and leaving a string of sticky translucent liquid on the leather of his car seat but he didn’t care. He wanted to take it slow, but your arousals were making it hard for him to be patient. He parted his lips from you just for you to lift your skirts and let him see his fingers disappear in your pussy.

“Making me hard turned you on this much? You’re wet because you were grinding on me?” his voice was sharp and he continued to ravish the feeling of your soft cave with the pad of his fingers. Strange that you hadn’t made a sound. It was as if you weren’t affected. But the clenching muscles inside you claim otherwise.

“Asking the obvious,” seductively you breathed. You rolled your head back, smiling like a villainess. You have merged your smartmouth persona in sex and Seokjin turned into a putty with such confidence on display for him. His fingers are inside the most brilliant women in STEM, wanted by many who played the role of his wife so well, the world was bought. Ian had made a number of mistakes in his life, but leaving you wanting— was his greatest. Seokjin felt how powerful you were and he was wondering how you kept this inside you for so long. He was almost convinced that you shapeshifted midway. He witnessed your chest rise and fall rapidly, and he could sense that you’re going to come undone soon and so he continued his ministration only for you to grab his wrist and glared at him to stop.

He was two steps away from hell when he saw your expression. It was as if you’re prepared to punish him should he continue.

“Dick,” you commanded. Seokjin almost busted his nut right there and then if you didn’t grab his rod and put them inside you, starting at the tip. You slide down slowly, taking your time with it— big, long, veiny and full. You held onto his shoulders, trying to keep you stable, straddling him. The metal buckle of his belt scratches the Lamborghini’s interior door at every move. You smiled down at him, like a death angel taking someone’s life. Your hand on his chest.

“You know cockwarming?” you asked him. He nods and then tilts his head as if he didn’t register that you would be the kind to know this.

“Stay still okay?” you told him, and lay your head on his chest, “Your heartbeat sounds nice…”

It took everything in him not to thrust in you. You kept on clenching over his length, it was difficult to keep a sane mind and hold a conversation but here you are. With shaky breaths and trembling fist, Seokjin balls and unballs his hand to keep his head together.

“I masturbated to the thought of you,” you hummed, “You already knew that… More frequently since the last few weeks. Because I know our time is short…”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Seokjin’s voice was low, sweet and gentle, “We can have this forever, we’ll figure it out.”

You giggled and Seokjin’s hand flew to your back to keep you still. The vibration from your giggles didn’t help the cockwarming go smoothly. You stifled a moan because it was affecting you as well. Nuzzling your face in his nape, you said, “Never trust a man’s word when he’s deep inside you… is what they say,” you inches closer to his lips, clashing his nose with yours before ghosting your lips over his eyelids. He flutters them shut and you plant a kiss on his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, both sides of his cheeks, along his jawline— relishing the beauty that is him. You paused at his lips and Seokjin peeks through his lashes at you before closing the distance, peppering swoon-worthy kisses. He moves his lips along your lip line. Your hand feels the sweat beading in the back of his unbuttoned dress shirt. You slipped your hand under his dress shirt to feel the skin on his back, slick with sweat.

Seokjin didn’t respond to your allegations. Instead, he switches positions with you. Let you lay on the driver seat, hips joined and made love to you the way he had always imagined. Both wrists in his hand above your head, his thrusts were languid, long and purposeful. Unlike the first time, Seokjin fragmentized the seconds into hours. Savouring the sounds you make, memorising the nook and crannies of your insides, the flushed colour of your skin, the goosebumps that arose. His left hand that wore the wedding band, twined with your right hand that wore the wedding ring— was a sight to remember. Dragging himself out slowly and pushing himself in, repeatedly— his name on your lips like a liquor, a mantra only he knows. His voice trembles like a worshipper in front of their God, nearing his end and asking for forgiveness his soul was beaten for.

It builds up and up and up and up… and then overflows. Cascading into millions of stars, new and old in all shapes and colors. You were in fragments of euphoria, pieces apart and became whole. He feels the warmth seeping out, unaware that he had released because he was invested in watching you lose yourself. You clawed his back, leaving red angry nailmarks down the expanse of his spine just like you did that night. You shuddered underneath him as you came down from your high. He bits his lips as he rides a few more times, taking in the image of his dick inside you, milked and sticky— he didn’t want it to end.

Light as a feather, free as a bird. Sweat evaporates and feels cold to your skin. Seokjin’s eyes bat slowly, drinking in the image of you. 

Seokjin held a pensive gaze on the business proposal in his laptop. He was unsure how much time had passed since, but he guessed that it might be a considerable amount. “She might have forgotten about me by now, right?” he said to the sapphire ring you used to wear during the marriage. He fiddled with it, took it everywhere with him, left it near where he worked— it was always there. Always near. While he waits.

_____

Seoul.

“Just how exciting this theory could be for newbies and how frightening it is for the inexperienced. It’s easy to say, investments are risk-taking and good things happen to risk takers, but what are the risks and just how much can we afford to lose?” His voice resonated through the expansive living room. The coffee machine is running in the corner, dripping its coffee extract into the pink mug with lip stains on them.

“Risk-return tradeoff comes into play, and now what exactly are these factors? Allow me to give you a substantial situation, a simple one for you to access…” Seokjin faces the audience promptly, with his conjoined together, “Say you marry someone, you know this person for a long time,” he sits on the professor’s desk, with one leg hanging and the other holding him stable in place. The toaster sprung up and you smiled at the situation he had chosen to tell. He proceeds, “You imagine the high risk would have to be that you get the recognition you need from your family for marrying an incredible woman you would otherwise, had no chance with. As you go through with this pretentious marriage, you find the feeling you’ve been deceiving was actually the truth. But she hasn’t realised when you stopped pretending.”

The audience spoke in murmurs as they tried to figure the correlation between the situation and the theory.

“In this situation, it is important to note that the risk movements had shifted,” Seokjin adds in a somber tone, “And now you sit in this tumultuous situation, wanting to sell or keep the marriage. Analyzing the risk, over and over and over again. Knowing that the outcome is heavily reliant on the other party. What’s next? You confess. Risk,” he lifts his index fingers, and pauses dramatically before hoisting himself off the table to dash across the stage for the whiteboard, “Potential return rises with increased risk is what risk-return trade off means. In essence, invested money can render higher profits only if the investor will accept a higher possibility of losses.” You repeated the last sentence, mumbling to your chest. Having memorized them from the repetitive play of his lectures.

Slipping one cube of sugar into your black coffee, you fetch a teaspoon from the drawer and start stirring the coffee gently. You bring your mug of coffee on the coffee table in front of your large plasma screen TV, and sit folding your feet underneath you. Underneath the table was a box, full of the things Aunt Shuma sent to you. When you remove the lid of the box, you draw a small smile on the corner of your lips. How quaint. An old Kodak film camera and all the pictures he had taken of you. Pictures of you asleep, of you cleaning the ship, of you cooking, of you scooping rice for him. Pictures of your silhouette behind the setting orange sun. You didn’t know that he took them. Then there is this parchment paper. Scribbled in his handwriting. You recognised that it was the one he wrote on the boat that day.

“I am bad at expressing what I truly desire. You twinkle. I feel like a boy when I am around you. Maybe that’s why I like picking up fights and saying things that would annoy you. I found it fun at first, but as the time went by, I felt suffocated by having to choose what a boy would say rather than what a  man should do. I’m losing grip. It’s really hard to keep it together now and I’m afraid of what will come next.”

This was when everything came apart at the seams, for him. The postcard he sent was also in the box, snug. It’s worn down from the multiple postage insignia it went through. Smiling at the view of it with your hand, you turned over the picture of Apple Blossoms and read his scraggly writing.

“Astilbe, in Verbier, when the earth circles the sun once more.” - KSJ

With your luggage bag by the door, and a familiar smile coming through the peephole, you yank the door open to Yoongi. He carries your luggage into the back of the car and helps you ensure you have everything locked. You’ll be away for a while. With the quarantine prior to the flight, you have collected your nerve— presenting your business model  in front of the board members is terrifying. But you’ve come prepared and the materials you needed were all lined up in place. You just have to get through the departure and you’re set. Meanwhile, you sat back and watched whatever entertainment the airlines had decided to put on the screen. Recognising the male lead actor and the narration from the drama you used to watch, you smiled.

“For this to work, a part of him needed to break. And a part of me needed to build,” the main actress’s voice echoed on the screen, “So we stayed in our caste, staring at the differences of our little two worlds. Helplessly in love, and in immense pain. Tolerating the separation.”

The irony.

Seokjin had disappeared into thin-air. There was no means to reach him the usual way. You would thought his apparent disinterest in you would meant he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore, and although apart of it is true, you cling to the hope that he might wander around on the other side of the fence— of which he wants you, but is too afraid to fool himself again, like he did before. So you did whatever lovesick girls would. Find a way to reconnect. All the while singing Taylor Swift’s song, Enchanted— the part where she sang, ‘please don’t be in love with someone else, please don’t have anyone waiting on you’ in your head. Your fingertips are cold, unsure if it was the weather or the giddiness.

Trying to win back the man you love— with a pinch of luck and tinge of faith. High risk, high return. Through a business model that was attractive enough to pique his interest, you aspired to gain his attention. And it was working.

It only felt real when you walked into the cabin and put your seatbelts on. The mechanical click of it conjoined together and the smiling eyes from the stewardess did it for you.

Chewing your lips, eyes wide from the anticipation; you had fussed over your profiles a million times, it seems.. And no matter what you do and how many times you did them, it never felt enough. Your half eaten in-flight meals glaring at you accusatively as you play the words you needed to say in the presentation repeatedly. But in your heart you knew, the moment you saw him in the same room, you would forget all the words. Before you entered the flight, you did two major things. You left a voicemail on Namjoon’s phone. You had to be clear about yourself and where he stands in your life. There were certain things you had to address. He deserves the closure he was hungry for. And two, you texted Yoongi asking the obvious.

“He won’t be there, will he?”

It was all Yoongi’s idea. After the divorce, Seokjin disappeared. He no longer uses the old phone number, he sold the penthouse to a fashion designer and the artworks he hung were donated to a museum curated by his mother. Senior Kim was busy moving the branch to Belgium and you were told by himself that his son was not actively involved in the moving. Even at your dead end, Yoongi had told you nothing about Seokjin’s whereabouts. You were positive he knew something. He didn’t. He confessed that Seokjin is still in contact with him but not as much as he did before. Yoongi told you under the roof of a balcony by the hill cafe. He wore a grey turtleneck with hot breaths exhaled heavily. He swirls the coffee cup in his hand and you could feel how reluctant he was, as he was unable to tell you more.

Reclining in your seat of your plane, you rested the back of your head on the head rest. Your shoulders freezes at the heaviness of it all. There was so much at stake. The image of Yoongi clouded your mind. Sitting here with the portfolio of the business model you’ve created, your mind travels to how it all began before it got here. Before it got so real.

“There is one way you could reach him,” he pauses, straightening up in his seat, clasping his hand around the mug for warmth, “I wouldn’t guarantee it but… you could try.”

“Seokjin is definitely still on the board members of the company, he is still in-charge of the important decision making for the direction of the company and would be heavily invested in, say, new ventures. In business, there’s a thing called angel investors. You come with a business proposal attractive enough to grab investors attention. And after you get the attention, it will be pushed up to board members for evaluation. From there, you will be invited on a fully funded flight to where they chose you to present your profiles. This year, it’s going to be in Switzerland. Verbier to be exact,” Yoongi explains in a serious tone, his hooded eyes glinting up to you with passion, “This might be your only chance. Although, I have to tell you that I’ve been notified that Seokjin would be virtually present.”

Your heart sank the same way it did when you heard the word, “Virtually,” from Yoongi’s own mouth, even as you sat in the flight heading there. Yoongi forbids you from using your own name on the portfolio for fear that Seojin might flee before you got there. He had voluntarily removed your name and put you under an alias. He passed your application by hand and distracted the person in-charge enough to not be suspicious. He knows that the application is just formalities. When it gets to the investors, it will be anonymous and will only be subjected to the content of the business, not the name of the person. Yoongi had done this, and also helped you write the proposals enough to get to the board members tables.

It was your declaration of love in the guise of a business proposal. Because how else will you catch the attention of a busy businessman who is now AWOL to heal himself. There was no guarantee that he was still in love with you, but he wouldn’t have left that postcard to Yoongi if he didn’t, right? Right?

The plane had landed when you stirred awake. Days of staying up to ensure every point gets delivered was draining you. It was moving to its lodge, several people on the ground directing its motion. The pilot adhered to all on-ground instructions and the plane smoothly parked. Unfastening your belt, you put on your winter jacket and caps, facemasks and collected your portfolios. Looking out the plane window, the view fogs up at your warm breaths. You underestimated how cold it was. It was freezing.

But the view was, the view was, breath-taking.

“Luggage, where do I collect my luggage?” you asked one of the staff in-charged. They directed you to it and you waited. And waited. And waited. Bags after bags get collected by their respective owners. But for some reason, the strikingly purple luggage bag you came with was nowhere to be seen. Blood pooled to your feet as your throat ran dry at the realisation that the staff had finished unloading every luggage that was on the plane. The room is spinning. Copies of budget, financial plans, concept, the whole proposal for the board members to be handed to their office prior to the presentation was all in there. Your phone’s charger, your laptop, your clothes for the rest of the trip— everything is in there.

Dragging your heavy feet, airily empty arms without your luggage through the arrivals, you found your way at a bus ticket booth heading up Verbier ski resort. You brushed the shoulder of a tall, unassuming man with his backpack who you couldn’t get a glimpse of as you rushed through the dispersing crowd of strangers. You have been emailed the itinerary of the event while you wait for the staff to entertain you. She sprung from below to grab a new set of anti-bacterial wipes to wipe her desk. You pointed to her that you were to head over at a temporary inn for quarantine by showing her the list of inns that you could go to. She crumpled her face in concentration and revealed to you that the inns listed were all occupied and at full-capacity. She recommends a homestay quite nearby and new. Having cornered without any viable options, you agreed to take the taxi to the said homestay.

“Also, do you happen to know where to report a missing luggage? My luggage never turned up from the conveyor belt when I arrived,” you asked the lady. You were then directed to the Lost & Found office, nearby the luggage claim area in Arrival 1. Feeling at loss, your vice grip on your phone turned your knuckles white.

“Excuse me, miss,” you heard as you were standing at the door of the office, gathering yourself to the far right to make way for the large trolley of found luggages to enter. You saw massive ski backpacks and snowboards, sandwiched in between. None of them were yours.

“I would like to report a missing luggage?” you asked. You were handed a form to be filled in, and you were told that they will try to find your luggage as soon as possible.

“I have to turn myself in for a 3-day quarantine at a homestay, I’m wondering if you can deliver them to me when you find them? There’s really important things in there, like really, really important,” you stressed. They nodded, understanding how crucial the situation is to you.

“Most luggage is found within 24 hours, we have notified the on-ground staffers and they told us that they have unloaded the bag you described today. Must have been a case of a mix up I believe, but don’t worry too much, we are positive we can find them.”

It was twice more expensive than the inns and was not covered by the company, but it will have to do. You weren’t expecting much when you arrived at the taxi stand. You probably felt less heavy if you had your luggages with you but you were not in control of the situation so this will have to do. You just wanted to get through the day and finally have a place to rest your head before you start again. The Lost & Found staff notified you that they have found your luggage and it was mixed up with another passenger from the business class who came in after a transit flight. The snowboard and ski backpacks you saw earlier belonged to him while his escorts took a purple bag. Your purple bag. It was unclear how a seasoned traveller would confuse a mediocre bag for something obviously Swiss. The drive to the homestay was brisk and very pleasant. At the door of the homestay, you successfully registered yourself and was provided a Covid-19 Self-Test Kit. Food will be sent to your room during the quarantine period of three days and when the results appear negative for 3 consecutive days, you will be transported to The Lodge, a 5-star hotel the company paid for. The plan was simple, it was to rest up, eat well and be at your 100% on the day of the presentation. Throwing your backpack and leaving your luggage bag to roll across the room, you heard a strange thud from next door that made you stop breathing for a bit. Followed by some dragging of a heavy sack.

“Should I be concerned?” you spoke to yourself, placing your hand over your heart.

This is the thing about travelling alone in a foreign country where you know no one. You keep your guards up at all times. Not only you have to worry about the presentation, you now have to worry if you would be potentially killed in a town you just came in. What if the food served has poison in it, and you ate them and then, you fell unconscious that they chop you off and throw you in a mincer and no one will ever know what happened to you? Is your neighbour Joe Goldberg from YOU? Can he potentially be? What are those heavy sacks he is dragging? You heard his footsteps going to the side where the balcony was. He opened the sliding glass door, and was on the phone it seems. Eavesdropping to a conversation not meant for you is a crime. You can be charged.

Then your phone shrills loudly. It was Yoongi.

“Yeah, I got here safe. I have to stay in an inn for 3-day quarantine before I’m allowed in the 5-star hotel, they say… and I lost my luggage, they’ve been mixed up,” you sat on the edge of the bed before laying down and left your leg hanging, “I’ve reported it and they say they will contact me when they found it. There will be a transport for me to go to the hotel? I have to bring the negative results right? Got it…” you hummed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Terrified, on edge, distraught and incompetent,” you listed, “For the presentation and the reason behind this trip. Not to mention my laptop, charger and literally the business plans are in the missing bag, I might not even be able to present.”

“Let’s keep it positive for now. You said they’ve located it, and will hand it over to you once they’ve found it right? Let’s have faith. Also… I have news on his whereabouts, that’s why I called,” Yoongi blurted monotonously, “He attended the Berlin Automotive Convention and he might stay there for a week, just in time for the commemoration of the new HQ,” Yoongi mauls over.

“So that’s saying…” that he won’t be there during the presentation.

“I’m afraid so,” Yoongi sighed, “Sorry for giving you false hope.”

“What? No. You didn’t give me false hope. I chose to believe that I might have a chance to meet him here…” you stared at the ceiling above you, “But damn it hurts. He’s like a slippery eel, always slipping through my hands…” you chuckled bitterly, “Should have caught him back then, huh?”

Yoongi let out a soft dismissive groan, “You were slippery too, remember?”

Touche. Your phone beeps at 10% battery. You tried calling the room service but there was no answer. Neither was the housekeeping, the operators, front desk— no one answered. Hearing your next door neighbor unzipping their bags, you decided to brazen up and ask if they have a charger and let’s hope it’s Android.

“Excuse me?” you greeted in Korean, “Sorry, I overheard you speaking in Korean on the phone awhile ago, so I was assuming you might be Korean? I… um, my luggage was missing and I put my charger in them, are you possibly using an Android, a Samsung charger? Can I borrow them? If that’s not too much? The airport staff says they’d call me if they find my bag, so if I don’t charge my phone they might not reach me,” You tiptoed by the balcony, speaking to the opened sliding door of his. But he himself was nowhere to be seen.

He replied from the inside, “Sure, I’ll leave them at your door? I’m still using them.”

Maybe he was just shy. A few minutes after you’ve washed up, you hear the doorbell ring. You rushed to open them in hopes to find your neighbor and properly thank him but, by the time you opened the door, his door was shut. He placed them in a small bakery bag, cords coiled neatly and you said thank you through the balcony.

Your phone lights up to live. No missed calls. Looking around the foreign land, you realise how Seokjin must have felt when he left his homeland. The first few hours were okay, and then you felt lonely, only comfort being Yoongi’s voice for now. You remembered how Seokjin would call you just to talk about random things, about his day, how you watch him fall asleep— you missed that. He was more than a memory you found pleasant, it was the way he hugged you, the gentle way he called your name and the soft gazes he tried to hide from you. You don’t want to hide yourself anymore. At least not to him. Because he deserved how you really felt about him. It was a little over midnight when you returned the charger to your neighbor’s door. You didn’t want to ring the bell, afraid that he might be sleeping. It’s far too quiet to sleep. You lay in your bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling despite feeling like your limbs are going to roll off from the fatigue. Fetching your phone, you traced the keychain, the phone charm from the trip to the dog park you went to with Seokjin. The time seized to a snail pace. Even the snow outside hesitated to fall. Winter baby Seokjin would be sleeping silently, would he? Hope it is warm where he is.

“I’ve broken your heart, please let me try to fix it…” you thumbed the coddling cat phone charm lovingly, knowing that she might miss her other half too.

—————

Your luggage has returned to you. Playing with your own fingers as you wait for your turn to present. The panel of investors arrive in person and on screens, eager to watch you put your ideas to life. The emcee reveals that Kim Seokjin will not be present but he has left a video for the winner. Your laptop is set up neatly, you were dressed in nude blazers and grey fitted singlet on top of black slack and white block heels. Your hair is up in a chignon bun. With the other two presenters wrapping up theirs, you casted your head down making final checks and trying on your pointers. Closing your eyes to feel any hint of peace, you pictured Seokjin— on that specific day where you had to present your viva, he was sitting there in the office you shared, wearing a round glasses and he was clapping encouragingly with a sweet smile— seeming to be so proud of you.

That very specific Seokjin had become your strength when you had to present before an audience. Time and time again. Funny how it’s almost a year since he last spoke to you and you’re still finding refuge in him, even in delusions like this.

You almost thought you saw him today. He was standing in black coats, handsome and alone, mufflers around his neck. He was leaning his back against the glass wall of the elevator with his eyes closed. He looked tired. But of course, before it could even register in your head, the door flaps closed in slow motion. And you see him vividly. The shape of his face, his prominent jawline, his crooked hands dug in his coat. If only he could just turn in this direction right where you stood, he would recognise you. You sprinted to the lift although you knew it was already too late. Stabbing the elevator button desperately, you hope that the lift would stop and reunite you with the lover you lost. But the guard stopped you. Their mouths were moving but you couldn’t hear a word. Was it really him? Were you seeing things? You were definitely seeing things. It would not be the first time because every time you were under a great deal of stress, you would see him. Even if you know in your head he won’t be there. He isn’t there.

“Miss? Miss?”

You snapped into reality after sitting idly, staring at your slides.

“We’re ready for you.”

You nodded, and gripped tighter on the edge of your seat before you stood up. They handed you a microphone you would be using. Now, you hold your life in this tiny voice amplifier hoping that the reason why you came here, would finally reveal himself.

“This project has been a very intimate one for me,” you begin, “It derived from someone who, despite seeing all my flaws, believed in me. And it was not because of him that I stood here; brave and collected. But he was the reason for me to start being brave and collected.”

The audience didn’t react. Cold.

“Allergies are common. It affects 4 millions adults and 5 millions children in the world. It is a constant fight. In 2012, Dr. Wing began research on the Atlantic Horseshoe Crab amoebocytes or blood cells. He had extracted them and they proved to have antibacterial activities. Fast forward after that, my faculty began extensively researching particularly amoebocytes for other pharmaceutical benefits such as anti-oxidative, anti-fungal, anticoagulant and so on,” you clicked on the slides and showed your colleagues investigating the said animal, “In 2018, a breakthrough. An Atlantic Horseshoe Crab’s blood cells showed anti-inflammatory activities commonly associated with allergy. The tricky part was to know which one.”

You clicked to the slide where a microscope footage showed the inhibitory activity that causes the inflammation to be completely eradicated at the injection of the blood cells.

“The research continues painstakingly over 2019, through the pandemic, where funds were cut off to plunge money into vaccine studies,” you explained, “But I continued this with the funds I was given and I managed to isolate the specific compound that was showing the anti-inflammatory activity. Then I formulate an inhaler that contains this compound. Why? Not everyone is a fan of needles that are common with anti-allergen pens. Inhaled particles act faster on inflammation. Easy to carry. Compact. Refillable. Pleasant taste.”

You took out the sample you’ve made. “Questions?”

A hand rises amongst the crowd.

“Why allergies?” “My husb— ex-husband — was allergic to garlic and I didn’t know about it until we divorced.”

“Had it not been your husband, ex-husband allergy, would you have created something like this?” “Yes, he was the ignition. The key was already there.”

“This formulation will have to go through pharmaceutical tests, and everyone knows it will not take a day or two. How will you arrange this to be released?” “We have started clinical trials this year and it is under FDA reviews as we speak, and investors will be reeling in once the news gets out.”

“So why did you choose Kim Holdings? Because it's family?” “Because it has potential to grow a pharmaceutical limb and the experts it needs are right here, ready to go. What we’re asking is funds. And since the common way does not work, we chose to go business-route. And it has served us well.”

“You are selling dreams… nothing more but a hearsay.” “All business begins with a dream.”

The judges who had been earnestly listening, turned sour at the questions thrown and how you answered. People begin to whisper incredulously and you feel like you are shrinking as the time ticks by. The longer you stood there on the stage, the louder the whispers became, the hazier your head was. Your thoughts become a thick fog and chills run down your spine as you finally realised; that maybe you’ve expected too much from this trip and it isn’t going your way at all. There was a blank screen on the side, for people who couldn’t attend physically. There were 8 individuals with their videos on, watching the convention, but one with their camera off. You casted your eyes to the side where the emcees booths are, asking for help. But apparently he had disappeared to the toilet. Your hand fell to your side with the mic.

Time slows. You lift your head up to see a raven-black hair with porcelain fair skin walking across the room, between the rows of the audience, heading to the exit and your heart was thumping, aching in the familiarity of the person. Your salvation. He walks gracefully with his entourage of suited, well-dressed men. Bowing slightly as he moves through the crowd, politely— like how you remembered him. He lifts his head to the side and meets your wide eyed gaze. Breath caught up in your throat as he made his way through the middle of the hall, bowing through the crowd of strangers. He removes his eyes from you as he lunges. You could feel the pricking in your eyes, the brims flooded with tears threatening to fall as you held a stare into his entire existence as you watched him leave. You tilted your head slightly at the sight of him, shuddered while your heart screamed for his name when your lips couldn’t.

“And with that, we’ve wrapped up our business convention for new aspiring entrepreneurs,” the emcee chirps awkwardly, through a grin. Seokjin disappears through the closing door. He tucks his hand into the dark long coat you saw him earlier with. It wasn’t your imagination, was it? You sprinted to the stairs, going down the stage and out the side door of the hall. You turned to the corners to where the exit leads to only for it to be filled with people who weren’t Seokjin. You were not ready to give up so you turned to the corners, walking past a few party people with cone hats and ridiculous Christmas outfits. There was a balcony party on the wooden patio. Seems like a celebration. There was a singer on the small stage with her own bands. She was singing Gabrielle Aplin’s Salvation. You pushed the glass door open and like a curtain, the people subsided, the crowd divided in the middle as they let you see him standing looking outward to the mountains when she sang “My salvation, my my...” You could see the back of his head, the shape of his shoulders under this dim light. You touched the fabric of his long coat like a ghost. He turns slowly and meets your eyes. He towers over you, the warmth emitting from his body wafting around your entire being. And you both stood there for what seemed forever. He didn’t quite know what to say or what to do. His eyes tell you everything his mouth couldn’t. The twinkle in his eyes, the small gap between his lips, the way his hot breaths come out like tiny puffs.

You whimpered, trying not to cry more than you already are.

“You’re severely under-dressed for the weather,” he broke the silence the only way Seokjin knew how. He sheds his long coat and as he does that he said, “It is definitely not your size but, it’ll have to do.” But you couldn’t look away from him. He wore a cream knitted wool turtleneck underneath. Your heart swells with all the words you wanted to say but you couldn’t; now that he is right in front of you. He collects your frozen hands into his and blows hot breaths on them. He did so without breaking eye contact with you. Now you can’t control the tears falling, or the sad smile you gave him. It was such a long wait to see him again. He thumbed your tears away.

“It’s cold outside,” he whispered, “Would you care for a coffee at midnight?”

You nodded and sniffled, giggling.

The mugs are warm and you clasped both hands on them as he did the same to his. Sitting on the tall chair by the French window where you could see the snow fall continuously, you studied Seokjin features. Wanting to know what he was thinking about but there was no easy way.

“I wished I read your postcards sooner,” you started with a shaky voice, “‘Astilbe, in Verbier, when the earth circles the sun once more’, I will wait for you in Verbier in the new year. That was smart. I wanted to say I’m sorry it took me so long. I had to fix everything I shove under the rug. I… I don’t want to be with you while I’m broken. My sharp edges will hurt you.” You swallowed a gulp of saliva. The waiter came to your table and gave a square shaped receipt that Seokjin took in a flash.

“After the divorce, I searched for everything I thought was hurting me. I slept in the house I wanted, arranged the furniture the way I wanted, and cooked what I wanted with a bunch of garlic. I worked in the office alone, went to work alone, and had breakfast, lunch and dinner alone. And it was great… Until it wasn’t. I listen to your voice notes every night before I go to sleep… I couldn’t touch your books because it feels like you might be home anytime. I cooked too much for 1 person. And my pasta never tastes like the ones you made… Sometimes I call your number to see if you’d answer but I usually hang up before the first ring. See, I’m not here to ask for your pity. I just want you to know what happened to me when you left.”

Seokjin carried the receipt into his lap and hung his head low.

“Not that you should care,” you giggled bitterly, “But I learned that this is how you fall in love.”

You blinked slowly to the view of the half-drunk coffee mug in front of you.

“I came here not knowing how else I could reach you and tell you how I feel. I hope I’m not making a complete fool of myself…” you paused. He didn't say a word and was still lowering his head, looking at whatever he was occupied with.

“Can you please say something, I’m starting to feel really embarrassed,” you said in one breath.

Seokjin finally lifted his shoulders and straightened in his seat before putting his closed hand on the table. When he opened them and slid his hand away, there was a paper ring he made from the receipt the waiter gave earlier.

“I left your ring in the hotel room so this will have to do for now…” .

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↳ author’s notes I would like to thank all readers for staying with me throughout this story, I hope you enjoyed soft Seokjin as much as I did and I hope my stories helped you go through your daily life a bit easier. Things had been bleak these days and I am not sure if next year is going to be any different. I hope you stay safe and keep yourself well hydrated and fed with good healthy food with the people you love and care about. Signing off for now, your author, Anissa <3. Happy Birthday to the December babies and Happy New Year. 

Seokjin carries the duffel bag over his shoulder and places them in the backseat. You were scheduled for a uterine polypectomy. It is a surgical removal of polyps that will require general anesthesia and take up to 2 weeks to recover from. Your doctor decided on incision since the ultrasound scan and vaginal inspection represents a particularly large (but harmless) polyps. Under Seokjin’s (frantic) advice, you decided to proceed with the surgery. He is now driving you to the hospital where you will be admitted for 2 weeks. Upon arrival, they readied a wheelchair for you. Seokjin hijacked the wheelchair and insisted on pushing you. He also placed the duffel bag in your lap.

“This is ridiculous, I can walk,” you groaned and cowered, trying to make yourself small.

He scolds you with a hiss.

“Ninth floor, ObGyn ward. Room 2,” he reads the scraggly writing at the top of the pink card you brought with you, “You have to change to the ugly hospital clothing.”

Settling into the spacious room with wide windows overlooking the busy city, you lift yourself from the wheelchair and open the duffel bag to begin organizing the stuff you will need for your stay. The nurse and doctor came to greet you and your designated husband. Rich people have different perks, that’s for sure.

“I hope we will be able to provide you with excellent hospitality and medical service throughout your stay, Mrs. Kim…” the doctor bowed slightly and bowed back at her.

“If there are no complications, you might be discharged earlier than planned. The surgery itself will not take very long as it is simple. We will do our best.”

“Please change into the hospital clothing and press the call button if you need any assistance,” the nurse reminded you and your husband with a smile. Seokjin raised his hand and asked, “Is my portable bed arriving soon?”

Portable bed? Is he going to stay here?

“Yes they are preparing it, they will have it transported here as soon as it is ready,” the nurse nodded in enthusiasm.

Seokjin smiled widely, satisfied that his request had been granted. He glances briefly at you, who was brewing in confusion. Seokjin rests his hand behind his back as he watches the medical team leave. He slid the door shut and turned to you.

“Portable bed…?” you raised your voice, ever so slightly.

“I am not going to sleep alone in that house,” he shakes his head while maintaining a smile, letting you know how outrageous the idea is. He would much rather sleep here than the house without you.

“There are no neighbors, and it’s dark at night,” he pokes his head into the fridge, choosing the snacks he feels like eating. With the seriousness of a man who was on an over-extended honeymoon trip. He lifts his eyes at you while hugging a potato chip bag in his arm and shoving a gummy into his mouth with another, “What are you doing? They tell you to change to the hospital’s garment, don't they?”

You glared at him over your shoulders. There is no curtain in this room. No visible barriers. No privacy. Seokjin stared blankly at your dragon eyes. They look like they’re about to spew out laser and it got him clutching his dear self until he realised,

“Oh,” he gasped. Must grant the wife some privacy she clearly doesn’t need.

Seokjin gets pushed to face the wall. While you unbutton your blouse one-by-boring buttons, your phone shrills the familiar ringtone. Bad news is, your phone is on top of the duffle bag next to where Seokjin is standing. In the other corner of the room. And to say that you were underdressed was an understatement because apart from your bras and undies, you have practically nothing else on. Walking over to that man over there is not an option.

“Can you answer that for me?” You pleaded, “It might be important.”

Seokjin glanced at the screen and saw the caller ID, “Namjoon.”

“No, actually,” he rolled his eyes to the back of his head and tilted his head back.

“Seokjin, please, it’s my research,” you begged while putting one arm through the striped pajamas.

“Fussy,” he shot and swiped his thumb over the phone and tapped ‘Loudspeaker’.

“Hey,” the honey dripping deep voice resonates throughout the room, “I’ve been trying to reach you, the phenolic content comes out in positive numbers today, I can send you the black-and-whites if you want.” Melodic was his voice and they seem to echo on the strings of your heart, if you dare say so yourself. But it is difficult to be perfectly bare with your feelings because the reason for your secrecy is standing right there listening to the whole conversation.

“I am sorry, I’m a little caught up with some things,” you chuckled breathlessly, “Is it possible for you to email them to me, so I can do the calculations?”

The young man hikes a breath in, through his teeth, whistling, “I’ve printed it out though. Thought it would be easier for you to demangle the number crunching with the papers in hand,” Namjoon bit his lower lip, “I’m just going to be straight forward now, I wanted to see you. Let me know where you are… I’ll buy you coffee.” The young lad added a little bribe at the end.

You smiled, before remembering that Seokjin was in the room and listening to everything. Clearing your throat, you intend to reply to another plausible rejection but the nurses knock on your room to send Seokjin his portable bed.

“Mr. Kim, your portable bed has arrived,” the nurse slides the door open as you put on your trousers. You dashed towards the phone and grabbed them. Hastily put it against your ear and turned off the loudspeaker mode. You succumbed to Namjoon’s request. Seokjin shifted himself to the other corner of the room and waited as they set his bed up. Then he sat on your bed as you got needles pierced into your vein so they could insert an IV line for your IV bag. You ended the call with Namjoon, ensuring that he could stop by in the evening. And because of that, you need Seokjin to disappear for the night.

“Well, it doesn’t look half bad on you,” Seokjin commented on your hospital gown.

“Leave me alone for one night, just one night I’m asking from you,” without missing a beat, you said, begging, clasping your hands together in desperation, “Please! I happen to really like him. I sacrificed my entire life for you, can I just have this one person, one man fall for me? For who I really am and not who I pretend to be.”

So that’s how he wound up kicking air outside the hospital garden as the night grew darker. His lower lip jutted out, chin’s touching his chest, hands dug deep into his jeans pocket. He shudders, shivering at the cold. Cold breath escapes his mouth as he braves the chilly weather with thin clothing.

“What is so great about him…” he huffs angrily. Another pebble kicked from the pavement. He hung his head down.

“I called you day and night, just to hear your voice even when you were miles away despite the timezones. Took care of your stupid ankle. Wrote you a postcard. One guy came when I was away and suddenly, he’s all you see. What about me?! Don’t I matter?!” He glared at the building where your ward is to scream, “You blind women! Why do I even bother about you!”

He fishes his phone out of his back pocket to see zero notifications.

“She said she’ll call when it’s done, what is taking her so long?! It’s been 25 minutes!” he groaned to his phone, “It’s not even that cold anymore now that I am angry…”

Rubbing the palm of his hand together, he covered his ear shells that are turning red at the freezing temperature, “Nevermind, it’s still cold.” He shudders violently this time, kicking himself to jog to generate some heat in his body. He ends up running round and round the park for real, actually exercising. He did some sit-ups, push-ups and mimicked a boxing match with himself. Complete with the sports commentator played by himself and his opponent is the guy named ‘Namjoon’. Sweat came beading on his forehead, trailing down his jaw. The back of his shirt was damp with a wet patch the size of a book.

Through the bushes, he saw Namjoon leaving. The boy got long legs and a baseball cap on, covering half of his face. He carries a backpack with its strap on one shoulder, steadily making his way down on the declining road. Seokjin squinted his eyes at the oblivious guy and made his way inside.

When he arrived at your room, the lights were off. You had your back turned to the door as you lay to your side facing the window.

“Sleeping?” he asked gently, leaning against the wall, hiding at the corner.

“Was,” you shot dryly, “What is it?”

“The nurses outside asked what you wanted for your breakfast tomorrow,” Seokjin continued.

You finally turned to him, “Why are you talking to me from there?”

“You asked for space,” he blinks, “How does an omelet sound?”

You nodded, “Are you staying here tonight?”

“If you want…” Seokjin drew circles on the wall, pouting.

“Nevermind, don’t answer that. Might as well let the facade live on. Omelet sounds great…”

His heart broke a little. You called the relationship a facade. The fact that you’re not entirely wrong about it— makes his heart crumble a bit. Like water. In extensive hunger for any nourishing love, yours were like water on his desert. And he is dying of thirst he hasn’t quite recognised yet.

“Seokjin,” you called for him softly, “What does it mean when a guy says he wants to be a safe place?”

“What else could it mean, it means he wants you to regard him as someone to confide in,” Seokjin answered mindlessly. His eyes blasted open when he realised what he’s done.

“W-why?” he stammered.

“The guy earlier, Namjoon. He said he wants to be my safe place,” you sighed.

You continued to tell Seokjin how Namjoon had been occupying your mind ever since you met him. He didn’t mind running errands for you. Started to watch movies together. Lunch and breakfast. You spent most of your time in the lab with him and it felt natural since it feels like work. Love would be the meeting of the minds, you’d say.

“He burns into my mind like an acid, erasing what I knew about friendship and love. So I had been thinking about us,” you huffed, feeling the heaviness in your chest weighing you down like an anchor. Seokjin grips tighter on the tips of his pillow, lying on his side, curled into a ball. He would run miles to escape this impending separation. He stood between hanging on and letting go. Was it even love to begin with? Was he in love or has he used the circumstances to trap you, tricking you into possession? Seokjin’s knuckles turned white at how hard he was gripping the pillow.

“Do you like him?” Seokjin asked.

“I know I don’t dislike him…” you shot back, a hint of a smile on the corner of your lips before it vanishes when you switch to your side to look at Seokjin bed beside you, “What do you think?”

Seokjin forces his eyes shut with his back to you, and he mumbles back, “Does it matter what I think.”

It does. Your heart whispers.

Your meals were served at 8AM, 1PM and 6PM everyday. Seokjin leaves the hospital for work as usual. He leaves at 7AM and returns at 9PM, sometimes 10PM. Despite the auditing going on, Seokjin works with the planning department for a new product launch. He has his head hung low, hunched over a pie chart of buyer demographics. He would return to the hospital no matter how late to check on you. He rises up at 5AM and heads home to cook. He prepares a menu for you to choose from and asks the nurse to pass them to you, saying that it's from the cafeteria. The night before the operation, you weren’t allowed to eat. He sat outside the operation theatre hall, glancing once in a while to the screen indicating the names of the patient. He paces left and right. Makes a couple of bathroom trips to vomit and defecate. He checks his phone but he feels anxious. The continuous caffeine intake proves to be detrimental to his anxiety. It took over 5 hours.

The operation was a success but your oxygen level was low so you had a non-rebreather mask covering your nose and mouth that would aid the oxygen intake. You had been responding positively towards the anaesthetic recovery. The doctor commanded for you to move your right fingers and hovered a flashlight over your eyes. It constricts in the presence of light. Though slowly, you managed to lift your forefinger no higher than the bed frames. You were transported back into your ward to recover, where you rested until the numbness subsided. You managed to clutch on the nurse’s uniform to ask where Seokjin was.

She said that he left not long ago.

What did you expect? For him to wait for you?

Yoongi knocks on the door for you. He holds a tray of food: porridges, anchovies and warm drinks wearing a big smile. He held his hand out before you tried to sit up and raised the upper side of the bed with a remote.

“Seokjin…”

⸻

A week has passed. You came down with a fever but the doctor said it was common after penetrative surgery. With some antibiotics and painkillers to cope, Seokjin comes in with a cooling patch whenever your body heats up and an extra blanket when you feel cold. He fed you with soups he said he bought but you clearly heard him from the kitchen with the pots clanking and vegetables chopped. There were varieties of the porridges he made. Most of them have abalones slices he claims for strength. Once, you took a spoonful of rice from him and your face crumpled.

"Chicken gizzards?"

"Chicken gizzards, yes. I know you hate them, but it is good for you," he said in a coaxing way.

"They taste so bad," you made a sad face to him but he wasn't swayed. Not even the slightest bit.

But that was how it is. The week after you are discharged from the hospital. He can't really go anywhere without the press hounding him like maggots over rotten meat. He had to hold meetings online because of the pandemic and you had to attend online lectures since you were unwell after the surgery. It was nice to see him at every corner where you were. He had his office remade to house another desk for you so you don't have to use the dining table. So when you are typing your thesis, you would trail your eyes to where he is and watch his mouth turn into little pouts as he proceeds thinking. He responds dramatically to every hiss and winces you make. Concerned washed over his face. He lets you borrow his computer when yours was taking too long to update and you have a lecture to attend while he uses the iPad in the living room so he won't bother with his pressing questions towards his planning department. He learns that you like coffee in three ways: bitter, sweet, milky—depending on the mood of the day. He accommodates it, accordingly. If it is bitter, it's black, 1 teaspoon of coffee, no sugar, no milk. If it is sweet, it's 1 teaspoon of coffee, 2 teaspoons of sugar. If it is milky, it is 1 teaspoon of coffee, and 2 teaspoons of sweetened condensed milk. Bitter is for days you require brain power, productivity. Sweet is for days that are stressful and a little anxious. Milky is for days that are good and usually fridays. Seokjin would pass you a mug while he had his earphones on. You would clasp your palm over its warm body while you mouthed 'Thank You' for him to ignore.

The auditing is wrapping up soon, and with lack of evidence to charge Seokjin over the bribing accusations, the investigation seems bleak and uncalled for. The accuser will begin to name names. As to who made him file a false report and why. So for that Seokjin isn't worried—he already knows several names that are going to be on there without question.

Light shone from the hallway downstairs suggests that Seokjin had returned home. You look at the time, rubbing your eyes. The long strenuous hours in front of the computer screen is taking its toll. It's a little past 2AM. He had been distant. A little quiet. Ever since he saw you and Namjoon walking home from the campus. He was peeking through the shades as you both spoke in the garden. You were holding a bouquet made of dandelions and street-plucked flowers. They were from Namjoon. You told Seokjin he picked them from the garden along the campus greenwalks. Seokjin simply nods. Then he says he is leaving to get a contract paper he needs to sign in the office building. You knew it was a shabby excuse to leave the house when he could have had Yoongi deliver them by car. Maybe he needed the fresh air. Couped up in the house isn't healthy. But still. Coming home at 2AM is… unlike Seokjin. Your feet pads downstairs softly. And you saw him sitting by the kitchen counter.

“Might as well stay the night at the office if you were coming home this late,” you tied your hair up in a ponytail to catch him eyeing at an empty green bottle of soju before reaching out for another one. Something’s wrong.

You hurried to pinch his chin and do a scan on his face. He didn't push you away.

His face was busted.

Primed bruises. Dried blood patches at the corner of lips. Swollen cheekbone. Bloodshot eyes. Buttons on his shirt flew off, leaving his chest open. His busted knuckles and chipped nails. He stuck rolled tissue tips in one of his nostrils and there were traces of blood dripped on his otherwise white dress shirt. His blazers were torn at the seams with its strings sticking out.

"I'm fine," he turns away, escaping your hand and proceeds to snap the soju bottle open.

"I hope the other one ends up in the hospital if you came home like this," you dashed to the cabinet and took out a first aid kit.

"Dad knew about our deal," he hung his head low at the same time he put down the bottle of hard liquor, "That bastard Ian told him."

You flipped the clip on the box open and brought it to him. You grabbed his knee and turned him to face you. He looked at you with a heavy lidded eye, chin tilted slightly upward. You fetched a cotton pad and dabbed a bottle of disinfectant on them before rubbing them on his wounds. Gently. His eyelids flutter at the pain. But that was it. He locked his eyes on you and grabbed the soju bottle from the side and drunkenly put the mouth of the liquor between his lips. He tips a little until the liquid enters his mouth in copious amounts. He is quite known to have a higher alcohol tolerance. And to have him in this state of drunk, it must’ve been his 3rd or fourth bottle.

"So I punched the life out of him," he slurred.

"Good job," you hummed, standing in between his knees to treat his wound, "Is that what you want to hear from me?" You tip your challenging eyes up at him. He didn't reply. He just glued his eyes on you. Follow your every move.

"Are you worried about embracing the homelessness?" You paused, grabbing the cotton tip and squeezed a thin amount of ointment on it before you gently graze Seokjin's cut and wound. You grabbed his chin and stayed inches away from his lips. He was docile, and tame. He let you do anything to him.

"You shouldn't be… you have a new project now, you have your own savings, you have made a team that is loyal to you, you have nothing to be afraid of," you kept your voice clear and firm and soft. You also told him how he helped your family get a head start in their life, even helped you afford a house for your parents and helped pay for your medical expenses.

"For the divorce, can I have this house?" You cracked a smile and joked. But he didn't share the humor.

“If I'm honest, you can have anything you want but do you know what I want?” Seokjin bats his eyelashes at you, arching one eyebrow.

With a small smile at the tips of your lips, you hoped to play along with the wounded boy you see. To you right now, he is drunk, beaten black and blue and the words that are leaving his mouth sounds like a tall tale aside from the fact that he revealed what he father knew. But you knew this was going to happen sooner or later. You have somehow prepared for it. The tip of the cotton bud barely touched his skin.

“What possibly could the majestic worldwide handsome Kim Seokjin want?”

“Live a life where I will see you when I come home,” His eyes sparkled with impending tears, and he lifted his left finger and showed his wedding band, “And wear this ring. Falling asleep and waking up next to you.” Not once, his eyes left you.

Your limp arm dropped to your side. The cotton bud followed after.

“If you ask me to live in this house without you, I don’t want to,” he raised his voice, tears spilling on either side of his cheeks, “So you can have it.”

“Seokjin, w-what are you saying?”

His eyes shift, trying to study yours.

“I could take hundreds of punches from my father’s knuckle, and bludgeon with a baseball bat till I am half dead but I have never felt as much pain as seeing you with someone else,” he pounded his fist against his heart repeatedly. Tears falling on either side of his cheek, polling at his chin until finally, create a wet stain on the floor too minute to even be seen. He gathers your hips in his arms, nuzzling his face in your stomach, sniffling. His face turned red from crying. Strong smell of alcohol clouded your thoughts. What is he saying?

“I don’t know when it began,” his voice muffled against your shirt, “Might have been when you saved me from drowning in the pool. Or when you cooked for me. Or when you held my hand in the car. Or when you hugged me at the airport. Or when you called through my phone. Or when you showed me a world I never knew about. Somewhere, I begin falling for you.”

“Seokjin, it was… it was staged,” you unveiled his arm from around you, pushing him back as hard as you can, and you took his chin in between your thumb and forefinger. Trying to pull the sense out of him, “You told me to pretend.”

“You feel it too, don't you?” he pleads, “Along the way, you stopped pretending, I could feel it.” You froze in place. Unable to form a word to your jumbling thoughts. Your emotions were all over.

“Isn’t that why you keep seeing Namjoon? To stop yourself from falling in love with me? I saw you take off your ring whenever you meet him… you gave an impression that what we have is real, sacred, even. You heart trampler, you.”

He releases his chin from your grasp and turns his chair away from facing you. He sways drunkenly along his way to the couch in the living room, just a few steps away. He falls facedown on the seat with one of his legs dangling off one end. You fetched the empty bottles and threw them in the bin. Wiped the counter with a cloth. Collect his wallet from the table. Unfasten his wrist watch. Fixed his dangling leg. Treat his smashed knuckles a little more. Took off his socks. Wiped his arms and legs with wet tissues. You spread a blanket over his body so he could sleep better. Sets his Rolex folded neatly, on top of his wallet and phone.

“I fell in love hard and fast,” you whispered, “Moved on as fast too. Maybe you were right about Namjoon. Maybe I am stopping myself from falling for you even more than I already have. But we’re not meant to be. The math doesn’t work that way,” You sat on the floor by his limp body, folding your leg, knees to chest— looking at his back.

“You’re telling me all these pretty things but it doesn’t erase what you told me before; every time I catch myself loving you, I remember how you told me that I wasn’t enough for you that night on the cruise. And Namjoon never told me that… How can you love me? You’re just afraid of losing things. You never lose things.”

Previously, at noon of the same day.

“You merely see her as a charity work. Some kind of fulfillment, I know who you truly are Kim Seokjin,” Ian scoffed as he cards through the audit works Seokjin had carefully arranged.

Upon hearing those words, a ball of fist formed on Seokjin’s side.

“Like I get you,” Ian said with a thick Australian accent, “You’ve always been rather strange, thinking that you’re a better person than all of us combined… but I see you and your pretense.” He went on to explain how the marriage seemed bogus since Day-1 because he too knew how you were. Marriage was far from your thoughts, you made it clear.

“What’s the word,” Ian strolled around the desk after setting those papers down like they were feathers, then he looked up, dead into Seokjin’s burning gaze, standing under his nose, and he said, “Ah, noblesse oblige*.”

*noblesse oblige: a French expression from the times when the English nobility spoke French and maintains in English the meaning that nobility extends beyond mere entitlement and requires people who hold such status to fulfill social responsibilities.

A punch flew across Ian’s jaw. Bloodied knuckles and busted lips. Bruised cheeks. Seokjin grabs Ian by the collar. He hisses. Breathing heavy. His limp body rose up. Seokjin delivers another tasteful punch. Ian’s back is on the floor as he brazes blow by blow by his former classmate. He shoves Seokjin away after his punches felt weak. Seokjin fell on his ass. Purple bruises form on the side of his lips. Ian’s eyes were psychotic, erratic. He wipes the dripping blood from his chin for a moment and charges back to confront Seokjin. Ringing in his ears. Mind numbing ring. Loud and stinging. His clouded eyes. He couldn’t feel his hands. They seem to have a mind of its own.

Shoving Seokjin to the ground, Ian grapples Seokjin’s collar. A cynical smile drew across his lips. Seokjin’s back slightly lifted as the man above him pulled his face closer.

“Just like high school huh,” Seokjin snickered, tasting the stale blood on his tongue truly bringing him back to the days. Those days were confusing, aimless at most. He lives with neither his father nor mother. He was in all-boys school and was an easy target. He had a collection of broken spectacles. Ian was there to watch, sometimes being the reason for his bruises.

“Noblesse oblige my ass,” Seokjin deeply chuckled, “For someone who claims to know her more than I do, you are really annoying.”

Ian’s smile melts away, turning into a frown.

“You saw her work everyday, you think that was for her? Her father’s a gambler, she is working to pay his debts…” Seokjin sniffles, “My father knew that too.”

So if Ian thought revealing the marriage contract would turn his father away, he was not entirely right. Rather, Seokjin’s father came to advise that the marriage should be dissolved so a genuine one could happen. But Seokjin was not sure if that was what you wanted.

“But divorce is not an option right now,” Seokjin braves, a few hours earlier when he arrives at his father’s office, “Not with the media putting us under the microscope. I have a family to protect now. Not your version of a family, but my version of a family.”

The senior one, with gray hair and receding hairlines replied with a weak gritty voice, looking out the window, “Do what you must. But she deserves a love that is real.” And it left a profound dent in Seokjin’s heart, his father’s words. The way it crumpled his hope, wringing him dry, slapping him into reality. Seokjin himself knew that he wasn’t lying throughout the time with you. And then it plummeted into him, do you think the same way too? That his love wasn’t real?

He was driven home in that state of brokenness, limping to the door at 2AM. His eyelashes bats towards the view of the door of the house he designed, and the view he chose. His heart felt hollow so he tried to fill them up with hard liquors. Not knowing how it will affect him.

When did the lie end and the truth begin?

⸻

Don’t you sometimes wish you could read someone’s mind? Just as they come awake, and just as they go asleep. When they stroll around in the garden with a cup of tea in their hands and when they sit in their chair, carding through intricate documents. The lines in his foreheads and what it all meant. His pursing lips and coiled fingers. His silence and sighs. It was only when Seokjin raised his head slightly did you realize that you were staring at him across the room through your desktops and your stationery. He didn’t comment on the rudeness and you were slightly thankful for it.

Curling the escaped locks of hair behind your ear, you switched your attention to the computer screen in front of you. Handwritten notes, sticky notes decorate your desk and computer. Piles and piles of scribbles, half-written equations scattered around. Calendars are riddled with circles and Xs to enunciate important dates and whatnot. Personal lab assistant numbers on the desk right next to the wireless mouse and some bottled snacks in case you got hungry. A cookie jar was brought in by Seokjin. There was a note from Yoongi on them when you received it. Yoongi wouldn’t have bought that the marriage was fake. He was the only one you let see the vulnerable side of you when Seokjin isn’t around. Maybe you did care. But it’s hard to tell. Since you would treat anyone with a story like Seokjin’s the same.

You pitied him. And the life he had.

Sunlight shone through the French windows, projecting it’s light on your turquoise ring and the diamond around it propagated a rainbow on the walls that hit Seokjin’s face. The intense light bothered Seokjin enough for him to squint at the source of it. When he saw that it was your moving wrist, typing on the keyboard of the computer with a face so earnestly burdened by the work plunged by the university, his thoughts quieted down to a halt. He straightens up in his seat and rests his elbows on the side of the table as he reads the document in his hand.

The house will be hers. The cars of her choice will be hers. Her existing medical bills are paid, and the future bills will be paid as well. She will be granted as many helpers as she needs. Her education will be paid by the research and development unit of the company. All her research will be protected under the company’s legislation. She will be employed after graduation and if she wishes to pursue PhD, she can do so.

Seokjin ensured that the settlement was generous enough. For Seokjin, writing and revising all of these divorce papers with the person he was in love with in the same room was difficult. But he could not be selfish, could he? She was right… She had sacrificed her life, to save him. And he could never put a price on that. He knew he could treat her right, but if she doesn’t want to be here, it is not his place to force her. After all, he had said way too many things to even ask forgiveness for. She truly believed that she wasn’t enough for him. Was he afraid of losing her?

He leaves the room for air since the space was too suffocating for him. Digging his hand into his pocket as he exhaled hot breath on the foggy window, he appeared to be entranced with his own deafening thoughts. His hand covered the knob and twisted it open. He steps outside to the garden behind the house. Once in a while, he slouches over the shrub of flowers, thumbing the colourful petals of peonies ever so gently. You looked at the view of his back from the kitchen window, wondering what it is he was doing while sipping down a small sip of warm water. With the divorce settlement on Seokjin’s table, you know that the divorce is coming soon. Anticipation wouldn’t be an appropriate word, but considering the cloudy grey area the relationship is in, you couldn’t help but slightly welcome it.

There was a side of you that wanted to watch him crumble, battered to pieces for the things he had said to you.

And the other, wanted to embrace him for the things he has helped you done, fix and provide solutions for. And a small, rebellious, intense fraction of you wanted to kiss his lips and leave him breathless— as if to say, “It is not I who was not enough, it was you.” And as the thought drilled through you, your phone vibrated an incoming call. Rachel.

Seokjin doesn’t know this, but while he was away for that long, you, on your own account, have met and spoken to Rachel.

She was elegant. Rachel. Very much like his mother were. She exudes an aura of authority and wherever she went, heads turned. Checkered blazers over a thin satin dress. Wide Ray Bans and stacked bracelets. She wore a tiny pendant and Cartier designer rings on her long manicured fingers. She pulled the chair back and sat with a sigh as the waiter approached her with a menu. She beams and asked with a chirpy voice, “I’ll have whatever the chef likes to cook… I asked for roasted quails the last time I went here, and remember how that went?” She gave a knowing smile to the waiter who was obviously uncomfortable with her straightforwardness. Wonder why she chose to meet here if she knew the quails were horrible?

She rests her elbow one after the other on the table, lacing her fingers slowly before putting her chin on top of one knuckle, still grinning, “So, what brings us here?”

“Are you going to warn me not to go near your husband or are you going to declare a setback knowing you cannot win a war you weren't equipped with?” she gave out a deep chuckle. She ensured that you couldn’t miss the judgmental tip of her eyes that went down your entire wardrobe and up again. A cunning smile etched on the corner of her lips. She thought you were going to frown defensively at her provoking nature but instead, you mirrored her moves. You smiled too.

“Such a small, minute world you live in,” you covered your lips with the cloth provided to you, “We are fighting two very different wars, I’m afraid…”

You dabbed the corner of your mouth, in a small attempt to make your voice clearer, “I have a liability that would overthrow you with a word. Senior Kim absolutely hates pushovers like you and if you think your blackmailing would make him force Seokjin to marry you, you’re wrong and terribly mistaken. And two, in the context of war where the prize is Seokjin isn’t a war I would like to fight. My war is against you who attempt to bring down a corporation that helped many with your filthy ways.” You carried on to tell her that being born in an influential family does not make her any less deplorable than the others. After all, influence cannot be passed down. Integrity does.

Upon hearing meticulous and eloquently put insult placed against her, she was served a cold turkey sandwich on her plate and raw quail as a warning by you. You cut through the pieces of steak as Rachel got up in anger, her blazer fell off the chair as she stormed.

“Seokjin had slept with me in the penthouse you both shared,” she spoke through clenched jaws, “We have had fuck on the same bed you lay asleep in,” she emphasized on the derogatory word. You continued chewing and letting out an unamused, “Hm.”

“Love, I think you don’t understand what meaningless rendezvous means, especially when he was blackmailed by you. You’re creating stories here and there, even you yourself couldn’t tell what’s the truth and what is not,” you waved your fork around with your eyes glued to your food, not paying the frantic any worthy attention.

Then she drew an auspicious smile, and she arched an eyebrow at your indifference.

The apples of her cheek rose, when she says, “There’s a necklace with an initial R in the old penthouse he lives in,” as if she holds a pride in it, “And he was married to you already.”

“Rachel,” you called her name like a teacher would to a student, “Stop embarrassing yourself. Why are you telling me this? To make me jealous?” And then it hit you that Rachel doesn’t know that the marriage was fake. If anything, in Rachel’s point of view, she still has a chance of ruining Seokjin’s life. Her goals were to destroy Seokjin solely. Which means you have to pretend to be territorial, but that’s too cliché. The only way to ruin a narcissist idealism, is to react the exact opposite. So you smiled, widely. It frowned her. You could see her chest heaving out of distaste and you could feel that she is physically hurt by the response.

“Darling, you wear your heart on your sleeves. That could be your downfall,” you joined your hand together, and tipped your head to one side grinning, winking, “This isn’t highschool. You make it so easy.”

You walked over to her side of the table and grabbed the raw quail and squeezed them all over her little Givenchy purse.

“You may find Seokjin a little gullible,” you calmly said, and moved to her ear, whispering, “But I’m not. You can try me. And I will gobble you entirely and chew you out, no one will recognize you.”

Then you wiped your oily hand on the side of her perfectly made-up face, and on her satin dress, “The thing about obsessively fixated on one object is that other people around you get disgusted by your obsession that they begin to have loose mouths. It’s safe to say that all the people who had their hands dirty working under you, are wanting to come clean to me. And as a result? I have more proof for your dirty laundry than your little love sick agenda on Seokjin.”

With that grizzly warning, Rachel now understood that she can’t afford to try anything if she wants to stay on the safe side. She may have underestimated you in the past. Now that you played the reverse card, she feels that her knees had given way as she sat on the edge of the chair while you left the restaurant, not quite the same person you came in as.

Rachel informs that she will return to the States. And that she will no longer bother you. How much that is true, has yet to be determined. Stepping out into the kitchen counter, there lies a bouquet of hand picked wild flowers from the garden in the backyard. Picking it up from where it was placed, you put the flower close to your nose and inhaled its scent. You caressed every stem, and imagined you had watched Seokjin arrange every one. Wondering what he was thinking about as he collected them in his hands in this cold, feverish weather. Realizing that no matter how much you were dying to,

You cannot read someone’s mind. Let alone their hearts.

⸻

The tip of the Parker pen dances over the paper’s surface forming an intricate line. Done with the signing, you recapped the pen. Your lips pursed in concentration as if you were mulling over the terms. But you felt Seokjin’s eyes on you. Six weeks— the words repeated in the back of your head. The divorce papers will be finalized in six weeks. Since there are no disputed properties, it will not take long. And since the marriage isn’t real, the divorce didn’t feel like one. You were still staying in the same house even after a day the divorce papers were signed. The remaining six weeks will be a rollercoaster.

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To be continued…

Copyright © August 28th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading :)

“I would never dream Seokjin would aspire to have a scientist wife, I know he could be really impatient with things,” she chirped and the light reflected in her eyes, “But I’m sure he had given you a long thought. It’s always a joy having you around. I’ve received the homemade kimchi you sent. I only eat 4 slices a day…”

“But why? Didn’t they taste alright?” you sparked an obvious panic.

“No, no,” she raised her hand slightly from the table, shaking her head, “Quite the opposite. I was being careful not to finish it too fast…”

“Oh I could make one jar for you right now, we can go get the things in the nearby grocery!” You suggested.

“I think that’s a grand idea!” she smiled.

The helpers arrive with a trolley and they begin arranging the food on the table. Seokjin mother excuses herself to catch another call and that’s when you snuck your hand under your thigh massaging it tenderly because they begin to go stiff. You take the time to peek at your phone. One unread message from Seokjin.

“How’s the dinner?” - Seokjin

“Pretty okay…” you replied.

When you lifted your head up, the maid was done setting up the table. It was a formal dining setting. The kind that you see in hotels and expensive restaurants. You widened your eyes and took pictures of the arranged cutleries. There’s more than one spoon on one side and also forks and knives too.

“She does that to scare people,” Seokjin replied with a laughing emoji.

“Well, it’s working,” you typed back.

Seokjin wouldn’t help. He would rather watch as the chaos takes place and probably would ask his mother about it so they could laugh about it together. Frantically, you search google. There’s pictures on how to set them up but not really how to use them. They do explain how to use it but it’s in essays. You darted at the view of his mother’s moving shoulder from the corner of the balcony outside, scrolling down the said essay when Seokjin’s caller ID flashed your screen.

“Tsk, I was reading…” you groaned into the call, tapping ‘Answer’.

“Listen up, focus,” he commands under his breath, “You used the silverwares from outside to inside. The weird knife is for fish. The spoon that’s oddly big, is for soup. The spoon at the top is for dessert. Got it?”

“Outside in. Weird knife, fish. Big spoon, soup. Top spoon, dessert,” you repeated.

“Atta girl, I have to go now,” Seokjin said in a rush and you could hear some ruffling and then the line cut off before you could say bye. A tiny ‘thank you’ escaped your lips at the view of the ‘Call ended’ screen.

Why did it matter to you that you don’t mess this up? You know in your heart that when you stepped into this mansion, you wanted Seokjin to be proud. You wanted to carry yourself with pride. You wanted to walk into his mother’s life and made sure she will never forget your company for as long as she shall live. And not only that. You were indebted with her son. Without him, your mother would have to still wait for her turn. And now, by next week, she could be home. She doesn’t need to be hospitalized anymore. Your father can pay his bills with the work that he had. Your brother no longer had to worry if he could afford the next semester fee. You owe so much to Seokjin. Pretending doesn't feel like pretending anymore. It wasn’t as agonizing anymore. It is starting to blur.

Seokjin’s mother jogs to the table, apologizing profusely about the delay. You made some mistakes during dinner, using the dessert spoon for the soup and she didn’t really mind. She said she thinks the soup spoon is way too big for her mouth anyway. She was actually pretty chill, pretty laid back. You could see why some of that rubbed off on Seokjin. She has such a magnetic smile, a personality that just reels you in. When she speaks about the art, her face lights up and she gets you interested in many of the arts that she collected. She showed you a room full of sculptures. You couldn’t help but let out a gasp.

No matter how much you try to remind yourself that the sculptures are stones, the carvings were immaculate, that it seemed that it was covered in veil. One particular sculpture was pushing away a male figure that was holding her thigh. Her face displays a dire need to escape his grasp. It was so vivid, it felt as if you were right there watching it unfold.

“Bernini’s,” Seokjin mother smiles fondly, “It’s called the rape of Proserpina.”

“Simply exquisite… the marble looks like flesh,” your voice drifted, taken over by the admiration you felt.

“Seokjin liked this one too.”

⸻

Seokjin flew from one place to another for his work. Buying materials for the housings and having them bought and shipped to his home country. You both would call frequently to check on one another. It was never planned, you just began taking his calls whenever he did.

“I have started to pack the things and wait for the moving truck to arrive,” you showed him the old apartment’s empty spaces and the boxes outside the door, “I am excited to start redecorating the new place with prettier things. You told me to get an air fryer, so I went to shop for one but I can’t really understand the specs…”

“Why do you need to understand specs, just get one…” Seokjin turns to his computer. He had set the phone to stand from the side so you could see his side profiles while he works.

“I don’t know, I’ve never used one,” you shrugged, “Should I just get the one you used?”

“Yeah, they work great…” he drawls, hanging his jaw open while his face is shone by the light from the computer screen.

“Listen,” he started, “I’ve checked my past transactions and I realize that some of those didn’t go through for the last three months, can you double check your bank account? Did you receive the amounts at all?”

“Um no, I stopped getting texts from the bank,” you tuck your hair behind your ear as you sat on the floor to unscrew a trolley with a screwdriver, “I still have a lot so don’t worry about that.”

“But that’s the agreement, it isn’t an agreement if the payment isn’t done,” Seokjin writes something down on a small paper, “A contract is a contract.”

Blinking at the screw you’re undoing, you muttered out half-heartedly, “Y-yeah…” When you couldn’t recognize the somber tone leaving your lips, you cleared your throat and tried to liven up the mood, “All I’m saying is you should take your time to figure that shit out. I know a contract is a contract.” Hoping Seokjin didn’t catch it.

“Seokjin…” you called his name, barely a whisper.

“Hmm?” He hums back, peeling his eyes off the screen and turns to you on the phone.

“I met someone,” the doorbell rings from your side, “He asked me out this weekend. And he's here to help me move.”

⸻

The notice was written on a piece of A4 paper and was stapled on all four corners on the board. It reads, ‘Research Assistant. Major: Pharmaceutical. Contact: XX-XXXXXXX’

You hoped to meet a dependable one. You set the notice up at noon and by 4pm, you already received a text. It was odd to apply for a research assistant through a text rather than a call, but you decided to let that pass. You don’t want to be flaky, this person might be shy. His name is Kim Namjoon, he is in his third year going to four and would be very interested to be a part of your research team. A junior, and very eager. You asked to meet at the university’s coffee hub. He agreed. Said that he will be there right after his afternoon lecture ends.

The coffee hub is a haven to all coffee lovers who enjoy a quiet time, and some reading space. It had vine walls, with an open air balcony away from the road which reduces the sound pollution and it’s really relaxing. The croissant here is also really good. Ian and Suri hate this spot, it’s too windy they say. She doesn’t like her hair ruined, and Ian doesn’t like anything Suri doesn’t. From the distance, you see a tall young man in khaki trousers and black buzz cut hair walking towards the coffee hub entrance. He had one strap of his backpack sling over one shoulder and a book in one hand.

When he climbed up the stairs leading up to the balcony where you were, you slipped your hand over your ring. Slowly, you wriggle the ring off. Then you slid them inside your jean’s back pocket as you stood up to greet Namjoon. He bows. Towering you even from two-arm length away. He came with a beaming smile, with crinkles around his eyes, a dimple appeared in his cheek— and you forgot how to breathe.

He sets the book on the table.

“Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood, I see you’re a man of taste…” you smiled back at him. He charmingly returns the warm gesture, the welcoming introduction.

“It is not easy to find a like-minded soul in a place like this,” Namjoon chuckles handsomely, “Kim Namjoon,” he stretched out his hand for a handshake which you gladly take.

Without realizing, you spent hours talking to him about books, poetries and talking about museums— which was something you couldn’t share with Ian and Suri because they were never interested in those. While you were working, you would find time to escape the scientific world and dive into the deepest mind. Science has always been necessary to sustain life, but art is what we stay alive for. You felt heard. You talked about your interests, the things you like and adored. He too exchanged his magnificent view of the world, and it seemed like he had given a lot of thoughts about the world, life and produced social discussions. Talking about the core of problems, and with every question you provided every mechanism that could have led to it. And that was how it goes, back and forth.

Realizing that the sun is beginning to set and the people are starting to leave, you looked at the time.

“Oh my goodness, I’ve taken so much of your time and I didn’t ask anything about the research assistant post that is open,” you sat up, shaking your head trying to make sense of what has gotten into you. Namjoon titters in return.

“Has it not said much about the chemistry we have?” he smartly replied.

You smiled to your lap and lifted your head up to say, “I agree to the notion, and I hereby welcome you to the team. We start August…” you tipped your head to the side and looked into his dragon eyes, not realizing how magnetic they were, reeling you in. You couldn’t look away and he didn’t try to break the contact. It didn’t feel dangerous— if anything, it felt inviting. Irresistible pull. The gaze. Warm and alluring. His pupils dilated. Even his face was hit by the sunlight. His skin turns bronze. It was when the waiter came to your table that the magic dissipated.

Namjoon kept his gaze on you briefly despite that. Then he darts his eyes to the side before biting his lips, thinking.

“There is an exhibition tomorrow,” he clears his throat, “I think you’ll enjoy it…”

“Oh, is it only tomorrow, because I need to pack my things…” you begin to pack everything into your bed as he says, “I’m moving soon…”

“Oh,” Namjoon nodded.

You hurried to stand up and thanked him for his time. Then he watched you leave.

You took the bus and walked up your old apartment, hoping to get dinner delivered and then begin packing a few more boxes. You were digging the key into the keyhole when your phone rang an unsaved number.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” the deep voice greeted.

“Namjoon?” you asked.

Namjoon was sitting in his room on his bunk bed, throwing the tennis ball to the wall until it bounces back into his grasp, his large hand making it look small. Phone against his ears.

“Do you need help with moving?” he asked.

“Um, not really?” you replied.

“Oh I was just trying to find an excuse to meet you again, and I don’t,” you could hear him smile and you could almost see the shy smile he wore.

“You’re right, I don’t need help with moving I’m afraid…” you grinned as you pushed the door open with your body and set your bag on the counter.

“But you do have an excuse to meet me though,” he straightens up and bit his smile. The tennis ball bounces on the opposing wall, up the ceiling and into his hand in a rhythmic beat.

“Oh really, do I?” you sang.

“Yes you really do,” he darted playfully.

“Is that so? Mind elaborating?” you hunched over the counter, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips.

“You took my book home,” Namjoon’s tongue peeps out between his lips.

You frowned immediately, tipping your head to one side in confusion. It didn’t sound like you. You were ready to deliver a powerful rebuttal but as you try to recall whether or not you left the book on the table, your memories turned blank. It refused to create memories that didn’t happen. When you checked your bag and the red cover stood out, you held your breath and pinched the bridge of your nose.

From the silence, Namjoon caught you.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow and help you with the moving you didn’t need help with,” Namjoon smiles at the wall.

“I want to apologize about this, I don’t steal. I never steal, I promise,” you started explaining yourself, “I must have been out of my mind, that I just gathered everything into the bag.”

“Look it’s fine, Harumi Murakami’s work is a steal I agree,” he tutted his tongue, “Let’s arrange a proposition, I help you with the moving and not report you of stealing my book or you don’t accept my help and I get the police to arrest you. Choice is yours.”

You gave it a thought. It was obvious he wanted more time with you. He seems nice and you never really hear about him from the seniors and your current batchmates so it’s safe to say that he is pretty harmless. If he wasn’t, you’d be the first to hear.

“Fine,” you dropped your shoulder. The tennis ball stopped bouncing and remained in Namjoon’s hand. Then, “I could send the book over if you want?”

“No, I’ll come fetch it, chivalry is not dead,” Namjoon darted.

⸻

His slender fingers danced on the keyboard. Empty mug on the right side of the table left abandoned till the coffee stains a ring at the bottom. Seokjin cracks his head to the sides. His forefinger and thumb pinches his shoulder and a sigh leaves his lips. The window on his left is foggy, no trace of light except for the lamp by the roadside. He rests the back of his head on the chair, his eyes clenched as he frowns. The stress from staring at the screen for a long period of time started to tax him mercilessly.

“My daughter,” Seokjin heard your father say, “She’s not easy to love.” Seokjin’s brows twitch as he ruminates the night you had dinner with him and his father on the ship.

“I am afraid that you will not treat her well,” your father said, “She’s been through so much. She had saved her mother, and me, more times than I could count. She had spent her life dedicated to us. I don’t want you to hurt her,” he continued. With the puzzling and aggressive warning, Seokjin tried to control his expression so as to not put off the elder man. Despite the rejection, Seokjin grabs a tong and places a lobster on his plate.

“You yourself are an attractive young man, I’m sure you have choices of women far better than my daughter. Do you understand what I am saying, boy?”

Seokjin directs your father to the grill where he could watch the chef grill the lobster he chose, and while they watch the flames go up in smoke, Seokjin replied, “It’s quite the opposite, sir. Your daughter has choices of men far better than me. But we chose each other. And if you fear I hurt her, I’m afraid about that too. Not by me, but my surroundings.”

Seokjin blinks to the black screen of his computer, taken back to the present. He peeks through his bangs at the view of the airline tickets website heading to Seoul wondering if he could jump into an airplane right now. That’s right, he must have been away for too long. The moment you said you met someone, his heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach. He went to sleep right after the video call you both had. And when he did, he had a dream. In that dream, he was in the middle of a faceless crowd who was unaware of him there. He caught a glimpse of you and suddenly, these crowds turned into walls then to a maze. The vines grew but when he touched them, his fingers bled. He walked through the columns he was in, turning at the corners after corners, after endless corners to never see the way out and always catching only the sight of your fingers slipping at each edge. It was always close enough for him to touch but because of his doubt, his fear, he didn’t. As the maze grew in size it seems, Seokjin braved himself to touch you. After several tries, he managed to catch your hand and held it firm, enough to yank you towards him. That’s when the walls crumble into sand.

You looked at him unsuspectingly.

“I met someone,” your voice was distorted and detached. The moment your hands slipped out of his grasp, he shook himself awake.

And that’s why he is at the airport now, trying to catch a flight home to Seoul from Beijing. He is gripping on the bag strap until his knuckles turned white with eyes burning into the ‘departure’ sign at the top of the automated glass doors. He passes the ticket to the stewards and heads into the plane.

And I chase it down with a shot of truth.

In the plane, Seokjin requested for today’s newspaper. The front page reads “Kim Holdings Bribed Me.” Seokjin straightens up in his seat.

Seokjin checks for a press conference held by the accuser. He was wearing a black mask and held his face down in shame. The housing project Seokjin had started is under the scrutiny that the money obtained was a bribe and there was an alleged attempt for money laundering. The accusations came from none other than the Devil uncle and his illegitimate son, Ian. Seokjin believed that the sex tape scandal will soon follow if he dare to continue with appointing the new CFO* to replace the uncle.

CFO* : Chief Financial Officer

The Devil Uncle started several NGO* orphanages homes to avoid taxes and in turn, the orphans under the care were abused and severely neglected. Seokjin was trying to uncover more evidence to yank it from the nub and he cannot do that if he is in Seoul because the uncle and everyone that helped him will keep everything hidden. That’s why he had to leave. While the cat’s are away, the mice will play. He was collecting the evidence that would help him convince his father and the lawyer to get rid of the uncle. He was so close.

However, along with this news, Kim Holdings will look bad. What’s worse is that, Seokjin along with the new appointed CFO as the new faces of the company, would be most likely to be kicked out. Synonymously, new faces are expected to have less experience and usually shoulder the blame for the downfall of a project. The outermost layer of the wall gets the most abuse. Considering the years, Kim Holdings is no stranger to scandals like this. The same thing that gets them into trouble, is the same thing that gets them out: money. So what is the next step?

The division will try to contact Seokjin. The legal team will get involved, and Seokjin’s best bet is that they have already gotten their heads together. First, they will ensure if the accusation is legit and run in-house investigations. The financial department and ‘The Money Project’ team will be placed on lockdown. All paperwork are skimmed through and transaction records will be audited. When an accusation as serious as this occurs, it is absolutely fundamental that every single person involved is put under serious scrutiny and that includes the project leader: Kim Seokjin. He already expected his father would not come near him until he had fixed the whole problem and started with a clean slate. However,

His father is contacting him right now.

“There has been an attempt to cut you off the board of members,” Senior Kim sounded out of breath, “The legal team is investigating, where are you right now?”

“On my way home…” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose then glanced at the iPad screen on his lap.

“Good-good,” Senior Kim sounded pleased, “With how quick things are going, I am under the suspicion that someone in the board is trying to sever your project. I know you have a clear name in your head, but I believe there is more. I have just released the family registrar a week ago and I am certain someone is not happy about it.”

“I have more than one name,” Seokjin expressed.

“I know,” Senior Kim shot back, “There are several transactions that are disputed from your personal accounts that I would like to ask you about—”

“Dad,” Seokjin tries to explain, “It is not a bribe. That one is not a bribe, I promise.”

Senior Kim nods, “You’d think you’d be dumb enough to do bribes with a personal account? You’re my son, you can’t be that stupid. I believe you. I believe you now.”

Seokjin held his breath. The validation he had been begging for, all his life, is handed to him in a phone call. Seokjin knows how lonely it was for his father. He cannot trust many people and he had led a lonesome life with his reclusive attitude. He only had one friend, and that was your father. He is under the impression that everyone who knows him as a business magnate has no other intentions but to bring him down. And that belief can make someone very defensive even when he has no need to.

Midair, Seokjin learned about the scandal. He isn’t going to lie, running away from it would have been desirable albeit stupid. But knowing that you’re on the ground, with the possibilities of handling this alone, unsettles him. He is terrified. So many things could go wrong. But knowing that his father is on his side, eases him a bit. Having Senior Kim ensures experience. The rest, he will have to rely on the legal team and public relation (PR) team. He doesn’t know if you have learned about this. You said you were going to the lab for the morning. Upon remembering you, he texted Yoongi.

⸻

Seokjin pierced through the crowd, making his way through. Shoulders brushed, he muttered meaningless apologies. When he stepped out the glass doors of the arrival, he saw you. His feet lunge with gusto at the sight of you. He hopes to close the distance as quickly as he can. He leaves his luggage bag behind him, rolling on its wheels idly.

He collects you in his arms, burying his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent like he was deprived of it. His eyes are wide open, as if he couldn’t believe that he is on the soil of his home country after months away— and holding you in his arms. He couldn’t quite word his feelings. You were so tiny in his arms, and despite the impending fall that is waiting for him, it was you he was worried about. The worry was based on the understanding that you weren’t born in the limelight and all this is new to you. Seokjin doesn’t want the scandal to bludgeon you without him explaining the situation properly so he had Yoongi to conceal the whole thing. Only for Yoongi to reveal that you found out that he was on his way home and is already at the airport, waiting.

But when he loves me I feel like I’m floating. When he calls me pretty I— feel like somebody even when we fade eventually, to nothing— you will always be my favorite form of loving.

Patting the middle of his back gently, you wore the ring he gave you. You smiled into the rib-crushing hug, sighing contently. He rode his palm down one side of your body. Engulfing, it is almost as if he is a part of you— a part of you that you lost a long time ago. Your hand slid down the back of his head, down to his neck. It is the kind of hug that was compelling, different. When you feel his heartbeat, hear him breath, and the warmth radiating from him— you somehow lodge yourself in the state of acceptance; accepting that a part of you will always belong to him. You scratched mindlessly, the fabric of his long brown coat that he wore before sliding the tip of your nose on his shoulder and collarbones to shatter the moment with a chuckle, “That was some hug.” You felt his scruffy chin on your head. Pulling away, you stroked his chin with your thumb, back and forth.

“You need a shave,” you grinned, hoping to cheer him up but his smile was so brief. Wearing a worrisome expression, he dropped his gaze to the floor and swallowed his saliva. In the car, he was deathly quiet. All you could hear is the car engine emitting a soft purr at the acceleration. His beautiful face ghosts on the reflection of the car window. Restless eyes with a calm outward appearance. It was a confusing pair. Your fingers inches towards him, then you hold it out with faith that he will capture them. He caught it in a hindsight, immediately. You both sat there in the backseat of the sedan, looking out the car window on each side— fingers laced, hands intertwined, uncertain of the future and the fate it brings, but certain of each other.

Under the advice of the PR team, Seokjin and you will be housed together. The car stops in front of the house Seokjin had personally curated according to your wishes and dreams. In front of the poorly lit front door, Seokjin pressed his thumb on the pad next to the panel and the door’s shaft retracts mechanically, revealing a spacious living room with several pieces of furniture you remember picking out. Seokjin stood with his back leaning against the door, waiting for you to come in. The walls along the doorway were ash green, with beige-colored wood panels and wall skirtings in pearl white. The lights on the ceiling lit up as you walked in. Seokjin studied your back as he walked behind.

“I am still waiting for the bench to arrive from Japan. It will look better—” he spoke in one breath.

“ — it’s already so beautiful,” your voice softens, “You really tried to make my dreams come true. This is so-so much better than I imagined.”

“You haven’t seen the best thing,” he guides you to the kitchen. The marble counters lit, wide spaces and oven and microwaves. He pushed a button underneath the counter and it moved up and down; adjustable heights. Fridge camouflaged as cabinets. Hoods to suck in the smell away. Cutlery from Italy. Collection of knives from Japan, custom-made. Dishwasher. Glass cabinets. Everything is complete. The sink has a garbage disposal installed so you don’t have to deal with bones and icky things. Your hand glides hesitantly on the finishing, unable to wrap your mind around it— your dreams, realized. Seokjin leans to his side with folded arms on the wall opposite to the kitchen counter wearing a faint smile on his lips.

Your surgery is this week too. The look on his face was perplexed at how the situation would unfold. But who could have known.

“I’ll be home more, not sure if that’s to your likings,” Seokjin unfolds his arms and pulls out a tall stool from underneath the counter. He hangs his head down, avoiding eye contact with you. He clasped his hand, then unclasped them. Darts his eyes to the side and blinks repeatedly. He opens his mouth to speak then closes them again. You clasped your hand over his knuckles and squeezed them.

“I don’t know what it’s like, can’t really say I understand but,” you leaned your hip on the counter, patting your own hand that covered his, “You seem to be worried that things might get worse than it is, but here’s one thing I can assure you that you’re doing well… you’re keeping me safe like you promised.” He lifts his eyes slowly to meet yours. Standing in close proximity like this allowed you to count his lashes, the pore in his skin, and the way his lips shaped. Inching closer, you rested your head on his shoulder. His hand moved to conquer yours, sandwiching them together as he studied the lines in your palm— intently. You could feel how he was breaking inside, trying to stay strong, to put a believable front. Not because he is, but because he was expected to be.

You bear witness to him holding on the bits of strength he had— dying in the process. His stubbornness, the way he gets angry, and what gets him angry, how he smiles, how his lips curve— the memories etched in your memories. Your soul ignites when you’re with him. You’re unsure if he noticed but the distance had made your heart grow fonder. Every time he calls, his voice holds you captive like the sound of the falling rain. No one was ever interested in your life before, and with him, you felt you have an earnest audience who, no matter how stupid your presentations were, would clap for your efforts. You didn’t have to hide anything from him, you felt safe and protected. You might not know everything about Seokjin, but in this moment, you wanted to believe that you did. So you don’t have to feel alone anymore.

With your head pressed on his shoulder, he felt complete. He worried that the fact that he hasn’t showered would have made him smell repulsive, but you haven't budged in disgust. The sound of the rain hits the glass window, pattering. Your stomach growls.

“Moment’s ruined,” Seokjin jokes.

“Isn’t it,” you shot back, agreeing to his remarks. Hoisting yourself away from him, you dashed towards the fridge asking semi-loudly, “Should we cook some food?”

Seokjin’s eyes followed you, “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

“Have a seat and watch the TV, you had a long day,” you fetched the apron with a strange string and had trouble putting it on. Seokjin moves next to you and helps you with it.

“I can peel stuff, and debone things,” he offered help.

“Please, please, let me have this kitchen to myself,” you begged him, while pushing him out to the living room, “I don’t want you to be playing around in the kitchen. Go check your emails or stock market prices or whatever it is you businessmen do in your free time.”

Seokjin pushes his back into your hands lightly. You pushed him with all of your might until he finally gave up. He disappears into his home office. Seokjin leaves the door ajar so he could peek at you getting busy in the kitchen. Poking your head in the fridge with your bum out, you snatched spring onions, some tofu, eggs, minced beef. Adding minced garlic to the gochujang, you beat the eggs to make thin omelets on a different pan. Then you sliced the spring onion thinly, some sausages and uncooked ramen. You added some peeled and cubed potatoes as well. On a large circular flat pan, you arrange sliced sausages, onions, potatoes, fishcakes and minced beef. Chili powders, peppers. Sliced kimchi and marinated beef.

You added beef bone broth into the arrangements on the pan then added the premixed sauces, before putting it on the stove in the middle of the dining table. You ignited the flames on low and skipped to his office room. You bit your smile and proudly called him for dinner.

White rice in a bowl, the Army Base Stew is ready as it simmers slowly into a boil. Seokjin ate appetizingly. He barely spoke and kept stuffing his mouth with more food. You pinched the last slice of fishcake into his bowl with your chopsticks. He thanked you with his eyes. Eyeing his luggage in the dark corners of the living room, you asked if he needed washing and offered that you could help him with that. He replied that he will do it on his own later and he suggested that you could share the washing machine so it could run at once. You nodded.

“But what about my clothes? My PJs…” you asked him.

“There is some in the closet upstairs,” he slurps the leftover soup in.

You lifted your eyes at him, flickering hesitatingly. Your brain was processing that perhaps the available clothes were a handover from Rachel’s stay.

“Are they Rachel’s—”

“No.”

He stood up abruptly, collecting your empty bowl and placed them on top of his. He pushed his tongue against the wall of his cheek, trying to force the remnants of food from between his teeth. His eyes burn into the view of the finished food, focused into cleaning up.

“Go take a bath, put your dirty clothes outside the door,” he adds, turning his back to you. You stood up slowly, the chair pegs dragging against the wooden panels. You inched next to him to wash your hands. You disappeared upstairs. Seokjin stops washing the dishes momentarily. The water gushes out the tap onto his veiny hands and redden knuckles.

“What the hell does she take me for? Putting her in Rachel’s old clothing? That was such a damaging accusation,” Seokjin hisses under his breath before resuming to wash the soap away, “Do I look like a guy who would do that? After all that she-devil did to me and will do to me?” He nags into the sink. After the dishes were hung to dry on the dish racks, Seokjin unbuttons his dress shirt and removes his belt as he climbs up the stairs. Sliding the fabric off of his shoulder, he fetches the towel before unzipping his pants. As the soiled garment pooled around his ankles, he wrapped the towel around and tucked the end low on his slim waist. He collects your clothes with one swoop of his arm and he dashes to the laundry room.

He placed your blouse and his dress shirt into the same compartment. His jeans and your slacks next. He worked on the detergents and pressed on the buttons for the machine to begin washing. It wouldn’t be weird to sleep in one bed, would it? You’ve done it so many times before. He returns to the bedroom. Your phone on the bedside table, flashes. He didn’t mean to. He swore he didn’t mean to.

[Namjoon] Movie in an hour?

[Namjoon] sends an image.

He squints his eyes and lowers his upper body for a closer look. Forefinger swipes to clear all notifications and he realizes you don’t have any passwords on. He glances over the shoulder to see if there are any signs of you but from the sound of the shower turning on, he concludes that he is safe for now. He locked them again and placed it facedown on the table. He smashed his lips together and padded to the bathroom door, grabbed the knob and carefully twisted them. He saw your silhouette on the shower curtain, and turned to the sink. His heart is pounding against his ribcage. He knew because he placed his palm on top of his chest, attempting to calm his raging nerve. His eyes hooded, darkening.

He advances to the shower curtain, rips it open. Before you could even make sense of what was happening, Seokjin’s lips were on yours, pushing you against the mosaic tile wall. His hands were sleek on your skin. His back muscles stretch, shoulder blades move in sync with the movement. Steams puffed up the ceiling as you continue to elicit sinful noises. Hand marks drawn on the wall while you clawed his back, leaving red trails along his ribs. Water cascades down his body, pooling on your feet, trickling down his chin. Your hand sought purchase on his biceps as he devoured you whole. He bit your lower lips and dragged his teeth slowly to graze them. Ask you if he could have you.

But he didn’t. He stood there with his hooded eyes, watching your silhouette from the reflection in the mirror.

The curtain rings cling against each other as you step out of the shower. You put on the towels calmly when you see Seokjin. He was brushing his teeth, one hand clutching the brims of the counter. Glued his eyes to the mirror in front of him. Moving next to him, your hand grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste.

“What did you do while I was cooking?” you asked.

“Watched the news…” he answered simply, “Your good friend Ian was there with the accuser.”

You brushed slower now. Can’t seem to meet him in the eye. Seokjin’s arm traps your upper body to the counter as he fetches the shaving cream and the shaver. You caught a glimpse of his side profile from the mirror, sending flutters to your heart. You are going to live with him for now. And this is the view you have to get used to. Naked, wrapped in towels in the same bathroom. Sleeping in the same bed, waking up next to each other. Eating on the same table, cooking together. Asking about his day and him asking yours. You choked on the foams and he gave a half-hearted glance. He was unaffected. Continued his task of smearing the shaving cream over neck and jaws. He starts from the base of his neck. The blade tipped upside down, his eyes thinned as he tilted his chin upward.

You watched the blade erase the trace of the foam, revealing his skin from underneath it. Simply incredible.

“What is it?” Seokjin tutted his tongue and placed the shaver down. He frowns at you.

“OMG chill, I haven’t seen anyone shave this close. I find it oddly, sexy,” you shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing the tube of your facial wash and moving away.

“Where are you going with that?!” He eyed the facial foam.

“Washing my face downstairs!” you rolled your head, walking behind him.

He caught your wrist. He yanks it back to where you were.

“You have a habit of saying notorious things and then walk away without dealing with it's consequences, do you do that to everyone you meet?” he resumes shaving, his eyes glide to you, sideways.

“I don’t exactly know that many people,” you darted back and began splashing your face with water, “I say whatever that is on my mind, and it’s not like you don’t know you look good…”

Seokjin fights the urge to pout, to give out any definable expression, “What’s the use of looking this good if—”

You gasped, “Oh my god...my eye. The soap got into my eye, help…Help!” You patted the air and tried to find his body, and when you did, you glided your palm down and yanked his arm towards you. Pulling the face towel from the wall, the metal ring rattle against itself. He wipes the soap away from your eyes, while hushing you to stay still. But your hands flap, whining that the pain was still there. Seokjin turned on the tap and guided you to the running water. He continued shaving while you wiped your face down. You left the bathroom and got dressed. You hear the shower being turned on. The television flashes on and the midnight news is on. Of course, the news covered Seokjin's case. The accuser who made the police report was an architect in-charge of the older version of the blueprint. And Seokjin was right, Ian was standing on behalf of the accuser, wearing a black mask and dark grey suit. He scratched his temple and his wedding ring was on display.

The accuser finished his statement, bombarded by questions by reporters but he refused to entertain any. Not only that, he was seen leaving the premises in Ian's protective arms as he was swarmed by hounding reporters who could be heard asking repetitive questions. This was such a confusing situation. While Seokjin is away, you learn a few things about him from Yoongi. His likes and dislikes, his antics and how he manages his problems. He was like the ocean. He can look so calm, hiding violent creatures within him. Or like an onion, layer by layer coming off. You climbed on the bed into the duvet after the news ended. Seokjin got dressed and went downstairs.

He grabs a tall glass of water and punctures a blister of anti-allergen pill. For the garlic he ate from your cooking. He didn’t want to tell you and gave you unnecessary panic. He slips the tiny yellow pill into his mouth and drinks water. He fetched a bottle of Zoloft and slipped them in his mouth. He heard the stairs creak when you climbed down. He didn’t glance up to see who it was because he knew.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Anti-anxiety,” he said, “Helps me relax...”

Slipping in the duvet together, you both stared at the ceiling. You heard the raindrops from outside and the thunder rippling through the sky. The weighted blanket feels like a hug and despite you trying to hide it, your heart is at ease, knowing that Seokjin is right beside you tonight. Unlike always.

“Well, this is strange,” you huffed.

“I know…” he shot back.

“When we’re apart, we call each other every other day and I get to talk to you until you fall asleep and now that we’re next to each other… you feel like a stranger,” you let out a small giggle at the end.

“Am I?” he blinks at you, lying next to him.

Not exactly. Your heart whispered.

“Am I?” he turns to his side, tipping his eyes downwards where your lips are then back to your eyes.

He spoke in hushes, “Your voice helps me sleep…” his eyes darted left and right, seeking for yours, “You keep running in my mind like a broken record.”

Your eyes flutter as his finger grazes your skin. He hooks his fingers, pushing away the baby hair from your face. Just then, the lightning flashes at the window and you jump closer to him, grabbing the front of his pajamas and he wraps one arm over your shoulder. With his neck in your face, you held your breath and gulped. You could see his Adam’s apple bobbing hesitantly. Bergamot, clary sage notes on his aftershave balms. His skin looks smooth and so inviting. He stiffens. Froze when your lips brushed against his neck next to his Adam’s apple.

Pulling away slightly to find his clouded eyes, widening against yours. You slipped out a smirk on the corner of your lips. Fully aware that he caught it.

“I find it pleasing that we are not from the same field. I know nothing about your business and you know nothing about my research and yet we are here in this room together…” You returned to your side of the bed, putting one hand on top of the other, staring at the ceiling, “You hide things so well… I wish to be like you.”

Seokjin blinked to the side where you were. How will he explain that his staidness isn’t to hide the things he fears but to fit whatever narration the office gave him? How will he explain to you that hiding fear isn’t strength? He is hanging by a strand of thread at the edge of the cliff and his father is holding the other end. His mind flashes to the sight of Ian in the media conference siding the accuser. He is sure that Ian’s father would have a key-role to the accusation considering how sloppy and uncoordinated the attack was. Seokjin is sure that he doesn’t want to keep that uncle in the association. The corporation is no stranger to false accusations but this was indeed too much.

“Seokjin,” you softly called his name, “Are you asleep?”

“Hm…”

“Will this affect our contract?”

Do you want it to?

.

.

.

.

To be continued…

Copyright © August 3rd, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading :)

⸻

Several hours ago.

You stepped out of the car after him. You said you had trouble breathing and he thought it was just nerves. You had your hands over your head and at times, pinching the bridge of your nose during the whole ride. He told you what he would tell anybody; to relax. But when Yoongi greeted you both outside the office building, you clutched over his arm to which he rejected. Then, you fell to the side and he caught you by the waist to have you leaning over his chest.

“Get the car,” Seokjin whispered urgently to Yoongi. Seokjin carried your limp body into the car’s backseat. You weren’t responsive. Fingers grew purple and cold, your lips were deathly pale. Seokjin hovered his finger underneath your chin to where your pulse is; they were weak. He told the driver to hurry and the engines throttled through the busy city. When they arrived at the hospital, they strapped you on the stretcher and rushed you through the emergency. He took off his blazers and chewed his lips while waiting next to the chaotic scene. The doctor came out from the main hallway with a sullen look on her face. It’s hard to tell if it was her face or the day had been difficult but Seokjin cared about neither; he just wanted to know if his wife will be okay. The doctor asked for her history. Medical history.

“Is she on medications?”

“She is on several pills. I can’t remember what it is…”

“Who are you to her?”

“Her husband…”

The doctor gave him a side-eye as she examined you on the stretcher.

“She has a monthly appointment with a doctor in the ObGyn* Clinic downtown. In Samsung Tower,” Seokjin explained breathlessly, “She was, she was on hormone pills! There’s a 5.2cm diameter of growth in her!” Seokjin frantically remembers. Upon that information, the doctor ordered an ultrasound scan for you and asked him to wait outside so he doesn’t interfere.

*ObGyn refers to Obstetric & Gynecology

Thirty-five minutes. The longest 35 minutes he had ever lived.

He stood up every time the door opened. Yoongi was on the side waiting too. Got him some coffee that he wouldn’t drink, some buns he wouldn’t eat. Yoongi took care of all the business calls because Seokjin didn’t want to be disturbed. The whole ordeal took him by storm. They were preparing to go to the dinner his mother hosted. You already told him that you weren’t feeling too well, but you thought, nothing a painkiller pill couldn’t fix.

The doctor finally approaches Seokjin.

“Her red blood cells dropped acutely. She collapsed due to her anemic and that was caused by the bleeding in her uterus. I just got off the call from her doctor, and it seems that she had been delaying her appointments, did you know about this?”

She looks up to Seokjin. Seokjin shook his head, eyes glued on the doctor.

“The polyp is now 7.6cm in diameter. It has to be removed. Once she recovers, I will arrange a surgery for her if that’s alright with her and with you…”

⸻

The knock on the glass window pulled Seokjin back into the room where he stood by your bed. He lifted his head and saw a familiar face. Rachel. She waves at him through the glass window.

He sits on one end of the bench while she takes the other.

“Christian said you’d be here,” Rachel chirped before she shook her head and, “Ian, sorry. It’s Ian in Seoul, I always forgot…”

Seokjin remembers how Ian looked when he took you away from him.

“Forget about him, why are you here? You said it was over…” Seokjin rests his elbows on his knees, rimming the brims of the plastic cup— mindlessly.

The nurses sitting on the main desk on the ward passed a look to Seokjin. They couldn’t hear the conversations but the girl was suspiciously handsy, they thought.

“You think they had something before?” One nurse said.

“Look at those eyes, it’s obvious they were old flames,” another replied while putting medications into cups.

“No wonder the wife is in the hospital,” the one pushing the trolley spat, “Men, what are they good for…”

Rachel’s hand rose up to Seokjin’s thigh a couple of times and she scooted closer and closer to her as time progressed but Seokjin’s expression remained stoic. Then she somehow shed some tears amidst the story and Seokjin smirked in her face while crossing his arms. She continued to talk and talk and talk until finally, the nurses heard a buzzer coming from your room. It’s when patients require assistance. Seokjin left her mid-sentences and sprinted to your door.

You started with a coughing fit, “T-thirsty. I need water…”

Seokjin snapped open a bottle he found from the plastic Yoongi bought before he left for office and helped you drink. He popped in a straw so you could easily drink.

“Better?” He asked gently. You nodded.

The nurse checking on your vitals tutted in annoyance.

“We need her to stay one more night, her vitals aren’t satisfactory. Doctor’s note says she’s stressed out and she needs plenty of rest. If she’s not getting it at home, she might as well stay here where she is taken care of,” the nurse proceeded to give Seokjin a side-eye. It was obvious that they take the little conversation in the hallway with a girl that isn’t the wife seriously. The girls made a pact with each other.

“She’s right,” Seokjin resigns, “I should have taken care of you better.”

You looked at him, a little frightened.

“Now you need to be hospitalized it seems,” you snarked.

A few hours later,

Seokjin watches you as you eat the second tray of food they sent you. It was heavy with red meat and spinach and cockles. It was to try and bring up your red blood count that was way too low.

“They say you have to go through a surgery,” Seokjin started.

You laughed at your food and shook your head.

“Nope,” you spat.

Seokjin tilts his head to the other side, “I don’t think that’s up to you. When the doctor says you need a damn surgery, you get a damn surgery. There’s a damn good reason why they tell you to. They don’t just ask anybody to go on a surgery just because they’re bored, dumbass.”

“I can’t.” you shrugged.

Seokjin stood up angrily and yanked his folder blazers from the chair.

“Fine, then you pay for the fucking hospital,” he pokes one arm through one hole and the other as he leaves the room. In his mind, he doesn’t want to dwell with such a stubborn person. He had better things to do than that. He drove the car to his penthouse, leaving you behind. As he walked angrily into the elevator, he remembered what Rachel whispered to him. He realized that if he returns home now, he will have to get it over with.

He placed his thumb on the scanner when the door beeps open. He walked through the doorway and to the living room where a woman is sitting by the fireplace. She turned to look over her shoulder at Seokjin, and she smiled seductively. Seokjin marched towards her. She wore a necklace with the initial R. They slept together in Seokjin’s bed. She tore off her necklace amidst love-making and the necklace fell into the cracks of the bed, the gap between the headboard and the bed.

When she fell asleep, Seokjin crawled out and took her phone from her Louis Vuitton leather bag. He used her old password and it unlocked. He went through her phone and searched for the file he needed. He had them sent to his confidential email and deleted all the traces of it. Watching her bare back, laying face down on the bed with half of her body draped over with a maroon satin duvet, Seokjin’s jaw twitched in determination.

“Not this time,” the word repeated in his head.

⸻

What happens to the girl no one falls in love with? The girl who is always third wheeling her friends. The girl who thought dating would stray her away from her books. The girl who lives in the library and thrives on coffee. The girl worked her ass off for her own money and forgot about love. Did she also become a woman no one fell for?

The neon light flickers off as the day about to begin. The subway is getting busy. People multiply by the minute, ushering in and out stations. Some run through the closing doors. Some spilled their morning coffee on their shoes, angrily yanking out a tissue from their pocket. The sun is barely out but poor people have to work.

Uptown where the scenes are different, the maids prepare breakfasts for their homeowners while they sip on coffee and read the day news. Their cars are brought to them by the chauffeur, waiting at the lobby. Their sleek cars never went through mud. Some of them yelled at the staff for mistakes like making their coffee wrong. It is easy to find errors when there is so little to complain about. They talk about politics and the economy and how it affects them. They scramble to find new places to donate from and make sure the news writes about it. Good deeds are only good deeds if they are seen.

In their fancy cars, private jets and helicopter rides, they look down to those who are dying to live while they live to die.

You probably had never seen that many rich people in your life, ever. Standing awkwardly at the corner of the lounge area, you scanned the room for a familiar face. Maybe Yoongi or Seokjin. Seeing neither, you helped yourself with a glass of fruit punch passed by a waiter. Watching from afar was a lady carrying a Louis Vuitton purse. Smiling secretively, she swings her heel away.

Seokjin slips his hand over the curve of your bum and you breathe in hard. You could never get used to that. He scans the room anxiously too. He downs a shot of bourbon and winces at the aftertaste burning his throat.

“Should you be drinking?” eyes tunneling into the view of his jaw, voice full of concern.

“It helps with the nerve,” Seokjin clears his throat.

“You’re nervous? That’s a first,” you jutted your chin out, “Will Senior Kim come too?”

Seokjin pauses a beat and shakes his head.

“What do you mean?”

“He is not coming to any projects I started.”

“What!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!? That’s unacceptable.”

“That’s the relationship we had.”

“But on the ship he was…”

“On the ship we are not ourselves…”

Seokjin’s eyes were stern. Those eyes say that his words are not to be argued. And it hurts— the last few words string together, it is painful. He set barriers.

“So this is the wife of Kim Seokjin, huh?” a guttural boisterous voice thundered through your ribcage and you already hated how it drew everyone’s attention to you. Not enough with that, this fifty-something man laughs heartily while slapping Seokjin’s back and you decide you will hate him. He didn’t have to say another word for you to expect condescending remarks from him. He just looked the part— bushy eyebrows, kempt grayish hair, strong nicotine smell coming from everything he touched, unlit cigar in between his fingers. He just waves it around when he speaks.

Apparently he was related to Seokjin, an uncle from his father's side. This is probably that uncle Seokjin said was trying to omit him from his family’s registrar. The reason being that Seokjin wasn’t involved in the management early on. He was conceived when the company grew big, was he supposed to start signing papers in the womb?

“Well, considering the prestige Seokjin is from, I would be expecting a lady of magnificent grandeur littered in designer cloth to be standing next to him but I reckon, his type is the more meek and ordinary looking girl…” he sneers. Seokjin looks down and maintains a smile.

“Yes that is she,” you held out your hand for a handshake which the appalling man took, but he managed to do so in a way that you find a little offensive— you weren’t sure if it was his stare or the way he brought it no higher than his bulging stomach.

“So, Seokjin,” the man snaps his head to Seokjin as if to show you that you are not worth his attention after the brief introduction and you are no more important than what he came for, he continues, “This project you are planning. Let’s be brutally honest, it is nothing new, and today’s stunt to bring new investors is really piling on daddy’s money into the furnace…”

He went on to explain how housing projects don’t really bring the biggest turnover because in today’s buying culture, people would buy one house and get it over with. It will be a rich people’s playground and that’s it. Literally, every word that leaves his mouth felt like another bottle of gasoline into the fire. You could feel how Seokjin seemed more withdrawn and chuckle bitterly at every striking comment his uncle pressed on. Pouring more salt into the wound. Then stepping on it with dirty shoes. For a while there, you got sucked into the environment Seokjin grew up in. Countless demeaning words, constantly told that he wasn’t good at literally anything he tries in— anyone would have resigned in utter defeat.

But Seokjin stood on, despite being trampled on. And in that brief moment, you realized how mentally strong he was.

However, you will not let this man get away with his words.

“How about you there? You might think that this was the easy way up huh? Seduce a dumb rich boy and get him put a ring on it and you be in the list…” the man scoffed degradingly, “Sad that you don’t even look the part.”

You beamed at him, despite the awful thing he said, you were about to school this man. And Seokjin is in the front seat.

“Of course I don’t look the part, where’s the fun in that?” You smiled at Seokjin and turned your attention back to the old man, “I am more curious about the seemingly redundant overvalued gatekeeper this company had… yes you, I am talking about you, your grace. You seem like a good people reader albeit a little off the tangent in your prophecy but let me tell you what I see you, would you like to hear?”

Not waiting for his response, you continued, “You smoked an awful lot of cigarettes that you start to smell like one. Not only that, you picked on your nephew, putting him on the magnifying glass and dictate him on the things he had done wrong without telling him the solution to it— which makes me doubt if you truly are a good businessman you said you are because if we’re being brutally honest, the business took you in because you were failing in everything you put yourself into. And you’re an inch away from being nabbed so in order to stop others from seeing your flaws, you try to magnify others. But hadn’t they told you that you could only bring someone down, if they’re above you?”

He tutted his tongue and before he breathed you added, “I have never seen your name on any project produced by Kim Holdings and that’s on the research this ordinary girl did when she’s around Senior Kim’s mansion. So in conclusion, you have a lot to say for someone who contributes farts and feces into the company— all talk, no actions,” you smiled coyly knowing that you’ve destroyed him to bits, snatching a glass of champagne from the waiter, “But what do this ordinary girl know about that, she writes scientific researches and hold lectures in her free time and in her weekends, she dances on poles and scans the room for dumb rich boys but fell for a smart rich man instead,” you wrapped your arm around Seokjin’s biceps and tilt your head to rest on his shoulder, smiling at the man. You straighten up and sipped the champagne and the man walks away to pretend to find someone else in the room to talk to.

“You tore him to shreds,” Seokjin huffs. You handed him the rest of the champagne, “I fucking hate champagnes…” He downs them without a problem.

For the whole night, you promote the housing area better than Seokjin’s whole marketing department. You kept throwing compliments towards Seokjin since you learnt about the specs of the housing area, highlighting anything that sparks interest in the investors. As the night progresses, you begin to build a good rapport within the circle. You were lively and highly magnetic to talk to. You were solid in many fields which amazed the guests. People became interested. You ensured that the conversation returns to the housing area Seokjin is developing every time. Seokjin was wearing his best smile and charms, equally trying to evoke interest in the project. Yoongi showed the slides on the screen and showed progress in the making. That’s when Seokjin turned to the audience and saw his father there.

“Dad?” he whispered.

Senior Kim stood up and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“So happy that you came,” you beamed at him. Senior Kim passes a slightly disapproving face at Seokjin.

“I came to see how horrible it is,” Senior Kim passes. The tremble in his voice suggests that he tried so hard to pretend to hate it.

“You have always been a bad liar, uncle,” you tittered, “Seokjin had done so well today, I am so proud of him. Yoongi is going to be busy with international calls tomorrow, I imagine. Everybody liked the solar system design and man-made lake. Seokjin also introduced a greenhouse design which I think was incredible. Seeing it from a scientific point-of-view, it would certainly be a pioneer in eco-friendly housing! It’s never been heard before, it’s just so brilliant. It is as if he has read my papers on it…” You enthusiastically explained to your father in law. The guests begin to leave.

“Hello Uncle Kim,” a sultry voice intruded on you.

Clad in a deep-neck black silk dress with spaghetti strings, was Rachel. She holds her Louis Vuitton purse to her front, gracefully.

“Oh, you…” Senior Kim acknowledges.

“This is such an enthralling experience to be in Seoul. Seokjin had invited me here so I had to make sure I attend, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she rubs his arm up and down, boring a smile to Senior Kim. A hospitality he didn’t return. You could see how he dislikes this girl to the bones. You didn't have to ask to know who she was. That's Rachel. Seokjin's old flame. Seokjin stood there when his father threw him an acid glance. Rachel went on to praise the project and how she will contribute to some serious banks it seems. After she left, Senior Kim looked at Seokjin.

“Can you give us a moment darling?” Senior Kim said but he didn’t look at you.

You didn’t ask more questions and disappeared to the study room with the door stood ajar. You saw the conversations but too far to hear it. You hide behind the pillar, then sat on Seokjin's lonely home office chair.

⸻

A sharp sting looms over Seokjin’s left cheek as his father’s hand flew across his face. The acid in his eyes lasered on the marble floors of his penthouse. The sound of the assault echoed through the empty hall.

“Have I not made myself clear that you were never to contact that wench?” Senior Kim’s voice thundered through the now empty halls.

“I didn’t contact her, she came to Seoul herself and with Ian’s help had found me,” Seokjin explains himself hurriedly but Senior Kim didn’t listen.

“She sent the sex tape of you and her to my office, and now she is threatening to release that, unless I do something about the marriage, do you know how embarrassed I was! You are the heir to Kim Holdings! And you… You! What a disgrace, you should have never been born.”

Seokjin swallowed his saliva, looking down to the floor at his shoe. Tears pooling on the brims. Before Senior Kim left, he made sure Seokjin understood that all he was, was a defect, and an Achilles heel in his family.

All Seokjin’s effort to delete the footage was in vain. He slept with her that night so he could hack into her phone and retrieve the video, but Rachel had sent them to his fathers before she even came. And he was so stupid to have believed her words. Rachel wants this marriage annulled, but Seokjin promised you a better life in a way. Rachel will not rest until his life is in turmoil.

“You should have told me, I would have sent someone to erase them before it gets this far…” Senior Kim hisses.

“Would you have listened?” Seokjin whispered under his breath. Senior Kim spun around to face him.

“What did you say?” Senior Kim tilts his head to one side.

Seokjin lifts his head, glaring at his father. His piercing gaze punctured through his bangs, “I said would you have you listened to me. You already hated the sight of me, you already expected the worst of me, would you have listened if I needed your help?!”

Senior Kim lunges to Seokjin once more. Seokjin braced himself for the slap as he had seen the man’s palm raised, he clenched his eyes shut and flinched. Time slowed down.

But...

But the slap never came.

Slowly, Seokjin peek through his lashes to see two tiptoeing barefoot, hands gripping on his father’s arm. You held on so tight as if your life depended on it. Your eyes were brimming, shifting slightly, pleading Senior Kim to lower his arm. Seokjin fell butt first on the floor as his knees gave way. He breathes heavily. Senior Kim went for the door without another word. You watched him leave the hall, his back getting smaller and smaller as he got further and further.

Your husband cowered, hanging his head low. He hugs his knees, unable to meet your gaze when you knelt in front of him. You tipped his chin up gently. He refused at first but you didn’t give up. You see a looming bruise on the side of his lips once he surrendered. His lips are also busted and bloodied. Your lashes flutter at the sight of his injury. Sure it was not serious but to know that it came from his own father was painful.

You sat him up on the toilet cover and used a cotton bud to put the ointment. He winced at first and you darted, “Oh you big baby you.”

“Why don’t you get a busted lips and I'll tell you what a big baby you are…” he shot back.

You smiled softly at him. It’s great that he began to act like himself again. You were beginning to worry if he had become numb to feelings and had his pain receptors fucked up through the years.

“We need to get this treated or else it gets infected then your lips will grow twice bigger than this and we don’t need that much beauty on your face already…” you chuckled softly and, “As if this marriage isn’t already difficult to protect.”

He reclines, dejected. The whole memory returns to him like a tide and he feels uneasy. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up yet, maybe it was too early to say something like that.

“So you heard everything?” His eyes turned soft. You turned away from him, discarding the used cotton bud and washing your hands under the automated sink. Seokjin didn’t know where to begin. Do he apologize about the sex tape first? Or the fact that Rachel invited herself here? Does he tell you what happened that night and how it led to what happened just a few nights ago?

“I believe you. You said Rachel is no more, and I trust that…” you spoke to the pouring water in the sink unsure if you truly have faith in the things you say. You have gotten good at lying over the years. Is it lying if you only tell him the things he wants to hear?

“My home isn't quiet too Seokjin, I know scuffling when I hear one,” you dropped your gaze to your rings and Pandora bracelet, “My little brother is a handful… Before he enrolled in police school,” you turned to him and snatched the ointment tube from the sink counter and pinched it’s ends playfully, waving it in front of Seokjin, “Why else do you think I carried this around? For fun?”

Seokjin would have never guessed. Boys raising boys. You continued to mumble how you need a boiled egg for the bruises on his face and how uncomfortable the heel you were wearing. Behind you, Seokjin stares at the view of you with a certain twinkle in his eyes.

⸻

The truth is everyone lies to an extent. The truth is far as you can see. The truth is what you know is all that you know. The truth is the story is as far as witnessed.

It was raining when you arrived at the small little cottage. And it got heavier once you stepped into the doormat of this home.

“I thought you said she was home?” Seokjin shakes off the rain from his Balenciaga shirt, hopping in place.

“She is… she promised,” you knocked on the wooden door harder this time, “Aunt Shuma!”

Half an hour has passed and you were on the phone for yet another call left unanswered. Suddenly, creaking from the side was a mysterious figure covered in raincoat. You instinctively moved closer to Seokjin but he too was moving away from the stranger.

“Aunt Shuma?” Seokjin asked.

“Who’s there?!” This raincoat spun around in panic and softened when she saw you, “Oh my gosh, you frightened me…”

Inside, the cottage had a small seating area with a little fireplace. It is covered with crochets and knitted cushion covers that Seokjin dare vouches, handmade. You helped her carry a cookie jar while she carried a tray of fresh brewed tea. Turkish tea leaves, she said. You bit half of the biscuit and shoved it to Seokjin. He reluctantly accepts, touching only your knuckle. Aunt Shuma gave him a knowing smile, a secretive sly smile.

“If you’re moving next week, shouldn’t you be packing up half the cottage already?” you sat next to Seokjin on the only two-seater couch in the cottage. All cooped up and cozy. There is no television, very few items that indicate the present, most of the furniture are from the 60s it seems. It isn’t hard to see that she could be lying about moving.

“Who says I want to move?” Aunt Shuma frowned.

“Um, mom?” you replied.

“I will not do such a thing! Move back into condescending judgmental society, absolutely not,” she aggressively protests.

“So you lied to me? You told mom that you are going to move and you need my husband’s help and mine,” you argued, passing Seokjin the large cookie jar and he took it wordlessly.

“I told her that I want to see the person you got married to, I didn’t ask her to lie to you. I may have suggested that I was moving because how else are you going to come here if it hadn't been that? Not to mention the wedding I wasn’t invited to…” she crosses her arms, sulking. Something about a 40 year old auntie getting sulky strikes amusement.

“What was the hurry, you’re not even pregnant…” she mutters to her chest before barking at Seokjin, “Why do you want my niece that fast!”

You sighed loudly, “I’m in love with him and I don’t want to leave another day without him… I just,” you glanced at him briefly, “He makes me feel complete.”

Seokjin’s throat went dry at the view of you smiling at him and saying those words.

“Are you starring in a fake marriage romantic comedy? Did you rehearse that line before you came here?”

Gulped. Can she see right through you?

Seokjin scrambles to sit at the edge of the sofa, putting aside the cookie jar and clearing his throat.

“Are you happy that you’ve taken my niece from me, boy?” she spat. She squinted her eyes at the poor young man who was unsure how to react to that question. He never had aunties who had conversations with him apart from wanting to know if his mom was looking for volunteers for her charity work.

“Aunt Shuma you’re being mean to him,” you warned, sipping the piping hot tea.

“Just making sure you aren’t married to a pussy,” Aunt Shuma blatantly replied, immediately.

“So what happened to the guys you chatted on Tinder with?” you changed the topic.

She reclines into the couch, retching in disgust, “Never again, child.” Aunt Shuma continued to tell how she encountered some promising good looking guys who have a foot fetish. Some are way younger than Seokjin, wanting a cougar, asking her for money at every turn.

“It was a freaking nightmare,” she downed the rest of the tea that’s now run cold, “I deleted the app after a week.”

Then she smacks her lips and places her hand together, “Say, Seokjin isn’t it? You sail?”

“He does…” you answered.

“Let the boy answer, he has a mouth don’t he?” Aunt Shuma scolded you.

“I do,” he smiled.

Aunt Shuma says when the day clears and it usually does after the heavy rain, she has to sail the boat. It’s been awhile since it has sailed on. After she had back injuries, she didn't take the boat out to sail anymore. And that was under your advice. She lives alone in a small cottage by the lake stemming to the sea with the nearest neighbor being almost 2 hours away by road.

Dinner was grilled potatoes, egg-drop soup and warm rice. It was hearty. Fulfilling. Albeit so simple. It was probably the simplest dinner Seokjin ever had. But it was wholesome. Maybe the lighthearted conversation and the environment makes him feel welcomed. Some laughter filled the night, and the talk continued as the bowl dried up.

Almost nothing is left. No wonder you said you would live like Aunt Shuma if you weren’t in the city having to live up to bills and working. Aunt Shuma has everything in this land of hers. She is carefree and debt free. It’s easy to be happy when nothing is holding you on the pedestal. A roof over the head, food on the table, fire for cold nights— is all human need.

You told Aunt Shuma how Seokjin helped pay your mother’s bills and now she is moved to a better hospital with better doctors. Your father is also getting a small compensation for the injuries he sustained when he was working in his old place. He is starting a small workshop with what he has. You didn’t forget to include Seokjin and his housing project.

“What’s the system,” you froze momentarily and Seokjin reminds you of it with a little whisper, “Solar green eco system, yes!” Tiredness is looming over you, Seokjin could see.

“It was brilliant, you should have seen the presentation. It has 4D drawings and literally, the audience was walking through the actual dimension. Before Seokjin showed up, I thought he was lying about it, but it was so real… Investors really liked that part,” you gawked in pride. Seokjin saw the smile you wore. It was the first time he had ever felt appreciated for something he worked hard for. All the hours he spent on that project, the insults— no longer hurt him. Not when he saw the smile it brought you.

After dinner, Aunt Shuma showed you your room. It was your old room and there is a queen-sized bed with an embarrassing pink lamp. She had littered the room with crochets of all sizes and designs. You zoomed into the familiar blanket in the middle of the bed.

Gasping at it, you jumped on the bed and hugged it. You looked at her wide-eyed, “You kept this?? But it was so small, I didn’t manage to finish it!”

She leaned by the doorsill with her arms crossed, wearing a big smile on her face, “You did finish it, but it was way too small for you right now, so I added some more squares.”

You hugged the blanket and looked at her. Seokjin sets the bag on the floor.

“I don’t know if it will fit you both, but I have to warn you that it can be very cold at night,” Aunt Shuma warns, “I’m sure sharing a blanket isn’t new for you two…” she winked and leave the room with a nonchalant but meaningful goodnight.

“I knitted it for my teddy, I wanted him to have a blanket so he doesn’t get cold so Aunt Shuma taught me how to knit a little bit, so I did the ugly part of it, I think…” you drifted as you searched for the part you knitted, “Here!” It was poorly proportioned and the knots were questionable, and wasn’t as neat as the others but it’s heart was in the right place.

Seokjin disappears into the showers. You prepared his pajamas and yours. You try not to think about sharing the bed too much. It will only make you stressed out and so far, Seokjin has been harmless. You hate to admit it but, you’ve been the best of friends. Sure he is still unfiltered when he says anything, but he wasn’t as repulsive as before. He was there when you fainted and you remembered his voice as he chanted your name for you to come awake. He held your hand through the crowd at the investors party and helped you finish the champagne you couldn’t drink. He lets you touch his face when he shouldn’t have easily done so, in the past.

He continues to ask you about your dreams daily. One time you had a bad day at uni and said your dream was to pause life and he brought a LIFE board game and put it on pause. He takes it too literally sometimes, it annoys you. But to think that a busy man like him making stupid time for your stupid dreams was enough to bring butterflies into your stomach. You caught yourself smiling while you folded his clothing neatly into the laundry basket. Frowning immediately, you unfold them as reality sets in. Don’t get it twisted; it is all pretend.

⸻

“Have you ever realized that when we both got married, we literally knew nothing about each other’s family we thought we knew?” you walked behind his larger built to the pier leading up to the boat, “Well considering that it was unplanned because I got on the ship not thinking I’d get married when I got off.” Seokjin walks straight ahead carrying a new set of ropes to change and some cleaning tools as instructed by Aunt Shuma.

“Both of our parents married each other not knowing much about each other and look how fucked up we turned out to be,” Seokjin throws the rope on the pier and takes the picnic bag from you. He lunges easily into the floating vessel, holding out his hand for you to take.

“I used to be really scared of marriage,” you confessed as you hopped in while Seokjin unlocked the cabin with the keys Aunt Shuma gave, “Mom said she held on dad’s arm while dissing his whole siblings and he called out on her side of the family too… like, how can you be so awful to the family your partner is a part of. But now that I’ve seen your family, I understand why.”

Seokjin chuckles, “You dragged that poor uncle of mine.”

“He was begging for it,” you walked into the cabin and Seokjin followed after.

Everything was dusty. You hurried to the window and let some air in. A glance at Seokjin and he collects the picnic bag and goes outside where the large flat foredeck was. It makes much more sense to eat here rather than there.

Several hours ago, before the sun was up.

Aunt Shuma came knocking an hour before dawn to say that she had cooked breakfast. After showering, she said she had the breakfast packed in a picnic bag and pushed you both to the door. You know your way to the pier so you directed Seokjin from behind because he was carrying all the heavy loads of cleaning tools. Aunt Shuma said she isn’t coming because of the back pain she had. And you didn’t argue. Watching you two waddle to the pier, Aunt Shuma was on the phone with your mother.

“I see what you mean,” she agrees, “I woke them up and instead of being entangled in the sheets, they are sleeping on opposite sides of the bed with a pillow fort in the middle. You’re right, there’s no spark of passion but the attraction is there..” Seokjin slips on the path and you laugh hysterically instead of helping. Seokjin then responded with a glare. Aunt Shuma sandwiches her phone between her shoulder and ear.

“I took their phones already and there is an emergency phone in the boat in case they need help,” she adds, “There’s ample food packed and the stove is working. Give it a couple of days, we’ll see what happens…” she walks into her cottage, “It’s just so strange that there was no noise all night…”

On the boat.

Seokjin took out a black case.

“What’s that?” you asked and he showed that it was a camera, the one that uses film, “I haven’t seen one of those in a while! Where did you get that?” It must have been Aunt Shuma. She stores all those antique things. Seokjin seems to know his way around it.

“I don’t really remember but this button should do it,” he mutters to himself and successfully opens the dock in the camera where the film cartridge should be inserted. While he was getting well involved in the film camera, you watched him in silence. Your hands are busy preparing the plates and taking out all the things Aunt Shuma packed for both of you.

“She’s cut up watermelons… Oh I love these candies,” you spoke to yourself.

Seokjin snaps the film in and looks through the viewfinder where you are. His forefinger curls over the camera and his finger pad on the shutter button. Click.

“I guess she packed raw materials for lunch too,” you huffed, “Is she expecting for us to cook here?” Rummaging through the things in the bag, “This is enough for a week. Seokjin, are you listening to me? Put down the camera and panic with me.”

“Wait a sec,” Seokjin took a picture of the horizon and joined you, “What… What is it?”

You pointed to him the things your aunt packed.

“And we don’t have a phone to contact all the people out there,” you nagged while Seokjin shoved a sandwich in his mouth before unlatching the boat from the pier, “How are you so chill about this?” You picked yourself from the floor, chomped down the other half of the sandwich from Seokjin and stood next to the handrail, about to catch on the pier. Seokjin pushed the boat from the pier easily.

“Seokjin!”

With half of the sandwich hanging from his mouth, he turns to you with a boring look in his eyes. His hand busily collects the ropes neatly and has it stacked in the corner. Impatient, you snatched the sandwich from his mouth, “We can’t sail!”

“Did you knock your head over concrete or something? You can’t but I can sail, sit down,” he spoke through mouthful, “Don’t worry, you have me.”

“I worry the most because it’s you…” you grumbled back to where you were seated. Seokjin tuts his tongue. Half of his body disappeared in the navigation station to turn the engines on. As it hurls on and the propellers begin throttling.

“She sounds beautiful,” Seokjin jests.

“Alright Mr. Boat man,” you rolled your eyes, “If anything happens to me, there is no money in my bank.”

Seokjin directs the boat out the lake and to the sea, there are several boats out there but there is considerable distance between each one. The engine is now stopped and all there is is the breeze of the early morning. He joins you not long after that.

The boat is slowly rocking at every strike of gentle waves. The sounds of birds and waves filled your ears and you’ve never felt so peaceful. Seokjin was quiet too. Both of you are looking at the horizon, to see how far it goes. It is one of those moments that makes you feel so small. There are a couple of clouds in the sky. You hugged your knees. It makes you feel that your problems are small. An escape from reality. Without phones, without technology, you’re forced to listen to nature and the hymn is inviting. Had you let your fear consume you, you would have never seen a view like this.

“You haven’t told me your dream today…” Seokjin said.

“I’ll tell you before midnight, I promise. I can’t think of any right now,” you wiped away imaginary dust from your toes. With the way you both were ushered out the room this morning, there is so little time to even text him your dream. Then Aunt Shuma took your phone and his.

⸻

The seats were wiped. The dust is gone. The stove was cleaned. She is good as new. It was pretty well-maintained despite not being used a lot. Seokjin installed the new glass window to replace the old broken ones. It is half past noon and you went under the shades to rest. Seokjin washes his face and hangs a fishing rod. It’s easy to see that he plans to fish. You’ll take a nap and wake up later to read a book you brought with you.

An hour passed.

Seokjin is writing something. Using the pen and a piece of parchment paper he found in the docking area. You woke up to see him earnestly writing on the front of the boat. With his back hunched over. Wind striking his hair. His broad shoulders. Sitting on the floor, next to the rod. Wonder what he is writing about and to whom. He seemed very serious about it too. You’re glad that he is out instead of being cooped up in his office. At least there is a view and no people around. Leaning against the seat inside the navigation area, you opened the book you’ve been meaning to read.

Time moves so slow.

Seokjin cooked fried eggs and warmed up soup from the cans. You had to share a bowl because Aunt Shuma only packed one. One spoon, one fork, one bowl.

“I think Aunt Shuma is setting us up…” you darted.

“Of course she is.” Seokjin blurted emotionlessly.

“Did you fish something out?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t know why you fish, you hardly ever catch anything…”

“It’s not about catching anything…”

You look at him, half chewing.

“It’s teaching me patience. It’s teaching me to wait, to want to wait. That when the time comes, it’ll come. And if you don’t catch anything, at least you tried. It’s not about catching a fish— it’s nothing about catching anything at all. It’s forcing me to wait,” he explains. You finally understand. You imagined being in his shoes where everything had to be at lightning speed, and ridiculous expectations placed on him. He had to be in a certain way, had to act a certain way. Every move is calculated. Seokjin was an anxious being. And everyone tends to forget that he was only 30-something.

He has been catching the ideals his whole life. He had been restlessly filling up the areas people told him he was lacking. When you keep listening to others without knowing yourself, you end up draining yourself to fill the mold others create for you. It can be very tiring, unfulfilling and damaging. People would put thoughts in you, put words in your mouth that sometimes you lose yourself in the process— if you’re not careful. Seokjin is surrounded by people that want to be him, if not wanting a piece of him or what he has. You were no different. Looking at him from this light of sunset, your heart thudded sadly.

Why are you sad though?

Parents lived in a loveless marriage for years, this should have been easy. Why is it not?

Looking at him feels like stargazing. He’s like the moon. There’s a side of him you will never know. But isn’t he so remarkably mesmerizing?

Without you knowing, you started to pretend even when no one is around. Seokjin turns to you as if he heard your thoughts. His eyes glanced to your lips then back up to your eyes. You cleared your throat and thumbed where his bruises were. You put your face close to him and said that you were looking at his disappearing bruises. The boat rocks violently, and his hand flies to your waist to hold you steady. Nose clashing. Your visions blurred from how close he was. Winds striking softly. He fixed your hair but didn’t move away. His lips are parted. The time stills. Ticking by.

So, what happens to the girl no one falls in love with? She takes any love she can get her hands on.

Even if its not real.

.

.

.

.

To be continued…

Copyright © July 2nd, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading :)

⸻

That sunset on the boat,

“Postcards,” you suddenly blurted. Just before Seokjin’s lips could touch yours.

“My dream is to receive a postcard from someone,” you return to your spot and look down to the floorboards next to the empty plate.

“Like from other countries?” He darted back. You collect the used dishes together while listening to his words, “It doesn’t have to. Just postcards in general.”

It was so strange. Now Seokjin spends most of his teenage years in countries scattered around the world. He has tutors travelling with him when his parents need to be in these countries to do their businesses. It was when Seokjin turned 12 that they decided the company will be permanently based in Germany. But Seokjin continued to travel the world with his art-loving mother. His mother thought that it would distract him from the separation his parents are going through. He passed by airport areas and would see postcards on the stands and asked if he could buy some. His mother would ask him who he wants them to be sent to and he would reply, he is just buying because of the picture on them.

You said, “I don’t know, you might think it’s ridiculous but, I want to know how it feels like to be remembered. Imagine someone who is strolling down a street, came across a pretty postcard and felt like giving it to somebody,” your hands are covered with soap and you are washing the dishes while Seokjin leans by the doorway, holding onto the camera Aunt Shuma gave him and changing the film. Clicks.

“And you happen to be that somebody and you read what they thought about and it’s all for you…” your voice drifted.

Seokjin tuts his tongue and lays on his stomach on top of the bed in the boat, “People get postcards because it is the cheapest souvenir,” he darted bluntly. You shot a glare to the side and your shoulders dropped. He really has a knack of making people feel sad instantly. Sometimes you wish you could just pinch him.

“Wow, I wonder where that smart-mouth went when Uncle Devil was around,” you replied to him. You set the bowl to the side and every other dishware in the box where it doesn’t risk being broken. Seokjin doesn’t reply. Too consumed with the cameras to even bother with you. He looks like a huge kid with a newfound toy that he is obsessed with. The night is coming. It feels longer now that you have no phone to kill time. All you have is Seokjin and he doesn’t really look bored apart from the occasional yawning.

“Wanna play a game?” he huffs and sits. One leg underneath him, the other hanging to the boat floor. You sat on the tiny counter and crossed your legs.

“Sure.”

Seokjin takes you outside and lined up cans of beer Aunt Shuma packed. Not sure why it was there but Seokjin doesn’t want it to go to waste. There is also a pack of carton juice. So it’s beer for him and juice for you.

“Truth or drink… familiar?” Seokjin snaps one beer can open with his forefinger.

“You tell the truth and if you can’t, you drink. Yeah I am familiar,” you explained to him to let him know that it's not strange to you. You’ve gone to college and college parties always have that ice-breaking game.

“Round 1,” Seokjin starts, “How are we wrong for each other?”

The provocation is sharp. You eyed the juice but felt like a beer would actually be better for you. He tilts his head back and cracks his neck, waiting for your answer. Drinking only makes you feel like a coward and you are overthinking this. Let’s just state the obvious.

“Where do I even start,” you chuckled dryly, “We come from a very different world.”

Seokjin waits. He hopes his sharp disarming gazes would coerce an explanation from you. It worked.

“I think it's obvious, you flag it out in the open every time we meet. That itself is self-explanatory,” you shrugged and wore a small smile, “My turn,” you hummed, “What is something you’re struggling with that no one knows about?”

Seokjin weighed on it a little, but his arms extended to the opened can of beer, so you protested.

“No fair!” you snatched the can of beer before he could.

He snatches it anyway, “You know about it now…” a glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you, he turns away and gulps down half of the bitter liquid and smacks his lips together. And you knew it was about the incident in the investor’s night. He had kept that secret for almost 30 years. That amount of abuse looming in a prestigious family was unheard of and it is understandably why. It gives obvious bad rapport and media shuns.

“You just want to get drunk,” you accused him lightly. He could have answered the question with just a drink but he decides to offer a context for you. Or you’re just intuitively transparent.

“Okay, how many kids are too many kids? How many will you have?” He grabs a peanut from its half-opened foil and waits for your answer. You hummed while thinking. It really struck you that you never ever thought about it. It was always about the family and making sure everyone is fed.

“I don’t know…” you slumped your shoulders and frowned in confusion, “I never actually thought about it to be honest with you. Maybe, two or three? Depends?”

Seokjin chuckles, “On what?”

“I don’t know?” your hands fly around, “His stamina, I guess? Dude, I just never thought about it, of course I have to think about the financial standings, if we are able to reproduce and I want to make sure that me and him can afford having kids, you know? That is if we’re talking once our deal is done and I marry a guy I actually love.” You explained. Felt the need to add that extra information because why not.

Seokjin’s smile faltered a little. Of course you wouldn’t notice. It was gone as quick as it came.

“Describe me in three words,” you darted in one breath while fetching a peanut.

Seokjin contemplated. His eyes flicker to the floorboard next to you then to your knees and back to the view of the calm ocean.

“Rambunctious. Intimidating. Observant,” he said but he didn’t look at you once. He only turned to you when he was done.

“Wow, I feel like a maleficent,” you joked, “Thank you, I guess? I get the intimidating one more frequently than you thought… so I was kind of surprised I ended up with some friends in college. Then I realized Ian and Suri were intimidating too… Oh yeah! I’ve been meaning to ask, how does Rachel know Ian? And how did Ian know you?”

Seokjin sat up, crumpled the empty can of beer in one hand and sighed heavily. He straightens his back and his eyes travel far as he recalls the first time he met Ian.

“I am guessing Ian or Christian never really told you who he really is,” his voice drawled, “He is Uncle Devil’s bastard son.”

The look on your face was unmistakable. The reveal was unkind and unexpected. Having to hear it from someone you hadn’t known for long felt strange. It also felt rather overboard, considering how penetrative that information could be. The media would have a spring day with that. It also felt strange that you know the inside scoop of one of the most respected conglomerate family circles. Your old colleague who was your best friend was Seokjin’s first cousin.

“Nobody wanted him to carry the Kim’s family name, so he carried his mother’s hence, Christian Yu,” he reached for another can of beer, “For reasons obvious to all. That’s why I know about the wedding, and I know about your financial standings, your part-time jobs and all that shit… Ian sometimes hangs out with us at the club.”

“You guys gossiped about me?”

“Not all the time, and Ian’s whatever,” Seokjin tips his head back and drinks some more, “Ian and I went to an all-boys school abroad, and we hung out in places doing girls and drinking… Nothing more…” he looked up and to the side at you but you were in a state of shock, “Listen. It was all in the past, now we hardly talked. I stopped talking to him after I caught him with my girlfriend, I mean ex-girlfriend, Rachel. And about the sex video that she took and he kept,” Seokjin explains, “I do dumb shit okay, I do dumb shit all the time, that’s why my dad hates me.”

For you, it avalanches. You wondered just how much more humiliating your life could be that it became an entertainment for a certain group of people that you trusted your life with. What abode was it for you to tell Ian things you wouldn’t have told anyone and entrusted him? You pictured Suri, Rachel, Ian— laughing, making a joke out of the hard life you lived. Now you pictured Seokjin. The fake marriage was charity work for him. And now when you begin to fall for him, it all comes too clear that it was just you.

Seokjin called your name once, twice and three times. A smile jolted out of you as if you were caught daydreaming.

“You okay?” he asked, tenderly.

You nodded reassuringly, but inside, your ribs are crushing your lungs and you wished your life ended right there and then.

And just then, a switch in you turned off.

“I was just thinking that… your dad doesn’t hate you,” you sang, “You worked so hard for him to hate you and that’s understandable. You wanted attention. You wanted him to see you. It didn’t matter what form; good or bad. You just wanted him to see you.” Seokjin’s heart tugged. He felt incredibly heard and seen. When you described his entire teenage life in a sentence, he felt the piece of the puzzle fits in. And he felt it.

He felt love. Now he wants to know how you feel about him.

“Your turn… sorry, my question about Ian made you explain,” you huffed, reaching for the can of beer instead of juice which irked Seokjin. He even held it from you.

“It’s okay,” you giggled, “It’s fine.”

He lets you have it. He clears his throat before he begins, “In what ways have you used me?”

You gave him a lopsided smile and a head tilt, “Explicitly?”

He widens his eyes at you, in shock. He watches you downed half of the beer.

“Are you seriously surprised? After we fucked that night in the ship, I literally cannot go to sleep without thinking about you… there I said it, I masturbated to the thought of you fucking me,” you looked down to the floor, then up to him, “Then I feel terrible, disgusted with myself. Ashamed.” You wanted to hurt him. A hesitant flicker in his eyes. It’s hard to see if your plans worked. His ears' helix turned red.

“My turn,” you sneered, “Who is the last person who saw your dick…”

Seokjin cheeks deflated. It’s called truth or drink. He has to tell the truth or drink. He snatches a new can, downed the entire can and crumpled it like it was paper. You chewed the insides of your cheek and looked down to your lap. The silence was so loud. Of course. Of course he has slept with someone else. It is hard to picture someone that looks like Seokjin, having the body like Seokjin, the money and the charms of Seokjin and not have someone he is able to fuck readily. To be honest to yourself, it was hardly a deal breaker. Lots of married couples seek outside the home adventures they couldn’t have with their partner at home.

The sole fact of his infidelity should not have hurt.

And yet.

It did.

“I… once,” he replied, “It was just once, I promise.” Why is he reassuring you? He doesn’t know and it slipped out of his mouth before his brain could process it.

“Not interested,” you shot him down, “You rich people had always been crazy. You come from a broken family, you turned outwardly normal, that’s good enough…”

“Are you… wait,” he gave it a quick thought, “Are you angry?”

“Of course not,” you shrugged, “Why would I? Whomever you are fucking does not concern me… you’re not that hot to me…”

Seokjin arched an eyebrow at you, “Oh is that why you touch yourself thinking about me? Because I’m not ‘that hot’ to you?”

“Give me a break, you’re the only one I have ever slept with okay…” you rolled your eyes and your head, protesting at his alarming accusation that is potentially detrimental to your reputation.

“Ever heard of porn?” he takes another sip of the beer, now feeling rather hot in his vein. He is not sure if it's the topic or the beer or both.

“Yeah, but I hate it. The dialogue is whack and the set up is always trying to make sure the pussy is in the camera frame and it just spoils my mood so I gave up on it,” you finished a can of beer and took another. Seokjin actually agreed to that. They can make it look so cheap. So undesirable.

“Tell me one truth,” you added.

“I think about it,” he blinks to the view of the opening of the can, “About us.”

It was strange, hearing it from him, in that calm and warm tone of voice, with that softness in his eyes and the way his lips looked even more plump in this dim light. You leaned your head back and your eyes half-lidded. A part of you wants to know where he is taking this conversation, another part of you wants to jump in the cold water because of the alcohol and to avoid it.

“I try to remember how you taste, how you felt, how you smell… and I can’t openly ask you that because you’ll just shut me down,” Seokjin hummed to himself, “To tell you the truth, I…” and he turned to you. Snoozing.

You were sleeping. You had fallen asleep in mere seconds after the third can of beer. How is this even possible?! Seokjin leans over to you. One palm rested to the wall next to your head, the other next to the cushion where you sat. He had you lay down on the bed, and covered you in a blanket. He hangs his head low, with his hand on the handle bar, thinking.

One truth?

I love you.

Aunt Shuma waves at you, being carried in Seokjin’s arms. You waved back, with a big smile on your face and looking astoundingly happy. Seokjin however didn’t share the same enthusiastic energy. The man set you down on the wooden bench and placed the picnic bag on the side.

“What’s happened?” The elderly lady asked.

“Someone sprained her ankles standing on a perfectly flat ground,” Seokjin eyed you.

You rolled your eyes up and to the side, “We were on a wobbly boat for a whole day! It needs some getting used to…”

“Thank goodness for Seokjin’s capable arms, I wouldn’t have imagined what would happen if it weren’t for him,” Aunt Shuma eyed you and winked. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Aunt Shuma watches Seokjin’s nimble hand studying the sprain as if he had experienced handling one before. Feeling Aunt Shuma’s eyes on him, Seokjin glances at her briefly and returns to your tiny feet.

“I used to play soccer,” he sounded so small, almost like a little kid, “I got sprained a lot.”

“What do we do?” Aunt Shuma asked.

“Ice, we need ice,” he said. Aunt Shuma takes out some ice cubes and places them in a bag. Seokjin tenderly dabs it on the sprained area that’s turning red and swelling. Your hand flew to his shoulder and gripping on it hard, it left marks on his porcelain skin. Goosebumps rose along his forearms. You hissed and bit your lips, breathing out through your nose.

“S-seokjin,” you whimpered. He gulped. Cold sweat beads in his forehead and in between his shoulder blades. Clouds of pink floated in his head before he shook it off.

“Shut up,” he spat.

“You shut up,” you shot, “It’s painful you dumbass.”

“That’s why be careful before you step into things…” he muttered angrily.

“I didn’t know the stone was going to roll, it’s called an accident for a reason,” you swat his hands away, “If you don’t want to help, then don’t. I got this.”

You stood up, clutching on the wooden bench, the walls and the door panels— hanging one leg up behind you, leaving Seokjin behind with the ice bag in his hand. You crawled on all four realizing it’s faster that way, and that’s when your aunt crossed her arm at you.

“You’re like a clone,” she refers to your mother and if she fights with your dad, she will take matters into her own hands and insist on solving her problems her own way— very much like you’re doing, right now. She rushed out the door and poke her head out and Seokjin who is cleaning up after. Emptying the bag containing the melted ice and collecting the picnic bag with all the washed dishes.

“Come inside Seokjin, you left something behind in my kitchen, crawling on all fours,” she jests. Seokjin jogs over, like a good boy he is. Aunt Shuma also returns the phones, much to your dismay. The events that occur next are pretty much expected of Seokjin. He gets multiple missed calls, some urgent emails and documents that need looking into.

“There seems to be a problem with the investments coming from outside the country,” you overheard the phone calls, and Seokjin replied, “I understand, the board of members be rest assured that the agreement will soon follow after we host a meeting,” pauses, “Yes I am aware of the stock return and price fluctuation, the commodities are stock-price dependent… you and I both know that there’s no instant fix to that until the situation subsides…” Seokjin’s voice grew increasingly sturdy. Whoever is on the other end of the line was clearly impatient and unhappy. Seokjin was at the blunt end, becoming this person’s punching bag. The expression he wore was unsettling. He looks at you over his shoulders, hesitantly.

“Hmm, I know that look,” you hiked breathes in through your teeth, “It’s the we-can’t-stay-any-longer look,” you explained to Aunt Shuma. You begin to move your ankle and the sprain has subsided, thanks to Seokjin’s massages and ice pack. You climbed up the stairs to your old room and started packing your things while Seokjin was still on the phone. You glanced around the room, feeling nostalgic. Wearing a small smile on your lips. Your aunt followed after you.

“Your parents had the most tumultuous marriage,” she began reminiscing, “When I saw how reckless your dad spending was, I got really worried and I know that your mother felt what I was thinking about, the outcomes. We just never said anything,” she folded Seokjin’s hoodie and handed it to you. You dropped your gaze to the hoodie and fit them in the luggage bag you and Seokjin shared. It was true, what she said. Your childhood was rather bleak in memory. You remember being in multiple places at once, when the landlord throws you out. Your mother sent you to Aunt Shuma for four years and your brother to your grandfather. You had abandonment issues and you aren’t really sure if you grew out of it or just gotten used to pretending it never happened. Maybe the latter.

“You might not realize this but that boy out there,” she points her chin outwards where Seokjin is, “He loves you. His words might not reflect it but let me tell you this,” she leans down to you, “His actions do.” She bopped your nose like she always did when you were younger. She folds the knitted blanket and hands them to you. Your eyes trailed up to her.

“You’re all grown up now,” she said through a broken voice and eyes brimming with tears, “I am so happy for you.” You stood up slowly and hugged her tightly. You know she is lonely. You know that this little cottage and the little boat was all she had left after her husband passed away from pneumonia, the day you went to high school. She had been reclusive ever since, unable to verbally describe her feelings, too focused on hiding the pain rather than dealing with it. Which reminds you of yourself. Aunt Shuma understands you the most, and to have not invited her to the wedding felt wrong— criminal even.

You expressed your apology in the hug and aching to tell the truth about how the wedding came to be but, Seokjin knocked on the door and spoiled the moment by saying, “It was raining outside and inside too?” Aunt Shuma sputtered while crying and invited him into the hug as well. Seokjin managed to slip in a small apology note whilst the hug and it was accepted by Aunt Shuma with a price— the next visit will be much longer.

⸻

He slips his plane ticket in between the pages of his passport. His Rayban glasses folded in his breast pocket and you stood up when he arrived where you were seated. There was hardly anyone around the airport at this time of the year. With the pandemic not seeing an end, travels are banned. Seokjin however, was a special case. It is safe to say that if he doesn’t set foot in Germany as soon as possible to save the company, half of the South Korean economic growth will prepare for a permanent collapse.

He sits and you follow.

Seokjin rests his elbows on his knees, manspreading on the bench. His eyes wandered as far as they could into the wide window view overlooking the runway.

“A penny for your thought,” you gushed, not wanting to leave without a conversation to remember. Well, not wanting him to leave without a conversation to remember— seems more appropriate. He looks to the side where you weren’t, where the jumbo jets are preparing for flight and some airplanes are parked for the next flight.

“Don’t sprain your ankles when I’m not around…” he blinks to the floor, “Don’t forget to eat your medications… Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Mr. Kim Seokjin, are you worried about me?” you turned your head to the side at him with a smile toying at the tips of your lips. Seokjin responds to the question by leaning back to the chair, gliding his eyes to you and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, gently.

“It’s hard not to,” he thought. He thumbed your cheek and squeezed it like he would, a child.

“If I hear anything from Yoongi,” Seokjin warned while grinding his teeth together, “You will get it from me…”

“Get what?” you taunted, with playful eyes. Leaning forward and tipping your head to one side. You sit there, close enough to take a lungful whiff of his Diptyque Philosykos and he responds with the same energy, only an inch away from each other’s lips. His eyes dropped to your Cupid’s Bows and he wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. In fact, he wanted to get caught— staring too long, with his lips parted and his tongue peeping out like he was ready to let it glide in you should the circumstances allowed it. For now, that is. You weren’t ready to back out just yet, you wanted to challenge him. Wanted to see how long he’ll hold out. He tips his chin up ever so slightly and you move in sync, never backing away.

“Giving them something to stare at?” he arched an eyebrow, talking in slow murmurs against your lips.

“Giving you something to remember being five thousand miles away,” you enticed him.

“Five thousand and two hundred and two miles,” his voice drops an octave lower, breathing in, “Actually,” he bits his lips while keeping his eyes on you. You felt butterflies when he did that. Just a static disarming pool of nothingness, rising up your ribcage and dissipating at once. An old lady’s luggage fell to hit your backpack that you set on the floor next to your feet. The kind lady apologizes profusely for interrupting. But you and Seokjin both said that it was alright. Naturally you both scooted closer to each other to make more room for her, but less gaps between you two. Your side boob is pressed against his chest now as he is cornered with the arm rest. Your palm flew to his knee and rode up his thigh without you being aware.

The poor man is holding his breath for a hot minute while you lowered to the side where the lady was to grab your backpack. Too close. Too close to the crotch, he chanted. He begins breathing in very slowly, taking off his blazers. Fold it, and place it on his lap.

“Newly weds?” the old lady asked.

“Yes, how did you know?” you grinned.

“A hunch… What a lovely couple, honeymoon I suppose?” she asked, cinching her eyes to you and Seokjin next.

“No I’m afraid, this bad boy is leaving me,” you took your hand out from underneath his blazers and patted on top of the blazer instead.

Seokjin chuckles deeply, that deep rich-man chuckles, “Work is keeping us apart, you must excuse our intimacy.”

The old lady jests, kindly disapproving the reasoning because she believes that Seokjin should have “taken” you, his wife, “with him”.

“I’d love to, but…” he drags and his eyes trails to you, “We won’t get anything done.”

It’s his turn to fluster you now. He places his hand in between your thigh and grabs it shamelessly, “Can’t keep my hands off her…”

Your eyes widened to the front and you forced out a smile, “I am so so sorry…” but the kind old lady winked back. Seokjin took the chance of you turning away to stare into the shape of your ear shell and he whispered low in your ear, “hey…” you snapped your head at him at once. He wears a smoldering, encapsulating, undulating stare that reels you in. He takes your backpack from you and tells you to, “Zip your bags at all times,” in hushed tones. You felt the need to swallow the saliva that has been pooling in your mouth. Your throats, parched. Your panties, wet. And he had done close to nothing.

A familiar jingle reverberates through the speakers and a female announcer voice follows right after. It says, “Korean Air flight KR780, KR780 to Berlin is now ready for boarding through Gate A, Gate A.”

“This is me,” he takes his time standing up. The folded blazer still covers his front. He grabs the luggage handle, slips it upward easily with a mechanical click as you watch. You gave him a lopsided smile and in a swift, he held the back of your head and placed them on his chest briefly. He plants a kiss atop of your head and whispers, “Take care.” Then, he strides sideways to leave you behind. You watched his back grow smaller and smaller, the farther he gets. He makes his way to the first class gates and not once did he turn around to see you. He gets on the descending escalator and you continue to watch until his head completely disappears.

“Now, missus?” Yoongi asks.

“Not yet,” you place your palm on the window, looking at the jet that Seokjin boards, “I want to see it take-off… and then we can go.”

Seokjin burns his gaze outside the small window of the airplane. The ground crew directs the airplane to the right direction. Drilling a hole in the cement was Seokjin’s glare. He rests his head to the back of the chair, the spacious first class flying cabin with complimentary drinks set aside. He clenches his eyes shut but all he could see is you. He never realized how grounded you kept him. This is what they say about relationships, they burn slow like flaring embers on the edge of the paper. The time slows into a crawl, a miniscule, minute and fizzles. Your memories in fractions that fill his days, sibilates from his glass of sparkling water.

Recruiting a new CFO* is challenging. Bringing a new face into an old company could be a detrimental move but Seokjin is confident that the change will catapult the organization into a more data-friendly generation that are more prone to technological advancement— a corner Senior Kim isn’t particularly strong on. Seokjin understands more than the other dinosaur age board members that the company must continue to evolve in order to keep up with the changing world. Certain key performance index must be developed, more intelligent talent must be recruited— all this to refrain the establishment from growing stagnant and comfortable in the environment they are in. Seokjin seeks to evoke a new challenge, a new adventure for the company to enlarge. Seokjin is interested in broadening and sparking competition in the field.

*CFO refers to the Chief Financial Officer in charge of finance of a big corporation.

This movement was not necessarily supported by the older members of the board. And this, Seokjin knew. In fact, the breach and the coalition was regarded as a provocation to the existing tradition. Apart from Yoongi, there was only a small number of staff that were for the change. The others were too afraid to speak up or preferred to be in the safe area. The quiet altercation can be draining. Especially when you are standing alone. He has leaf through endless potential profiles suitable for the position but the closer he looks, the more restless he feels. Hours on end since he landed on the soil, he flips through the files and at the same time, he tries to attend meetings necessary for ‘The Money Project’ that is in progress as he travels.

He stayed in his suite, with his blazer on the bed. He turns on his MacBook, sifting through the paperwork. Top three buttons of his dress shirt unbutton, sleeves rolled up his elbow. He straightens up in the chair, elbow on the desk, another hand twirling the Parker pen he brought. He pursed his lips as his eyes scanned through the words— he would sometimes bury his fingers in his brown lock of hair, leaving it unruly and messy. He likes to tug on the roots because reading business plans can be taxing. The slight pain would remind him that he is very much alive. He orders a medium rare steak with extra gravy and some salad, and a bottle of wine to go with it.

As he slices through the juicy meat, his mind glides to the time he forced you to eat a medium rare steak in his favorite restaurant. He couldn’t forget the look on your face as you hesitantly opened your mouth as his fork waited. Your face contorted into disgust as you saw the blood dripping on the plate. Seokjin held his hand underneath your chin along with the fork loaded with the sliced meat.

“I put a lot of gravy on it, you won’t taste the blood,” Seokjin adds, “Open up, come on… Let’s go, we don’t have all day. Don’t think about it, I promise it tastes good…”

You shook your head like a child. If he wasn’t thinking about your anemic condition, would never want to force this on you. Since you wouldn’t eat chicken liver and spinach did not help much on the red blood cell counts, he had to resort to this. Under the advice of the doctor.

“Please,” he pleaded, “You can eat any ice cream you want right after you finish the plate…”

He kept gazing deep into your eyes, and you faltered a little. He felt hopeful when he saw your lips parted. He took your chin and forced it open. Your tongue slid out at the meat and he carefully fed you. He didn’t let his eyes leave the sight of your mouth enveloping the fork along with the meat and gravy dripping on the side of your lips. He thumbs the dripping sauce and slipped the same thumb into his lips all the while keeping his eyes on you chewing.

“Good girl,” he says in a deep guttural voice. His eyes flickered away but he felt the heat from your stares. And to this day, he regrets not making any move on that tension. But how was he to know if you wanted that?

Reeled back into the present, slicing into his meat, he chews slowly. Pushing the cart containing the empty plates outside the door of his room, he undresses to shower. The first sprinkle of warm shower on his face erases the gruelling day he’s had. Not fully, but it felt refreshing. He steps out of the shower with renewed energy. He has to rest now. His brain is at full capacity. It’s only 6pm but since he landed, he hasn’t been able to lie down. He fetches his phone from the bedside table that is charging and sees your text from hours ago. He hasn’t been able to reply immediately after he read it. You asked if he had landed. He exhaled through his nose and stared at the message until the sign ‘Online’ flickers underneath your name, indicating that you’re awake.

Isn’t it late there?

It’s 1 am in Seoul.

He bits his lips and taps the call button. He chanted, “Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t answer…”

“...Hello?” Fuck. He sat up in the middle of his king-sized bed. He was wearing the robe still, right after the shower.

“Hey, I… didn’t think you’d pick up…” he explains, “It’s so late.”

“Oh, I’m carding through the children’s book to see the story line before I read them to the kids tomorrow,” you answered nonchalantly, “Did you get to the hotel safe?”

He hikes in a breath, “Yeah, I got to the hotel by the company’s car and is snug in my bed preparing for bed. I have a feeling that I won't be able to sleep well tonight…”

You tutted your tongue disapprovingly, “We agreed to take good care of ourselves when we’re apart,” you scolded him gently, “What’s wrong?”

Now it’s Seokjin’s turn to click his tongue. He shakes his head, shaking the wary thoughts away, only to keep you waiting for a reasonable explanation. He sighed, “Nothing… Well. Nothing that can be solved by staying up, I suppose.” He gathers himself and begins explaining about his plan to recruit a CFO and how challenging it was.

“So you’re meaning to say that, you’ve psyched yourself to believe that you might be making a mistake by wanting change in your establishments? By appointing this new figure in your traditional business board of members?” you caught every word he said and his current mental state. Both of which he appreciated. He leans his head on the headboard, sighing yet another time, “Yes…”

“I am not business savvy or whatever, that’s your specialty…” your voice trailed and he heard the pages flips, “But honestly, Seokjin, I think what you’re trying to do is great. Change is good. You don’t evolve by staying at the same spot…”

“Sure okay but what if it fails,” he lets his hand fall on the bed, thud.

“Bestie,” you shrink your voice, “It hasn’t happened yet… You’re worried about going into a pool that’s probably more shallow than you think…” you sang and you heard him sigh again.

“A lot of sighing today hmm,” you commented.

He lays on his back on the bed, Seokjin twitches a smile on the corner of his lips with a fist resting on his forehead while he has the phone on loudspeaker on his torso.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose hard.

After a brief silence, you called his name out and he replied with a soft “Mm…”

“Turn it to video call, I want to show you the drawing on the children's book I’m gonna read tomorrow…” you told him, “It’s so cute…”

“I don’t want to keep you up, it’s already so late,” he shakes his head and talks in slurs.

“I’ll read to you, you have to see it,” you insisted. He surrendered to your demands and all he saw was the book’s front page. You cheerfully greeted him with a finger heart through the video call, you have the camera pointed to what you’re facing instead of your face.

“It’s title is already so cute, I think the person who wrote it was a genius, it’s called, you ready?” you waited for him but Seokjin hoisted himself up to put on his boxers and shorts. You caught a glimpse of his expansive back and shoulders as he poke his head through the shirt hole. Then Seokjin returns to the call, laying on the stomach and prepping a pillow underneath him. He leans the phone against the headboard.

“I’m ready now,” he huffs.

“Okay, it’s called, ‘The Boy with One Strand of Hair.’ And this is him,” you showed him the drawing and he smiled till his eyes shrunk into a pair of crescents.

“Once upon a time, there lived a boy who had one strand of hair…” you began.

As the story progresses, Seokjin’s eyes begin to droop. You made sure to lower your voice as he begins to fall asleep. His head tilted to the side on the pillow and he looked like a little boy. You didn’t forget to screenshot his sleeping face to show him the next day. He looked like he needed the sleep. You hardly imagine he is able to snooze in foreign countries considering that he told you once that he takes time to get used to time zones and sleeping in unfamiliar places. But as far as you know, when he lays next to you, he sleeps well.

“He styles it, ties it— Does all the things anyone would do to a hair for the ones he had. He wouldn’t trade it for anything else. He learns that what he was given, he should be thankful and grateful for. No matter how little and how few. So the boy rejoices…

And he lives with his one strand of hair, happily ever after,” you closed the book and smiled to the video call where Seokjin is sleeping soundly.

“Goodnight, little Seokjin,” you whispered gently. The call ended.

⸻

The car door pulled shut. Seokjin’s long languid fingers unhook themselves from the handle and he set the back of his head on the head rest and he sighed. The car purrs away from the curb and into the main road. The thing about business is, business owners aren’t as busy as most people thought. Seokjin is just a small part of a larger corporation, but the part that is continuously evolving, in charge of all the strategic decisions and clarifying the ever changing objective of the company. Even though he was busy, he made a strange request.

“If you see a yellow mailbox, let me know,” Seokjin lulled his head to the side, “Stop the car and let me know.”

The driver did just that. A few minutes of driving, the driver found a strikingly yellow mailbox. Seokjin then slipped a rectangular card into the compartment that is labelled ‘International’. He did that over an hour of writing. His driver had to stop the engine from running and take a walk while he was writing. He wrote it with a lot of difficulty it seems.

His nose was deep into the files and emails he printed from the developers of the housing, when he heard his phone vibrate. Your name flashes on top.

He wiped his hand on the back of his trousers and answered it. He grins and about to make a smart comment about it, was going to tease you about it until he heard sniffing. His smile vanishes immediately. He slowly sat on the edge of the bed, the few pieces of paper in his hand set aside as there is a more pressing matter to be addressed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I called you, I shouldn’t have… why did you answer, you must be so busy, and I am bothering you, gosh, you know what, bye…” the call ended.

Seokjin took his phone off his ear and dialed your number instantly.

“What happened?”

“I… When I was younger,” your voice sounds nasally, “My mom brought me and my brother to my aunts and uncles' houses and when we arrived there, their spouse would accuse us of asking for money from them… and that mom brought us there so they pitied us and all we ever did was ask for money, food, shelter…”

Seokjin wasn’t sure where you were but he heard the clicks of your heels on the concrete road, the sound of vehicles passing and strong gusts of wind now and then.

“So there's this one uncle who hates us so much that when we arrive at his doorsteps, he shuts the door in our faces and stays really quiet until we leave. The last time we came, it was raining heavily and my little brother fell ill and even then, he still wouldn’t open the door. Mom begged him over and over again and still, he wouldn't open the door…” you added, “I saw him today at the hospital. He had a stroke and couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I stood by his bed while his eyes widened at the sight of me and I knew that he recognized me…”

Seokjin dropped his head low, pressed the phone to his ear and stayed silent.

“Is it wrong that I relished in his sufferings? I was delighted to see him strapped in bed, with a urine bag attached on him, as he moans and struggles to eat. Thinking about what he did to my mother and my brother and how disgusted he was at the sight of us… asking for basic necessities? I asked him; what’s it's like to depend on others now? And I just got out of there… And I felt so cruel, so despicable and hated myself to the point that I fucking cried…”

“I’ve waited years to say that and when I finally did, it felt… numb. Void. Like nothing…” you sobbed. Seokjin slowly blinked at the view in front of him. He gulped, jaw clenched. He wipes his hand over his face and exhales through his nose.

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To be continued…

“Oh appa!” you shrieked, wiping your hands with a tissue and dashing to the kitchen where your father was. He opens the tiny fridge for some bottled drinks to fight the hot weather of the morning.

“Yup,” his voice muffled, trying to speak through the fridge’s door.

“I chopped some apples for mom, so after Seokjin arrives, we will both go to the hospital first, drop you off thenI’ll head to the wedding,” you explained to your dad the plans for today. The old man nodded and replied, “You know you have to give a wedding gift when you’re there right?”

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“You have Seokjin now you no longer have to worry about whether you have enough,” dad said, more to convince himself than to reply to you. There’s a hint of relief in his tone and you were glad that you managed to help ease your father's trouble. He had fought long and hard from his youth till now to provide for this family. This life may not have been perfect at any turn, but it was undeniably yours. There was always some sense of acceptance that made all of this easy. Sacrifices were made for this home but it was far more harmless than what could have occurred. You sleep a little easier knowing that there is money in the bank.

Knock. Knock.

Your father turns to you with a serious look, “Do you think it’s time to give him the spare key since he is always around? Why don’t both of you settle here? Speaking of settling down, have you two decided where? Shifting between houses isn't healthy for a marriage you see… too many hours apart…” he warns with a tilt of his head.

You sped to the door knob and said, “Distance makes the heart grow fonder! Besides, I still have to clean the house and cook for you when you’re home.” Seokjin wore a checkered long-sleeve shirt and jeans, and you almost thought that a stranger was there instead of him. He looked so different, you almost didn’t recognise him. So casual, so...uncharacteristically Seokjin.

“Who are you?” you feigned a confused face and relished in the annoyed expression he bore as he stepped in.

“Where’s your Balenciaga jacket, Rayban shades and tailored suits?” you kept pestering him and he rolled his eyes.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” he softly scolded.

“Dad was just asking where we are going to settle down and I don’t have the answers for that,” you spoke through gritted teeth, careful to not raise your voice because your father could hear.

“Just say Seokjin’s working on it,” he shrugs.

“What do you mean by that? You too don’t have the plans in papers? I thought you had everything in bullet points??”

“I didn’t think in detail, well I do have a spot I just… it’s still under renovation,” he stepped in, took off his slip-ons and bowed to your dad with his good son-in-law smile plastered across his face.

You took out several food containers from the fridge. Tie them up like you did his bento before. For Seokjin, there’s just so many of them. Certainly your mother won’t be able to finish it.

“Why so many?”

“It’s for the whole ward… I have money now you see. I have always wanted to cook for them all. And now, I can,” you winked at him and took two bunch in each hand, pointing the other two with your chin, you said to Seokjin, “You could get the rest of it right honey? I hope you didn’t bring your Lambo for our errands today because if you do we might have to take the b-u-s.”

Seokjin turns his head slowly to the view of about 5 more tied bentos on the tiny counter.

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“I was half-worried that he might have brought the sports car,” dad huffs, fastening the belt as he sat in the front passenger seat. The brown Palisade Hyundai was clearly rarely used, judging from the lack of dirt on the inside and outside of the car. Some of the items inside the car were still wrapped in plastic.

“If I were to be honest, the car looks like it just got out of the car shop or wherever someone gets a new car from,” you mumbled to your chest as the back door closed after Seokjin loaded everything. He scuffles to the driver seat and has the engine started with a press of a button.

“Sweetie,” you called, and he hummed back naturally with a little head jerk.

“I like this car better than the Lambo,” you said and puffed your cheek, “It looks barely used though, it’s not your favourite?”

“I just got it. Today.”

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Seokjin avoided eye-contact with your dad and rather than him being shy, it was him being respectful. The boys engage in small talks about fishing. Your father too was enthusiastic about fishing like Seokjin's father was, however Seokjin never went fishing with them both despite having the same passion. You see a smile on his pretty face, a smile you had never seen before. Your father was too excited about the story where he caught a fish with a bait he made himself. You turned to the window and watched the pedestrians on the streets, feeling, after a long time— serenity, peace and love.

You returned to the car alone after sending your father off to the hospital. As you were crossing the road, Seokjin was taking a call outside the Palisade. From the looks of it, it seemed very important. He caught you watching and turned his back to you, leaning against the car door. He ended the call in a hurry and climbed into the car, the same time you did. His eyes are focused on everything but you.

“Are you alright?”

He swings his head to the side at you. Wide-eyed.

“Yes...I am fine,” Seokjin shrugs.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong. Very wrong.

There's things I wanna say to you

But I'll just let you live

Like if you hold me without hurting me

You'll be the first who ever did — Cinnamon Girl, Lana Del Rey

The song on the radio, taking your mind off of things for a little bit. Conversations sink in the pit of your stomach in the car ride to Seokjin’s home. The painting is delivered through a courier. After signing the device carried by the delivery man, Seokjin moves the painting when he realises that you stood ajar in the doorway, unsure where to go. He didn’t say a word but led the way with the painting in his arm.

“Mom called and said she wants dinner with you soon,” he sighed as he lay the painting on the L-shaped leather sofa in the middle of his living room, “So tell me when you have no class, and I’ll fit my schedule around yours,” he added. There was a baby grand piano at the corner of the room. A fireplace underneath the large flat-screen television. He turned the air conditioner on and darkened the windows. The living room has a wooden patio stretching all the way to the edge of the building, separated by a glass wall. The same glass walls are built in with tints that can be automatically darkened upon a touch of a button. Outside the patio, you could see hanging hammocks, a swimming pool and a jacuzzi. Luxury.

Chandeliers hung in the middle of the room as Seokjin took another call, and this time, you could see that it was from the office. He looked awkward having you around the house, so you sat yourself on the sofa, with your knees touching, your fingers fiddling. Seokjin hasn’t reappeared from the halls where his home office was though you could hear his voice but couldn’t make out what he says. In a few more hours, the wedding will begin. Ian’s and Suri’s. You were not looking forward to it, but because you insisted on helping Seokjin to hang this painting, you had to abide by his requests.

There’s a spiraling staircase next to the living room section, which you suspect to be directing to another section of the penthouse. Rich people live.

“What are you doing, get dressed…” he dashes out of nowhere and climbs up the stairs you were currently standing at the base of. Following his lead, you were directed to another leisure space and a door. In that room, there were already several dresses hanging in the walk-in closet.

“Choose one and get on with it,” he said and left you in the room on your own.

All of them were from the designer, Zuhair Murad. It’s written on the bags it came with and you chose the one with short one shoulder cocktail dress with asymmetrical ruffle in printed crimson, sapphire and jade stripes. There are make-up supplies, brand new and unopened in the closet itself. You hurried to your phone to look for some makeup ideas that are simple because you don’t want too much attention on you. Seokjin’s message chimes in.

[Seokjin]: I have matters to handle. I’ll send a car for you to the wedding and I’ll meet you there.

What else can you say about that, all this time you only could go with it— with whatever Seokjin told you to do.

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Several years prior,

Ian sits in the middle of the lecture hall while Suri paces up and down the stairs. You blasted through the door and threw your bag on the stage where the whiteboards were.

“And if you use the C = C x e^k.t formula?” Suri was heard saying but you stormed in, wordlessly and climbed on the stage. Suri jumps off the stage and joins Ian.

“Let her do her thang…” Ian said, with a trace of pride. You were facing the whiteboard, soaking in the numbers available and coming up with an equation that could be derived to solve the question. That’s why you love pharmacokinetics; while no one thinks it made sense, it makes perfect sense to you. And with every question, they require different amounts of intimacy. Intricate problems like these are special to you.

You stretched your arm out and said, “Pen…”

Not even once you looked behind you, your eyes were glued on the problem on the board. Squeezing the pen’s cap and pulling them open, you hold the tip of the pen an inch away from the board, take a deep breath in and...

Begin writing your solution. Suri counter checks your mental arithmetic solutions with her calculator, Ian double checks the basic formulas and you come to the solution.

“What’s the answer?” you asked, this time turning to the side where they were.

“8.1 hours…” they simultaneously answered and in obvious awe because you were accurate down to the T.

“How did you do it— “ “That’s insane…” “Can I borrow your brain for the quiz tomorrow? You won’t be taking the quiz anyways…”

You refastened the cap on the pen and passed them back to its rightful owner, smiling to the floor and picking up your bags from the floor. You coolly bid them farewell and went to do your part-time job in the university library before lectures begin at 1pm. Suri would deliver lunch to you because she knows you will be skipping lunch to avoid buying, using your allowance that you could save for your transportation card. It’s sometimes as simple as sandwiches or bentos. Sometimes sushi and sometimes wraps. You were so lucky to have friends who understand.

Ian drives you to the hospital when you miss the bus and sometimes fetches you from your workplace to university. The three of you went through a lot.

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Sitting in the back of the car on your way to the wedding, the car drove past the playground you three frequented. It's where you danced in the rain, swinging, and sliding down the slides at midnight and on one was around. As the car drove further away and the playground looked smaller from your view, you realised no matter how much you dreaded it, nothing lasts forever. No one is permanent. And you are about as real as you assumed yourself to be. In the end, the popular things today will be outdated in the future. Like an old mall and phones with chords. Relevance is heavily dependent on trends.

Arriving at the hall, your whole body felt heavy. There were too many eyes watching, too many unwelcomed stares and familiar faces that were in shock to see you there. The attention on you was harrowing so you excused yourself to stand outside the building, clutching your purse and taking out your phone. Nothing.

Your last messages to Seokjin were left unread. It’s been hours.

You resorted to calling Yoongi. It was answered within the first ring.

“Hey, I’m sorry— “ you began.

“My apologies but Seokjin hasn’t returned to his office, I am still trying to reach him,” Yoongi sounded anxious as you are. He was informed of the event today and he is as frantic as you are waiting on calls from Seokjin to indicate his current situation. Understanding that Seokjin might as well bailed out on the entire plan, you nodded to yourself. No one was watching but… you felt the need to smile, though bitterly.

“That’s quite alright,” you smoothened the dress you wore, feeling a little foolish to dress up for an event you are most likely to skip, “It can’t be helped.” You ended the call and planned to deliver the wedding allowance anonymously. You might pop your head to say hi and leave after 2 minutes. It’s not like you never attend a wedding or any event alone; you’re used to this. This one just felt slightly different because it was your friends that you thought you would have forever. It is as if you’re standing at the junction of a highway and they decide to stay, so you must go through the rest of the journey alone.

Everyone came with their partners, some with children and grandparents; it’s a lively gathering. Arms in arms, hand holding. They are whole. Unlike me.

You hugged yourself and slid your right hand down your left, and it touched your wedding ring. And you felt twice worse. Stepping forward, you lift your hand to the gentlemen who were in-charge of collecting the allowance for the wedding couple when a warm hand slid behind your back, settling just above your hip. You turned to the side to see who it was and saw broad shoulders, and jawline so sharp, it could cut you. He clenches his jaw and rides his palm up your shoulder, squeezing it. Then it slides down your spine and back to his side.

“Chin up, you’re Kim Seokjin’s wife…” he placed his palm upward, waiting for you to take them. His eyes lasers into yours with a soft reliable smile on his lips.

“You’re late,” you spat and took his hand harshly. But he lifts them to his lips and plants a kiss on them.

“But I’m here,” he arched one eyebrow at you. Cocky.

" I can't believe I actually was readying myself to walk in solo… you were this," you brought your thumb to your forefinger close together but not touching, "This close to getting the bad-husband label plastered across your forehead, so where were you?"

Seokjin takes a seat after pulling a chair out for you. He has his arm over the back of your chair and he begins his explanation with a sigh.

"The family registrar is being disputed and I am losing a total of 5 shares of the current project I am handling… My uncle came home from Bulgaria to tell the company shareholders I have no rights to hold profits I didn't help build."

A muffin was passed around and Seokjin snatched one and shoved them in his mouth as if he didn't just almost lose the only thing he ever cared about, his family wealth. That was something you admire most about Seokjin, how he is so careless and carefree is something you would envy. People shushed over the sound of the emcee clearing his throat over the microphone. The lights dimmed and you caught Seokjin’s side profile in the dim light still looking beautiful. The shape of his face, and how the light struck in harmony with the shadow that defined his cheekbones— he wasn't he always had been, you thought, breathtaking. You don’t remember staring at someone this long and being this enchanted.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” he mumbled in an annoyed tone before he turned to you with his lips thinned. He then passed you a drink after you were caught red handed, and, “You look thirsty.” You cleared your throat and replied, “Yes, the air is dry just like your humor.”

“Is it now… could be the dress being too revealing for your long-sleeves-only-since birth, skin,” he tutted his tongue and leaned back as the food arrived.

“I disagree, my skin was too precious to be abused by the dehumidified air, this hall is packed with, not to mention, the unhelpful company I had to attend it with…” you turned to him and eyed him up and down, “comfortable in his tailored blazers.”

Seokjin scoffs an air out and puts the brim of the glass to his lips for a sip but before he could, he had something to say, “If I were to go shirtless, I worry someone and everyone would have to spoon their eyes out in order not to bless themselves with the view my body would provide them. I was only looking out for the betterment of the members of the society.”

You hummed back with a gentle smile, looking away.

“How confident— “

“-- hard to be this pretty. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Amazing. Just brilliant.”

“Out of bicker points are you? Can I call it: Seokjin won this round?”

“You wish… What’s the use of being that pretty if you can’t get girlfriends to marry you and had to resort to me, your sworn nemesis?”

“Because I have dicks as family members whose only purpose in life is to ruin mine, that is also something you won’t understand, and I don’t blame you.”

“Perks of being poor, unseen and invaluable.”

He shoves the first fork of the spaghetti served and makes a face.

“Let me have that,” you took his plate and put away your empty plate.

“My dog can cook better than that,” he spat.

“Shut up and behave,” you curled your fingers around your ear shell and tuck a strand of hair escaping.

“I can’t remember if I locked the lambo,” he checks his smart watch then his car key.

“I wish you didn’t and someone stole it,” you said it to humor yourself.

Seokjin gave you a dead stare at the back of your head, leaning back in his chair, knees spread. It sometimes clashes with yours and everytime it does, you move away.

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” he muttered back, “You sure you want to lose the lambo that saved your life a few times?”

“Saved my life? Stop being dramatic,” you ridiculed him and rolled your eyes at him, shoving the last fork of spaghetti into your mouth.

His left knee grazed your thigh and his voice dropped a tone lower, “I felt you pulsating against my wrist that night.”

You choked and scrambled to get bottled water but it was too far from reach. Seokjin chuckled darkly and snapped one open for you. You snatched them from him and gulped down half of the bottle.

“You can’t say those shits in public,” you said, recovering from your coughing fit, “There must be rules to that.”

“To what? To indecent conversation? I am just sharing with you what I felt,” Seokjin took the cloth from his lap and dabbed the side of your lips.

Suddenly, you heard your name whispered from behind.

It was Suri.

Seeing her that close after a while made you jolted out of your seat. Seokjin continued watching the entire scene. She wore a sad expression while you remained stoic but Seokjin knew that you were trying hard not to show any emotions.

“There will be couple dance to commemorate our wedding, and Ian and I are wondering if you and your husband would like to join…”

“No— “ “ — Yes!”

You glared at Seokjin and he stood up, ready for the challenge. Suri beams and Ian nodded behind her, eyeing Seokjin like he had issues with him. Ian’s reaction was understandable; he used to know everything about you and now nothing, he is wary towards any guy you come close to because he knows how dense you could be. Ian had heard about Seokjin as the troublemaker before but apart from that, you revealed nothing else. It was obvious to him that Seokjin isn’t your favorite subject to talk about. The marriage was sudden and very suspicious— he had mentioned it a few times to Suri ever since it was revealed through the online class that Seokjin was in the same bed as you.

“What if he was just using her? I know guys like Seokjin. Marriage? That’s ridiculous!”

“There is nothing we could do; and if she wanted us to do something about it, she wouldn’t exclude herself from us, breaking our friendship. Say what you want, but the day I saw her throw our wedding card in the trash can, part of me that loved her died too.” Suri leaves Ian, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with his dress shirt unbuttoned, his tattoos bare for the walls to see. He harshly pushed his shoulder-length hair back.

Ian took Suri’s hand and walked away.

Seokjin stretched out his hand for you to take and followed right after the newly wed couple for the said dance. Upon reaching the dance floor, Seokjin grabbed your waist and had your stomach dangerously touching his crotch. Thighs touching, chest to chest. You repelled but he pulled you close again. Eyes warning you.

“It’s waltz. You have to be this close.”

“I don’t know the waltz, Seokjin,” you panicked.

“Square, move in squares, ready?”

“No?”

The music begins anyways. You know you were going to step on his feet a few times, numerous times. The first time you did, your eyes shot to his face and he didn’t give any expression. The second time, he groaned a bit but still carried on the dance. Veins popping on the side of his neck and he is turning slightly red, so you ran your forefinger along the line. He turned even redder and stammered, “K-keep y-your hands to yourself.”

“You look cute when you’re flustered,” you bit your smile looking up at him.

“You look evil when you smile,” he retorts.

The music turns to a soft slow dance. Suri and Ian are linking foreheads and smiling. Feeling the need to match the romance, you linked your fingers behind Seokjin’s neck. He looked alarmed but he is not complaining or resisting as much.

“You look like you’re enjoying this,” you said, coyly.

“In your dreams… you can never rile me up,” Seokjin passed.

“Same here,” your eyes shot straight into him.

A glance was exchanged but you weren’t sure what it was.

You saw Ian and Suri looking like a perfect couple and you felt so lonely all of a sudden. You wished you had an ounce of what they have. Unbeknownst to you, Seokjin was looking at them too.

“Seokjin?”

“Hm?”

“What is it like to be loved?”

You continued to stare, unable to peel your eyes away from the two lovebirds. Even as Seokjin turned you away from the view. Seokjin pulled slightly away to look into your eyes.

“It might feel slightly this way…” he whispered softly.

Then he closed the distance between his lips to your open neck, nibble his lips over the span of your skin softly. You feel his lips parted on your skin and his warm wet tongue slid through to graze your neck. He gave a gentle suckle, just enough to let you feel light-headed from his ministrations. You silently hoped that he would go harder, slightly rougher but the sound of people talking pulled you back into reality. When he parts, leaving his saliva cooling under the air-conditioner, he catches your eyes. They are hazy and lustful. Your lips are parted and you run the tip of your tongue along the spans of it.

“I thought I couldn’t rile you up? Just an open-mouthed kiss and your chest is heaving,” he glances over the corner of the room, “It’s almost as if you want more?” He turns to you.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words would come out. Sentences wouldn’t string themselves and you are just caught staring wide-eyed at him. Ian tapped Seokjin’s shoulder and asked if he could dance with you. Seokjin turns to you for approval, and when you nod, he lets Ian have you.

You felt your eyes pricking, and impending tears threatening to pool and fall on your cheeks, but you did all you can to not to appear like a loser. Instead of facing him like you did Seokjin, you pulled him into a hug and you felt Ian’s chin resting on your shoulder. His 5 am shadow beard poking your skin.

“I’ve missed you terribly,” he said in a low voice. And you responded with a tighter hug around him, your arm clutched over his back, his blazer crumpled under your fist. Your tears are falling uncontrollably now. Noticing how embarrassing this is, you shoved him away, and sprinted out through the door the catering staff uses and Ian chases after you. The night air is cold and prickling. You found a patio, a verandah with a handrail looking out the city and there, you cried, bawled, crumbled into a ball, squatting on the floor, hugging your knees.

“Why did you do what you do?!” Ian’s guttural voice roared through the peace of the night at you, and you stood up in response.

“Why did you do what you do!” you growled just as loud, but your voice was broken.

“Suri was devastated to have lost you, I was too! I didn’t understand why you would erase our memories that way… Everything we went through, every sleepless night? Our troubles? You would throw it all away? And now you’re married? With Seokjin?”

“It meant nothing to you and Suri, so I must as well erase myself from your life. I did it so you could be happy, I would not be a burden for you anymore. For both of you…” you explained through sobs and tears falling like pearls under this light.

“Why can’t you just stay? We still love you…” Ian stretches his arm, to touch yours but you swat them away before he could.

You shook your head. You were embarrassed, angry, jealous— you were all sorts of things, all sorts of emotions that they couldn’t possibly understand. There is one more question that you didn’t answer: why did you marry Seokjin.

“Love each other, and forget I ever existed. It is for the best. Seokjin is here with me now… He might not be the person I wanted, but he is here…”

Ian called your name softly.

“Be happy! Be insanely happy and don’t look for me, it is what you deserved, it's what Suri deserved, you guys have been nothing but kind to me, I want to thank you for that, that’s why I came. Seokjin told me to.”

Ian shook his head in disbelief. A part of him refuses to believe that Seokjin was that kind of guy. You were making up things in your head and there is nothing he could say to convince you that Seokjin was only putting up a front. Like he always does, how he always has.

“And don’t worry about what happened in autumn,” you begin, “the day I told you about those things. Those stupid thing. I was never in love with you or anything like that. I just wanted you to know how much you meant to me.”

Ian looks hurt.

“I was supposed to tell you about Suri at the time,

but I couldn’t break you,” he confessed.

“And what am I now?

Am I not broken?” you glanced up at him, in composed fury.

Ian hung his head low, jaws clenched and he bites the insides of his cheek as he wallows in the words you say and how true it was. He should have told you at the time. It might not have hurt any less, but it would have saved the friendship, or the remnants of it. You would have gotten the idea instead of playing along with the charade. Suri insisted for Ian not to tell you, but Ian didn’t tell her that you had feelings for him. Because of his silence, you thought you had a chance until it was revealed to you, prior to the cruise with Seokjin.

“We are going home,” a stern voice broke the silence. Seokjin.

Seokjin marches at you, grabs your wrist and you follow while Ian stands there, frozen in his place.

He parked in front of the lobby where everyone coming in and out can be seen. There was a guard that occasionally pick up the radio to report on the situation. The Lamborghini blinks as Seokjin unlocks them. He opened the door for you and after you entered, he walked around the car and climbed into the driver seat. When he placed his hand on the initiator, your hand covered his knuckle. He glances up, to see Ian around the lobby searching for you. Seokjin then glanced to the side where you were. You had your face turned away from him, biting your nail as you said, “Can we not go home just yet? Can’t we just sit here for a while…?”

Seokjin grabbed your chin and enveloped your lips with his own. He did it so harshly, firm and rough, like he was in a hurry, like he wanted you, needed you. His nose clashes with yours as he moves to the other side, without ending the kiss. His lips parted just enough to glide his tongue in yours, kneading his flesh with yours. Giveon’s ‘Like I Want You’ was playing on the radio. His free hand rode up underneath your skirt, in between your thigh— up and down, teasing you. You quivered his name out your bruised lips but he hummed back, not paying attention to you— he was chasing his arousals. Noticing that you’ve drifted back into reality slightly, he tips your chin up and delivers another searing kiss. At the corner of his eyes, he saw Ian standing stunned and wordlessly. Seokjin relished the sight. You snaked your palm up Seokjin’s neck, thumbing his ear lobe.

How does it feel? How does it feel to see the girl that liked you, savored by another man?

That’s what you put her through. Now watch me love her, taste her, feel her.

You dropped your palm on his crotch, noticing that he was so turned on. You parted from him and stared deep into his eyes.

Shit. You’re so wet you could barely think. You repelled from him and he slowly retracted himself. He ran his hand down his face and started the engine with a push of a button.

“I saw Ian and wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine,” Seokjin explained in a croaky voice, “Never beg for love. No matter what the price is.”

Silence from you.

“It won’t happen again…” he added.

Your heart sunk at the declaration.

“Funny that I have you at a price too,” you chuckled bitterly, staring out the window at the view of trees from a moving car, “I will always have to beg for love, and that’s something you won’t understand.”

Seokjin gripped tighter on the steering wheel, fighting the urge of pushing you down the car seat and fuck you right there and then. The way your eyes looked when you confronted Ian, reminded him so much of himself. They were hopeful, innocent, shattered and brittling at the same time. The pain in your entire being that you brought in that car with you was something he couldn’t handle. When you whispered how unloved you felt, he felt a tug in the chambers of his heart. Always being the option and never the only choice. With him, you too were an option. The love after Rachel, after many of Seokjin’s love. The loneliness you must have felt, would have been unbearable.

Losing your best friend to the man you love, losing the man you love to your best friends, losing your mother to a disease she is still fighting, losing your father to the debt he carried, losing your brother for the selfish choice he made, and now, losing Seokjin to Rachel once all of this is done— you are God’s most pitiful creation and even fate, picks it’s favorite.

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To be continued…

For those who are wondering how Seokjin ended up watching movies at your small apartment— fret not, the explanation will arrive shortly. Your father wanted to care for your mother for the night because you have an online class early in the morning tomorrow according to the schedule. Your father didn’t want you to spend the night alone in the apartment. Not when a broke-in burglary happened just two lots away. The knob on the main door is not secure at all— rusting at the base and rattling upon use, leaving reddish brown stain upon contact. Seokjin wipes his hand to the back of his trousers. Embarrassed, you grabbed a pack of wet tissue from the kitchen counter and handed them to him. Thankfully, he took them and didn’t make much comments over the mishap. The anti-rust liquid coming from the spray trailing down to the lower part of the door was your last effort to fix the knob. But to no avail, the damage is done. Seokjin is no stranger to the sorry state of your survival.

He brought pizzas and some chicken wings— quite well-prepared for a sudden appointment. To be honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he rejected the offer. The fact that he didn’t, set your body on fire. You never have anyone over. Ever since your mother was hospitalized and your father unemployed, you didn’t have time to properly tidy up the house except the bare minimum. Seokjin notices an invitation on the kitchen table when he sets the pizza down. He asked about it and you just shove it into the bin. It was Ian’s and Suri’s second wedding invitation that they had sent to your home address. Such persistence. Although Seokjin caught the tiny hint of hostility, he didn’t dwell on it too much and you were secretly grateful for that. You would have to explain the reasons why and it will sound petty to another ear; that, you know. No one will understand your actions.

Sound of Metal is still playing on the television.

All of a sudden, you received a call.

“Yes, that’s me, how can I help you?” you cover your mouth over the phone and crawl on both knees before you stand up. Seokjin held the remote and turned the volume down. Seokjin watches your small back standing by the kitchen counter, hunched over like you were on the phone with your drug dealer. You folded your toes on the floor, twisting your ankle around as the call drags. Not long after the call, there’s some voices out the door and you reach out to the knob, yanking the door flaps open. You were inviting, and you turned all the lights on, surprising Seokjin. He crept beside you while you showed the stranger the rooms in the house.

“This room is rarely used, we use it to store medical things… so the light doesn’t work well,” you explained.

“And the master bedroom?” the person enquire politely, with a slide tilt of his head.

“Ah yes, it’s right next to it,” you motioned, “There's a bathroom and window. But it’s never opened.”

Seokjin locked eyes with the stranger, so he switched immediately to a smile.

“Oh, I am so sorry, I seem to be interrupting something with your boyfriend, I apologize,” the stranger bowed repeatedly at you and Seokjin.

“Husband,” Seokjin corrected him, “That’s quite alright, no problem.”

The stranger gests, “I would have come in the day if you say you couldn’t entertain me tonight.”

You clasped your hands together and forced out a straight line on your lips, speaking through a forced grin, “He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight, it was unplanned…” You side-eyed Seokjin. Your husband moves to see the stranger out. Once the person is gone, you head back to the movie, ushering Seokjin to rewind a bit because you missed some parts. A minute or so, Seokjin moved his attention to his lap, fumbling over his belt and mumbled, “Who was that?”

“Interested buyer,” you shot.

So you plan to sell this house.

“And where do you plan to stay after?”

“The campus dorm for a while until I could find a more affordable apartment,” you explained through heaved sigh, “For now we need the money to cover the hospital bills.”

That was it? No further explanations?

“And you decide this all without talking to me?” Seokjin swung his head in your direction, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I didn’t think-”

“Exactly.”

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“Do you always make decisions on impulse? On intuition?” Seokjin raised his voice slightly, making you comically jump because you weren’t expecting such a tone.

“Excuse me…” you growled back, “How is this any of your concern? I told you I will figure it out, do not worry about it.”

“And where will your father stay?”

“At the hospital. With mom.”

“And your brother?”

“At the barracks where he trains!”

“And you?”

“I just told you, at the dorm!”

“How am I supposed to see you in the dorm? We are married!”

You moved the pizza box away, scoffing before you swung your head to face him.

“You’re taking this whole husband thing way too seriously now, I think we need to set boundaries over these blurred lines because I feel that you are terrorizing your rights at the moment,” you squeezed your eye at him.

Seokjin opens and closes his mouth, opens it and closes it again.

“You are going to be homeless, how are you so chill about this?!”

“Because I’ve gone through the worst things! Being homeless isn’t going to kill me.”

You are certainly pushing the limit of human survival. It is then you realize the severe differences you and Seokjin had. The sheer fear he wore on his handsome delectable face. His hands clammy and uncertain. He is gluing his eyes on the television screen but you know his mind is everywhere else but on the movie.

If I help you, you would refuse it, won’t you?

Seokjin swallowed a thick gulp down his throat.

“You’re unfamiliar with this, I get it,” you hugged your knees and rested your chin on them. Your eyes wander around the makings of your old apartment and take a deep breath in. This old ragged torn curtain on the window. The moldy ceiling walls. The chipped windows and bad lighting. A brown stain on the kitchen floor that won’t go no matter how hard you scrub or what you scrub it with. This is far from Seokjin’s private jets, personal helicopter and sports car. That night when he ridiculed your desperation, you didn’t even have the time to process the hurt because you were so busy thinking about all the money that you could have to provide for your family.

“I have no choice Seokjin…” your voice falls quiet.

“The money I pay you will come soon, will that help you keep this house?” Seokjin blinks away from the screen and straight at you. His voice is firm and unwavering. It has been awhile since you heard such stability. He felt like a safe place, a shoulder to rest your head on. When he says those words, your world lights up and the broken pieces put themselves back together again. The dewy look in his eyes, his lips— they all conspired to have you clutch on the little things. It was the first time you have ever felt looked at. It was frightening, harrowing even— to be seen and cared for. Even for just that moment.

You couldn’t find your voice so you nodded, slowly.

He held out his hand and you lifted yours to reach it. His palm is so inviting.

But he pushes it away, “Your phone, I meant.”

You lowered your gaze immediately and fished for your phone. Seokjin called the number and texted that the house is no longer for sale. He added that there was a change in thoughts and that the owner wishes to stay in the house and he regrets the inconvenience. He shoved the phone back to you.

“Next time, discuss with me. Be it financial, commodities, utilities, whatever. You talk to me first,” Seokjin sternly said, “As the person who pays you, I want to know where my money goes.”

The movie ended.

“Would you like to take a shower first before bed or— “ you drawled.

“Shower…” he shot dryly.

“Okay… you can have the bedroom, I’ll sleep on the couch outside. I’ll get some towels first,” you huddled to the cupboard to fetch said towel when Seokjin suddenly yelped from the living room.

You swung your head around and rushed over with a folded towel in your hand.

His jaw hung open, twitching as he pointed to the soda spilled all over the couch. The only couch in the house. You dragged your eyes up to Seokjin and proceeded to whine his full name out. Seokjin fetches tissues from the kitchen but heads to the drawer in the kitchen cabinet for cloth instead, after your commands. You were going off about how he behaves like a toddler, spilling things over the couch and how difficult it is to make sure the couch is completely dry now that sweet carbonated drink drenched over it. Sofa is ruined, and Seokjin’s ear gets pulled when you’re done. He screams.

“Where am I supposed to sleep now?”

“We can share the bed…” he rubs his neck, “There’s no other choice. You don’t want to wake up sore for class tomorrow…”

You let out a shaky exhale. He does have a point. What’s the worst that could happen?

There he goes again, screaming.

As you tidied the bedsheet and provided a blanket to each so you don’t have to share, you poke your head to the bathroom door frame, where Seokjin is hugging himself, standing on the toilet seat.

“C-c-cockroaches,” his fore finger trembling as it points out the culprit, sneaking underneath the sink with its antennas moving. You threw your head back and groaned. What a drama queen. It’s just roaches, for goodness sake.

You whack it with a slipper and crush it with your hand before flushing it down the toilet. Pests. Seokjin is still there squatting, quivering. You had to turn the water heater on because he doesn't know how to operate a manually dialed heater. The one he has was automated. The light is flickering while he showers so he called out for you, because he got spooked. When you say that it was nothing, he let you leave only to call you repeatedly.

“Man, for a 5 feet 10 something dude, you’re literally a baby…What is it now?” you grumbled to your chest as you marched into the bathroom and opened the door to see him in his baby suit. You turned away and covered your eyes immediately.

“What do you want?” you groaned, positively annoyed and flustered over the view.

“Wanted to tell you that I’m done,” he ties the towel around his waist and walks beside you squeezing by the tiny door frame. His wet skin brushed over your blouse and he chuckles at you clenching your eyes shut.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it all…” he clicked his tongue and spoke in a low voice.

“Yeah I thought we weren’t supposed to mention that…” you protested.

“If we showered together, we could have saved the water bill…” he narrows the distance between his face and yours. Taking the chance that you don’t see him, his eyes soften as he studies your features. Your fingernails, your baby hair sprouting out, your heaving chest and goosebumps forming over them. He remembered how your nipples erected over the blanket in the cruise when he left you there in bed, in the morning. How thoroughly tired you looked, with marks all over your neck and chest. He contemplated whether he should give you a kiss goodbye, but decided that it would only amount to more questionable things than he’d like to explain.

Suddenly, you moved your head in his direction, sniffing. Narrowly missing his lips.

You grabbed his chin roughly.

“Did you use my fucking shampoo?” Your eyes blasted open and he retracted.

“I might.”

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After you showered, both of you crawled into bed. Seokjin his blanket over his chest and you pulled yours over your shoulder. You were laying on your side, with your back facing him while he faced the ceiling. Studying the cracks it had, How unfamiliar is this. The last time you shared a bed, it was barely big enough for one. This time it’s a queen sized bed but doesn’t allow much space to move. The mattress is springy and it makes noise at every motion made. Seokjin finally feel the alcohol kicking in now, but not enough for him to do stupid things. He just feels a little dizzy, a little on the cloud nine— if you may.

“I can’t sleep…” he darted.

No response from your side.

He leaned on one elbow and hooked his chin over your shoulder, “Are you sleeping?”

“Yes,” you shot, annoyed.

“Why would you answer if you were?” Seokjin slumps back into his space.

“Just close your God damn eyes and go the fuck to sleep, before I whack you unconscious with a broomstick…” you grumbled through gritted teeth, fisting your blanket tighter.

“I can’t sleep in an unfamiliar place…”

“Literally you’re the one who told my dad you wanted to be here…”

“Talk to me… Tell me a story. My nanny always tells me a story.”

“Seokjin you’re 29.” “Come on… Don’t bring age into this discussion. Tell me something you never told someone. Anything…”

“Jesus, like what?” You switched to face him. He bounces at your movements.

“Scars. Do you have a scar?”

You carefully thought about it, and, “Yeah I have scars. I have one over my left knee cap. I was playing on the bicycle and fell, grazing the tar road, right here,” you showed him.

“Hm, can’t really see it…” Seokjin hummed while carefully inspecting the said scar.

“That’s because my mom rubbed banana peels on it. Everyday, until it’s gone.”

“Nice… only one?”

“There’s another one under my chin… that’s why I like looking down. That way no one would notice it…”

Seokjin noticed it the first night you were in bed with him, but it didn’t register to him then that it was a scar, that used to be a wound.

“How did that one happened?”

“Mom and dad were in a fight, mom pushed me off the staircase when I tried to stop them. No hard feelings because now I know how frustrating men could be,” you shrugged and put your hand between your legs.

“What about you Seokjin? Do you have a scar?”

He shook his head. So you could deduce that he must have had a pampered childhood. Or a lonely one— you couldn’t decide. His face puffed as he thought of the next topic.

“What’s your dream?”

You try to come up with a quick answer to get it over with but— nothing comes out on your mind no matter how hard you try. Dreams? What is my dream?

“Um, my mom to be able to live her life the way it was. Have my dad live a debt-free life. And for my brother to graduate from his police school.”

Seokjin chuckles. He chuckles again now that he sees your confused face.

“What??”

“Those are not dreams you want for yourself, it’s the dreams you want for others! I’m asking about your dream. What you want!”

You paused for a brief moment, “I never really thought about it, no one had ever asked me that,” more pauses and, “I want to be a scientist… get a job with higher pay so I could live better. That’s my easy answer. It’s the appropriate answer.”

“What’s your dream if money wasn’t an issue?” Seokjin laced his fingers and rested them on top of his stomach.

Money is always an issue. Seokjin questions were all questions you have never asked yourself. No one was ever interested in them, in the answers. All these while you are coping with live day-by-day. You have never truly thought about the future. You took science because you had potential, as your counselor suggested. You’re good at it, you don’t necessarily really love it. It was the next rational decision to bring your family out of poverty. A rational decision is not a dream. Up until this moment, your dreams were built around the chances and opportunities you have and the mountains you know you could climb; all these signifies one thing— safety. You never truly dreamt. You mold your existence, your goals and aspirations around the things you face and what is achievable.

“When I find out, I’ll let you know, how’s that?” you suggested, and poke your hand over the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t realize you have a mole there.”

Seokjin turns red.

“Don’t touch my face… I don’t like that,” he warned.

“Sorry…” you moved slightly away.

Seokjin shrugs and nodded, “Yeah I have mole here, you never paid attention to it…”

You gawked, “How am I supposed to pay attention to it if every time we meet all I want to do is shove my hand down your throat?!”

“I have one on my collarbone, remember that?” Seokjin hooks his finger over the brims of his neck hole and pulls it down to show you. Your eyes travelled everywhere but there.

“Yes, yes,” you repeated, shoving it off.

“You’re not really looking, look at it…” he followed your eyes.

“Why are we suddenly talking about moles!”

“You’re the one poking mine. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How many moles do you have?”

You rolled your eyes. You sit up and pull your hair to one side. Then you point to one mole behind your left ear lobe. One on your left shoulder blade.

“That’s all.”

Seokjin stares at you quizzically as you lay back on the bed. Unconvinced that that was all. You didn’t want to ask him why he was staring but the way he was tutting his tongue annoyed you.

“I don’t think that is all. I specifically remembered one more at least, a very prominent one…” you heard him say.

“That’s probably from other girls Seokjin… You got yourself confused—” then you hitched your breathing when you felt a warm hand palming over your left knee, travelling up your thigh. You cursed yourself for wearing boxer shorts to bed. He sat up, pulled down your blankets and pushed your boxers brim up to see your left thigh.

“There,” he thumbed over the little mole, before he licked his lips then gazed up to meet your eyes, “I remember it because it was sticking out the blanket in the morning I left.” So sexy. Your thigh was out the blanket for him to see the mole clearly. After witnessing that, he kept thinking about you in slit dresses high enough for that mole to pop out. To be seen by everyone, but only his to touch.

Seokjin moves into his side of the bed again after a small goodnight wish. He lay his head in his palm, starting to feel hot all of a sudden but was unable to throw the blanket away because he had urgent matters to address in between his legs. He palms it down in a desperate attempt to calm the raging boner. How is he so vulnerable around you? Just a little contact, a little touch leaves his head riled up with indecent thoughts. Maybe he really did take this marriage thing seriously.

She doesn’t love you, man. Get your shit together.

Right next to him, you were rubbing your thighs together. Had you not reminded him that you had an early morning class tomorrow, would he have advanced to more than just a touch? A kiss perhaps? A full blown making out session? Maybe his dick half inside you instead of clenching over nothing? You are sweating profusely. He is just right there. But it feels so wrong. Why are you always horny at the worst time? You remember being better at controlling this. Why so desperate? From just a little brush of his finger? How embarrassing!

Please let the morning come quick.

You prayed.

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“Babe, wake up. I think you have class…” Seokjin’s voice softly awakens you. When you peek through one eye, you see your lecturer and your classmates watching you. Seokjin is shirtless and was next to you in close proximity.

“Your boyfriend may join the lecture if he wants,” Dr. Mah invites.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you rubbed your eyes and pinch your nose bridge, sitting awake. The whole class gasped. Then is it your one night stand?

“Your sexual activity is none of my concern,” Dr. Mah reminds.

Realizing what that could signify, you hurried to correct yourself, “No, no it’s not like that. He’s my husband! I’m not having casual sex or anything that is not safe…” The seconds felt long when it registered to you what you have done. You yourself had announced to the world you know that you are now Kim Seokjin’s wife. You gulped as you caught Suri and Ian’s dejected face on the box before they switched off the video.

Seokjin smirks and lays his head on the headboard while checking his phone idly.

Moments before…

The alarms rang simultaneously with Zoom meeting calls. Seokjin frowns awake. You have your face plastered on his back, arms wrapped around his tiny waist. Your phone was charging on his side of the bed, so he pressed the receive call button out of habit. Seokjin had taken off his shirt mid through sleeping because it got really hot in the A.Ms. The video was on and his collarbone and the mole on it was on full display. He didn’t know who was the lecturer but he had the idea that perhaps the bald one fixing his glasses and clearing his throat might be the one. The older man called out your full name and Seokjin finally came out of his snooze to address the matter.

He shook your shoulder softly, nuzzling his nose tip over your shoulder calling you, “Baby, baby” repeatedly, “Baby, your lecturer is calling for you. You have class, remember?”

Some of your classmates covered their mouth, fetching their phone to text. Gaping over the scandalous view. The best student of the batch is in bed with a shirtless handsome man, and it was the same man that fetched her in a blue Lamborghini! The campus’s good girl is leading a double life! To Ian and Suri, it comes as a legit surprise, totally out of this world. You have never been on a date, now you’re married?! You didn’t even invite them to the wedding! They didn’t even know when! And let alone Kim Seokjin?! This was so sudden! And it all felt like a strange set up to them. Now, with the whole class as witness, there’s no other way to cover this up. You have officially lost your whole world to this pretense marriage.

“Keep the video on,” Seokjin mouthed at you behind the phone. You had to keep your face expressionless so you won’t draw attention to you again, after the chaos you have caused. Why were you so tired anyways? You normally have no problem waking up no matter how late you slept. You didn’t drift directly to sleep because you were fighting your hormone urges to literally jump on Seokjin and devour him whole. You weren’t asleep because you were busy rationalizing your head over the things that aren’t sex. And it was such a good sleep. It’s been awhile since you felt safe in bed. Knowing that you could trust this person with your life. Or else his father will come after his neck. He felt warm and strong, and his chest smelled so good, his hands, fingers. Saliva pools in your mouth when you visibly gulp at the object of your secret carnal desire is standing by the door with a Starbucks bought iced-Americano sent over by delivery. He hands you it after he took a mouthful sip of it, making sure he was in the camera frame and planting a kiss on your neck before he leaves.

He puts on his work attire, his dress shirt and slacks. You can’t help but catch his bulge slightly out for display over the curve of the slacks as he tuck his dress shirt in behind the camera. He directs his forefinger to you then back to the camera phone where your class is ongoing. You crossed your eyes at him and he shook his head.

“In the graph it’s clear that the Fick’s First Law of Diffusion centers around concentration. Concentration of what? Of the drug plasma concentration. And when we talk about rate, we are always referring to what? To the time…” Dr. Mah continues.

Then, Seokjin appears one more time in the camera frame of yours, hunched over to give you a kiss on the forehead, or two, or three times. Just to say he is going to work. You pushed him away because you got shy. So far, everyone is buying the facade. It better stayed that way. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Seokjin locking the main door behind him before he leaves, then he makes sure it stays locked after he shut them.

That was very thoughtful. And very un-Seokjin like.

A few minutes later, you heard his signature Lamborghini roar down the road, and a message chimes in.

[Seokjin]: Remember what you promised.

Your face flares up in heat at the words. Last night, before you drifted to silence so you could sleep, Seokjin asked for you to tell him your dreams, whatever it was, he wanted to know. After repeatedly telling him you couldn’t name one on the spot, he said, and he said this in such a coaxing way you couldn’t refuse,

“Start thinking about one each day, starting tomorrow…”

“That’s impossible,” you rolled your eyes with your back still turned towards him.

“I don’t care how you’re going to do it, I just want you to come up with a dream. Every single day, yours, not anyone else. It must be yours alone, it is about your wants, be as selfish as you can,” he stresses.

“I can’t be selfish— “ you protested.

“Start being. You have to. Or you’ll lose yourself trying to appease others,” he curls into a bowl, laying on his side, clutching on the tip of the pillow like his life depends on it.

Silence from your side.

“Text me one, each day…” he added.

“Sure whatever.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Suddenly he stretched his hand out with a pinky boink out. His arm was long enough without you having to turn to your back. Blinking at it, you finally hooked your pinky with his, then unhooked it immediately.

“Stamp…”

“What?”

“It’s not sealed if isn’t stamped,” he said.

That’s how the promise was sealed.

[Seokjin]: Remember what you promised.

[Seokjin]: ??

You dragged down the pop up message on top and tapped reply. Before you could word out your dream, you mauled over the thought. What is your dream if you only had you to think of?

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Seokjin visits the housing site. He has built a village consisting of high-end sophisticated technologically-advanced villas. There are only 30 units built and there was a man-made lake in the middle. There is also a small fort that allows private-own sailing boats to sail the ocean. He plans to install only eco-friendly devices in the area under this housing and the project had been well supported by the shareholders after it was proposed about 2 years ago. His father never said a word about it, but that was his way of saying that it is a potential project. The only comment he ever got from Senior Kim was how pretentious it was. In his words the project only “concerns the top 1% of the country project while doing absolutely nothing for the economy of the nation,” which Seokjin tried to fix, by allowing foreign investors to chip in through an exclusive stockholders and potential buyers-only party that is arranged to happen in a few more weeks.

He is quite nervous about it; his driver stops at the second house around the lake and Seokjin steps outside of the company sedan with his hand in his pocket. The engineer is already at work, discussing with the contractor. Seokjin, easily the one at the top of the food chain when he steps in, gets dry greetings, suffice with the formality he brings. He shook his hand and smiled, “No, no, there’s no need for the bowings, I’m just here to watch how you guys are coping…” He gests. He thought that if he comes here, he becomes more informed with the situation his underlings are dealing with, then maybe, just maybe, his father would approve his efforts. He bore his heart and soul in this project, talked with designers and contractors and engineers alike, just to get the most appropriate information about the building from ground up. For the designs, each villa was unique to its own but still bore the similar traits that carries the prestige of the Kim Holdings. He designed them personally with the help of architects and engineers. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was his baby.

Seokjin personally babied the second house. On the outside it was already perfect to his eyes. The wide windows, the porch and small garden but on the inside, he felt like it was missing major domestic touches. Today, the contractors and interior designer are beginning to deduce a concept for the kitchen. Kitchen is of course the heart of the home. It also happens to be Seokjin’s favorite place. Seokjin carefully points out with his hand the things he wanted and where, the cabinets colors and where the counters should be. He gives clear and concise commands, the interior design immediately understood the image he was trying to create. He had a vivid image of the whole kitchen and it was nothing short of impressive. Only last night he billed a list of things he wanted installed to the project group and they all are working around the clock to make it happen.

Within an hour, the interior designer comes up with a whole design of the kitchen. With an approval nod and a big smile from Seokjin, the work began. About 2 hours ago, when Seokjin left his Lamborghini in the company CEO’s parking spot, you texted him an image and a caption,

[You]: *sends an image*

[You]: my dream kitchen. Bigger oven, bigger space to knead flours in.

Seokjin remembered your face as you ate the pizza he bought. You eat the bread part slowly, relishing in the taste. You told him that you knew how to make pizza and sold a few before you started university and if you had a chance you wanted to make more because your brother loves it, but you don’t have the space to make one because the place you rented is closed and now, demolished.

“I love cooking... but as you can see, that kitchen had nothing working and the university banned me from using their culinary faculty,” you shrugged, “They say it’s only for their culinary students. Which was fair,” The sparkles in your eyes completely disappear at the mention of culinary faculty. You would have been a great chef. Seokjin knows how much you love home cooking, and you always bring some at every visit to his father’s mansion. Be it spicy broiled potato stew, grilled mackerels or fried rice. Seokjin dares to vouch that your fried rice is the best one he has ever had. Although he will never vocally admit it.

“Make sure the oven is big and the counter, large,” Seokjin submits a final reminder, “But don’t make it look disproportionate.” He bought everyone lunch and returned to his office for paperwork, in case he needs to read over agreements and sign things. Also because he is terrified of his secretary. He sits in his chair, leafing over documents after documents, project proposals and adding comments here and there when his office phone chimes. He stabbed the ‘speaker’ button with the bottom of his Parker pen and darted, “Yup…”

“There is someone in the lobby who wants to drop something for you, she says it’s dinner and thank you for the pizza and wings last night,” Yoongi, Seokjin’s secretary drawls over the phone line. Then the said secretary turned to the side where Seokjin’s office was and squeezed his eyes suspiciously. Seokjin blinks over to Yoongi and fetches the phone handle saying, “That’s the wife… can you bring her up for me?”

Yoongi tutted his tongue and gave Seokjin a Cheshire cat smile through the glass mirror, “Sure thing, boss…” Seokjin slammed the phone down and pursed his lips in annoyance.

Several floors down,

“Um, miss? Mr. Seokjin asks you to deliver it yourself,” the kind lady on the front desk with a neat ballerina bun said. She also mentioned that she will personally show you the way. Security is no kidding in this building. You took your neatly tied bento and followed the tall lady. Scuffling behind her, you keep fixing your hair and neatening your blouse. You were clearly underdressed, far too casual for this visit— which you severely regret. Your plan was just to say thank you and bolt out, why did he have to send you up? The lady gracefully pointed you to the hall that leads to Seokjin’s personal office.

The whole interior screams crisp and extravagant nuance to it, furnished with only the finest cabinets and doors. The floors are marble and the walls are littered with artworks you remember Seokjin’s mother likes to collect. The benches are leather finish, and exude an aura of endless exorbitant materials. After you turned to the corner, you saw a men, in 3-piece suits bowing at you, and calling your honorary title, “Lady Kim,” the man greeted, placing his hand over his heart and bowing, “Min Yoongi, Mr. Kim’s personal secretary at your disposal. May I escort you?”

You bowed back and stammered, “S-sure, p-please. I don’t know the way… I might find my way to the next building if I’m not careful…” you chuckled nervously.

“Ah, that would be quite impossible considering you need to build a bridge first but I will propose the excellent idea towards the man of the house,” he jests. You cracked a more genuine smile when you somehow understood his dry sense of humor. He is quite hilarious and quite lovely. Years of working with Seokjin might have made him an excellent people reader. You wondered why such positive quality never really brushed off on Seokjin. Yoongi stands in front of the door and knocks twice. You heard a stern, full of authority, “Come in,” muffled through the door. The knob was turned and Yoongi allowed you in. Seokjin stood up and walked around the table to hold the door open until you stepped fully inside.

He chewed his lips behind you as you asked him where you could settle yourself with your eyes. He points to the small coffee table where several chairs were found. It was right in front of his desk— its surfaces were barely visible from the mountain of files stacked on top of it. Your eyes drifted to the wall clock he has on the opposing wall and then back to the stack of files. Looks like dinner wasn’t in the plan any time soon. When you turned to him, he was forcing out a smile.

“Why are you smiling? Stop smiling. It’s weird.”

“I can’t, I have to. Yoongi’s watching…”

“Close the shades then…”

“I can't, I don’t have the remote…”

“Who has the remote?”

“Yoongi does…”

“Holy mushrooms… is he terrorizing you? Blink twice if you need help.”

“It’s not like that, he is just worried I’ll cry while I work,” he rambles and darts his eyes up at you, and clears his throat, “It’s a long story.”

“You cried?”

“Let’s never talk about that, ever again,” he moves next to you and has you seated while you were still asking why he cried. He continues, “What did you bring for dinner?”

You suddenly zapped into the presence and the reason why you were here. Your hands proceed to untie the bento but stopped because it felt strange opening the things you prepared yourself. You pushed the bento over to him. His pretty long fingers untied the knot easily and you looked away as you figured the view of his hand were a little too aphrodisiac to handle at this distance. Seokjin saw the little teddy bear rice balls with seaweed eyes and inari cap and he couldn’t resist smiling. There is an egg sandwich on the side, some egg rolls that look like a motorcycle underneath the mickey mouse toothpick. There is also some gummy bear from the brands he liked, without orange gummy bear. Seokjin smiled at the thoughtful gesture. He doesn’t like orange gummy bears and always leaves it for you because it was too sour for him. You remembered that little known fact.

“I made some fried rice underneath just in case you’re still hungry. And there’s stir fried fish cake too… and toasted lavers,” you said, scrolling down idly on your phone. Seokjin took the chopstick and spoon, and devoured them. He offers a bite. You shook your head.

“Listen to me, Yoongi is the first person we need to convince. He might not look the part, but he will report everything to my father, so it’s best that we make it appear as genuine as it can,” he explains through gritted teeth and poses an angelic smile at you. You gingerly approach the wooden spoon with a mountain of rice and let him feed you.

“Good girl…” he says in a way that makes your stomach dipped.

You prayed he didn’t notice how flustered you become. You started coughing because one of the rice grains went to your airway and Seokjin was right about Yoongi always surveilling because he arrived with a cup of water for you and was standing inside Seokjin’s office. You didn’t notice when he even came in but he is here and he is handing you the water. Seokjin scooped another spoon for himself while you were choking. Typical Seokjin. He only handed you his handkerchief.

“Thank you, Yoongi…” Seokjin said instead of you. You only thanked him through your hair.

“You’re welcome…” Yoongi leaves.

Seokjin drank down the ginseng soup you brewed for him. It was piping hot when you packed it, now it's just nice to drink. He made a grunting sound right after.

“That’s a good ginseng. Dad sent it, right?”

“Y-yea,” you stuttered, still recovering from the coughing fit.

Seokjin cleaned the whole bento. Not a grain of rice was left. It was clear that he was starving and he was burping when he took the bentos away from you. You insisted that you could wash it when you return home, but he said it was the least he could do since you did all the cooking, and he let the door open so Yoongi could hear how nice he was as a husband. An A-grade acting skill. While you wait, you wipe the desk with a tissue. You have always been obsessed with keeping things clean and in order. As you threw the used tissue away, you were interrupted by Yoongi, knocking at the door with a toothbrush set.

“Looks like he forgot to bring his toothbrush over, he always brushes his teeth after meals… would you mind?” Yoongi pleads, and watching your hesitance he adds, “I have an international call to take, they put me on hold for now…”

You inhaled a small puff of air in through your mouth and took the toothbrush from Yoongi’s hand as he said, down the hall to the left, Seokjin’s personal bathroom.

“You have a tub in your bathroom??” your voice echoed through the marble walls and made Seokjin jump in his place, your bento almost flying out the sink. Seokjin groans and starts hissing, “Why are you here?”

You wiggled his toothbrush set in his face.

“Yoongi took it out knowing that you were coming upstairs, I knew it… that’s why he left his desk. And I thought it was to take a personal call from dad…” Seokjin grumbles accusatively, “Smart. You didn’t do anything suspicious like refusing to come into the baths right?”

You paused.

“Well I’m not really desperate to be raking you in the bathroom, so I was hesitating a bit, not sure if this was allowed in office settings, with all the staff here you know… I think it was an appropriate move coming from a lady such as myself…” you defended yourself, adding with a flick of your hair, “Besides, I’m a wife, not a hoe.”

Seokjin dries his hand with a cloth hanging by the mirror stand. Then he roughly grabs the toothbrush from you and squeezed the paste out the tube. While he does that, you screened the bathroom. The white gold finish, studded designs. Rows of bath bombs and scented candles of all fragrance available. The light behind the mirror and cabinet full of towels. He could practically live here. He could, but he wouldn’t. But you would.

“My cockroach infested bathroom is nothing compared with this…”

“Don’t forget flickering light bulbs…”

“Yeah, flickering bulbs. If I ever sell my house, can I stay here?”

“You’re not selling your damned house, no one would buy them.”

“The guy last night would. But you told him not to.”

“What kind of husband lets a wife stay in a toilet…? Sometimes when you talk, you don’t think and I don’t know how you live this long…”

“With a lot of patient people. And you, not being one.”

Walking back, Seokjin is hugging the bento and you follow him out. However, Yoongi isn’t around. His desktop is still on, signifying that he hasn’t left. But the look in Seokjin’s eyes suggested that it could be one of his shenanigans. Guard’s up.

“I have a few more files to look into, so you could just sit there and mind your own business,” Seokjin shooed you away with his hand.

“But I want to go home now, the last bus— “

“If you mention one more time about the last bus on whatever time, I will throw your transportation card out the fucking window and then you,” Seokjin leans in his chair, shifting papers and turning away from you, and, “You knew that if you come here, I will have to send you home.”

“I didn’t plan to come up, you told me to,” you shot back.

All you hear is him shifting the papers, and the sound of the paper scraping the fabric of his dress shirt then he said, “Would have it been more appropriate to send you away and paint myself as a bad husband while you play your good wife roles hm? Tell me, darling…” he said in a sing-song voice that shudders you. Seokjin knew exactly what he was doing. Rubbing your knees sitting restlessly, eyes travel wherever they please— you seem to find new things to look at and explore. Checking your emails from your phone, you decided that maybe you could start listing down assignments you need to do in accordance to their due date. And for that, you need a paper and a pen.

“Seokjinnie…” you whispered, “Seokjin— “

“Hm,” Seokjin replied.

“Do you have any small post-it notes I can write on?”

The chair spun around and not long after that, you heard a drawer being opened. He took a new stack of it from his drawer. You sprung to your feet and he shook his hand, insisting that he’ll come there instead. When the paper got to you, you shaped your hand into holding an imaginary pen and mouthed the word at him. He immediately gave you the pen he is currently using. You froze a little, not wanting him to give up the pen he needs. Understanding from that look alone, he said, “I have more.”

An hour passes by, it’s almost 10pm. Seokjin is reading earnestly and not showing signs that he’s leaving soon. He went from sitting down in the chair, to pacing left and right, to consulting Yoongi who was still outside taking calls at this hour. Don’t companies this big have a department specifically for taking international calls? Seokjin had unbuttoned the top two of his dress shirts by this time. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbow and his hair is a little disheveled. Two minutes after the call, Yoongi knocks on the door to Seokjin’s office.

“The contractor can’t do weekends. Maybe next week, the earliest…” Yoongi began, talking about something you weren’t aware of. You know better not to butt in matters that aren’t yours to figure.

Without looking up from the stock index he has in his hand, Seokjin leans on his table, crossing his ankles and shifts to the next paper while answering to Yoongi, “We can’t have anyone else do it, contractor Park has always been the one we called. Can’t he push back whatever else he had at the moment for old time’s sake?” It was disguised as a question but Yoongi worked long enough with this family to know that it isn’t. Yoongi stood there still, possibly trying to word a sentence that would make his boss understand that it was simply non-negotiable. Judging from his work ethics, he probably had mentioned that ‘old-time-sake’ excuse before Seokjin even suggested it. Noticing the silence being a bit harrowing, Seokjin finally lifts his gaze to Yoongi through the paper.

“It’s just one artwork,” Seokjin’s voice curls.

You widen your eyes at your paper, mouthing, “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to. Because it’s just one artwork. He rakes more money elsewhere, why would he waste time to hang just one artwork, makes perfect sense to me…”

Seokjin and Yoongi swung their head at you at the same time. Noticing the laser eyes on you, you slowly lift your head up.

“I was just saying…” you sandwiched your cheeks between two palms.

Yoongi begins to explain how Seokjin’s mother bought an artwork and wanted it to be hung in Seokjin’s penthouse. Contractor Park is the go-to person for that for many years, since he’s done a great job on all of them. Seokjin’s mother has, since then, promoted Jimin’s, Park Jimin’s handcrafts to all her wealthy art-loving friends; so when Jimin denied Seokjin’s request, it’s easy to see Seokjin’s reaction and how offended he was. ‘Old-times-sake’ is not just a reminder, it is a threat. But it seems that Jimin’s business has grown beyond that level and that he does not, any longer, fear the phrase. A corporation as big as Seokjin’s has the power to overturn small businesses at any time of the day so for Jimin to act rather rashly was not uncommon, it was unexpected. It looks like Seokjin already knew where Jimin could be occupied in, but he is not spilling a word as competing companies never mention each other; it’s office taboo.

All these situations sound dangerous for a mere artwork-hanging-agenda. Are these the things rich people are worried about? Influence? If it were up to you, you would hang it by yourself. But that’s just an emphasis on how different you are from the world Seokjin was born in. You’re a simpleton and his is complex— where even hiring a contractor could be a means of dispute.

“I’ll help you hang them…” you offered yourself.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I will not allow such a thing,” Seokjin scoffed.

“She’ll help, that’s a great idea,” Yoongi seconds you, “More time together.”

You beam at Yoongi and then Seokjin, before your smile immediately dissolves at the sight of sour Seokjin. He blinks back into the stock market analysis report sent by the accountancy department, his mind still lingering on the thought of taking you home with him for the first time. Revealing to you the space he had kept private all these years and trying to predict the situations that could happen.

Seokjin comes up with an arrangement all of a sudden and you were sure that he brought it up because you were pushing your way through his private space on purpose so he does it as a form of revenge of some sort.

"If you're coming to my house to install my painting, then I'll have you bring me to that friends' wedding you tried so hard to hide from me, … deal?"

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To be continued…

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The bus squeaky brakes came to a stop and you swung your head around to see the doors open. Spewing out bus riders and some climbing in. The bridge is empty now, with no one around now that you left. You hurried to the back of the bus, your favorite spot. It’s always empty. And it’s the tallest section of the bus— that way, you could everything and everyone. It was one of the few areas in your life that you could control. You leaned back into the chair and sighed loudly. The spring is truly beautiful. The grass seems greener, the flowers blooming all colors. The skies, they are brilliant. It’s the small peace in life that you have time to appreciate. You know as the day goes by, you’ll shun away your problems to solve others. Time that was exquisitely and exclusively for you is right now, and it ends in a few minutes.

Stepping out of the bus with a little jump gives you the little things to smile about. Those who are young at heart are never old, you thought to yourself. Fixing your jacket, you realized a strand of fabric sprouting out the old worn out seams. It’s tying a knot around your ring.

Ring?!

Panicking that anyone would catch you wearing it, you hurried to take them off and leave them in the jacket inner pockets. And just like that, your day is somewhat ruined. Seokjin isn't’ around, but this proves that he doesn’t have to be around to ruin your life. You are suddenly reminded again of the whole ordeal, the agreements, the conversations, the sex!

Fuck.

If your classmates find out, you’ll be annihilated. Worst, they’ll tell everyone how the one person who was anti-love, anti-marriage is now married and had sex with someone she hated.

They’ll call me fake.

Deep breaths. Deep-deep breaths. First things first, coffee. Class doesn’t begin until 9AM, and it’s only 8.30AM, so you sat down at the cafeteria, sorting out the notes for the next class, all the reading you’ve done prior to the lesson is all here.

“Do you like this position?” Seokjin’s voice reverberates in your ear out of a sudden.

You jerked in your seat, straightening your spine to sit a perfect 90 degree angle. Your throat ran dry as the hair in the back of your neck stood up. You glanced around in panic, thinking he was right there beside you. But no one was there. Everyone is ushering in and out. Some are sleeping on the tables, and some are frantically reading notes. It seems someone forgot that there’s quizzes today. With a small sip of the cold canned coffee, you feel your world is sorted out for a bit. It’s not perfect and you might have sacrificed your virginity to someone who doesn’t care about the price of it, but at least this, this graphs and charts and researches, you know and understand.

The less you think of the night, the less worried you will be. If he could forget you the moment he left the ship, so could you; two can play that game.

Knowing Seokjin, his only desire is to have and to take. Typical businessman. You might have been stupid to let him take, but it felt so good at the time. Your curiosity took over you. You wanted to know how it feels like. And now you do, you don’t think you want to do it again. You felt less than human the next morning. The way he left felt like he wanted nothing to do with you, nothing to associate with you. You were discarded like trash it seems.

That morning on the ship, you took a long bath. Long warm bath, washing your hair when you realize that your hair got caught into something. Looking at your fingers, there was a ring. You don’t remember putting it on so it might have been Seokjin or his assistant, since he’s been known to do things through his assistant. It’s a turquoise stone, encapsulated with little diamonds all around. Turquoise stone, you thumb it, biting it to see if it's genuine. Your teeth hurt, so it must be real. Why turquoise? Seokjin is a Sagittarius. A Sagittarius birthstone is turquoise. Does that indicate possessiveness? He is also known to leave his name over everything he owns.

The phone case, Jin. The calculator, Jin. The calendar, Jin. Every Pokemon figurine, Jin. Even his shoes, Jin!

I need more coffee… You thought to yourself. Maybe some snacks. You leave your things on the cafeteria’s table and jog over to the vendors. There, rows of chocolate bars, protein bars, some sandwiches lit up upon your arrival. Coins went in and your fingers glided over the pad, punching in the numbers for the ones that you desired. The mechanical sound of the machine, whirring left and right, buzzing out the snack of your choice at the collecting tray never sounded so satisfying. With one hand lifting the flaps, and the other fetching the bought goods, you returned to your seat with a chicken ham sandwich and egg mayo. Unwrapping the cling wrap from all over it, you sat to feel your phone vibrating in the back pocket of your jeans.

No phone calls are more important than a bite of sandwich, you thought. One bite and you swiped your thumb over the call to accept it. But wait, this is an unknown number.

Declined.

As you shuffle in your seat, you received a text message from your batchmate chatroom.

“Class is cancelled. Will announce a replacement class soon. - Dr. Mah”

You purse your lips and texted a reply on the announcement, “Thanks for the info…” Then the same unknown number called again. So you declined, again. If it calls one more time, you will turn off your phone. There’s no reason to be this persistent towards somebody that doesn’t want to take your call, you thought. You can’t even text whoever this person is, that if you can type whatever you want to say, no phone calls are needed. Annoyed, you put your phone screen faced down. With the only class today cancelled, maybe there is time to hover over your final year project herb’s growth in the herbarium greenhouse. You’re not really looking forward to it, especially when you feel rather demotivated today. Seems like a lot has happened for the week and you have no time to process it— not sure if you allow yourself to process it, the whole thing seems unprocessable.

That’s when you realize that there was a sharp edge of a letter sticking out of your notebook. Simultaneously the chair behind you scrapes the floor. You pulled the letter out and saw the word “You’re cordially invited to…” your heart sunk a bit as you already know what the next few words will say; it’s your former best friends’ wedding. Suri. Her name stung bitterly at your heart string. Along with the memories you both created. Exchanging gifts, sharing battered hearts, late night drives to nowhere, McDonald’s drive-throughs at 3AMs— it all felt so far away. You and Suri shared a friendship that turned into families. Her mother and your mother know each other, and you’ve stayed over in her house as she had stayed in yours. Sharing the same plate, same spoon— you are closer to her than you were ever were with your own sibling.

Cordially invited to Suri and Ian’s wedding.

But then. She had to get married and ruin everything. Harsher than a heartbreak. You looked around thinking she might not have left very far and you were right. Because there she was, walking out the cafeteria with her back turned to you. Shoulders hunched over, you could hardly see her face, but you know it was her because Ian is waiting by the hall waiting to link fingers with her. He passed you a dry look and didn’t permit you to give any other expression. Not sure if you wanted to react to that. Five years of friendship and not once did you catch them dating each other. You were third wheeling the whole time and not notice. The last conversation you had with them was the least embarrassing moment of your life but it was definitely an unforgettable one.

”I thought you knew!”

“Know what? That you both are secretly into each other?? I thought we were just having fun! And to think of all the single-life, die-alone jokes I shared with you two? I was joking with myself, because there’s no way y’all could relate with that shit.”

“Think carefully of what you just said; that’s the reason why you don’t catch hints, you’re so caught up with yourself…”

And for those to come from someone who knew exactly how you spent hours at the hospital to care for your mother, pay bills for your dad and work two to three jobs a week to manage a home— the word insensitive doesn’t cover enough, because you were beyond hurt. And it seems that he, Ian, noticed it too. Torn between you and Ian, Suri chose to hold Ian’s hand. And that was enough said.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean— ”

Of course they meant everything. They were unoccupied enough to have time to find love, unlike you. You struggle to make ends meet at the of every month and they are busy loving each other; you lead different lives, fighting different obstacles, advocating different principles and beliefs. You decided there and then that you no longer want to be a part of their lives. To you, they’re dead and this invitation card in your hand, should go to the trash can where it belongs. You're used to the loneliness, you’re used to the despair.

People are always temporary. Marriages are temporary.

Love is not real.

You stepped on the trash can pad and the lid folds open. You threw the card in and walked away. You’ve done this many times, it won’t hurt. You’ve broken many friendships because they decided to be in love and leave you alone. It was something you couldn’t understand, will any of us die without love? You’ve been single all your life and you couldn’t recall a time where you were desperate enough for love you have to beg. Relationship had always been stupid to you; the treacherous path was not only an eye sore to everyone else. Marriage? A scam. The “I love you’s”? Laughable. Pathetic, even. Look how it ruined everything… made you lose your best friend, made you feel less than everyone else. Betrayed by those you love most.

I shall never forgive them. The next time they’ll see me, I’ll be too far for them to reach.

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Unsaved number, calling.

At this point, you stare at it incredulously. The audacity to keep bothering you, and boy, weren’t your patience wearing dangerously thin. This must be one of those insurance sellers that are incessant on trying to get customers— resorting to calling potential clients by all means. With your anger boiling in the pit of your stomach, you tapped answer and,

“...I’m not buying,” you shot.

“This is not an insurance company,” he on the other line sounded clipped.

“Who— ?”

“Your husband, Kim Seokjin.”

Why did that phrase bring turbulence in your heart? Almost instantly, the flashes of that night in the ship of your cabin, the tiny bed rocking and foggy glass window whiplashed in the back of your mind. He even spoke in the same tone he did that night. It stunned you so much that you quickly rushed outside the library.

“I’m outside your uni, meet me in 5 minutes.”

Someone is playing the slowed and reverbed version of D!ck by Doja Cat and Starboi out loud from the corners of the students parking lot. The bass is boosted and even your lungs are following its beats.

Everything is in slowmo. There’s a strikingly blue Aventador S Lamborghini parked by the fountain, and someone is leaning against it, in white dress shirt and grey slacks hugging his thighs, snug. Leather shoes and brown Rayban shades. He crosses his arms, looking to the side. His prominent jawline, part of clavicles and neck all exposed for everyone to stare. Shoulders broad. Legs long. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed his spit, and tugged his sleeves back to look at his Rolex wrist watch for the time. His brows furrowed and he dug both hands into his slacks pocket, tutting his tongue, turning his attention to the opposing side while shifting his weight to one leg. You could almost hear him roasting you from the distance. But the song is much louder. Why is it so appropriate?

“Why the hell is she not here yet… Does she not know what 5 minutes is.. I am a businessman, time is money— “

“You can stop badmouthing me now, I’m here. What do you want,” you walked towards him like a prey walking in a predator’s dent. Helpless, soullessly. Instead of frowning at you, his cheeks puffed up as he smiled so brightly.

And through gritted teeth and forced grins, he said, “Why did you take so long...dear wife?” He pushes himself away from the car using his ass and walked towards you, to kiss you by the temple, nuzzling his nose over your hair, well aware that everyone was watching, and he grumbled,

“Get in the car, we need to discuss tonight.”

You wanted to ask him about the morning he left, but that would just make it seem that you’re affected. You don’t want to make him think that you were thinking about that night and what you both did. Besides, no closure is closure. Maybe that’s what he is used to; never having to explain where he’s gone to. Pretending it never happened, is so much easier.

“What’s tonight?” You asked him, eyeing him and he moved away just to open your door.

His extended arm invites you in and you complied. With all the eyes watching, you can’t afford more attention on you. He didn’t explain more until he got on the driver’s seat. He circled the car, climbed in with his long leg and sighed heavily. The engine roars when he presses the button. You hurriedly put seatbelts on but it got stuck because you were tugging it roughly. Seokjin rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Have you never rode in a car before? That is not the way to pull a seatbelt,” He hovers over your entire body, face just inches away from you, you could smell his Diptyque Philosykos cologne dancing around your nose, you could almost taste it. It didn’t help the fact that he wore the same cologne the night he bedded you. It’s almost dizzying how one night affected you so much. He extended the seatbelt, and fastened them for you. His hot breath fanned against your face and neck. His gaze leaves burns on yours at how intense and consuming they are. The air is suffocating. Felt like it wasn’t enough for both of you. You could run miles at the tension, it seems. Is it normal to feel like this, or are you dying?

Seokjin plans to let the world know tonight. There is a fashion show in Seoul’s fashion capital town and many reporters and celebrities frequent the area, so it was the fastest way to create rumors and commotion. With that said, everybody will be curious about who the biggest most eligible bachelor brought to the after party that he sponsored, so evil eyes and fake smiles are expected. Seokjin shudders at the thought, but for the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to be alone, so that was a slight comfort. It’s also his mother’s favorite event. Ever since Seokjin’s parents separated, Seokjin had been living with his mother. Even though so, you've never met her in person because every time you meet Seokjin, he’s always with his dad. You know that Seokjin is closer to his mom than his dad because growing up, Seokjin had always been a little more on the quiet side. And Senior Kim prefers a forward and sharp approach. Seokjin has always been a little too meek for his dad, leaving him to be at the bottom of his dad’s choice. You could understand why Seokjin works hard to gain his spot. Senior Kim had always wanted a daughter and you once heard him say that instead of getting a daughter, he got a son that behaves like a daughter. That was a long time ago. But it was a clear image of what kind of environment Seokjin was brought up in, and you could understand why Seokjin’s mother would rather separate, because you wouldn’t want that kind of negativity in your beloved son’s life too.

“Are you listening to me?” Seokjin glanced at you once in a while while he was driving, “Don’t you dare ask me questions afterwards… I will leave you hanging…”

Your eyes flutter softly at the view of him driving. Seokjin rubs his ear.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” His ears turned bright red. He clears his throat. Unbeknownst to him, his grip around the steering wheel becomes firmer, tighter. So tight, that his knuckles turned white.

He makes a turn to the city center and that’s when you snapped out of your deep thoughts.

“The hospital,” you breathed, “We need to get to the hospital, mom hasn’t bathed…” You grappled his biceps, tapping his shoulder lightly but he heard your urgency.

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The washcloth is wrung in a basin of warm water you brought from the toilet. Your mother lifts her arm and you wiped her body down with the cloth.

“How are we doing today? Did you eat good food?” you asked your mom like she’s a child. She responded with a big big smile and squeezed your hand. You wiped her face with the wet cloth, and combed her hair gently, tying it into a small ponytail.

“How pretty, are you feeling refreshed?” you cupped her face and saw her lips are a little chapped, so you sat on her bed and took out a Chapstick. You dabbed them on and she mashed her lips together.

“My shoulders hurt nowadays, the left side,” she complaints. You hurried to the side and started applying massaging oil over her skin. Carefully, you massaged it. While you were massaging them, your mother starts to talk.

“The doctor doesn't see me as often anymore. Only the physiotherapist comes and checks me. They say it’s because we haven’t decided on the date to do the surgery yet… they give me stale food to eat and don’t change my bedsheet sometimes…”

As she said this, tears came rolling down your face. As you massaged her shoulders, looking at her old wrinkled skin, listening to her weak and tired voice, your hands slowed down and your heart broke. You know that she is treated like this because you have no money, and her bills are multiplying and not paid. Thumbing, and smoothing the pad of your fingers over your mother’s shoulder blade, you comforted her through silence and in your heart, you said, “I’m trying very hard mother, you have no idea.” They are giving up on her because she’s poor.

“I’m getting the bill paid soon, don’t you worry,” you forced a smile, not wanting her to catch you crying. The last thing you ever wanted was for her to think that your life is hard because of her. You’ll manage, you will. You wiped your tears roughly with the back sleeves of your blouse. With a big smile, you asked her if she had eaten and she shook her head. They must have stopped serving her food since the last bills were due. This is why you visit your mother everyday. To make sure she ate and fought for her rights as long as she’s here. But nowadays, you were fighting a little less, as the nurses were heard saying that you were a free rider, using the hospital facilities for free. Sometimes you shower here, when the water supply at home gets cut. You dug out your purse and collected some money, see if you could afford buying some packed porridges downstairs for your mother.

You have enough for just one.

Seokjin who was watching the whole thing from the window, looked away when he saw you walking towards the door where he stands.

“Where are you off to?” He asks.

“Buying porridge for my mom…” You grinned.

“I could do that,” he unfolds his arms and starts walking.

“Really? You would help me?” You softened, and jerked as if you’ve just remembered, “Here, the money to buy one.”

Without thinking, you unwrap his fist and place some coins and some crumpled bank notes.

“Look for the brand Shimyang. She loves that one,” you reminded him before scurrying away with your front still facing him and you walked sideways and waving him away.

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Asking the cashier would be faster, but Seokjin is terribly shy among new people. He stood at the snacks area for a while before the cashier asked him what he wanted. The cashier pointed to the Shimyang porridge with his chin and Seokjin bought one. Just as instructed. He also put in three bottles of mineral water for good measure. Seokjin tried to walk in but before he could, the feeding trolley was pushed in first by a nurse. This trolley went to all beds except for the ones accompanied by your mother and some other occupants of the ward. Noticing this, he furrowed and tapped on the nurse who kept a blank expression on him. He asked why were there was food for some while others don’t. The nurse, nonchalantly answered,

“The ones receiving food paid the last month’s bills.”

Seokjin mocked your situation before, thinking that it was perhaps the reason why you couldn’t refuse his offer. But as the situation unfolds before him, he starts to understand why you were so desperate for a way out. If he puts himself in your shoes, he would do the exact same thing, perhaps even worse. Seokjin walked in with a gentle smile, handing the plastic bag containing instant porridge to you simultaneously, bowing to your mother.

“You grew up so well our little Seokjin,” your mother cooed, he turns as red as a tomato. Seokjin rubs the back of his neck, grinning with his head lowered.

“My husband told me about you, how nice you were on the ship…” your mother reached out for his hand, let it rest on her knee and patted it gently. You were preparing the porridge for her at the hot water station. Seokjin joins you not long after that. He towers over you, standing right behind and extends his neck to see what other instants are available there. Coffee, teas and powdered milk.

“You want coffee? I can snitch one cup for you…” you poured hot water into the porridge and stirred lightly.

“They need to pay for this too?” Seokjin asked.

You nodded, “But uncle right here keeps an extra sachet in case the nurses counted how many that was left when I’m here…” you winked to the uncle next to the water tumbler. Seokjin’s face says it all; he was repulsed by the stinginess of the nurses and doctors here who worked for money instead of passion. That means, uncle would add one coffee sachet if it's gone so the nurses won’t go accusing you for stealing. Seokjin stares at the view of your careful hand, the knuckles protruding, noticing how frail you were. There were Band-Aids over fingers that he didn’t remember being there when you were on the ship.

He pointed it out and you explained that your second job was in a pet grooming center and one of the cats is a little aggressive. Since the massaging oil has a little menthol, it would sting. But you didn’t wince a bit. Seokjin sat nearby as you fed your mother food, spoonful by spoonful. He sat there wondering endlessly how you lived your life this hard and still has a bright smile on your face like that. The Band-Aids, the coins and crumpled bank notes, your beaten shoes and torn blouse. Have you ever cared about you? Did you even have time to do that? He knows you by face and by voice, but today, he realized that there’s so many things he doesn’t notice.

He knows you but yet,

He doesn’t know you.

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When did it become this bad? When did we turn to adults?

How could he have missed all this?

How did his father turn a blind eye over this?

Seokjin was back on the driver’s seat driving until he got stuck in a jam. You had fallen asleep since you left the hospital and your phone vibrated endlessly. Feeling bad having to wake you, Seokjin patted your knee gently.

“Someone’s calling you many times now, it could be important,” He whispered tenderly. You whined.

“Wake up!” He groaned. You stirred awake with a small moan escaping your mouth. Lazily, you take the call and place your phone against your ear with your eyes still shut.

“...Yes, that’s me…” You mewled. That you jerked in your seat,

“An appointment?! Yes, yes umm... “ you turned to Seokjin in panic, “How far are we from the Samsung Tower?”

“Two blocks away...why?”

“Turn around, turn around, I forgot about an appointment…” you frantically tapped his elbows, struggling to gain more height so you could see better, “Why is this car so low, I can’t see the street’s name!”

“It’s a Lamborghini, they are manufactured for speed…” Seokjin rebuts.

“Well we’re not going anywhere with speed right now,” suggested by the endless car around, “Are we?!”

“You’re free to walk if you want!”

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Upon reaching the clinic, there are some people around still. Your name echoed through the speakers and Seokjin caught the clinic’s name, Obstetric and Gynecology's Department of Seoul’s General Hospital.

Wait.

Wait a minute.

Are you pregnant?

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Without thinking you dragged Seokjin into the doctor’s office as well, because he kept panicking that he couldn’t stay outside because there’s females outside. The doctor invited you in and still you were holding him by the wrist.

“We have been trying to reach you since last week,” the female doctor smiled sweetly, as she eyed you and Seokjin, trying to deduce the image. You forced a smile and decided that you don’t really owe her an explanation but the silence was pressing.

“He’s a… friend,” you lied.

Seokjin stared at you incredulously.

The female doctor looked at Seokjin through her lashes with her glasses sliding down the slope of her nose. Truly knowing what a blatantly lie that was but choosing to not bother over it too much because there are more pressing matters to address.

“It could be a stress induced intermittent bleeding,” the doctor began. Her shoulder length hair floats just above her white coat as she stretches her arm to insert an x-ray viewer tray to help show you the degree of possible damage.

“We are narrowing several options, and are contemplating that it could either be cyst or polyps. Based on the most recent ultrasound scan,” The doctor then took out her pen and showed the area affected, “Do you see here, this large oval looking thing, that’s your ovum and it's 3 times larger than normal women… it was 5.2cm in diameter the last time we scanned.”

You squeezed your eye, “To be honest you, it’s kind of hazy…”

“No, it’s not, it’s right there,” Seokjin intruded.

“Can you please be quiet? I don’t want to be warded for this… I can’t afford it,” you hissed.

The doctor turned away from the x-ray and sighed as she took off her glasses, “Untreated, this could lead to ovarian cancer. She was already on hormone pills and the bleeding hasn’t stopped despite us treating it with blood control medications. We need a biopsy done and for that, we will have to contravene with a uterine examination manually,” the expert in the room linked her hands together, “And it’s a problem because she’s a virgin and unmarried. I don’t want her to feel violated and her future husband to feel we’ve bypassed his rights.”

“Hello, I’m your patient, stop referring to me as a third-party, I’m right here,” you waved at her. She looks at you blankly and leaned back into her recliner.

“Oh she’s not a virgin anymore, I can guarantee that,” Seokjin assures her, far too confidently, “And I don’t mind. Anything for her wellbeing…”

You slapped him hard on the shoulder until he yelped, “Ow!” He glares at you, “It’s true!”

“Seokjin please!” you screeched. Seokjin turned to the doctor brazenly and said, “That’s exactly what she said before I put it in… I’m her husband, nice to meet you.” The doctor arched both brows at you and tilted her head over to Seokjin. You turned red as a tomato. Seokjin’s cheek puffs as he gave that gentle almost toddler-like smile.

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Seokjin queues up at the pharmacy counter to get a number for your medications. He returns to the long bench with a queue number. He tries to give it to you but you had your arms crossed and ignored him. From that reaction, he sat next to you with his knees spread, holding on to the piece of paper, sighing as he leaned back. His arms were long enough to cover the length of the bench and the buttons of his shirt looked like they were going to burst open. Relaxing in the most provocative pose.

“You have to take care of yourself too, you know…” He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, “First rule of being my wife means you need to put yourself first.” His Adam’s apple on full display. But there is still no response from you, you were still angry at what he revealed to your doctor. You secretly wished that your doctor would at least still know the old you, the virgin you. Now it feels like Seokjin is taking over your entire life, your identity. You hated how snobby he looks and how relaxed he is after he has ruined your life perhaps forever. Is this worth the fake relationship you both were trying to pursue?

Your entire life?

“Speaking of wife, where’s your wedding ring?” He peeks at your finger through one eye.

Huffing angrily and reluctantly, you dug into your pocket and put them on.

“You have a serious problem, pancake,” he grins smugly, “You are obsessed with giving and leaving none for yourself. You are trying to juggle everyone’s life forgetting to live your own… we’re the same that way.”

His statements, it irked you. Though it was somehow comforting, knowing Seokjin as long as you did, you knew it was mockery. The audacity of him to compare your life to his perfect ones.

“You’re born with a silver spoon in your mouth, I had to buy my own spoon— we are not the same. You drive a Lamborghini, I take the bus. Your job is inherited to you, I worked three. Don’t you dare compare your life to mine, because we are not. The. Same.”

You snatched the number from his hand just in time as your number was called up. You took your medication in a bag and left him. Up to him whether or not he wants to follow. You could easily take the bus if you wanted to.

“That’s not the way to the parking lot…” he stood up and ran after you, ‘Where are you going? Our car is that way!” He points to the opposite hall.

“I am taking the bus!”

“It’s almost 10… what bus is around at this hour…” he whines.

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His phone calendar blinks on the car screen. The fashion show after party is expected to start in an hour and you suddenly remembered about it. Seokjin, as if noticing how the fact jolted in you, turns left in the corner with one hand on the wheel.

“Don’t worry about it, we can always have other chances to showcase you… next time, I’ll inform you earlier,” he briskly turned to the downtown area where you live. Alarmed that he was driving a sports car, and a Lamborghini at that, you asked him to stop by the road and drop you off. You don’t want to get robbed or anything. It is dangerous to leave you walking alone, he thought. So he replies, they would already have seen you in a Lambo anyways, so why bother. He could stay over if he wants. In order to keep you safe. He can always get another Lambo.

“If you want? But this is my house, where my dad is…”

“So? We’re married,” he arched an eyebrow at you and your face heated up.

Parked by the street, Seokjin unfastens his seatbelt with ease while you struggle with yours. This seatbelt, you cussed in your head. That’s when Seokjin hovered over you, the inside of his wrist grazed over the inside of your thighs as he used one hand to balance himself by placing them in between your legs, dangerously close to your core. So close, that you held your breath as his face came near. His eyes burn into yours with that hint of seduction you remember the night in the cabin. The same intensity, the similar clutch on you— making your pussy pulsating helplessly, clenching over nothing. You tried to rub your thigh together but realizing his wrist was right there in between your legs makes you sweat. He drops his gaze to wear your clothed pussy were and trailed his eyes back up to you slowly, taking his own sweet time while gliding his long pink tongue over the expanse of his lips. With hooded eyes and philtrum so close you could taste his lips, your saliva pools in your mouth while the pit of your stomach declared war to what you desired— him.

His wrist inches closer to feel heat radiating from your core and as if he was offering some sort of relief, he spoke in low sinful voice,

“What is it with you making my Lambo feel like a second-hand car with its seat belt problems you seem to create?”

There’s a certain coyness in his voice that makes your heart flutter. The surrounding area is dark and so is the car, with his cologne making you dizzy and the lack of oxygen is rendering your light headedness. With a single click, the seat belt unfastened and he carefully placed it back to its corner, without breaking eye contact with you. He hooked his fingers on the car door latch and the hydraulic door raised up, “Get out.” He grumbled.

“Don’t stay over… the house is a mess, I haven’t gotten time to clean it up yet…” you said, hurried to put your back in between you two and he retracts to his seat.

“It’s gonna be a mess when we’re done either way so why bother,” he chuckles devilishly, winking at you as you climb out the car, like you’ve got a scare of your life.

You waited for him to go.

“How do I shut the door?” you hopped trying to reach it, and Seokjin rolled his eyes, “Jump higher…” Your tiny fingers could only graze the tips. Seokjin giggles evilly.

“Move,” he commanded. With a click of a button with his driving pads, the door lowered themselves, shut. Why did he make you jump for it if there’s a button for it, demon. You still waited for him to go.

After a while he lowered his car window, asking why are you still standing there.

“Have you never been on a date before? It's manners to let a girl go inside before he leaves! Go inside, you dumbass…it’s late, I gotta go! I have work tomorrow!” Of course he had to tug a nerve from you before he leaves.

“I DIDN’T KNOW!” You growled back just as loud.

“There’s a reason why…” he tipped his head to the side, turning his eyes to the road, he gripped tighter on the wheel while you ran to the staircase. You can hear his car engine roaring away. Stomping up the stairs to your run down apartment, your dad’s waiting at the door with a knowing smile which made you shy.

“Look at you, all grown up…” dad said, “I saw him in the car… someone got a kiss…”

“No we didn’t— Oh shush, I’m tired,” you hang your coat over the plastic chair.

Seokjin drives home with Chase Atlantic’s Swim playing out loud in his car. He starts shifting in his seat and palming over his boner while he drives. Tip is wet already, staining a coin sized patch on his light grey slacks and he wonders if you also felt how aroused he was. Because he could smell you and it was taking everything in him not to jump and gnaw over you right there and then. Especially when you smell so sweet. A smile etched on his lips when unconsciously watching you climb up those stairs on his rear view mirror. He yanked the stick far back and slammed into the accelerator to leave a trail of sound enough to tell you he’s leaving. He takes every corner like an expert F1 driver, not caring about speeding tickets. The traffic light turns from green to yellow at one junction so he propels with his jet-equivalent engine rumbling through the empty street just seconds before it turns red. Flapping from the exhaust holes, sounding like ripples of sharp wind hissing.

He stepped into his penthouse, greeted by the multimillion paintings. Throwing his Lambo keys on the side table, next to a bowl of car keys of his choice. He looked around the emptiness of the house with a blank look on his face. He made his way along the hall to the kitchen where stops in front of the wine cabinet, yanking one out. He uncorked that one and down half of it, straight from the bottle. Some of it drips down the corner of his plump lips and down his chin, dripping to stain his dress shirt purple. He took one look on his mirrored wall and noticed that his hard-ons are still so prominent. He chuckles and passes a grin to the side where no one was. He unbuttoned his shirt, undo his belts. The metals clinked against each other and finally dropped on the marble floor along the hallway. He drops everything along the hallway. Shirt, slacks, socks, blazers.

He doesn’t care about the mess the housekeeper is about to meet tomorrow morning. That’s what they’re paid for.

He wasn’t privileged to relish how you tasted the night in the cabin because he was too impatient. But he knows that if the next time comes, he would take his own sweet time just like how he is rubbing himself in his huge bathroom, under the shower head, imagining that you’re here watching him. With him. In here.

Heaving chest, harsh puffs of air. Seokjin ran his fingers through his drenched hair, pulling the ends hard, just like you had that night. Jaws locked as his hands moved at lightning speed. His seeds spilling all over the floor, in between his legs and into the drainers. The release he was anticipating for isn't quite approachable at the moment, but this would have to do. He threw his head back as he finished, mouth gaping open and choked moans with his eyes clenched shut. The euphoria cascades down just like the water running down the expanse of his back and shoulders. The marks your nails left on his back and chest still visible, and every time he stares too long at it, he gets worked up again. What will it take for you to spend another night with him? At this rate, he’s going to lose his mind every time you both meet.

It didn’t help how selfless he remembered you to be. He wants to be the one giving instead of the one taking. He had never seen such strong women after his mother. So resilient too, and sweet. Tough cookie but full of love. Seokjin would kill to be loved the same way you loved those you did. A love like yours would change him. Would make him want to change himself. Would give him a reason to become good.

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Tossing and turning in your bed, you felt hot all of a sudden. Switching to your back, you twisted your Turquoise ring finger and held it above your head, watching its glimmer under the small night lamp you have in your room.

“Who is he to have so much power over me? Just because he owns a Lamborghini, you feel like you have to listen to everything he says? Don’t forget that he mocked you, ridiculed you on the ship… How can you let him pass?”

You frowned to the ceiling, its paint peeling off. At the same time, you were wondering, just what was that look for, why did he move his wrist closer to your pussy. Did he know? And why does the mere thought of him looking at you make you feel hot and bothered. You had to admit that he looked so good today leaning against the car. And you didn’t think he would stay the whole day with you and your mom. And there was no reason for him to adhere to your errands, having to run to the ObGyn clinic today, and queued to get your meds. He even missed a whole fashion show his mother hosted just to accompany you to an ObGyn clinic. You twitched a small smile but felt bad instantly.

His mother probably hates me now. Great.

You scrolled down to Seokjin’s number. And at the same time, he was already sending you a text.

[Seokjin] : Sleep well.

[Seokjin] : *sends image*

He sent a horror movie character meme. You didn’t download it but you already know what it was so you delete them.

[You] : thanks. But also no thanks.

[You] : what is your mother’s favorite food? Things? Place?

Seokjin is typing…

Seokjin is typing…

[Seokjin] : You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve sent her flowers.

You are typing…

[You] : but still…

[You] : wait

[You] : you don’t know what your mother likes?

[You] : lmao

[Seokjin] : *sends image* *sends image* *sends image*

Designer clothes, cashmere and Hollywood restaurants. Rich people are a different breed. You hung your jaws open at her dream collection. Seokjin really knows his mother material favorites but there must be something else?

[You] : do you think she likes homemade kimchi?

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To be continued...

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