Top Posts Tagged with #choerrypuffs

the starlet.

pairing: bookshop owner!jaemin x actress!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 15.3k

synopsis: you aren’t cruel enough to subject him to a life like yours, but you’re too selfish to let him go.

author’s note: hi this is part of the luvpuffcore 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collab! i’m sorry that the release date was delayed multiple times but i hope you guys enjoy it <333 collabing with cat and moon is always so fun, and here’s to many more luvpuffcore collabs that we may or may not finish on time 🥂

warning(s): anxiety, implied drug abuse, generally unhealthy lifestyle habits, suggestive makeout scene, implied sex

playlist: drew barrymore by sza ― endlessly by alina baraz ― dancing with our hands tied by taylor swift ― i miss you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

additional: very loosely based off the movie notting hill and also the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha bc i am incapable of writing a fic that doesn’t have elements of a romcom and/or kdrama in it 🤧

📼 SIDE A: DEEP BLUE, BUT YOU PAINTED ME GOLDEN

You’ve always loathed the airport.

The sound of suitcases being rolled around on the tile floor, the muffled jingle of the PA system constantly being in use, babies crying, metal detectors beeping, frustrated voices that are either lost or had their flights canceled, and worst of all―

“Y/N! Look over here!”

Ducking your head, you keep your eyes trained on your feet as your security team pushes against the large crowd of people. Your name is being shouted, cameras are flashing in every direction you look, there are outstretched arms with cell phones being shoved in your face, hands grabbing at your clothes, and you feel like you’re slowly being torn limb from limb. You’re jostled so hard that your sunglasses are almost knocked off your face.

The sea of people follow you all the way outside, gathering around your car, so that it’s even harder for you to leave and they can take more pictures. A security guard puts his hand on the back of your head as he gently pushes it down so it doesn’t hit the roof of the car. The other guards form a human wall around you in order for you to climb inside safely without having upskirt photos taken.

You want to just wear sweatpants, but then you’ll end up on Cosmopolitan’s Top 10 Celebrities with the Worst Airport Fashion list.

Once you’re in the car, the security closes the door behind you before walking over and clearing out the crowd so that the driver can leave. Closing your eyes and leaning your head against the window, you relish in the only moment of rest you’ve gotten in about six months. You’ve just returned from Stockholm after filming a top secret role in an upcoming Marvel film, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you were cast. Not that you ever really get a good night’s sleep, but especially so now.

As if your every move isn’t already scrutinized by the media, now you have to deal with the extra attention since the news has broken. Your mind can’t ever seem to stop, always wondering how the tabloids were going to twist your every little action to their liking―whether it be picking apart your clothes and/or appearance, discussing your dating rumors with a man you’ve never even met, asking you intrusive questions and waiting for an outburst so they can paint you as the villain, or just catching anything and everything you do on camera in order to find a flaw.

At this point, you’re pretty sure you exist through the media. You live more of your life in front of a camera than off, so you have no semblance of who you are in actual reality anymore.

Somin, your manager, lets out a sigh of relief once you’re all situated and driving away. She’s tapping away at her phone as usual, probably negotiating eight different movie deals for you at once. Somin has been your manager since the beginning of your career, and you owe a great deal of your success to her, but you wish she would just take a moment to breathe. Now that you’re a rising star, some would even say on your way to becoming an A-lister, she is working double time to make sure you don’t lose your momentum. However, shooting eight movies a year plus TV deals plus all the promotions, magazine covers, photoshoots, press tours, etc. that come with it seems a bit overkill. Of course, you don’t have the heart to say it since she’s stuck with you through thick and thin. You suppose there’s nothing wrong with the piles and piles of money you’ll end up with. It’s the only good thing about your job these days.

As if on cue, Somin speaks up, “Don’t forget about your flight tomorrow. We’re leaving at 5 AM, so make sure you’re ready.”

You did forget. Completely.

“What flight?”

Somin sighs, shaking her head. “You’re flying to England, remember? To film the Netflix series? With Jaehyun?”

Ah, that’s right.

You signed with Netflix a while ago to do a series called Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, which follows a prickly, city girl dentist that moves to a small seaside town to start her own practice while also dealing with a budding romance between herself and the local handsome handyman.

You’re co-starring alongside Jeong Jaehyun, a fellow actor that you’ve worked with before when the two of you were newbies. You had supporting roles playing a couple in an indie film, and since then, you’ve both had your big break and have remained friendly with each other, keeping in contact. You wouldn’t particularly consider him a close friend, but he’s the only thing you have that resembles anything close to a friend in this industry.

You’re a bit reluctant to film a romance series with Jaehyun, since you’re certain that it will spark dating rumors. However, it does make you feel a little better that it’s with someone you’re comfortable with, so the two of you can just laugh about it together.

“Right,” you say, nearly forgetting to respond to Somin. “That flight. Where exactly in England are we going?”

Somin shrugs. “I can’t remember the name, it’s some tiny village. Quiet, great view, perfect for that romantic ‘idyllic small town by the sea’ that you only see in movies and shows vibe. Its population is barely in the thousands, but the good thing is that most of the people there are old fishermen so they probably won’t recognize you. ”

You’re actually looking forward to this trip more and more now. Maybe, for once, you won’t be trapped in a hotel room and will be able to actually enjoy the scenery of this supposedly idyllic seaside town.

“But don’t get too excited because the place will probably be swarming with paparazzi once they find out where you are,” she continues.

You sigh, completely deflating. Now you feel guilty towards the locals that will have to deal with the chaos.

Somin leans forward and places a hand on your shoulder. “I know you’re tired, Y/N. This is your last shoot for a couple months. Just get through the promos afterwards and then you’ll get a break.”

You perk up only slightly, happy that you’re finally getting some time off―though it’s not like you’ll be able to enjoy it that much. You’ll just be cooped up in your bare mansion, trapped with your thoughts. You could try to sleep the whole time, hibernate like a bear, but your insomnia drives a huge wedge into that plan. You could also visit your parents, but you don’t particularly want to let them see how badly your lifestyle and mental health have tanked.

And you definitely can’t travel or even simply go out and have a nice lunch, lest you create a media frenzy that’ll descend upon you like a pack of hungry wolves the moment you step outside.

“Okay,” you nod, plastering on a fake smile. You know Somin is worried about you. She would never give you such a long break, without even a photoshoot or two dispersed in there, if she didn’t think something was seriously wrong.

She seems satisfied enough with your half-assed performance and leans back, attention turning on her phone again. You decide to scroll through your phone as well, though you usually avoid it at all costs unless it’s for work. You open Instagram, which is Mistake Number One.

Your feed is instantly bombarded with various tabloid accounts posting pictures of you edited beside Lee Haechan (who you have never met), a new actor that’s been exploding in popularity recently.

You don’t even need to click on the picture to know exactly what the headline is, locking your phone and tossing it aside.

Letting out a sigh, you close your eyes and wait for the sleep that never comes.

When you land in England, there’s not nearly as much chaos as you expect there to be. Of course, paparazzi trail you no matter where you go, but it’s not a giant crowd like the other day. You’re able to leave the airport with relative ease, much to your security detail’s delight. You suppose the news of your Marvel role overshadowed everything else, so the shooting of your Netflix series was completely forgotten about.

Once you’re in the car, the driver informs you that it’s about a 3 hour drive to the marina, where you’ll then have to take a 45-minute ferry ride, as that is the only way to get in or out of the town.

“Jesus, where is this place? The North Sentinel Island?” Somin irritably mutters under her breath. She’s still grumpy from the early flight.

The driver explains that many people head over there to settle down and start families due to how peaceful and tight-knit the community is. After their children grow up and go off to begin their own careers, a lot of the elderly choose to spend their retirement there as well.

“All in all, it’s just a great place to live, visit, or even just pass by,” the driver says cheerfully. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll fall in love with it and not want to leave.”

Somin snorts but doesn’t say anything.

You, on the other hand, don’t particularly mind it. You’re actually slightly envious of the bond that the people of the town must have built with each other over the years. You’ve always wanted to grow up in a small community like that, where you’re treated like a family member by everyone and all the aunties always say that you’re too skinny and try to feed you.

No wonder why the production team chose this town to be the filming location for a series called Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha.

The trip is quite long though, and by the time you arrive, the sun is already starting to set. You go in and out of sleep on the ferry ride, the lulling of the waves making you drowsy, but it’s the kind of light sleep that makes you even more tired when you wake up.

When the ferry pulls into the dock, there’s another car waiting for you. There’s another short, 10-minute drive to the town, where the car is then promptly swarmed by a horde of people. You notice a huge welcome banner with your name plastered across it, and you also figure out that the people surrounding you aren’t paparazzi, rather, they’re locals. Through the window, you see men and women, all aged between mid-forties to sixties, trying to peer into the car. Some of them are holding tupperwares of homemade food. You hear distant music on the opposite side of the car, and you realize that the local high school marching band is here too.

“This is not what we discussed,” Somin is yelling, already on the phone with someone. Most like a production staff member. “You said that the locals would be under control. Wha―I don’t care if the mayor wants a picture with her! It could be God Himself, and I still wouldn’t care! Clear these people out now.”

She argues some more before angrily hanging up, letting out a loud sigh and turning to you to explain the situation. “Apparently, the locals are excited because none of them have ever seen a celebrity before. They wanted to throw you a welcome party, and the mayor wants a picture of him giving you the keys to the city or some shit. These people probably don’t even know who you are.”

Though she sounds a bit harsh, Somin is just weathered to starstruck people that are excited to see you. It happens everywhere you go, so her first order of business is always crowd control. She’s gotten used to icing out her emotions. And while you are exhausted from the trip, you feel a bit guilty for ignoring them since they did give you such a grand welcome.

“I don’t mind―” You start.

“No,” Somin interrupts, “we’re going to keep this as discreet as possible. It was a stroke of luck that the Marvel role distracted everyone. If the news breaks out about this, then it’s just another migraine for me to deal with. Give me your hat.”

“What?” You blink.

But she doesn’t wait for you, reaching over and snatching your black baseball cap off your head. She then tucks her hair into the cap, since her hair color is different than yours, before putting it on her head. Reaching over into her purse, she fishes out her black face mask and slips that on as well.

“What are you doing?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

“Pretending to be you,” Somin answers briskly, shrugging off her fluffy blue sherpa jacket and handing it to you. “Wear that and put the hood up.”

“We don’t look anything alike,” you point out, though you put on the sherpa and tug the hood up anyway.

“Hence the hat and mask,” she replies, “Don’t worry. I’m just gonna pretend to be like you long enough for you to get away and then once they realize I’m not you, I’ll just be like, ‘Oh, I’m just the manager. It’s all just a big misunderstanding, and Y/N is already at her hotel resting. Sorry! Maybe next time!’ but there is no next time.”

You make a mental note to take a picture with the mayor before you leave.

Somin makes sure the driver knows the address of your hotel before she and your security team exit the car. The moment the door is opened, you hear the crowd get rowdier and the band starts playing louder. You keep your head lowered, so that no one will notice you, but you don’t have to worry because the attention is solely focused on Somin. Once she’s out and has effectively gotten the crowd to follow her, the car drives away. As you sit alone, you look out the window and take in the view of the town.

If there was a place that perfectly encapsulates that picture-perfect, sleepy, quiet town that only seems real in movies, it would be this place. The buildings all look like they came straight out of a cottagecore Pinterest board, like a fairy tale animation brought to life. You’re reminded of Belle’s town in Beauty and the Beast, except it’s by the seaside. In fact, you feel quite out of place in a car, since you feel like it disrupts the fantasy. You’re pretty sure everything in this town is within walking distance anyways.

Not that you’ll be able to freely walk around.

The driver informs you that you’re about to arrive, and you see that he’s pulling up to a quaint bed and breakfast. It’s painted a beautiful robin blue, looking like a house that belongs to a fairy. Unfortunately, the loveliness of it all is instantly shattered when you notice a couple of people with cameras lurking around the entrance. You’re not sure if it’s the local news or if they’re just some extremely dedicated paparazzi, but you know you can’t let them see you.

You’re frantically glancing around for a place to take refuge in when you notice a place right across from the bed and breakfast. You can tell that it was previously a brilliant white building, but over time due to weather, it’s faded to more of a dull cream. You actually think the cream color suits it a lot better; it’s a subtle, warm presence that doesn’t immediately catch your eye but instantly draws you in once you’ve seen it. There’s a sign hanging, and you can tell by the rusted chain holding the sign up that it's worn down, but someone has faithfully painted the words back on again, reading OASIS BOOKS in pink loopy cursive.

With such a fitting name, you decide that it will be your place of refuge for now. You shoot a quick text to Somin about the change of plans and inform the driver of your detour, and he drops you off at the bookstore with little fuss. Keeping your head down and trying to cover more of your face with your hood, you scramble inside and close the door behind you in one swift swing, the bell attached to it jingling loudly.

The inside of the bookstore, again, feels like it came straight from a storybook. The soft lighting creates a warm glow throughout the room, like the hue from a candle flame. The temperature inside is quite cozy as well, what you imagine your insides feel like after a nice mug of hot chocolate, which is a lovely reprieve from the chilly weather outside. Even the smell of the store feels homey, a mixture of old books, coffee, and vanilla.

As you look around, there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here, much to your relief. It’s so quiet and empty that you start to wonder if the store is actually closed and the owner just forgot to lock the door. You suppose it wouldn’t make much sense for them to leave all the lights on if it was closed, though.

Just as you take one step forward, you hear footsteps from upstairs as they hurriedly descend before a guy emerges from a doorway on the opposite side of the room.

“Hey, sorry! It’s been super slow today, so I didn’t think anyone would come―”

He abruptly stops in his tracks when he sees you, his jaw slack as the rest of his sentence dies in his throat. Just like everything else about this place, he looks like he walked right out of an animation. He’s so good-looking that you begin to question if he’s the one shooting a movie.

He has dark, floppy brown hair that naturally falls into his eyes for that perfect windswept look that you’ve seen hairstylists spend hours perfecting on others. He’s wearing an oversized, slightly frumpy baby pink sweater paired with brown slacks and worn sneakers. There’s a cup of coffee in his hand, threatening to slip from his very loose fingers, as he gawks at you.

“Hi.” You give him a small wave, having had enough of being suffocated by the awkward silence.

“Hello,” he responds quietly, blinking blearily like he’s not fully awake. He goes to wave back with the hand that’s holding the coffee, nearly sloshing it everywhere, before fumbling around and just settling with giving you a strained smile. “How can I help you?”

If he knows who you are, he’s not saying it. So, you decide to just play along.

“I’m just…looking around,” you answer slowly, taking a tentative step forward.

He nods stiffly, robotically walking to the front counter and jerkily setting his cup down. He swings his arm out so fast that you hear a joint pop as he gestures towards the bookshelves. “Of course! Take a look around!”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, ducking your head down as you start to browse. From your peripheral, you can see that he’s standing ramrod straight behind the front counter, nervously drumming his fingers against the wood. He fidgets with a dog-eared book that’s in front of him, picking it up like he’s going to read it before setting it back down.

You can’t fight the amused smile that makes its way across your face.

Running your fingers along the spines of the books, you finally stop when you see something that catches your interest. It’s an extremely worn down copy of a volume of Sailor Moon, which is one of the first anime you ever watched. The magical girl genre has always been a favorite of yours, since everything is so colorful and sparkly and happy and full of life while you’re…not. It’s just nice to turn your brain off and relish in the cheesiness of all the frilly outfits, adorable animal sidekicks, the power of friendships, etc.

“That’s a stray,” a voice pipes up.

You turn, and you see the guy pointing at the Sailor Moon manga you’re holding. “A stray?”

“Someone dropped it off at the donation bin, probably thinking it was a trash can. It’s a little tattered, but I just couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. I don’t know, I just felt a little bad for it. Felt like it had been abandoned, and I wanted to give it a warm place to stay,” he continues to explain, beaming cheerfully. “She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s lovely to me.”

You want to snort at how sentimental he is, but there’s such sincerity in his eyes that your resolve instantly melts away. And just like that, you don’t find it very funny anymore. Rather, you actually think it’s kind of sweet.

“Oh, but I won’t charge you for it if you’d like it,” he says hurriedly. “Also, I don’t think that’s the first volume either. I’m not sure how many volumes there are, but that’s the only one we have―”

“I’ll buy it,” you interrupt, giving him a small smile.

His mouth hangs open like he wants to say something, but he just looks at you with wide eyes. In the end, all he can muster is a nod as you set the book on the counter and wait for him to tell you the total. You know he’s undercharging you when he does, but you don’t have the energy to fight him on it. You watch as he carefully wraps it in light blue tissue paper before putting it in a pink cardboard gift box.

“It’s all recyclable and a lot more sustainable than plastic bags,” he chirps as he hands it to you. “Plus, it’s cute. Like a gift from me to you, even though you paid for it.”

“I see,” you reply, pleasantly surprised at how thoughtful he is. Then again, you suppose it’s in character for a person who keeps torn and waterlogged manga (that’s not even the first volume of the series) in his shop because he feels bad for it. “Thanks.”

“Are you visiting?” he asks, his doe eyes blinking curiously at you. “I don’t usually see people I don’t know here.”

You pause, not expecting him to continue the conversation. You still can’t tell if he really doesn’t know who you are or if he’s just pretending. However, the longer you’re around him, the less likely the latter option becomes. From his gaze, his mannerisms, to the way he speaks, there’s not a dishonest bone in this man’s body; he reads like an open book.

“Yes,” you answer truthfully.

He laughs softly. “I figured. You’re part of that Hollywood production, right?”

You’re not sure what to say to that. He’s not wrong, though you’re not sure if he knows you’re the star of that production.

“Yes,” you answer truthfully (on a technicality).

He nods like he was expecting that answer. “Yeah, sorry for all the chaos. Everyone gets in a frenzy when someone gets a new neighbor, so you can imagine how excited they were when they found out a bunch of celebrities were coming to film a show, even if most of the locals don’t even know who the celebrities are.”

“Do you know who they are?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He looks at you bashfully. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

That’s how you know he’s telling the truth. No one watches TV. Everyone watches Netflix or some other streaming service. Or YouTube. But definitely not old-school TV, unless they’re 60-years-old.

“It’s fine,” you reply breezily. Rather, you’d prefer it like this.

“I’m Na Jaemin, by the way. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself until now.” Jaemin holds out his hand politely.

You hesitate for a moment before reaching out and shaking it. His hand is warm and big, slightly clammy. “I’m Y/N.”

You watch him carefully for any change in demeanor or a spark of recognition in his eyes, but there’s nothing. He just gives you a dazed smile as your hand brushes against his when you retract it.

“Nice to―”

Your phone starts ringing, and even though it isn’t that loud, it blares through the silence like a chainsaw. The two of you jolt, and you quickly take your phone out of your pocket to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m outside,” Somin says, slightly out of breath. “Hurry up. It’s so cold.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” you reply quickly before hanging up. You turn back towards Jaemin, and you feel a bit like an asshole for just cutting the conversation short and leaving, but you really should go.

But Jaemin seems to understand, giving you a jovial wave. “It was very nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Jaemin.”

And it really was, you find yourself realizing.

When you walk outside, Somin is standing there, shivering with her arms crossed across her body. She’s still wearing your hat, but she took off the mask. You give her the sherpa back, since she clearly needs it more than you.

“Where’s the car?” you ask as the two of you walk back to the bed and breakfast.

“I told him to drive around town to distract the reporters,” Somin answers through chattering teeth. “Who were you talking to in the bookstore? He was cute, like a golden retriever cute but still cute.”

“He’s an employee.” You roll your eyes, refusing to fall for her bait.

“He sure as hell was giving you puppy eyes,” she teases.

“Don’t even start,” you warn. “I talked to him for five minutes.”

“If you say so,” she shrugs, “just be careful. There could be paparazzi crawling around everywhere. Besides, we leave in like a month, so there’s no point in getting attached.”

“I’m not attached.”

“Famous last words.”

You give her a playful shove, shaking your head. She changes the subject, and the two of you promptly check into your rooms at the bed and breakfast. Somin’s room is right next to yours, and she bids you good night before heading inside.

Now that you’re alone in your room, your mind starts to grow restless from the complete silence. There are a million thoughts going through your head, but you can’t pinpoint a single one of them. Anxiety generates within you as your mind becomes overwhelmed by your own thoughts.

Hands trembling, you pull out your phone and start streaming Sailor Moon Crystal episodes on Netflix for white noise. You leave it on as you take a scalding shower, brush your teeth, do your skincare routine, and even when you crawl into bed.

You curl up under the covers, close your eyes as if the show is able to drown out your thoughts, and wait for the sleep that never comes.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Marvel’s new it-girl.”

You roll your eyes. “Good morning to you too, Jaehyun.”

Jeong Jaehyun smiles, showing off his perfectly straight pearly whites. “So, tell me. How good is that Marvel money?”

You’re both already in costume, with you dressed in all designer clothes with a white dentist coat over it paired with stilettos that pinch your feet―perfectly embodying an uptight city girl who’s in over her head in the countryside. Jaehyun is wearing baggy cargo shorts and a loose, wrinkled white t-shirt with flip-flops. His hair is perfectly styled to be messy, reminding you of Jaemin.

Even with minimal makeup and shabby clothes, it’s apparent how handsome Jaehyun is. Rather than the local handyman he’s playing, he looks more like a model who’s wearing “poor people chic.” Then again, this show isn’t exactly supposed to be realistic; it’s a light-hearted romance that makes people feel warm and fuzzy inside with its two unrealistically good-looking leads. That’s how romcoms work, after all.

“Wouldn’t you want to know,” you joke. “Sorry, I don’t associate with flops anymore.”

Though he hasn’t been casted in a Marvel movie (yet), Jaehyun is far from a flop. He’s a box office darling, and his films have raked in millions and millions of dollars. Of course, that doesn’t mean you won’t tease him.

“Ouch. That’s cold,” he feigns hurt, “Already forgetting your roots?”

“What? I can’t hear you over the sound of all the cash falling into my lap.”

The two of you mess with each other just a little longer before he finally drops the act and gives you a hug. You hug him back, glad to finally see a friend after a long time.

“How have you been?” he asks after he pulls back. He looks concerned for you, which doesn’t surprise you. You’ve been dominating headlines for the past couple of years, whether it be good or bad.

“Fine,” you reply automatically, not even bothering to make it sound convincing.

He gives you a pointed look.

You sigh. “What do you want me to say? I’ve been…working. Everything else that comes along with it is just part of the job.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re fine, Y/N.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insist, “People just want a good show, so that’s what I’ll do. I can handle my feelings on my own.”

“No,” Jaehyun says firmly, “you’re not handling them at all.”

You don’t want to admit he’s right, so you just stay quiet.

Now it’s his turn to sigh, as he reaches down and takes your hand. Running his thumb across your knuckles soothingly, he says, “I’m here for you, Y/N. Always. You know that, right?”

When you meet his gaze, he’s looking at you like you’re much more than a friend. He’s pretended to be in love with you before, as the two of you played a couple in your first movie together, but this is completely different.

It’s real.

Suddenly, the way he’s holding your hand feels different. His grip is gentle and loose enough for you to shake off, yet it’s so powerful at the same time, and you almost feel like you have no choice but to let him hold it.

You’re not sure how to react. Romance is the last thing on your mind right now. You have no plans to pursue a relationship until you’re well out of the limelight, and everyone has already forgotten who you are.

Jaehyun is a friend―someone that you can joke around with, someone that understands the pains of the industry, someone that you know you can trust.

And nothing more.

“But if you’re not ready, I’ll wait,” he adds softly.

It’s a layered statement, and you both know it.

“You’re an amazing friend, Jaehyun,” you finally say, slowly pulling your hand away. “But don’t wait for someone like me.”

There’s a pause as you watch him register your words, the rejection behind them. There’s sadness in his expression, but he doesn’t seem taken aback by it.

“Wow. You really friendzoned me at 7 in the morning,” Jaehyun laughs, his eyes still glimmering with good-natured humor.

“Who confesses at 7 in the morning?” you tease, relieved and grateful that he’s taking it in stride.

“Early bird gets the worm?”

“It’s been three seconds since I friendzoned you and now you’re calling me a worm?”

“What can I say? I move on quickly.”

The two of you continue to joke and catch up with each other like nothing ever happened until the director announces that shooting is about to begin. The rest of the morning goes by in a blur, as you move from location to location in the town to film various scenes.

By the time lunch break rolls around, your feet feel like you’ve been standing on a bed of nails for the past four hours (which isn’t inaccurate because of these damn heels). The whole crew gets a couple of hours for lunch, so you quickly change into more comfortable shoes, plus some baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, once you’re back in your dressing trailer. Somin suggests ordering delivery, but you tell her you want to check out the nearby coffee shop that you had noticed earlier.

“It’s literally right across the street from us,” you say before Somin can protest. “A three-minute walk, tops. I’ll wear a hat and cover my face.”

“Fine,” she relents, “be careful. And get me an oat milk latte.”

You give her a thumbs up before putting on a hat and face mask, slipping out of the trailer and crossing the street to the coffee shop undetected. The place isn’t too busy when you walk in, just a couple of people lounging around with their laptops. You tug your mask higher up on your face and pull the brim of your hat down as you walk up to the front.

When the barista turns around, you find yourself face-to-face with Na Jaemin.

He’s wearing a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows tucked into black work pants along with a black apron over it all. His hair is styled a bit more today, with his fringe gelled to frame his face rather than falling into his eyes.

At first, he blinks at you, probably confused as to why you’re dressed like you’re about to rob him at gunpoint. You don’t think he recognizes you until he grins, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“Hi, Y/N!”

You slightly wince at how peppy his tone is, casually doing a scan of the place to make sure no one heard him. Luckily, everyone is too engrossed in their electronic devices to pay attention.

“Hey, Jaemin,” you respond, pulling your mask down and giving him a tired half-smile. Your lips are more of a straight line than a curved one. “You work here too?”

“Oh, no. The owner, Jeno, is my best friend, and his cats had a vet appointment this morning, so I’m covering a shift for him,” he explains.

“That’s nice of you,” you nod.

“Yeah, he’s paying me double,” Jaemin deadpans, but his face twitches as he stifles a laugh.

You smile again, but this time, it’s a genuine one. You know he’s just playing around. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing it for free, but it’s amusing to watch him pretend to be mean―especially with his sunny demeanor.

Jaemin’s deadpan slowly melts away once he sees you smiling. He’s staring at you with that wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights, dazed expression that you seem to often catch him with.

“Um,” you start awkwardly, “is it okay if I order now?”

He blinks, and three beats pass by before your words register. Flailing his arms around, you watch as he fumbles with a few things on the iPad before he seemingly pulls up what he needs.

“Of course, yes! Sorry, sorry! Sorry about that, I think I’m a little out of it today. Anyways, what can I get you?” Jaemin asks hurriedly.

You rattle off yours and Somin’s orders, and he rings it up without any further hassle. You’re about to go wait for your drinks in the corner when you hear Jaemin call your name.

“Oh, and Y/N? Jeno is on his way back, so if you have some free time after this, I actually have something for you back at my store,” he says, looking a little nervous. “It’s not anything weird! Okay, well, saying it like that makes it sound definitely weird, but I promise it’s not. Of course, if you’re uncomfortable, I can bring it―”

“I’m free,” you finally say, deciding to put him out of his misery. You’re glad you put your face mask back up, so you can freely smile to yourself. Somin will probably kill you later, but you can’t help but be drawn to Jaemin. There’s something so endearing and honest about him, and you don’t come across people like him very often.

Jaemin’s eyes light up, and he lets out a relieved breath. “Great. Awesome. I’ll, uh, probably be done in, like, ten or so minutes.”

“Sounds good,” you agree.

He nods excitedly before turning around and making your drinks. Impressively enough, he’s quite skilled. He makes yours and Somin’s drinks at once, despite having completely different orders, expertly putting the correct ingredients in each cup and blending them at a swift pace. Once he’s done, he takes a sharpie and scribbles something on both cups.

He places the drinks in the pickup area, and you grab them before he can call out your name, since the shop was getting busier.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” you tell him quickly before darting outside to avoid the crowd of people.

When you’re outside, you squat against the wall and take a long sip of your sugary caramel macchiato. It’s only when you go back to drink it again that you notice the message written on your cup. In the same loopy cursive that was painted on the Oasis Books store sign, the black sharpie reads:

i love you say it back ☺

You smile, picking up Somin’s cup to see what was written on hers:

all you need is love ♡

Of course, he leaves little notes on all of the cups. Why wouldn’t he?

You want to make fun of them for being so corny, but―

Na Jaemin is a very beautiful man, you’ve recently discovered.

You decide to drop the drinks off at your trailer really fast, so you don’t have to carry them around later. Somin is nowhere to be found, probably poking around craft services for some snacks, much to your relief.

You return to the coffee shop afterwards, hanging around for about ten more minutes before Jaemin emerges from the store, winded like he just ran a marathon. He’s still in his barista uniform, sans apron.

“Hi,” he pants, “sorry. It got really busy all of a sudden, so I had to help Jeno out for a little longer.”

“It’s not a problem,” you reply.

“Do you like blueberries?” he suddenly asks.

You blink. “I…yes, uh, I do.”

“Here,” he says, handing you a small paper bag. “I got you a muffin.”

“Thank you,” you say, a little taken aback and slowly grabbing the bag. “You didn’t have to do that. How much do I owe you?”

He throws his head back and lets out a breezy laugh. “Nothing at all. What do you take me for, Y/N?”

“I…” you trail off. What do you take him for?

“I got it for you because you seemed really tired, and I figured it would be a nice snack,” he explains, grinning. “Besides, I stole it, so I didn’t pay anything either.”

You stare at him.

“Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that,” he says sheepishly. “Kindness is always free. And besides, Jeno won’t even notice―”

Before you can stop yourself, you reach out and give him a hug. Your arms encircle his neck as you bring him down to you, leaning your cheek against his neck. He smells like coffee, soap, and old books. You’re surprised at how he still smells like books, despite spending the past couple of hours in a coffee shop. It’s a comforting scent to you though, and you unconsciously bury your face further into his shoulder.

Jaemin stiffens for only a second before his hands slowly come up to rest on your back, gently patting it. Though you slightly feel like a baby being burped, you also find it somewhat soothing. He just makes you feel calm, and your mind is still when you’re with him, despite the fact that you’ve only interacted twice. You wonder why Jaemin, who is still essentially a stranger to you, is able to invoke such a strong feeling of safety within you.

You continue to cling onto him for another moment before reality slaps you in the face, and you jerkily recoil back from him. You face burns with embarrassment, confused as to what in God’s name possessed you to suddenly hug him out of the blue. Jaemin looks just as flustered as you, his cheeks are two red blossoms as he looks at you. Surprisingly, while he is definitely surprised, he doesn’t appear to be disgusted or angry at you.

“I am so, so sorry,” you begin to apologize profusely, feeling like you’re about to pass out. “I have no idea what came over me. I should not have done that without your―”

“I-It’s okay!” Jaemin interrupts, reaching out and gently placing his hand on your arm. His touch manages to quell your blubbering, and you slow down enough to gather your thoughts. He waits for you to collect yourself and meet his eyes before he says softly, “Hugs are free too.”

You’d normally cringe at that, but instead, you stare into his impossibly deep brown eyes, getting lost in them. They differ so much from his happy-go-lucky personality. His eyes are calm, steady, and firm. There’s a genuine, inviting warmth to them, like a safe haven. And every time you look into them, you lose the will to mock him―and your nerves.

Yes, you think to yourself again, Na Jaemin is a very, very beautiful man.

And it’s a beauty that you hope will never be tarnished.

“Thanks,” you quietly say. You seem to be thanking him a lot today.

“You’re welcome,” he says, smiling. “Are you ready to go?”

You nod, and the two of you head back back to his bookstore. Once you’re inside, he turns the lights on, and you watch them slowly flicker to life. You noticed it the first time you walked in, but his store just radiates a sense of peacefulness. In fact, the store resembles Jaemin in a lot of ways.

Jaemin makes a beeline for the front counter, where there’s a small package sitting there.

“It just came in this morning,” he explains vaguely, rummaging through a drawer for a box cutter.

“What is it?” you ask, getting closer to take a better look.

He waggles his eyebrows before cutting the box open and pulling out two brand new volumes of Sailor Moon. With its glossy covers and crisp pages, it's a stark contrast compared to the one you bought.

“I looked through my catalog, and I figured out that the volume you have is the third one, so I ordered the first two for you,” Jaemin announces, eyes twinkling with excitement.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that.

He mistakes your stunned silence for discontent, faltering. “Of course, if you don’t want them that’s totally fine too! I just―”

“No, I love them,” you interrupt instantly, reaching out and placing your hand on the counter. Without even realizing it, you’re smiling. “I was just…surprised. At how wonderful you are.”

You didn’t plan on saying that last part out loud, but you suppose there’s no harm in it now that it’s already happened. Especially since you get to see his reaction.

Jaemin has gone all wide-eyed again, and he has a glazed-over expression like he’s going to faint at any moment. It’s only when the books slip from his hands and falls to the floor with a two loud thuds that he snaps out of his trance.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters as he scrambles to collect them before handing them to you, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. Here. Take them before I drop them again.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the books and tucking them under your arm. “How much?”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “Nothing, Y/N. I thought we already went over this.”

“I’m not going to let you give me these books for free,” you state flatly.

“And I’m not going to let you give me your money. I feel bad for even charging you for the other one. It was so torn up, not to mention, it wasn’t even the first volume,” he persists, “Oh, but I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t order a new third volume. I would feel too sorry for the old third volume. It’s been in my store for so long, and now it finally has a loving home, so I don’t want it to be replaced so fast.”

At this point, you expect nothing less from Na Jaemin.

“I don’t mind,” you answer, “I prefer the old one anyways.”

“I’m glad,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief.

He pauses for a second before hurriedly adding on, “Well, um, I’m sure you’re busy, so you probably need to go.”

“I’m actually on lunch break, so I have time,” you reply.

He blinks in surprise, like he was expecting you to bolt out of here as quickly as possible. To be honest, you’re not sure why you aren’t. You just like it here―and him.

Not like that, of course.

“Oh. That’s great,” he says awkwardly, as he gauges whether or not he should continue the conversation and if you even want to talk to him. Maybe it’s his clear uncomfort around long silences or the fact that you haven’t left yet, but he decides to keep talking. “How are you liking it here so far? A regular of mine said she saw a bunch of cameramen filming all over the place.”

“I’m not really sure,” you say honestly, shrugging. “The town is very pretty, from what I’ve seen. I just haven’t seen much on my own.”

“Why not?” He scrunches his nose.

“Well, we’re not exactly getting paid to sightsee, unfortunately. We have a really tight schedule and budget, so we can’t waste a second,” you explain.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t even been to the beach,” Jaemin says incredulously. “I know the weather has been pretty cold, but the beach is a must-see!”

“No, but I’m sure we’ll have to film there soon,” you say, “So, I’ll see it eventually.”

After all, is it really a seaside romance if there’s no dramatic, slow-motion montage of you and Jaehyun running around in the water?

“No way. It’s not the same!” Jaemin insists. “You said you have free time, right? Let’s go then.”

You gawk at him.

This man wants to take you to the beach, in the middle of winter?

“You do know it’s freezing, right?” you ask slowly.

“Less people to deal with,” he counters.

You suppose he has a point. Especially for someone like you.

“This is a stupid idea,” you say aloud, but it’s mostly directed towards yourself.

Because you’re actually considering it.

In addition to the constant risk of being recognized, photographed, and/or swarmed, Somin was already going to kill you because you’ve been out for way too long, but she’ll have your head on a stick if she finds out you went to the beach with a cute local.

“Don’t tell me you Hollywood people are too chicken to go to the beach just because it’s a little chilly?” he teases.

“Fine. Let’s go,” you retort immediately, against your better judgment.

He grins mischievously, gesturing towards the door. “After you.”

Squaring your shoulders and haughtily pointing your nose up in the air, you march right on out of the store. You only get about three steps outside before you realize you have no idea where the beach is. Luckily, Jaemin is following close behind you and promptly takes the lead. At first, you’re expecting him to take you in a car or by bus or some sort of vehicle, but like everything in this town, the beach is within walking distance.

During the walk, Jaemin starts to give you a brief tour of the town, though you mostly pass by regular buildings like the fire station or the post office.

“Yeah, we don’t exactly have a lot of tourist attractions,” he laughs, “that’s why you have to see the beach.”

You didn’t particularly mind how mundane everything is, rather, you find yourself enjoying the simplicity of it all. Living a quiet life in a beautiful seaside town with a tight-knit community is all you’ve ever wanted.

Speaking of a tight-knit community, it doesn’t take you long to notice how friendly Jaemin is with all of the locals. He has to stop talking to you every couple of minutes to say hi to a passerby. Though a little inconvenient for you, since you have to duck your head and look away every time, it's still heartwarming to see―especially since the majority of them are elderly.

The two of you arrive at the beach after about fifteen minutes, and it’s completely empty. That doesn’t surprise either of you, considering the fact that not only is it super cold outside but it’s also extremely windy. The waves are rough, ferociously splashing up against the rocks and sand. Apparently, Poseidon must be having a bad day. Maybe his kids are causing trouble or something.

Jaemin, on the other hand, is unbothered. He breathes in the smell of the saltwater, closing his eyes and taking it all in as if he were posing for a pictorial, before bending down and taking off his shoes. You watch him, unsure if you’re impressed or horrified. Eventually, you just sigh and follow suit, slipping off your sneakers and socks as well. Even though you changed out of your filming clothes, your hair and makeup are still done, and you know they’re going to be ruined after this. However, you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

You walk alongside him on the sandbank, your hair is blowing all over the place. The wind is so strong that you have to slightly dig your toes into the cold and damp sand to stable yourself. When you glance at Jaemin, he’s strolling like it’s a perfectly sunny and windless day.

“Isn’t it great?” he yells, voice nearly inaudible over the sound of the roaring waves.

“Maybe if you enjoy hurricanes!” you shout back.

But there is something exhilarating about being bombarded by the elements like this. It makes you feel less like a character that only exists through the screen and more like a living, breathing human―alive and free, not a doll for others to play with. You don’t have to follow a million rules and keep up with your appearance; you can run along the beach, mess your hair up, and not care about the consequences.

“Wanna go in the water?” Jaemin asks, grinning.

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Are you crazy? That water is subzero―”

“Come on! Isn’t that what they do in Hollywood movies?” he jokes.

“Yeah, because they’re getting paid!” you answer. “And the weather is way better! I’m not getting pneumonia for free!”

But Jaemin isn’t even listening to you anymore, already waist-deep in the water. He lets out a half-pained, half-delighted yelp when the freezing temperature of the water hits him at full-force. Blinking saltwater out of his eyes and slicking his hair back with his hand, he gestures for you to go in as well. You go to shake your head, but then he starts flapping his arms like a chicken. You can’t hear him anymore because of how loud the water is, but you know for a fact that he’s making bawk bawk noises.

Like most people (or so you’d like to think), the irrational anger of being possibly labeled as a chicken always manages to rile you up, and you’re also wading in before you know it. Jaemin doesn’t have time to even speak as you swing your arm and splash him in the face with water. It hits him with a loud smack, and he looks like a drowned rat. His hair is stuck flat against his forehead, and his white shirt is completely see-through. Normally, you’d avert your eyes and pretend like you weren’t checking him out, but you’re too busy grinning like a maniac and reveling in your revenge to even notice.

“That’s unfair!” he complains, not bothering to move his hair so it gives the illusion of a really bad bowl haircut. “You caught me off guard!”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” you tease.

“Who said I lost?” He rolls his shoulder, gearing up his arm to splash you just as hard. You turn around to run, but neither of you get a chance to react before a massive wave knocks Jaemin on his ass.

You double over, laughing so hard that your stomach starts to cramp, and nearly fall backwards into the water yourself. He doesn’t say anything, just brushing his hair out of his eyes. You’re expecting him to splash you back, or at least complain about how hard the water hit him―but he doesn’t.

Instead, Jaemin is just sitting there, with his hands propping him up as he looks at you. You’ve grown accustomed to that dazed look, but this one isn’t a typical look. This one is more…more like the first time he saw you. That one felt different. He stared at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real, much less standing in front of him. As if time completely froze, like the two of you were stuck in a vacuum of space. As if you were the only thing that existed in his world. As if he were completely and utterly awestruck.

Just like he’s doing right now.

He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time again, paying no attention to the rough waters or howling wind.

It’s only when the ocean forces him to pay attention, slamming him with another wave so hard that he nearly folds over like a lawn chair and goes face-first into the water, that he finally reacts.

“That one was really unfair,” he chuckles, speaking so quietly that you have to lean down to hear him.

“Get up before you accidentally drown,” you smile, giving him a hand.

Jaemin takes your hand and lets you pull him to his feet without any protest. His hand is cool to the touch, and it sends shivers along your spine, though there are various factors as to why that happened. You go to retract your hand, but yet another wave hits, threatening his balance again. Instead of letting him go, you grip his hand tighter and your other hand clutches his arm to keep him upright.

The wave pushes him closer towards you, bringing his chest directly against yours. Your wet clothes stick together as he cranes his neck down to look at you. Droplets from his hair drip onto your cheek, but you’re too focused on a small bead of water that’s threatening to fall from his bottom lip. Jaemin seems distracted too, as his eyes follow a droplet that’s slowly rolling down your clavicle. His breath slightly hitches, and you feel the sharp rise in his chest.

A small golden ray of sunlight suddenly peeks through the gray clouds, shining in your eyes and forcing you to turn your head. Once you tear your eyes from him, Jaemin immediately takes a step back and clears his throat.

“We should go,” he says, voice slightly hoarse. “I think it’s going to rain soon.”

“Yes,” you agree, “we should.”

The two of you make your way out of the water in silence, just as the sun starts to shine through the dissipating clouds.

On the walk back, Jaemin speaks to you like nothing happened, waving at locals and telling you more about the town. You respond like you normally would as well, nodding along and asking questions about things you find interesting. However, no amount of pretending can get rid of this newly-acquired tension between the two of you. The pressure of knowing that there’s been a definite shift in the way you see each other.

When you arrive back at the bookstore, Jaemin wraps up the Sailor Moon manga for you and offers you a towel and change of clothes. To your surprise, he actually has a loft right above the store, which is where he lives. You suppose that would explain why he had been coming from upstairs when you first met him. However, you decline anyways, since you’re pretty sure putting on his clothes would make things stranger than they already are. Besides, your trailer isn’t far, so you promptly wave bye to him and leave. As you’re walking away, a part of you wants to turn around and see if he’s looking at you―and what kind of expression he has on his face.

You don’t have much time to dwell on it because Somin is waiting for you once you get back to the trailer. She nearly bursts a blood vessel when she sees you standing in front of her, dripping puddles on the ground with your hair and makeup in complete shambles.

“I―” she starts, voice cracking. You can’t tell if she wants to cry or run you over with a car. Probably both. You watch her inhale deeply, doing some sort of meditation before she calmly says, “I will not ask because that will not be good for my mental health. Just…just sit still in this chair while I go get the hairstylist and makeup artist.”

By the time you’re completely fixed up, the hairstylist, the makeup artist, and Somin all look like they’ve aged ten years. You feel bad for giving them more work, but you don’t regret anything. Fortunately, the rest of filming goes well, and you wrap up the day without any more hitches. Somin sticks to her word even when you return to the bed and breakfast, refusing to ask about what happened, probably because she would go under cardiac arrest.

Once you’re alone in your room, having gotten ready to bed, you curl up under your covers and flip through your new volumes on Sailor Moon. As you’re reading, it occurs to you that Jaemin is kind of a magical girl himself. He suits the sparkly and cheerful tone of the genre to a tee, and you find yourself smiling at the thought of him in one of those frilly outfits. Perhaps that is why you gravitate towards him so much.

You glance over at the torn-up third volume before reaching for it, thumbing through the faded and distorted pages, before looking back at the shiny new volumes. The metaphor is all too apparent, and it’s both hilarious and sad.

Placing all the manga back on your nightstand, you turn your lamp off and go to bed. You don’t even notice that you aren’t playing any shows from your phone for white noise. Maybe it’s exhaustion from the beach or the wide range of emotions you experienced today, but you close your eyes, and for the first time in a very, very long time, your mind is clear.

And you sleep.

📼 SIDE B: I’D KISS YOU AS THE LIGHTS WENT OUT, SWAYING AS THE ROOM BURNED DOWN

The next couple of weeks pass by in a blur as filming starts to ramp up, and you grow much busier. Your lunch breaks are much shorter now, in an attempt to remedy the tight schedules, so you rarely ever get to see Jaemin anymore. You run into him occasionally when you’re returning from a long shoot, and he always has some sort of snack to give you. He asks you for more manga recommendations, but you don’t tell him because you know he’s going to buy them for you. While the two of you have grown pretty friendly with each other, that unspoken tension is always lingering. The only reason why it hasn’t grown suffocating is because you aren’t around him long enough for it to build.

And a part of you wishes you were

Every time you come home, you glance around in hopes of getting a glimpse of Jaemin. You get giddy like a schoolgirl when you hear him call your name. No matter how long you talk, it never feels long enough. You’ve grown sick of seeing his back as he walks away.

You just had to go and get yourself attached.

Getting attached always ends in disaster, and you knew it was only a matter of time.

You’re in your room, engrossed in a poetry book that Jaemin recommended, when you suddenly hear someone pounding on your door. Scrambling out of bed, you hurriedly answer it and come face-to-face with a furious Somin.

Before you can even speak, she shoves her phone in your face. “Is this why you came back to the trailer soaking wet a few weeks ago?”

You blink, taking a moment to register what you’re looking at. It’s a breaking news article, with its capitalized, bold-lettered title reading:

THE STARLET’S SEASIDE ROMANCE?

The article is plastered with photos of you and Jaemin at the beach, capturing candids of the two of you walking on the sand together, you splashing water at him, and even the moment when you helped him up. In the only bright side to the situation, whoever took the photos had the decency to blur out Jaemin’s face.

Against your better judgment, you skim the opening lines of the article, which say, We all know Y/N is off filming her new Netflix show, which is about a seaside romance, but who knew that she would actually be having one in real life? Only a little bit after her dating rumors with Jeong Jaehyun, she is now being tied to a mystery man…

“It’s that bookstore employee, right?” Somin demands.

You feel sick to your stomach. You don’t care about the dating rumors, since you’re embroiled in one every day, but you’re so worried about Jaemin. Not only is he going to be blindsided by your celebrity status, but he’s now slapped on the front page of every tabloid ever.

Oh God. Has he seen it yet?

A loud clap of thunder, followed by the sound of a downpour of rain, jolts you to your senses.

“I have to go,” you breathe.

“What?” Somin furrows her brows. “Y/N, answer my question first―”

“I have to go see him,” you repeat, pushing past her.

“Y/N, wait!” She grabs your wrist, and when you whirl around to face her, she hesitates.

“Please,” you beg, “I have to go.”

Somin doesn’t respond, her hand simply falling from your wrist and limply back to her side, as she watches you bolt out into the storm.

Even though Jaemin’s store is right across from the bed and breakfast, you’re still somehow drenched by the time you arrive. Luckily, the lights are still on, but there’s a closed sign hanging on the front door. You pay no mind to it, loudly banging on the door. You’re pretty sure you’re about to break the glass when you finally see Jaemin coming downstairs and walking towards you.

When he opens the door, you can tell by the conflicted expression on his face that he’s already seen the article. However, as of now, he looks more concerned than betrayed as he takes in the state you’re in. Your thin cotton pajama set clings to your body as you shiver in the rain, but you don’t even feel cold.

“Jaemin, I―”

“Hurry up and come in,” he interrupts, ushering you inside. You drip water all over the wood floor and up the stairs as you follow him into his loft.

His loft is basically just an extension of his store, walls lined with shelves and shelves of books, except equipped with a bathroom, kitchen, and bed. You stand there awkwardly as he digs through his clothing drawer and pulls out a soft-looking sweater with fleece sweatpants.

“Go change first,” he says, handing you the clothes and pointing to his bathroom.

“But―”

He gives you a look like he doesn’t feel like arguing, so you obediently go into the bathroom and change. Your pajamas make a gross, wet slap noise as you peel them off your body and toss them on the floor. You dry off with a towel before you slip on his clothes. They’re incredibly warm and big, with his sweater reaching your thighs and sweatpants pooling at your feet. His natural scent, mixed with the smell of books, engulfs you and instantly calms you down. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you try to build up enough courage to leave the bathroom and face him.

No matter how much you don’t want to, you do eventually step out, albeit meekly tip-toeing. Jaemin is sitting on the couch, drinking something from a mug. He smiles when notices you emerging before doing a double take once he sees you in his clothes.

“Do you like hot chocolate?” he asks, voice cracking.

You nod, and he holds up the mug that’s sitting on the coffee table. You see steam rising from it, so he must’ve just finished making it.

“Come sit and have some then. It’ll warm you up,” he urges, looking a little warm himself.

“I think I need vodka,” you mutter, but you walk over and take a seat beside him. Before he can say anything, you reach over and start to sip the hot chocolate. It scalds your tongue, but at least it buys you some time before you have to talk.

Jaemin patiently waits for you to finish, staring down at his own cup as he idly swirls the hot chocolate with a spoon. It’s so quiet that you can hear every clink of the spoon against the glass.

Finally, you decide to just bite the bullet. “So, you saw the article.”

He pauses, perhaps taken aback by your bluntness. “Yes. Jeno called me about it, and he explained everything.”

You chew on your bottom lip, guilt racking your entire body. You wish he would just get angry. Yell at you for lying, for betraying his trust, for making a fool out of him, for dragging him into this mess. It feels so much worse when he reacts like this.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “I should have told you. I just―you were the only one who didn’t know who I was, and I wanted you to treat me like a normal―”

“Y/N, stop,” Jaemin says softly. “I’m not upset at you.”

“You’re…not?”

“Of course not. You’re an A-list celebrity, so obviously you weren’t going to tell some random stranger who you were,” he dismisses. “I would’ve done the same thing if I were you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, feeling a little light-headed from how relieved you are. “Then, why do you seem upset?”

“It’s my fault,” he whispers harshly. “If I hadn’t pressured you into going to the beach, those pictures never would’ve been taken. God, I’m so dumb. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you―”

Now, it’s your turn to stop him. “Jaemin, if I do anything, I get photographed. I could sneeze a little too hard, and those photos would be up on some gossip site the next day. It’s not your fault. It would’ve happened one way or another.”

“Still, I should’ve been more careful,” he insists. There’s a crease between his brows and his lips are turned downwards, almost like a pout, and you feel a little guilty for thinking he looks quite cute when he’s frustrated. Especially since he’s so upset at something that isn’t his fault in the slightest.

“It doesn’t matter how careful you are,” you shake your head, “Paparazzi always find a way.”

“Wow, that sounds extremely annoying,” he says, amazed at how casual you are about it.

You let out a bitter laugh, not even answering.

“You must really love acting, huh?” he asks, leaning back. “I think I’d have to really love something to endure all those hardships that come with it.”

It takes you a long time to answer.

Has anyone ever asked you that? Have you ever asked yourself that?

“I,” you begin slowly, “I…did.”

The past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaemin, and he waits for you to continue.

“I did, at first,” you explain, “It was fun. I could be anybody I wanted. It was freeing, and I felt powerful. Now that I think about it, those first few years were the best times of my life. I pulled countless all-nighters to practice lines, went to every audition they’d let me in, and got rejected from almost all of them. But I didn’t mind. I was determined to be an actor, and when I finally got my first gig, I cried so much that I couldn’t open my eyes for a week because they were so swollen―which got me nearly fired too.”

Jaemin smiles at that.

“I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into acting. I clawed my way to the top, and now that I’m finally here,” you pause, “I think I lost myself in the process. It’s not even about the acting anymore. My life has been consumed by everything else. I’m terrified of what insane headline I’ll wake up to next, how the media will make fun of me today. I can’t sleep because of it, and I hate myself for it. I hate that I let it get into my head, that I let it bother me―”

You abruptly stop when you realize you’re getting a bit too emotional. You seem to have taken Jaemin’s silence as encouragement to continue, even though he never verbally indicated it. Embarrassed, you avoid eye contact before saying, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to just dump all of that on you.”

“Don’t ever apologize,” Jaemin says firmly and immediately. “Y/N, you are not an entity that only exists through a screen. You’re a human that feels things, and no one, not even you, is allowed to shame you for it. Those tabloids might forget, but you shouldn’t ever forget. You’re a person before an actor.”

His words reverberate through you like the thunder outside.

How long have you been waiting for someone to tell you that? How long have you been waiting for someone to look at you, not through a lens but with their own eyes?

When you look at him, he’s looking back. His face is illuminated by the warm glow of the ceiling light, and his steady brown eyes are gazing into yours. He doesn’t need to say it, and you know. He sees you, not as Y/N the actor. Just Y/N.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“No need to thank me. Consider me your human trash can,” he announces proudly, “Dump all of the trash you’ve been carrying.”

That makes you laugh. “You always seem to know what to say.”

Na Jaemin always knows what to say to make you feel something.

“No,” he chuckles, “I just…I understand.”

“You do?” you ask, feeling the weight behind his words.

“Yeah,” he trails off slightly, “I do.”

You scoot closer to him, taking another sip of your hot chocolate. “I’ll be your trash can too.”

“Never in my life did I think that A-list celebrity Y/N would be sitting here in my loft, telling me she’ll be my trash can,” Jaemin teases before growing quiet again. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable and small.

“Mine’s not as interesting as yours,” he warns.

“I doubt that,” you reassure him.

“I, uh,” he clears his throat, “I used to work on Wall Street.”

You blink in surprise. The only thing you know about Wall Street is the movie Wolf of Wall Street, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, which is about a corrupt stockbroker and his various crimes. Naturally, Jaemin’s gentle personality doesn’t exactly fit the image.

“Paid pretty well, as you would imagine,” he continues, “And I was good at my job too, if I do say so myself. I had everything that I could’ve dreamed of before I had even turned 30. I partied all the time, had a nice car, designer clothes, an expensive apartment, and an amazing group of friends. But it was soul-draining to sit at a desk every day and take people’s money using any means necessary in order to line my own pockets. I felt like a shell of a person. The guilt kept me up at night, so I took sleeping pills until they started doing more harm than good.”

You too.

“Eventually, I just needed to get out, so I sold all my things and hopped on the earliest flight out of New York. I wandered all over the globe for a while before I eventually stumbled here. This place was just so different from the city life I was accustomed to. There were no cars honking 24/7, sirens constantly going off, people yelling profanities at each other in the street, and most importantly, no soul-sucking corporate offices. The people here didn’t ask any questions and took me in without a second thought. They treated me like I was their son, and they saved me from my own thoughts,” he says, and you can see how much he truly loves this place and the people. “A lot of people said I was running away, but I didn’t care. This is my home now.”

“You’re not running away,” you affirm, “you’re brave, Jaemin. It takes a lot of courage to walk away from your whole life, everything you’ve ever known, in order to start anew.”

You can whine and moan about all of your problems as much as you want, but at the end of the day, you’re still choosing to be an actor. If you really wanted to, you could be like Jaemin and completely step away from the limelight. However, you don’t because acting is all you’ve ever known. You wouldn’t have anywhere to go, just like Jaemin didn’t, but he left anyway. And for that, he is braver than you’ll ever be.

“I’m not. It’s only because of everyone here,” he shakes his head. His eyes soften as he gazes tenderly at you. He looks at you so lovingly that you almost believe he loves you. “I hope you’ll be able to find someone like that too, Y/N.”

As if on cue, there’s another loud boom of thunder before all of the lights in his loft flicker off.

A power outage, you think, but it doesn’t linger on your mind for too long.

You’re not sure who leans in first, but drawn to each other like north and south magnets, the two of you close the gap between you and press your lips together. The kiss tastes like a mixture of rainwater and hot chocolate. Jaemin starts off slowly, languidly, like he’s trying to suck all of the air out of you. However, as the rain pours harder, he grows a bit more feverish, pulling you onto his lap. The livewire tension that had been building up between you two all this time has finally ignited, and he deepens the kiss. He bites down on your bottom lip before trailing kisses down your neck and down your clavicle. Your arms are wound tightly around his neck, and Jaemin’s hands go under your sweater to rest on your waist. Everywhere he touches feels like his fingerprints are being burned into your bare skin.

The only rational sliver of your mind left is screaming for you to stop. This is exactly what Somin was warning you about. Getting attached is only a recipe for hurt. You’ve already gone and spilled your life story to him, which is probably the worst thing you could’ve done. It’s one thing to have a physical attachment; it’s a whole other to have an emotional one.

And now you have both.

Not to mention the fact that pictures of you and Jaemin have already been leaked. You’re also leaving at the end of the month, so is there a way you can realistically maintain a relationship with Jaemin when the two of you live such drastically different lives?

Jaemin’s hands start to move up, along with your sweater, and you suddenly can’t think straight anymore. You cup his face with your hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, as he gazes up at you in a trance. You try your best to remember this―the feeling of his body against yours, the way he’s looking at you.

Fuck it, you think.

You don’t want to think about the consequences anymore.

You want to be selfish.

So, you close your eyes―

and let yourself take refuge in Na Jaemin’s arms.

When you wake up, you’re lying on Jaemin’s bare chest. His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, and his hand is cradling the back of your head. You lay there for another moment, listening to his breathing and feeling the rise and fall of his chest, before you realize you’re hot.

This man is like a personal furnace.

You’re not sure how you managed to cocoon yourself in the covers, completely hogging all of it from Jaemin (not that he needed them), but you’re promptly trying to free yourself so you don’t die of a heat stroke. Once you’re finally sitting up properly, you glance back over at Jaemin. Amazingly enough, he continues to sleep soundly even through your struggle. He seems so peaceful like this, laying on his back with his arms draped across his chest (probably because he thinks he’s still holding you). His hair is tousled, sticking up in random tufts, and you can’t help but notice how much more innocent he looks when he’s asleep.

He really is beautiful.

Unconsciously, you reach out and brush your fingers through his unruly bangs, which makes him stir slightly. You quickly retract your hand, not wanting to disturb him. Looking around, you pick up his sweater from off the floor before slipping it on. You aimlessly wander around his loft, running your hand against the shelves of books that line his walls.

Finally, you stop when you come across a shelf that isn’t full of books but picture frames. The photos basically serve as a timeline of his life here. Most of them are with the elderly locals; there’s one where he’s in fisherman gear and helping someone pull a net filled with fish, followed directly by another where he’s holding a fish that’s floundering and he’s in the middle of getting slapped by its tail. One where he has his arms wrapped around two aunties in front of what looks like a grand opening of his bookstore, and he’s putting peace signs behind their heads and making them look like ears. One where he’s cuddling with three cats while pushing someone (you’re assuming it’s Jeno) out of the frame.

There’s so many more, and of course, Jaemin looks exactly the same in all of them, but it’s the light in his eyes that’s inconsistent. In some of them, his face is a bit haggard, and he’s smiling, but it never reaches his eyes. In others, he seems like a completely different person because of how truly happy he is.

Ah, you think, what a harsh slap from reality.

As you look through his life in pictures, it becomes glaringly apparent that there is no place for you on this shelf.

He’s finally found happiness, and you and your fucked-up life weren’t going to be the one to shatter it.

You march towards the bathroom, where Jaemin has washed your pajamas and hung them to dry. They’re still a little damp, but you don’t care as you rip off his sweater and put on your own clothes. He washed them with his detergent, so you’re still enveloped in his scent. His touch lingers on your body as if his hands are still all over you, and you need to leave right now―

“Y/N?” There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut as you steel your resolve for the inevitable confrontation. Why did he have to wake up now?

When you open the door, Jaemin is already up and dressed. He’s in a loose, wrinkled t-shirt and the sweatpants that you had been wearing last night. A section of his midriff is showing because he’s scratching his stomach as he groggily peers down at you. Even though he’s still half-asleep, his eyes light up when he sees you before quickly growing confused.

“I don’t think those are dry yet,” he points out, gesturing at your pajamas.

“I have to go,” you cut him off, brushing past him and making a beeline for the stairs.

“Wha―wait!” Jaemin calls after you, grabbing your wrist. “What’s going on? At least have breakfast first.”

You slap his hand away, recoiling from him. “Don’t touch me.”

Jaemin’s face completely crumples as he stares at you in stunned hurt. He takes a small step away from you, like he can’t bear to be close to you right now even though he wants nothing more.

“Can I at least ask why?” His voice trembles.

“You still don’t get it,” you hiss, “The more involved we get with each other, the crazier the media will get. You won’t ever be able to live like a normal person again. Everywhere you go, there’ll be photographers following―”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you last night if I didn’t know what I was signing up for,” he states.

“I won’t let you turn your life into a living hell, Jaemin,” you shake your head, but somehow, you’re the one begging him. “Not when you’ve finally found a life, a family here.”

“It’s not your decision to make,” he says roughly. A muscle in his jaw spasms. “Not when I’ve finally found you.”

You sigh. “You’re just confused because we slept―”

“Don’t,” he immediately interrupts. Even though his tone is angry, Jaemin looks at you like you just slapped him in the face. “You can make all the excuses you want, but don’t tell me how I feel about you.”

You can only stare at him, unable to bring yourself to say anything.

“I like you, Y/N, and I’m asking if you like me too. Forget about everything else, and tell me what you want,” Jaemin pleads.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say quietly. “It won’t change anything.”

“I can handle it,” he insists, reaching out to cradle your cheek. “I can handle anything that the media throws at me, as long as you still want me.”

Perhaps he could. If you really wanted to, the two of you could make it work. After all, plenty of famous people maintain relationships with non-celebrities. It would be hard, and his life would be upturned, but at least you would have each other. You would be happy, the happiest you’ve ever been in a long, long time, with him. Yes, perhaps you could have a spot on his shelf, but not without knocking off a few photos.

But Na Jaemin is a much braver person than you are, and you’re not willing to put him through that, no matter how bright the light is at the end of the tunnel.

“I can’t,” you whisper, voice breaking, stepping back yet again so he can’t touch you. You’re certain your resistance will instantly dissipate the moment he lays a finger on you.

The moment you reject him for a second time, you see that you’ve successfully driven the final dagger into his heart. Just as quickly as it swelled for you, it is destroyed.

He makes no move to stop you as you walk past him, though his traitorous eyes still follow you like a moth drawn to a flame. Despite the fact that you don’t turn around, you feel his gaze against your back even when you enter the bed and breakfast and close the door behind you.

Somin is waiting in your room and surprisingly doesn’t throw a fit once she sees you. She’s actually quite calm as she says, “Tell me what you want me to say about the photos, and I’ll say it.”

“Deny it,” you say instantly, barely even looking at her as you head straight into your bathroom.

She blinks, clearly not expecting your answer, before getting up and following you. “What?”

“Deny it.” You turn on your shower to the hottest temperature it’ll go before you start taking your pajamas off.

“But…you really like him, don’t you?” She’s searching your expression, trying to find some indication of what exactly changed in the last twelve hours.

“Does it matter?” you snap. “I’m going damage control. Isn’t that exactly what you want?”

You rarely ever raise your voice at Somin, and she can only gawk at you with her mouth wide open. But you don’t really care anymore, stepping into the shower and letting the hot water douse you. You hear Somin’s footsteps leave the bathroom and the door click shut, and now you’re finally alone.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you wait for the water to scald Jaemin’s fingerprints off of your skin.

.

Somin does as you say, releasing a statement denying everything, and you don’t see Jaemin again after that.

A part of you still hopes to at least get a glimpse of him through the window of his bookstore when you’re coming home, but the lights are always off by the time you return. You have managed to completely erase him from your life. It’s exactly what was supposed to happen, yet why do you feel like complete shit?

The remainder of the month melds together, and you go through the rest of the filming on auto-pilot. Jaehyun does his best to cheer you up, but everything he says just goes in one ear and out of the other. You no longer have a grasp on the passage of time, and before you know it, the end of the month has arrived, filming has wrapped, and it’s time to leave.

On the crew’s last day, the town throws another huge party for everyone, much like they did when you first showed up. You finally are able to take a picture with the mayor, and he gives you the honorable keys to the city. Not wanting to be a killjoy the entire night, you force yourself to smile through all of it. You wear your smile as a mask, plastered on for so long that your facial muscles are spasming from exhaustion due to the amount of time you’ve kept it up.

When the party is over, you wave goodbye to all the locals and climb into your car, expecting to head to the ferry dock. However, the driver’s route is a bit too familiar, and it finally hits you that you’re being driven to Oasis Books. You’re stopped right in front of it, and Somin shoves your three volumes of Sailor Moon manga in your arms and then you out of the car.

“I’m tired of you moping around like some human blob of depression,” she snaps, “The least you could do is give yourself and him some closure by saying goodbye.”

Before you can even respond, she slams the car door shut and you hear it lock.

You stand there for a moment, unable to process what exactly just happened. Slowly, you turn around and take in the sight of the building that you didn’t know you missed so much. The lights are finally on, and that warm ambiance still has a magnetic hold on you. You don’t know whether your hands are trembling from the cold or your nerves as you reach out and pull the door open, hearing the jingling of the bells attached.

The store is empty, Jaemin nowhere in sight.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding―

only to inhale it again when you hear footsteps from upstairs, and a face that you’ve longed to see emerges from a doorway on the opposite side of the room.

“Sorry, it’s been slow today so I―”

Jaemin stops dead in his tracks when he sees you.

He looks a lot worse than the last time you saw him. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, and his cheeks are sunken in. His hair is flat and unkempt against his forehead, falling into his eyes. His clothes are wrinkled and bunched together, like he just rolled out of bed.

He looks like he did in some of his old photos.

His eyes look just as hurt as they did when you first left him. Rather, they seem even more pained by your reappearance.

“Hi,” you say meekly.

“Hello,” he answers, and you can hear he’s choking back emotion.

“I leave tonight,” you blurt out.

He swallows. “I know.”

“I, um, wanted to drop by and say bye,” you fumble with the manga in your arms, “and return these.”

To be honest, you had no intention of giving the manga back until this moment. They were your only memory of Jaemin, but now that you’re in front of him, it seems wrong to take pieces of him with you after you broke his heart so brutally.

“They deserve loving homes, and they’ll be taken care of more here than they ever would be if they were with me,” you continue, setting the books down on the front counter.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he demands.

You’ve never seen him more upset, not even back then. “I―”

“You said you wouldn’t let me turn my life into a living hell, so what are you doing right now?” He frustratingly cards a hand through his hair. “If you were going to leave, then you shouldn’t have come back right when I had decided I was going to forget you. What sense does it make to keep reopening my wounds like this? To keep reminding me that you exist as if every little thing I come across doesn’t already? Why do you have to be so cruel to the very end?”

A tear falls from his eye, and you feel it like a punch to the gut.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say. You dig your nails into your palm to keep yourself from breaking down. You tell yourself to remember this feeling. Remember what you did to Na Jaemin, and carry it with you for the rest of your life.

“What do you want from me?” he asks. “Do you want me to beg? Beg you to stay? Is that why you’re here? To see just how much I’m wrapped around your finger?”

You shake your head, unable to speak in fear of letting out a sob. If he were to beg now, you would stay without a second thought. You would stay and ruin his life more than you already have.

“Take the books, and leave. Please. I can’t―I can’t be in here if those are here too.” Jaemin can’t even look at you anymore.

But because you’re selfish and cruel, you walk over to him, bring yourself to your tip-toes, and give him a kiss on the cheek. Jaemin can’t fight his instincts and his hand comes up to delve into your hair, burying his nose into your neck. He holds you against him for one last time before you step back.

You stare into his eyes full of longing and brush wipe a tear from his cheek.

“Bye, Jaemin.”

Turning, you take the books and tightly clutch them to your chest before walking out of Oasis Books.

You wish that you could’ve told him your feelings. That you like him too. You like him so much that you can’t even think straight. You like him so much that you don’t mind being the villain, the human shield. You like him so much that you wish for nothing but his happiness.

But you don’t. Because it’s better this way. You’ll be cruel to the very end, and Jaemin will hate you, forget you, and move on.

You close your eyes, and let Na Jaemin go.

“Of course, Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha is about this whirlwind seaside romance between an uptight dentist from the city and a local handyman that’s able to melt her frigid heart. Have you guys ever experienced that?”

Jaehyun keeps his expression neutral, but you know all eyes are on you. After all, everyone knows that the interviewer is purposefully trying to get a reaction out of you.

You smile serenely, leaning into the microphone in front of you.

“No, I haven’t.”

.

That night, you make hot chocolate and curl up in bed, playing episodes of Cardcaptor Sakura from your phone.

You close your eyes, hoping to dream of Na Jaemin.

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