#bellybutton fluff

Your heart is racing and adrenaline is pumping through your veins by the time you reach the castle walls. There’s a small door to the side of the gate, barely big enough for a small child. Luckily, you and Jieun are both young children and smaller than average. You throw the door open and push Jieun into the darkness. It swings closed behind you and you latch it quickly, hearing scratches and hissing not even a second later.

“Vampires,” Jieun stutters. You nod your head.

The adrenaline leaves your body in the form of fat tears, and Jieun pulls you into her arms to comfort you.

“Thank you for saving me.”

-

It’s impossible to tell if it’s the bounce of the carriage over a bump in the crossroads, or the presence looming above you and shaking your shoulder that finally wakes you. Your eyes snap open as you sit up properly, as opposed to leaning on the wall of the car. You can feel a wetness on your cheek and you wipe it away, hoping that Wonwoo hadn’t already seen it.

“Are you alright?” He asks, pulling back to give you as much space as he can in the small carriage. Your legs are still touching.

You nod. “Quite.” You say. You adjust your skirt in your lap, spreading it a bit more evenly to keep your legs from getting too warm. It’s nearing the warm season and the sun’s gaze is becoming harder to tolerate, especially from a poorly ventilated wood carriage. “Where are we?”

Wonwoo’s brows furrow together in concern, but he doesn’t question you. “Less than an hour to Yingan, last I checked. Did you need to make a stop?”

You shake your head. You would love to stop for even a minute, just to stretch your legs, but the yearn to see Yingan again is stronger. You hope that your old room is still being cared for, and that the summer robes you left behind still fit you. Tears start to well in your eyes as your heart fills with longing. Jieun should be here with you.

“Y/N,” Wonwoo starts, sliding his hand across the carriage seat to encapsulate yours. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I just miss it.” You explain, the tightness in your chest building as you fight against your instinct to start sobbing. “I— I don’t think I can do this alone. Not without Jieun.”

“You have me. I won’t leave your side. Jieun is being taken care of by the best healers that Yingan and Hwangyeon have to offer.” He squeezes your hand and you nod. “Thank you for accompanying me. I know how painful it was for you to leave her side.”

You shut your eyes, trying to block out the mental images of Jieun’s body laying lifeless in her bed, with barely any colour in her cheeks. Wonwoo keeps a steady rhythm of squeezing your head and running a thumb over the back of your palm.

“You know,” You start, keeping your eyes closed. “Before we were sent to Hwangyeon, Jieun and I never saw eye to eye. She was so proper and I was her wily, untamed kid sister. But we always kept each other safe. I’d give anything to go back to that.”

Wonwoo nods, giving your hand one last squeeze as the carriage comes to a stop. The door opens on Wonwoo’s side.

“Your highness, we have arrived.”

-

Seungcheol, the oldest of your three triplet brothers, meets you with teary eyes and open arms. You hoist your skirt up to your knees and run towards him, leaving Wonwoo and the rest of your entourage at the doors.

“Graceful as always.” Seungcheol teases, holding you tight to his chest. He smells like the pine trees that surround the palace, like he always has. Like everything in Yingan does.

You let a watery giggle escape from your lips, letting down the guard that you didn’t know you’d been keeping in place since you left. Yingan was your childhood, full of memories and time that you would never get back. You relished in the feeling.

“My room? My silk robes?” You ask, your heart racing with excitement.

Seungcheol grins. “Everything is as you left it, duckling.” He says.

You dig an elbow into his gut as he lets you go. “I would imagine that all those years in Hwangyeon have transformed me into the beautiful swan.” You tease, and Seungcheol’s eyes twinkle with fondness and something close to sadness, but not quite.

“You’ll always be our little ugly duckling.” You hear from behind you.

You turn to find Jeonghan and Jisoo standing there, staring at you. They pull you into a hug, burying their faces into your hair. Jisoo pulls you towards your old room, leaving Seungcheol alone to greet his foreign guests. You sit in your room for a minute, ignoring Jeonghan’s instructions to change quickly, just letting yourself be alone with your memories.

Your books lay strewn across your desk, untouched. Seungcheol wasn’t lying when he said everything was as you left it; some of the books are still laying open to a dogeared page. You strip down to nothing but your dirtied shift, throwing the heavier overdress onto your bed. There’s a linen shift hanging off a cast iron hook beside your door that you assume is clean, given the fact that it smells better than the one you’re wearing currently.

On most days, before you left Yingan, you’d have a maid or two to help you dress in the morning. Now, staring at an armoire full of silk and cotton robes, your mind draws a blank. It’s too hot for an intricate, layered evening dress — similar to the one you’d been wearing before — so you settle for an embroidered silk robe that you’re just barely able to lace up by yourself.

“Fuck.” You mutter once you see yourself in a mirror. The light blue silk that had once draped loosely over your body as a young girl now sits as close to your skin as your shift does. It was the cold season when you’d left Yingan, and with your rapidly changing body nothing from the warm season fit properly when it was time to pack up your things.

“Y/N?” Wonwoo calls from the other side of the door with a knock. “May I come in?”

He doesn’t wait for a proper answer before he enters, taking your unamused grunt as more than enough permission. There isn’t a point in even attempting to hide the poorly fit robe from him.

“I don’t know what to wear.” You state, turning away from your mirror and back towards your armoire.

He closes the door behind him and takes a seat on your bed. He doesn’t answer, instead taking in your childhood bedroom with wide eyes. It’s different from your room in Hwangyeon. This room has personality, everything was made custom for you and every corner is full of your belongings.

“That robe is fine. It’s just me and your brothers. The advisors won’t even be—“ He starts to say, but he chokes on his words when you turn around.

You’ve laced the robe as tight as you possibly can, but the ends don’t come together, showing off the shadowing between your breasts and the sheerness of your undergarments. You’d need a second chemise to preserve your decency, but the heat won’t allow for it.

“This robe is scandalous. I look like I’m trying to attract the likes of Mingyu Kim. I’d rather wear my hunting clothes.” You say.

Wonwoo chuckles at the mention of Mingyu Kim and his loose morals, and the fact that Mingyu is already attracted to you regardless. He takes his own turn rifling through your armoire as you unlace your robe.

“Here,” He offers, pulling a light silk dress out for you.

You hesitate. “Wonwoo, this doesn’t lace in the front. You’ll have to help me.”

His cheeks turn pink, but he nods anyway. You decide that modesty would be useless at the moment, you’ve already been gone for too long. Without waiting for Wonwoo to turn away you shrug the robe off your shoulders. He helps you pull the dress over your head, blushing the entire time.

“A king that helps a lady get dressed is unheard of.” You mutter as he begins to lace up the back of your dress.

He smiles. “What kind of a king leaves a damsel in distress?” He says. Being addressed as a damsel in distress would usually offend you, but the way that Wonwoo says it so teasingly leaves your heart fluttering. He continues in complete silence, concentrating on weaving the ties properly.

“There you are,” He says when he’s finished tying the final knot. He uses his hold on you to turn you towards the mirror.

The dress sits awkwardly over your shift, wrinkling in areas where you should have more undergarments to shape your silhouette, but the allowance for extra undergarments is what leaves it fitting comfortably. His hands drag over your waist, smoothing out the fabric, but they linger.

“Is that alright?” He says, quietly in your ear. You spot the darkening of his eyes in the mirror and your breath catches in your throat.

“Yes, thank you.” You say, pulling away from him and hoping that he doesn’t notice how breathless you are. He is married, after all.

Now, sitting confined in your room with the door locked and Mingyu begging for entry, that feeling seems so far away. It’s hard to remember. It sits in the back of your memory just out of arms reach and the horror of not being able to remember something so significant takes over.

Eventually Mingyu gives up. You hear another voice outside, coaxing him into the dining hall for supper. You can hear his hesitance to leave you and it crushes you inside. You feel selfish, mourning something that hasn’t happened yet. But no one can blame you. They all know how incurable Jieun’s sickness is. You sit in your lonesome in the eerie quiet of your room for as long as fate will allow. The peace lasts for an hour, and then Mingyu is knocking at your door again. It’s a soft knock, decibels quieter than the absolute uproar he had been torturing you with earlier.

You approach the door, your hand laying on the latch as you consider letting him in.

“Please,” You hear him whisper through the wooden slats. “I’m begging you.”

You flip the latch down and pull the door back just enough to let him know that he may enter. He pushes his way in gently and latches the door behind himself, effectively including himself in your isolation. Tears still leave your eyes, only now they leave in a drip instead of a stream.

“She’ll wake up.” He says, and you become overly aware of how much of a mess you must look with tear stains on your cheeks and redness in your eyes.

You wipe furiously at the wet trails on your face as he sinks down to sit beside you, creating a two person barricade along the doorway. “She won’t.” You say, refusing to meet his eyes.

“She will.” He says, taking your face into his hands and wiping away your remaining tears. “I swear to you.”

He dips his head down then, capturing your lips between his. You freeze for a second before you’re scrambling away from him, tears running down your face in a constant flow again. You’re still in your day clothes, the draping sleeves getting caught under your feet and your corset cutting into your chest as your ribs heave up and down.

“Y/N,” Mingyu says after a moment of shock has passed.

He reaches out towards you and you flinch, feeling nothing as you watch the hurt flash in his eyes. “Get out.” You say.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and you scream.

-

Jieun is pale and lifeless, transferred to her own room and heavily contrasting the dark red bed coverings. Wonwoo’s kingdom with all of its advanced medicines and remedies has managed to do absolutely nothing to improve her condition. You sit at her bedside, holding her hand. Your cheeks are still stained with tears from earlier that evening, but you just want to forget.

“Please wake up.” You say, running a hand through her hair. “I need you, Ji. I don’t know what to do.”

There’s a knock on the door then, a soft rap that interrupts your train of thought. The door opens before you can answer. Wonwoo stands before you, his head hung low as he enters the room.

“A message from Yingan, my lady.” He says, handing you a slip of parchment. “I’ve yet to read it, for your sake, but I can’t imagine that it says anything heartwarming. We rarely receive messengers from Yingan.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of your home. You take the message from him with shaky hands, almost tearing it in your haste to unfold it. The parchment slips from your hands as your brother’s neat script burns itself into your eyelids.

“M-my uncle he’s—“ You stop, seeing the bruises on Wonwoo’s hand that he’d been trying to hide. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

He shoves his hand behind himself, meeting your eyes with flushed cheeks. “Nothing. Do continue.”

“My uncle is on his deathbed. They’re crowning my brother as king in a fortnight.” You say.

“Is he requesting an audience for his coronation?” Wonwoo asks. You don’t know why he does, it’s tradition for the royal families of all three peace kingdoms to be present at a coronation.

You nod. Jieun won’t make it. It’s three days at sea and three days by carriage and she can barely breathe on her own lying still in bed. Wonwoo’s jaw clenches as he looks over at his sleeping wife.

“I can’t leave her side.” You say. Wonwoo takes a seat beside you and takes your hand in his. “What if something happens to her while I’m not here? What if this illness consumes her?”

“A Yingan healer was sent to look after her. She’ll be better by the time we’re back.” Wonwoo says. “You’ll have to stand beside me in her place at the coronation to symbolize the harmony between our kingdoms.”

“Tell me what happened to your hand first.” You say. The fingers wrapped around yours are black and blue.

He tightens his grip on you. “I care about you as I care for the queen herself. My cousin disrespected you, so he faced the consequences.”

“The consequence was your fist?” You say. Jieun has always hated violence, for once you’re glad that she isn’t awake.

Wonwoo smiles, lacing his fingers through yours and standing up. “Come. I want to show you something.” He says.

You nod your head and follow, making sure that the door is shut securely behind you as you leave Jieun’s room. Wonwoo leads you through the halls of the castle that have become so familiar to you over the past few months. Years. Time has blended together and it’s sometimes easy to forget that you haven’t been back home in years.

“This is for you. A gift to apologize for your sister and my cousin, but mostly your sister.” He says. He opens the doors to the armoury and leads you in. There’s a bow hanging near the swords and a set of arrows laying on the ground. “Mingyu told me about your love for archery back in Yingan.”

“That’s mine?” You hesitate. He nods and you run towards it, a light feeling in your chest that you haven’t felt in a while.

You lift the bow to inspect it. It’s beautifully made, easy for you to carry, and your name is etched into the side of the handle. You draw the bowstring back, testing the draw weight, and it feels almost identical to your bow back home. You turn to face Wonwoo again with tears in your eyes to find him grinning at you.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You say. He just smiles and grabs a crossbow from the adjacent wall.

“What did you hunt back in Yingan?” He asks as he grabs his own set of arrows and starts to leave the room.

You have to think about that question. It’s been so long since you’ve seen the native animals of Yingan that they don’t immediately come to the front of your mind.

“Mostly rabbits in the warm season and deer in the cold season. I didn’t shoot to kill very much back in Yingan, it was mostly target practice on trees and an excuse to be alone in the forest. Violence angers the Gai, so we hunt with the intent to use every part of the animal.” You explain.

“The Gai?” He asks. In the years that you’ve been here, you’ve yet to have had a conversation about your own religion and culture with anyone in the castle. You never considered yourself a very religious person before you left your kingdom, so it’s been a while since you’ve had to think about the Gai and her rule over the world.

“Our goddess. I’m not as religious as Jieun is, but some of my kingdom’s religious morals resonate with me. Jieun still prays to the Gai every morning, you know? It amazes me.” You digress.

Wonwoo nods his head. “I see. What else do you believe in?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m not sure that I believe in much anymore.” You say.

While you were talking, Wonwoo had managed to lead you to the base of the Shengo mountain. As you step up onto a ledge, you’re glad that you’d had the sense to change out of your day gown before you visited Jieun. You spot a white rabbit in the grass that has managed to not notice you or Wonwoo.

You set an arrow into the rest of your bow and draw.

“Yes, this has been a very enjoyable evening, your highness.” You say.

He leans in close, placing his lips beside your ear. Your heart starts to race in your chest. “You can drop the formalities. There’s no one around to accuse you of treason, and I certainly won’t.” His voice is soft and delicate and barely audible.

You drop your head as you feel your face start to heat up.

“Of course.” You agree with a nod.

He stands suddenly and offers you a hand. You gather your skirt in one hand and take his extended one in the other.

“We should probably get back,” He suggests. “My mother will want me to see the guests out.”

“Yes,” You nod. You lace your arms together and allow him to guide you back towards the castle. “I should make sure that my sister is resting peacefully.”

You part ways at the castle door, bowing your head out of tradition and courtesy before you take your leave. You make it out of the way just as the doors are opening to let the party goers out to their carriages.You look back as you slink into the castle and find that Wonwoo is watching you with a smile on his face. You return it with a smile of your own, your cheeks turning pink as you scuttle back towards Jieun’s room.

-

Roses have always been Jieun’s favourite flower. She loves the juxtaposition of the delicate, pink petals with their thorn-covered stems. Now, though, seeing those petals collecting in her chamberpot, covered in blood and spit, makes her stomach recoil and her head spin. They spill from her lips like an avalanche, and each new petal sparks a burning hatred for the plant.

“Your highness,”

It’s a title that she hasn’t gotten used to yet. She hasn’t been the queen for more than two days, and she doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be fit for the position.

“Yes?” She replies, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Let me help you back to your bed.”

Jieun take’s the maid’s hand with barely any strength, allowing herself to be pulled onto two quivering legs. Each step feels like its taken on a bed of glass shards, and the winces leave her mouth as easily as the petals do.

“Is my sister coming?” Jieun asks, laying down on the mattress and curling up onto her side. She prefers to sleep on her back, but the doctor had told her that it would be dangerous, should her sick spells overtake while she slept.

The maid nods her head as she pulls the blankets up over Jieun’s shoulders. “I do believe that she’s slept in your bed every night since you came down with the illness.”

Jieun closes her eyes and hums. “My sweet sister. Make sure that she’s taken care of when I’m gone.”

“Your highness, don’t say such things. You’ll live a long and prosperous life as the queen of this kingdom.” The maid scolds her.

If Jieun had the energy, she would laugh. But she doesn’t, so she settles for sighing and sinking into the mattress.

It doesn’t take long for you to show up in her doorway, and Jieun smiles a sleepy smile at you as you approach her.

“Hi,” She says, reaching out towards you.

You take her hand in yours and sit by her torso, the bed dipping under your weight. Jieun struggles to hold your hand with a strength that matches yours, and she feels her stomach sink at the realization.

“Let me change into my nightclothes, and then I’ll join you.” You say.

Jieun lets her smile speak for her, placed softly on her face as if to say ‘thank you.’ You tuck her hair behind her ear and place a kiss to her forehead before you depart from her bedside.

-

Mingyu’s fingers close around nothing but the cold breeze of a spring morning. It settles over his bare skin, sending a chill down his spine. He winces as the pain in his head is enunciated by the feeling of the cool air on his face.

“My prince,” He hears muttered behind him.

A slender arm wraps around his waist from behind him. Mingyu cringes, lifting the arm from his body.

“I’m afraid that there has been a mistake.” He says, sitting up and facing the mysterious woman in his bed.

Staring back at him is a foreign princess, one that he had been briefly introduced to the night before. She has a pretty face and a pretty form, but he can’t bring himself to feel anything for her. His head throbs, a reminder of just exactly how many mistakes he had made.

“Is there anyone you must be faithful towards besides our king?” She asks him, cocking her head to the side in a way that should affect Mingyu in one way or another, and yet he still feels nothing.

“No, I’m unmarried.” He says.

She smiles. “Then what about any of this was a mistake? No one has to know.”

“Of course,” Mingyu says, returning her smile with a smile of his own. “You should leave.”

Her smile drops immediately and her face turns into one of complete scandalization. She throws the blankets back, biting back an argument, and shrugs on her clothes from the party all without breaking her glare. Mingyu lays back and watches her leave before snuggling back into his bed and falling back into a light sleep.

He’s awakened only a few minutes later by his door slamming open and a light weight settling on his shins.

“You should put some clothes on.” You say, and Mingyu finds something off-putting about the way that you manage to remain so impassive while sitting on top of his naked body.

“Why? There’s nothing important about today.” He says, keeping his eyes closed and a distant smile on his face.

“King Wonwoo was a few steps behind me.” You say.

Mingyu shakes his head and throws an arm over his eyes. “We’ve shared a bath before, it really is nothing to be concerned by.” He says, and he can just imagine how absolutely unimpressed you look.

-

Sometimes, it’s incredibly difficult for you to realize what’s happening until it’s already happened. Wonwoo visits you with tears in his eyes. He takes your hand in his without saying a word. You close the book that you had been reading, leaving it on your bed, and you let him lead you out of your sanctuary.

“Where are you taking me?”

You’re met with silence.

“Wonwoo, please. What’s happening?”

Again, he says nothing.

Your heart starts to race and your vision blurs with tears that leave hot trails as they fall down your cheeks, against your will. He leads you through the castle, and out into the warmth of a spring afternoon. Petals from the cherry blossom trees in the courtyard fly around you, landing in your hair and in your eyelashes, but Wonwoo shows no interest in how beautiful the grass looks covered in a layer of soft pink satin.

Your hand aches by the time he lets go, and your lungs burn with unfamiliar exhaustion. It takes a moment for you to recognize your surroundings. You’ve stopped outside of the queen’s private quarters. Wonwoo steps to the side to speak to one of the guards outside of Jieun’s door, saying something that you can’t hear. Your heart drops into your stomach, and the tears start to fall more carelessly from your eyes.

“Y/N,” Wonwoo says, placing a hand on your shoulder. You flinch.

Your mind starts to run on autopilot. You take your first step into the room and your only intention is to sit at Jieun’s beside and hold her hand, but an arm around your waist stops you.

The nurse speaks from Jieun’s side, a place that is rightfully yours. “She’s resting.”

“For how long?” You ask.

The nurse drops her gaze to her own hands. She’s choosing her words carefully, and you can almost see the cogs turning in her head. “It’s uncertain,” She says. “She’s been like this since the morning. Nothing will wake her.”

Usually, your face holds a facade of joy and content, completely unfazed by the fact that the only piece of family that you have left spends her days dying in her bed with no remedy for her illness. You hold on so tight that your cheeks burn with fatigue by the end of the day and you cry yourself to sleep.

Today, though, your heart shatters and the mask of happiness shatters with it. Your throat burns and it takes a while for you to realize that you’re letting out a strangled mix of yelling and sobbing. Wonwoo’s arms are strong around your waist, and they hold you against his body until Mingyu comes into the room and takes you from his hold. You resist, crashing your fists against Mingyu’s chest.

“Do something, Mingyu, please. You have to.” You cry.

“There’s nothing I can do.” He says. He wraps his arms around you and cradles you to his chest, but you push him away and stumble towards the door with tears in your eyes.

“I’ll be taking my leave, your highness,” You stammer, bowing your head in Wonwoo’s direction. “Please make sure that my sister is taken care of.”

Mingyu’s cries of your name are muffled in your head by the sound of your own sobbing. You flee down the hallway to your own room, barring the door behind you. It doesn’t take long before there are knocks on your door, begging you to come out and speak to someone, but you curl up into a ball on your bed and lay there until you fall asleep.

As soon as Chan is out of your sight, you feel all of your nerves start to come back. Your chest feels tight, and it’s not just the corset piece of your dress pressing on every bit of your abdomen and making you feel uncomfortable. You start to feel tears well up in your eyes, but you tilt your head back to avoid messing up your makeup.

“You okay?”

The voice makes your heart stop. It’s a voice you haven’t heard in years, and it makes your head spin.

“Ara?” You turn around and there she is. She’s standing in the doorway of your changing room in a light blue dress, not looking a day older than she did the last time you saw her.

“Yeah, it’s me. You look gorgeous, by the way.” She says.

“Thanks.” You say. You feel like your breath has been knocked right out of your lungs.

She sighs. “Jeonghan invited me. I hope you don’t mind that I came, I know that we didn’t have the best relationship before I left.”

You want to scream. You want to tell her to leave and never come back, that you never want to see her again, but then you remember Chan and how much he looks like her and you have to choke back everything that makes you want to be awful towards her.

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re here, Chan will be happy that you are.” You say.

It takes a minute for her to say anything else. “I’m glad that it’s you, you know? That’s part of the reason why I left. I knew Jeonghan wouldn’t be happy to be tied down to me for the rest of his life. You’ve been his dream girl since day one, even I could see that.” She says.

You nod. It’s all you can do when someone says something like that.

“Seriously,” She says. “I’m glad that you’re marrying Jeonghan. I’m glad that you’re Chan’s mom.”

She leaves without letting you get a word in after that. Her words sit heavy in your mind, even Chan’s own mother is glad that you’re a part of the family that she abandoned. Suddenly, you feel okay. You think of Jeonghan waiting for you at the alter in his suit and tie that you know he spent weeks trying to perfect, you think of Chan’s bedroom that you helped paint and the wall decals that you helped put up when Chan was still a baby. You think of Chan’s birthday, the one that just passed that made him 4 years old and put him into a school with big kids, and you think of the year and a half that have passed since Jeonghan stuck a rock on your finger and asked you to be his forever. And all of a sudden, it all falls into place.

-

“I wanna see her.” You can hear Jeonghan pouting through the walls.

“Jeonghan, honey, it’s tradition. You’re not allowed to see the bride before the wedding starts.”

“But I wanna see her now.” He whines. He sounds like Chan does when Jeonghan hogs all the chocolate milk.

“Jeonghan, no. I will call Joshua over and have him use his overwhelmingly persuasive charm to get you to leave.”

“Just because you’re dating him,” Jeonghan grumbles, but he trails off and doesn’t finish his sentence.

You giggle, hearing the stomping of feet backing away from your changing room door.

“And that, ladies and gents, is my future husband.” You say.

Joshua’s girlfriend laughs.

-

Your sister had said that your dress was almost too understated to be a wedding dress. The lace bodice and intricate beading failing to outshine the simplicity of the satin skirt that just barely reaches the floor. You had almost agreed, but everything about the dress complimented your personality in a way that you didn’t think something more extravagant could. And, walking down the aisle in your simple yet elegant white dress, you think that you couldn’t have made a better choice. Jeonghan takes your hand with tears welling in his eyes, and he doesn’t take his gaze off of you until your last ‘I do’s have been said and he’s tipping you over to kiss you in front of all your family and friends.

You turn back to the crowd, watching as your parents cheer with tears in their eyes. You want to see everything else, but all you can see is Chan sitting in the front row with Jiya’s little hand in his. He’s laughing and jumping up and down, and his face turns completely red when Jiya turns and plants a wet kiss right onto his chubby cheek. You laugh, lacing Jeonghan’s fingers through your own.

He leans down and whispers in your ear, “I love you so much.”

You grin up at him, your own words affection falling from your tongue.

Everything feels absolutely perfect.

-

“So,” Joshua starts. He has a mischievous smile on his face, completely contrasting the baby pink icing on the slice of cake that he’s holding. “Now that the hard part’s over you can get to work on the baby making, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, first of all, that’s not happening. Second of all, why would I tell you?” You say.

“Chan needs a sister. Or a brother. I doubt he’d be opposed to either. Also, you so would tell me.” Joshua says. “Where is Jeonghan, anyway?”

“He’s with Chan and Jiya. Chan really wanted to see her.” You say.

As awful as it sounds, it doesn’t make your stomach turn like you thought it would. At the end of the day, Jiya or no Jiya, you’re the one that’s going home to Jeonghan and Chan. Sure, you’re still a little angry at her for abandoning her family, but you can’t be too angry because where would you be if she hadn’t?

“It’ll be good for him.” Joshua says.

You nod. “Yeah, it will.”

And it is. Chan barely recognizes Ara, a fact that you narrowly avoid letting get to your head. Jeonghan has to remind him before he lets out a soft oh. Ara doesn’t seem to mind, though, she just waves at him and asks him how his first year of preschool is going. There’s an instant bond between the two that you know you’ll never have with Chan, but you don’t let it bother you.

Jeonghan wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to the side of your head as you watch Chan and his mother talk.

“So,” He starts, his voice just barely above a hushed whisper. “How is marriage treating you so far?”

You giggle and lean into him. “It’s about as good as being married to the love of your life sounds. I’ve been in love with him since I met him in the first grade, and I’ve never been happier than I am right now.”

“That’s good.” He says. “I’m very happy for you.”

You snort and dig your elbow into his side. “I love you, Jeonghan.” You say.

“I love you too.”

-

The topic doesn’t come up right away. It happens gradually, slowly digging its roots into your mind until you can’t help but bring it up at the dinner table, not even a week after your wedding.

“Jeonghan,” You start. You stare down at your plate, moving the noodles around half heartedly. Chan sits in his seat completely unaware of the shift in atmosphere.

“What’s wrong?” Jeonghan asks immediately, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you wanted any more children.” You say it so fast that you’re not even sure he could make out the words.

He places his own fork down and moves his plate away from himself. “Of course I do, why? Are you infertile? Is that why you were at the doctor’s office today?”

It’s very characteristic of Jeonghan, for his mind to instantly conjure up the worst possible scenario.

“No, nothing’s wrong. My appointment was just a check up. I just,” You hesitate.

“Are you pregnant?” He asks, his jaw dropping a little and his eyes going wide.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think you’re fertile enough to get me into the 0.01% of people who get pregnant on birth control.” You say.

His face turns red. “Oh.”

“I just,” You hesitate again. “I just don’t know if I really want kids. Not like I don’t want them in my life, but I don’t really want to have them. As in, birth them. You know?”

Jeonghan stares at you, looking as though your entire spiel has just breezed completely over his head.

“Like, I wouldn’t be opposed to going off of the pill and having kids if I just happened to get pregnant, but it wouldn’t be my first choice. I’d rather adopt. There-“ Jeonghan cuts you off.

“There are enough kids in this world without parents, I know. We’ve talked about this before.” He says.

“Wait, what? When?” You ask.

He chuckles. “You used to talk about it all the time when we were in high school and your mom got pregnant.”

It’s your turn to blush and say “oh.”

“Trust me, Y/N. I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t completely support your decision.” He says.

“Oh,” You say again. It’s all you can say. You hadn’t imagined this going so well; Jeonghan loves kids, and he always used to talk about raising a whole slew of kids that had his own thick hair and warm brown eyes.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, alright? For now, it’s just you, me, and our little dinosaur.” He says. He takes your hand in his.

“And you’re okay with that?” You ask.

He gives you the same soft smile that he gave you when he asked you to be his girlfriend, and your heart melts. “I’m okay with whatever you choose to do, as long as you’re happy.” He says.

“Happy!” Chan squeals from his seat. You turn your attention to him to see pasta sauce covering half of his face. Jeonghan laughs and gets up to grab a cloth. “Where’s daddy going?”

You giggle. “He’s going to grab a bucket full of kisses for our messy baby Channie.” You say, tickling his stomach. Chan giggles.

“I’m not messy.” He protests, but he can’t keep the smile off of his face.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. You are the cleanest prince in the entire kingdom.” You say.

He giggles, and you’ll never get over how fast he’s growing. “Prince Dino. And you and daddy are the king and queen!” He says.

“Are we, now?” Jeonghan chimes in, a wet cloth in his hand. Chan giggles as his face is wiped clean of pasta sauce.

“Yup! You and mommy are the king and queen because you’re the prettiest, and you always smile the most when we’re all together so you have to be.” Chan explains.

“That sounds lovely, baby.” You say. Chan nods.

“Why don’t we get you in the bath and daddy will tell you a story about prince Dino and his royal family?” Jeonghan suggests.

Chan’s eyes light up and he throws his hands in the air, wanting to be carried. You laugh, and you watch with a warm heart as Jeonghan picks him up and carries him off into the bathroom.

“You shouldn’t be walking around with that kind of attitude. She may be your sister but she’s still the next queen and this is still her wedding party.” He scolds. It’s accompanied by a flick to the back of your head.

You grimace. “I wasn’t the one who gave her the flowers, I don’t see what good my help will do.”

“Your sister’s ineptitude of self control isn’t the problem here,” He hisses, taking you by the forearm and dragging you back through the palace. “It’s the fact that you’re not there to hold her hair back while she expels petals into her chamberpot that is.”

You scoff, but you let him drag you down the corridors and deposit you at the door to her room. You knock on the door, but you don’t wait for her reply. The lantern beside her bed is dwindling, providing only a dim light to only a small portion of the room. You can hear retching coming from the darkest corner.

“Oh, Jieun.” You gasp. You rush to her side almost immediately, letting the door swing shut behind you. The light from the corridor peers in through the cracks.

“I’m alright.” Jieun insists, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

As annoying as the situation is, you still feel bad for her. She is your older sister, after all.

When your parents died and your uncle had shipped the both of you off to a neighbouring kingdom, a betrothal sitting heavy on Jieun’s shoulders, she had taken care of you. She watched over you and made sure that you still received the same love and attention that you would have had at home. And now, rubbing Jieun’s back as you watch the colour return to your face, it dawns on you that it’s your time to return the favour.

She takes deep breaths as she sits on the floor, her hand clutching yours as she feels the familiar pangs of the rose in her torso digging its thrones into her heart and her stomach. She had always loved roses as a child, and you can only think of one person who loves roses more than she does. That’s how you’d figured it out in the first place.

“Stupid Mingyu,” You curse. “I should’ve killed him as soon as the first petal fell from your lips.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She grumbles. She lets you help her up and onto her bed.

You kneel behind her, forgoing your expensive dress and your stiff crinoline. “Give me one good reason why.” You say as you untie the back of her corset.

“Because it’ll only make things worse. I’ll have a disease with no cure.” She says, tilting her head back so that you can brush her hair.

You clench your jaw. “You already have a disease with no cure. Mingyu is devoted to the king, he wouldn’t let himself fall in love with the king’s betrothed, even if he wanted to.” You say.

“Alright, then because he’s your best friend.”

“You’re my best friend.” You argue. She giggles, though it’s interrupted by a cough.

“I’m your best friend by blood,” She says. “Mingyu is your best friend by choice.”

“It wasn’t my choice.” You grumble. She giggles again, and it’s an incredibly sweet sound to your ears.

You had a quiet upbringing, a life and education without music. Jieun was trained in politics and the traditional instruments of your ancestors, where you were trained to hunt and read and write. Royalty had never suited you, and being the youngest of five in line for the throne had always been a relief as it allowed for more leniency towards your whims.

Jieun could have been your parents’ successor and you could’ve stayed at home with her, had it not been for your uncle taking over and promising her to the Jeon dynasty. Your three brothers had been allowed to stay in your kingdom, your uncle favouring a local education influenced by your family’s own beliefs than the education of another culture.

The cultural differences between your kingdom and the Jeon’s had never ceased to amaze you in the few months that you had been living with them. You hadn’t been allowed to go to school, only seeing tutors in the palace who were shocked to see a girl practicing writing. Only certain people were allowed access to the library, so you found yourself quickly lacking an entertaining pastime in the first few weeks, until you met Mingyu.

“You should go.” Jieun suggests as soon as you’ve finished brushing the knots out of her hair. “The queen will want to speak with me about her son.”

You roll your eyes. “He probably thinks the flowers are for him.” You say, getting up and returning to your pile of clothing. You struggle into your crinoline and your silk dress, silently thanking your dressmaker for putting the laces on the front of your bodice instead of the back.

“You’ve never even met him. He’s not that bad, Y/N. He likes reading, like you. And he’s actually quite tolerable.” She says, laying on her side and pulling the sheets over herself.

“Tolerable,” You mutter distastefully under your breath, so low that Jieun doesn’t hear it. “Get some rest, Jieun. You’re looking frail. I’ll call someone to light the fire for you.”

Jieun is right. You don’t have any right to be insulting the king when you’ve never seen him around the palace even once. Though, that is cause for concern, given your curious nature and the fact that you had investigated every corner of the bright-tiled castle within your first week of living here.

Mingyu is still standing outside when you exit Jieun’s room, leaning against the wall and staring down at his boot-clad feet.

“Oh,” You let out. “You’re still here.”

He chuckles. “Yes, I’m still here.” He says.

If it wasn’t for your sister’s infatuation and your general distaste for royalty, you might regard the next king’s best friend in a better light. Mingyu’s cheeks fill out just enough that they aren’t overly or underly pronounced, laying under perfectly sculpted cheekbones and bright, joyful eyes. A good face and a good build make Mingyu the most eligible bachelor in this kingdom and yours.

“Want to accompany me in crashing my sister’s wedding party? Seeing as she won’t actually be able to attend it herself.” You ask.

He grins at you with that perfect smile of his and extends his arm. “I’m not sure if crashing is the right term. It’s not like either of us weren’t invited.” He says.

You take his arm and allow him to lead you back towards the ballroom. He helps you down the wide flight of stairs, his arm sturdy and reliable under yours. You know that he would catch you if you fell, because he has before. You’re not worried about that. You’re worried about the crowd that awaits you at the end.

“You won’t leave my side, right?” You whisper as you near the bottom of the staircase.

Mingyu snorts. “And throw you to the wolves? Would I ever do that to you?” He says.

You shrug. “You’re very unreliable.”

He laughs, the action of laughing consuming him entirely. It throws you off kilter, and you stumble down the last few steps without much grace and without Mingyu to catch you.

You are caught, though, at the very bottom of the stairs, by someone with a slightly less muscular frame than Mingyu’s but just as much height. Mingyu rushes to your side as the stranger pushes you to your feet, his dark hair and dark eyes entrancing you for a mere second, though you miss the crown that sits atop his head.

“Pardon me, my lord.” You mumble, your cheeks blazing as you dip your head in a curtsey.

“Mingyu,” The stranger says, a scolding tone laced through his voice. “Is this how you treat a lady? You laugh at her and then push her down the stairs?”

“She lost her footing, your highness, and the laughter was all in good fun.” Mingyu defends himself.

The words ‘your highness’ ring through your ears, and your face starts to feel hotter than it had before. Mingyu elbows you in the side and you stand up straight, willing your face to cool down.

“Don’t look so flustered, my lady. I’m sure this brute was the one at fault here.” Wonwoo says.

Mingyu scoffs and Wonwoo chuckles.

“Just for that, you can find someone else to teach you sword fighting.” Mingyu threatens. He turns away from you, leaving you and forgoing the promise he had made to stay by your side.

Wonwoo laughs, wholeheartedly and deep in his throat. “Ignore him.” He suggests.

“I’ve been ignoring him for weeks, I don’t think he’s caught on yet.” You joke lightly, still nervous about being in the presence of your sister’s new husband.

“Tell me, what brings you to my wedding party? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” He asks.

“Queen Jieun, your highness. She’s my sister.” You reply.

Wonwoo’s smile falters, but he clears his throat and it’s back in an instant. “My condolences, my lady. The flowers are a terrible illness that I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemies. I will watch over her well. I assure you that she is getting only the best medical attention.” He says.

“Of course,” You say. “I wouldn’t think anything less of the Jeon family. You’ve all been very kind and attentive.”

“Would you happen to have an idea of who caused the flowers?” He asks.

You stare down at your hands, guilt settling in your stomach.

“Does it concern you, your highness?” You ask, evading the question as much as possible.

You know that Wonwoo doesn’t love your sister, he doesn’t even feel anything close to the puppy love that your sister is harbouring for his best friend, but you can’t help but fear that he’ll do something regretful to either or both of them.

You keep your eyes low as he replies.

“Indeed, it does. Jieun is young and full of life, it would be a shame to see her taken so early by something so small as an unrequited love.” He says.

You nod. “I agree. Unfortunately, your highness, I haven’t seemed to come into that information. Jieun and I are close, but there are some secrets that you keep only for yourself.” You say. He sighs.

“That is unfortunate. But, I digress. I’ve heard a lot about you, my lady. Your sister speaks very highly of you and Mingyu seems quite taken with you.” Wonwoo says.

You shake your head, your cheeks turning red again. “My sister is my sister, and Mingyu is a fool.” You say, encouraging a chuckle from Wonwoo.

“Yes, you’re not wrong.” He agrees.

The song changes and he offers his hand to you. It’s a song with a slower tempo than before, and the floor begins to clear in favour of more experienced dancers.

“Er, pardon me, your highness. I don’t dance.” You say.

He shoots you a grin that takes your breath away. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt like this around someone of such high stature. His teeth are perfectly aligned, something that you rarely ever see. It’s possible that he might be even more attractive than Mingyu is, though it’s more in your personal taste than conventionally thought, a statement that you thought you’d never say or think.

His cheekbones rest high on his face and his jaw is strong and sharp. You find yourself wanting to reach out and caress his skin that looks so fair and so perfect. The inevitable heirs that he will have with Jieun are bound to be beautiful. They’ll most likely have his dark hair and dark eyes, and Jieun’s upturned button nose.

The thought sends a sour feeling straight to your core, the idea of Jieun holding his children in her arms. For the first time ever, you can feel something that you’ve never felt before. It twists in your gut in a way that makes you want to scream and laugh at the same time.

“Neither do I. I was wondering if you’d like to continue our conversation somewhere where we can actually hear each other?” He suggests.

“Oh,” You say, your voice doing nothing to contain your shock. “I suppose I’m not needed elsewhere. But what about you, your highness? It is your party.”

“Yes, it is. Is this not mingling?” He teases, his grin widening.

You roll your eyes. “You’re just as much a fool as Mingyu Kim.”

A surge of pain shoots straight through your heart at the sight of Jeonghan with a baby in his arms, the beginning of a family that doesn’t include you. It hurts to know that, for once in your life, Jeonghan won’t need you by his side all the time. He has a girlfriend and a child now, and it’s time for you to step out of the picture.

“Yeah, he’s got Ara’s eyes.” He says.

“Where is Ara, by the way? She doesn’t have any classes.” You ask. Jeonghan’s jaw hardens, but he keeps bouncing the baby on his lap.

“She, uh,” He hesitates. “She left me.”

You freeze. “She what?”

“She left me. She never wanted children in the first place, but by the time she decided that she really didn’t want this baby it was too late.” He explains.

“So she left you? Just like that?”

“Just like that. She had the baby and then hightailed out of the hospital, and I haven’t seen her since. You know, it’s a lot of work to get full custody of your own newborn son when his mother isn’t actually present.” He says, and you can see a glisten of light reflecting off of his cheeks.

You move to wrap your arms around his body, supporting his weight when he falls into you.

“I really thought she loved me. I thought she’d stay with me no matter what.” He says. His words are muffled by sobs as he buries his face into your neck.

You can feel the baby starting to grab at your shirt, but you’re much more worried about the fully grown man who is depending almost solely on you to keep himself standing.

“I’m only 19. How am I supposed to take care of a baby? I can’t even take care of myself.”

“It’s okay, Jeonghan. You won’t be alone in this, you know that, right? I’m here, your parents are here, hell, even my parents will be here for you. You don’t have to do this by yourself.” You say, rubbing your hands over his back.

“Look at him, Y/N. He’s so small and innocent and defenceless. What if I’m a terrible father?” He asks.

“Okay, now you’re just being silly. I can guarantee that you will be an amazing father. You have wanted to be a father since we were 10 years old. I’ve watched you babysit your cousins’ kids since you were 14. You’re going to be fine.” You say.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Pinky promise with warm bottle of synthetic breast milk on top.” You say. Jeonghan gives you a watery giggle, that the baby responds to with his own tinkering laugh.

“Now you just have to give this little nipple sucker a name.” You say.

“Ara gave him a name before she left.” Jeonghan smiles, standing up straight and repositioning the baby’s neck.

“Yeah?”

Sometimes you see shadows where you shouldn’t—where there shouldn’t be any. It makes your skin crawl, your gut wrench. There’s a tickle up the back of your spine, like someone is breathing down the back of your neck. And then you turn around and there’s nothing. A complete void of something that would make this—you—feel a lot less crazy.

Your heart beats to the tempo of it’s own drum, played by a quick-paced and antsy drummer.

“Are you alright?”

It’s a voice that comes out of nowhere. It echoes in your head.

“You look a little pale.”

You recognize the voice. It’s familiar.

“Jeonghan?” You call out. Your voice feels far away, like you’re listening in on a conversation that’s being had by someone else.

“I’m here, don’t worry.” He says.

-

You wake up in the arms of a boy with shaggy, brown hair. His face is round but somehow angular. His cheekbones are prominent yet soft. Everything about him contradicts itself in a way that makes him so beautiful that you’re afraid he’s not real. You squirm, a reflex reaction to feeling trapped. The boy smiles and pulls you closer to him. His arms are tighter around your body, but you find all of the worry and fear seeping out through your skin. You sink into his hold, a warm feeling setting in your stomach.

“Stop moving so much. It’s too early to be awake.” He says. There’s a smile on his face.

You trace a finger down his chest, following it, watching the muscles contract under your touch. Your skin is sizzling where it’s making contact with his, and these reactions are telling you that he feels the same.

“Did you dream again?” He asks.

Your mind draws a blank.

“Dunno. Can’t remember.” You say.

“Can you remember me?”

You shake your head. “No. But you’re comfortable. I don’t wanna let you go and I don’t wanna stop talking to you.”

He sighs and then presses his lips to your forehead. The gesture makes your cheeks heat up.

“That’s okay, baby. Go back to sleep. It’s not quite morning yet.” He says.

You obey.

-

You wake up sweaty and shaky. The same dream replaying in your head each and every night. Your bed is empty but the spot beside you is warm, and it smells like him. Like Jeonghan. A smile creeps onto your face; a rare thing.

A creak in the floor boards has the smile dropping right off of your face. You whip your head around to where the sound came from, heart rate accelerating. Jeonghan is standing there with a mug. He places it down onto your desk and runs to your side as soon as he sees the look on your face.

“Hey, no need to look so scared. It’s just me. I’m sorry, baby.” He says. He pets your head, kisses your cheek, and pulls you into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

You hear him speak, a repetition of the same phrase slipping off of his tongue over, and over, and over. You close your eyes, but your vision still flashes with sparks of bright white light. You can feel your head starting to pound, a shallow ache just behind your ears.

Jeonghan is holding your head to his chest. You can hear his heart beating, and it sounds so normal, so regular, compared to your own.

“Just,” You’re sobbing. You don’t realize it until you start speaking. “Just don’t leave. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. The borders will keep us safe.” He says.

You shake your head. “They’re not– What if there are bad things inside?” You start to squirm again, but he holds you tighter.

“Nothing is going to happen, I promise. I’ll fight them all off if I have to.” He says.

That makes you sob again.

-

There’s a small boy in your arms. His hair is the same colour as yours, the same pitch black that you’ve had since you were born. He smiles up at you, and your heart swells with warmth and love. He’s your younger brother.

The sky turns dark and your heart starts to race. Your little brother starts to cry, and it’s then that you notice the arms of dark fog wrapping around his legs. You shout out, grabbing at him and trying to pull him away with you but the fog is too strong. He disappears completely within a few seconds and you’re left standing shellshocked as you stare at where he was just standing.

You shout again, but you can’t hear your own voice. It’s lost somewhere in the fog. You do the only thing you can think of. You run.

-

“Jeonghan,” You cry out as soon as you wake up.

He tightens his arms around you in an instant. “What’s wrong?” He asks.

“He’s gone.” You sob. There are fat, warm tears trailing down your cheeks.

You shove your face into his chest, clutching at his shirt. His scent overrides your senses, allowing you to calm down for a moment.

“I know, baby. He’s been gone for a while.” He says, stroking the back of your head.

“It’s not fair.”

Your phone is heavy in your pocket. The darkness of the screen that remains even after you hold down the power button mocks you. You sigh.

“Hey, are you okay?” You hear.

You turn around to see a boy running out of the store you were just in. His hair is dark, almost as dark as the shirt he’s wearing. It takes you a second to register that his shirt is painted with the same logo that’s on the door. Your heart flutters in your chest when you take a closer look at him. High cheekbones and a square jaw that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Huh?” You ask, your cheeks turning pink. He smiles at you, absolutely breathtaking, and your breath catches again.

“Are you okay? It’s not everyday that we get someone as dainty and innocent as you in here.”

That’s when you see the piercings scattered across his ears and the tattoos the litter his skin. Your cheeks flush again, as if they ever stopped in the first place.

“I’m not dainty.” You object. The outfit you’re wearing begs to differ, white pants and a pale blue top. You’re the textbook definition of what dainty and innocent looks like on a person.

He chuckles. “Sure. Chickening out? A lot of people do their first time, don’t worry.” He says, taking your hand and pulling you back into the shop.

Your eyebrows knit together, an expression of confusion crossing your face. The metal rods through your nipples (a dare from a friend at your high school graduation party) and your navel feel heavy in your skin. It helps to bring your confidence back, the anxiety and panic leaving your body completely.

“I wasn’t actually planning on getting another piercing today. I walked in here mid panic attack. Sorry.” You say. You want to laugh when a shocked look crosses his face, and you can feel a smug smile paint your lips.

“Impromptu.” He suggests after shaking himself out his initial shock. “Belly button, that’s always a good one.”

You raise your shirt, showing off the glittering barbell that you had shoved through your skin when you turned 16. You hear him choke, and you giggle.

“Oh.” Is all he says.

“I actually have some errands to run,” You say, letting your shirt fall back into place. “I’ll definitely come back when I want another piercing, though.”

“Any others that I should know about? You know, in case you need help thinking of something else.” He says.

“Not any that I can show you.” You say as you reach for the door. He chokes again. “What’s your name? So that I can ask for you the next time I’m around.”

“Mingyu.” He chokes out.

“Mingyu,” You test out. It feels nice to say. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Mingyu.”

You return to the shop a week later, heart set on a tragus piercing. You find it a lot easier than you had the last time. Probably because your mind is clear, instead of covered in a layer of thick sludge that blurs your sight at the edges and muffles every sound other than the sound of your pulse racing in your ears.

The first thing you notice upon entering the shop is that the boy at the front desk is not Mingyu.

“Hi,” He says. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Do you take walk-ins?” You ask hopefully. You curse yourself for not getting a business card last time, or at least looking up the shop before leaving the house.

“We’re a bit full today, but if you give me your name I can find a spot for you.”

“Y/N.” You say. His eyes light up.

“Oh. You’re Y/N. I’ll go see if Mingyu’s finished.” He says, gesturing for you to take a seat on the bench by the door.

It’s then that you realize you’re not the only one in the shop. There are at least two people waiting at the front and each visible chair — you’re sure that there are more wherever the boy had dissapeared to — is filled by someone being tattooed.

Mingyu appears almost out of nowhere.

“Hey, you came.” He says, flashing a grin in your direction before grabbing your hand and dragging you to the back of the shop, away from the curious eyes of the other customers.

“Sit, sit.” He pats the chair beside him for emphasis. “So, what did you decide?”

“Tragus.” You say. “Although I’m not sure what kind of jewelry I want. What do you think would suit me?”

His eyes flash with an emotion that’s unrecognizable to you. Before you can think any more about it he’s shooting up from his seat.

“You sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

He comes back with a tray full of jewelry, asking you to pick your favourite from the selection. He’s keen and eager, and it affects you more than you thought it could. The general atmosphere of the shop is positive and friendly, and you feel a warm feeling settle in your gut by just being here.

Before you know it, it’s over. There’s new metal in the ear that Mingyu had almost chatted off while he was sticking a needle through it.

“There. Now, be on your merry way and come back next week at around 6 and I’ll take you to dinner.” His confidence surprises you both.

“How about I pay for this piercing and then I’ll write my number on the back of the receipt and give it back to you?” You tease. He rolls his eyes.

“Why not? As long as we’re still going with those cliches.” He says.