#celxhyuna

6: fingers     kiss ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Jiyong waltz around the ballroom lazily, sipping glasses of champagneafter champagne and makes pointless conversations with people he doesn’t knowthe names to. He waits impatiently for that familiar face to appear before him.“Having fun?” a sultry voice behind his ears. Jiyong licks his lips.

“This isn’t really a party.” Jiyong starts, and turns around toface the demon.

“So why you’d invite me?”

He sees Hyuna scoffing slightly, “You saidyou wanted to see a glimpse of my work, I’m showing you and you’re stillcomplaining.” The waiter chooses this exact moment to break their moment tooffer for, “Some wine sir, ma’am?” He’s got a beaming smile on and Hyuna glaresat him. Jiyong swaps his (half-full) champagne for red wine. Jiyong arches aneyebrow and prompts the glass towards her. She refuses and folds her arms. SoJiyong shrugs and gulps it down in one shot.

“Can you be more classy.” The brunette hisses, more of a statementthan a question. It is also the same time the music changes to something slowerand the voices hush a little. “OK.” Jiyong grins, and places the empty glass onthe table, and swoops Hyuna right into his arms, and sways her along with themusic. “Classy enough, my lady?” He pulls her in close, and nibbles her earlobea little, and kisses her neck gently. “Don’t,” Hyuna places a handinstinctively on the ginger’s chest which breaks the close proximity. Her eyesare shining, but her tone is warning.

“Fair enough, you’re working now. I’ll see you when you’re off?”Jiyong clasps their hands together, and then raises it to his lips, kissing theside of her (fore) finger lightly. Hyuna tries to hide it, but her face breaksinto a smile. “My lady,” He bows, and walks off to the washroom to teleportback home.

celxhyuna

It was a day like any other in Jackson’s life. 

His mother’s voice was the alarm ringtone from his phone. It was the only way to force him out of his bed. When he was at school, waking up was always a trouble to Jackson. The younger version of himself had always rushed out of his room only a few seconds before leaving to school, only grabbing something quickly to eat before getting inside of the family driver’s car. Tyler was always there waiting for him, showing his younger brother his perfect and exemplary behavior. No wonder their father had never favored Jackson in nothing. Even after his brother’s disappearance, this hadn’t changed. The teacher was getting inside of the classroom and he was arriving with an apologize at the tip of his tongue

Ironically, the roles were reserved now. The demon was the teacher, who was always annoyed with his students being late to his class. If Jackson believed in karma, he would blame it at this point. Perhaps one of his teachers had been a witch, who actually put a spell on him for always being late. There were only two ways of waking him now: a) literally kick him out of the bed; b) waking up at the sound of his mother’s calling his name to wake up. Since the demon didn’t have any company at the bed today, the second option had to do that miracle.

There wasn’t a long distance between his apartment and the dancing studio. In only twenty minutes, he would be there without many troubles. His morning routine had always been the same, unless Jackson had time to hunt for a human in the morning. That actually wasn’t the case today, so the demon continued with what he had always done. Taking a quick shower to wake up before grabbing some random black clothes from his clothes were always his first steps. Still a bit sleepy, he went to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Korean’s breakfasts were too heavy for him in the morning. So instead of cooking properly, he simply grabbed a piece of bread and rushed out of his apartment with his black snapback at the top of his head. 

After getting a black coffee from the cafe in front of his building, it took him only a few minutes to actually get to the dance studio. He was actually there earlier than usual. His first class was only in a couple of hours, but he wanted to practice a choreography he had created yesterday. Practicing in his apartment was one of his habits and Jackson rarely cared about his neighbors, but when the choreography was too much complex, it was tough to actually practice it properly in such of a confined space. That was why he preferred to arrive at his work earlier.

With some sweet words, the demon got a pair of keys for a random classroom from one of the receptionists. It had been easier as a pie. Smirking slightly, he turned around to walk away. That was when Jackson came face to face with her. To be fair, he wasn’t even sure if she had seen him, but he had noticed her straight away. 

Zitao was sitting outside the bookshop twenty minutes before the arranged meeting time. It wasn’t because Hyuna had told him not to be late either. The honest truth was...Zitao just didn’t like being late. He was early to everything - most of the time extremely so. He was perfectly okay with such things - he usually brought a book or something along with him to pass the extra waiting time. He was patient - he usually didn’t mind waiting.

But at the same time...he was nervous. What if she didn’t show up...? He was dressed casually, yet nicely. His mother of course had noticed and asked what it was he was up to - Zitao usually wore faded, worn in jeans and a t-shirt but today, his pants were clean and his shirt was a button-up. It wasn’t formalwear int he slightest, but it was neat enough that it set off alarm bells in his mother’s mind. She’d demanded to know if he was going on a date, and then proceeded to try to get him to take off his gold chain necklace (he refused, stuffing it beneath the collar of his shirt so she couldn’t get at the clasp) as well as the two rings on his hand (he took them off, but stuffed the two rings in his pocket). He practically fled the house before she could even try to take the multiple piercings from his ears - he’d gotten those because he liked the way they looked but his mother didn’t really like them. No surprises there.

The months passed quickly and the year moves on in a blink of an eye. 2014 had ended only a few months ago and now, the summer was approaching with fast steps. It didn’t matter how much we always desire to catch up with the days, because that was rarely possible. The naked trees already had new leaves on their branches and the beautiful flowers had started to sprout. The shy sun had been peeking from behind the clouds and some citizens had started to change their wardrobes, switching from warm clothes to fresher t-shirts, dresses and shorts. Everything started to change now, but everything was still the same in one of the most famous restaurants in Seoul. The workers had to move fast to ensure the best service for their customers. It didn’t matter if the season was changing, because the customers needed to be the same. The Simjang restaurant had been founded ten years ago by the hands of one of the best chefs in South Korea, Im Seung Ho. After his death, nothing had changed in the restaurant. Now it was his daughter Im Jinah who was taking care of the restaurant. The quality of the meals was still unique and that was why some of their customers were regular. Some faces were unforgettable. One of them was Kim Hyuna, a famous ice figure skater.

Despite the disagreement of a lot of people, the details were very important in a meal, even the color of the plates. The presentation and the aesthetics were vital for the customer’s satisfaction. Saying that customers don’t eat with her eyes was an enormous lie. Some people can be presumptuous and claim that the flavor is the most important factor in a meal, but they would be lying by saying this. She could count with her fingers how many people, she had met in her life, that actually ate meals that look disgusting. They were so rare that she couldn’t even remember the last time this had happened. The customers always tended to eat the meals with their eyes and after that, finally try the taste of them. This had been one of the reasons why she had become a perfectionist, and that was also why she had chosen a beige colored plate for Hyuna’s meal. Satisfied with her work, Nana wiped the edges of the plate with a cloth before she carried it to the dining room. They had two waiters doing this work, but with regular customers, it was always her who would serve them. Besides, Nana and Hyuna were friends. Or sort of. ❝ Your order, miss. ❞ Jinah joked with her, smiling friendly at her when she put down the plate on the table in front of her. ❝ Bon appétit. ❞

Zitao would do just about anything for his parents. And yes, that included tagging along to something he wasn’t too interested in. Like a figure skating show. He was never really into that sort of thing, but his mother definitely was. As he grew up, figure skating shows would be playing every single time they were on - no exceptions. Not that he complained. He usually just did something else while she cooed over people dancing on ice.

But today his father was busy, so Zitao was requested to tag along in his place. Of course, he accepted. What else could he really do?

And that was why he was sitting on a seat, watching people skating across ice while his mother whispered to him in awestruck Mandarin, clapping her hands with delight. Zitao wanted to fall asleep and take a nap - the music was quite peaceful.

“I like her,” his mom said suddenly, a little louder this time.

Zitao looked up in time to see the lithe figure of a young woman leap into the air and execute a perfect twirl and landing rather gracefully back on the ice. He blinked in surprise. As a martial artist, he was no stranger to doing flips and spins, but he wasn’t entirely sure he could do such a thing on skates and on ice. He could skate, but not really like this. It was admirable, but he still preferred martial arts over anything else.

When the show came to an end, he was being tugged to the area where the audience could meet the skaters. 

“Is my Korean good enough?” Zitao’s mom asked, still speaking plain old Mandarin. “Zitao, can you translate?”

Zitao just nodded, thinking that maybe it would be better anyway. People complained about his mother’s Chinese accent at times. He was practically dragged by his wrist, though he didn’t complain, towards one of the skaters. His mother had barely gotten three feet from her when she began speaking, almost overwhelming him with the amount of words she was using. Zitao looked over at is mother and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish before turning towards her and translating basically what she’d just said.