#day6 fluff

I. [YOU, THIRTY SECONDS AWAY FROM A MELTDOWN]

You’ve been told that hitting the big three would be a bit like being reborn, a chance to get a fresh start and to leave your past self behind in your twenties… or at least, according to Wonpil, it was. He wasn’t exactly a wild child back in the day, so you weren’t sure where all of this was coming from, but regardless you still decided to take his advice with a spoonful of trust— not only because he’s your best friend, but because you believed in his mantra too.

There’s been some talk going around about a promotion, and with you having worked for this airline for a good seven years now, you know the title of Senior Flight Attendant is practically within reach. You’re ready to enter your thirties with a clean slate, a sharper uniform, and the kind of certainty that maybe, everything was finally falling into place—

Except it isn’t.

“We’re letting you off.”

The smile fades from your lips slightly, and the room settles in a pin-drop silence as you process the words that left your supervisor’s lips.

“I’m sorry?”

“The airline is going through some budget cuts, so we’ve got no choice but to let some people go,” he explains robotically, as though he’s reading off a script. Your heart starts to thump in your ears as the weight of the situation finally settles in, and your smile wipes off completely. “This has nothing to do with you, obviously. You’ve been a great worker and contributed much to the company-“

“So you’re firing me?”

Your supervisor stutters. “Well- you will be getting severance pay. And some additional farewell benefits as compensation. That aside, we’re extremely sorry to let you go. We wish you the best in your future endeavours.”

He bows slightly, and you don’t stop the humourless chuckle that escapes your lips.

Even as you step out of his office, your termination letter already crumpled under the tight grip of your hand, you refuse to fully acknowledge the dread in the pit of your stomach— not until you reach home, and you’re dialling for the one person who could help you make sense of this entire situation.

As usual, Wonpil is all smiles as he picks up, but it instantly disappears when he sees your face. “Wow. Did you get fired or something?”

You flop onto your couch, tossing your blazer aside. “That obvious?”

Your best friend gapes, but he quickly recovers. “Wha- are you serious? What happened?”

“Said the company’s downsizing… or whatever.” You shrug as you stare blankly at the ceiling, and you sense Wonpil shift through the screen. With it being a weekday afternoon, he’s probably still at work, but you couldn’t find it in you to care for disturbing him. “What should I do, Pil?”

“Hey, don’t worry too much. You’ll find a new job in no time! You’ve got the experience and the skillset. Just take this as a stepping stone towards a better opportunity. A silver lining, you know?”

You glance at your phone, and Wonpil is already grinning at you through the screen. You know that’s just the teacher in him talking, and right now, you feel like one of his students after failing a test. Wonpil has always been supportive, so despite your own dejection, you find it in you to smile at him weakly. “Thanks, Pil.”

And even though you’re not really confident in his words, you’re still grateful for his optimism, and maybe some of that is just what you need.

II. IT’S YOUR THIRTIETH DAY OF REJECTION.

You don’t think being optimistic could help you out of this rut.

You’ve been applying to countless of other airlines, only to be rejected by most of them— the rest hadn’t even bothered to reply.

You know what it is, and it’s the harsh truth you’re only beginning to swallow. Age bias has always been prevalent in your industry, and even though you know you’re nowhere near being a grandma, it’s likely the reason why you aren’t getting any offers.

Wonpil has been by your side throughout, though it’s mostly just been you pathetically moping around while he tries to talk you into trying something else— like a job at the airport lounge (seeing your ex-colleagues would only make you miserable) or concierge at a hotel (serving foreign pilots and flight attendants would make you even more).

Which is why, after much debating (not like you were left with much of a choice whatsoever), you landed yourself a job at a café. Basic, but simple, and safe.

The only problem is that you hate it.

It’s only been a few shifts, and you know you wouldn't be able to last any longer. Even though serving people coffee is technically still a customer service job, there’s just something about the mind-numbing repetition of it that makes you itch to walk out the door.

And so, you do.

“Are you serious?” Wonpil scoffs. “You’ve dealt with entitled businessmen and screaming toddlers thousands of feet in the air, but a little coffee spill is where you draw the line?”

“You think I want this to happen?” You grumble in frustration, avoiding his gaze as you busy yourself with the loose thread on your sleeve. “I just can’t, Pil, okay? Gosh, maybe what I need is a break.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. You could use the tickets the airline gave you to go somewhere. Figure things out," he suggests.

“Please,” you scoff. “That pathetic thing they call a severance package barely does me any good. You think I’d have a good time overseas knowing my wallet is shrinking?”

“Then maybe you should visit your grandparents, or something.”

A few beats pass as you let his words hang in the air, and your eyes widen with sudden realisation. “Wonpil, you’re a genius,” you whisper before turning back to him, and he only furrows his brows in confusion. “I could rent out my apartment for a few months while I stay in Jeju— to figure things out, like you said. That way I could make money without actually having to work!”

“I mean, I guess…” Unlike what you’ve been expecting, your best friend looks uneasy with your idea, and before you could ask him why, Wonpil continues, “it’s just- if you’re planning on staying there for that long, are you sure you could actually do it? I mean, village life. It’s no joke for city people like us.”

You roll your eyes. “Relax. I visited my grandparents a lot when I was little. And like you said— if I could deal with entitled businessmen and screaming toddlers in the air, a little sun and farming wouldn’t hurt me.”

“What if someone spills coffee on you?”

You nod solemnly. “Then I’ll know for sure that I was never meant to work a day in my life.”

III. THE WEATHER SAYS IT’S THIRTY DEGREES OUTSIDE. The humidity of Jeju-do is quick to catch up to you the moment you step off the plane, and by the time you manage to drag your bags to the taxi stand outside the airport, you're already slick with sweat, with your hair stuck to your neck and makeup halfway down your face.

And because the universe seems to hate you (you haven't gotten a single stroke of good luck since the day you got sacked), there aren't any taxis around.

Not a single one. Of course.

You take in a deep breath before trudging towards the bus stop, the wheels of your luggage squeaking pathetically behind you. No matter— you aren't about to let a little hiccup get in the way of your retreat when it's barely just started. Even if it would take around another two hours for you to reach Pyoseon-ri by bus, and even if the smell of manure in the air is beginning to cloud your judgement and make you wonder if moving on impulse was a good idea to begin with.

Still, you're adamant on not letting up so soon. You make sure to greet the driver when you board the bus, make sure to smile at the other passengers apologetically as you struggle to haul your luggage up the steps. 

The driver doesn't wait for you before he floors the pedal, and that sends you crashing into a random stranger's shoulder. No one reacts. The stranger doesn't even blink.

You let out a slow exhale. Maybe Wonpil did have a point.

✦ ✦ ✦

By the time the bus wheezes to a stop, you're exhausted and completely out of it. Still, you can't help but to marvel at the sights around you as you alight, and it brings a certain warmth to your chest.

Pyoseon looks exactly like how you remember it, with its stone-lined streets that stretches on for miles on end and clear, vast skies you don't get to appreciate in Seoul. The old convenience store you used to frequent still stands, painted walls still chipped and red sign still faded. You spot the tiny, two-room clinic at the corner where you once cried over a scraped knee. It's also the same place you brought in an injured baby chick you found at the side of the road.

You pause for a moment, just standing there as you take in the village. Barely nothing has changed, and you think that's what throws you off the most. After years of chasing new cities, new skies, new routines... it's disorienting to return to a place seemingly still frozen in time.

You grip the handle of your bag tighter before making your way to the village hall. With your grandfather being the village chief, it's the place he'd most likely be at, and at this timing, you figure he'd probably be doing something... mayor-y. Whatever that meant.

The gravel crunches under your shoes as you trudge down the narrow path, and you're becoming increasingly aware of the curious glances and murmurs thrown your way as you near the village hall. You're not sure if people remember you, but one thing's for sure is that you hadn't prepared yourself for any kind of attention at all.

You let out a soft sigh of relief when the familiar one-story building comes into view, and there's loud chatter coming from somewhere behind it— probably the other village elders lounging around on the pyeongsang under the big zelkova tree. The thought of making a sudden appearance sounds awkward— another thing you hadn't accounted for— but when you hear the undeniable sound of your grandfather's laughter echoing in the air, you know you're not really left with any other option.

So you round the corner— and that's when it happens.

SPLASH!

A torrent of water hits you square in the chest, soaking you from the neck down. You don't even register your luggage tipping over as you stand there, dripping, jaw on the floor.

"Oh, crap, I'm so-"

The voice pauses, and you look up at the culprit: a too-tall, too-familiar guy with a bucket still dangling from one hand. You only barely manage to catch the panic on his features before he's squinting at you, and that's when you finally realise—

"Peach?"

"Younghyun?!"

You say at the same time.

He laughs, his hand lowering to his side. "No way. It's really you, huh? The princess of Seoul who swore she'd never come back. Welcome home, Your Highness."

You chuckle humourlessly. "That's rich, coming from you. Not everyone gets to run away to Europe and come crawling back like they never left."

Despite your blatant jab, he grins in response, shameless and insufferable as ever.

And yet another thing you hadn't accounted for— freaking Kang Younghyun. If you'd told Wonpil just how unprepared you are for this trip, you're sure he'd have a heart attack.

The last time you saw the village boy had to be almost ten years ago, before your visits to Jeju started to grow less frequent as you got older and busier. Last you heard, he'd stayed, all up until the last couple of times you visited and he wasn't around. Your grandfather had said something about him working on his masters overseas, and you'd scoffed at that— mainly because of how ironic it was. Kang Younghyun, the boy who used to tease you relentlessly for being too "city-fied" had gone off and did the most city thing of all. Left for a higher education. Abroad.

And now he's back. And so are you.

He's still the same as you remember, with mischief tucked into the curve of his smile and a teasing glint in his eyes. He still has the same thick eyebrows you used to make fun of, and dimples that would appear on both cheeks whenever he smiled too wide, but something about him feels different too.

He's gotten taller. Broader. The sharp lines of his jaw are more defined now, with cheekbones you don't remember being that sharp. You hate that you even notice the glint of sweat on his sun-kissed skin, and you're quick to dispose that thought. Because you hate Kang Younghyun, and you'd rather not admit that he's gotten kind of... stupidly good looking.

"There you are!"

Grandpa appears behind Younghyun, waving as though nothing is amiss. He barely even glances at your drenched state, patting Younghyun on his back.

You scowl. Your first day here, and your own blood is already favouring that smug asshole over you.

"Younghyun-ah, be a dear and give her a ride back home, would you? She must be tired from the journey."

You gape. "Wha- Grandpa, I'm drenched."

"Mm, you'll dry. Help yourself to the food in the fridge and come back here once you're rested, okay? Your grandma will be thrilled to see you once she returns from the district's women's council meeting." The old man is already walking back towards the village hall, but not before patting your head on the way. He glances over his shoulder. "Bicycle's around the back!"

You stand there in stunned silence before turning back to Younghyun, who's already grinning at you like an idiot. He gestures towards the tree behind him, where an old, rusted bicycle leans against the bark.

"Oh, no." You almost laugh at how absurd the situation you're in. "Oh, no, no."

"You heard the man, Peach," Younghyun adds cheekily. "Hop on."

You glower at him. "I'd rather walk barefoot through cactus than get on that thing with you."

Younghyun only laughs, like he knows you're playing a losing game. And he's right, because five minutes later you're clinging to the back of the bicycle, left hand gripping onto the handle of your luggage tightly as you let it drag along the gravel, while Younghyun pedals lazily like it's the most amusing thing that's happened to him all week. You don't even need to look at his face to know that he's grinning widely.

"So, still sweet on peaches?" He asks casually. You can practically hear the smirk in his tone.

"Shut up."

He laughs again.

IV. EVERYTHING IS ABSOLUTELY PEACHY... NOT. You return to the village hall later that night in an old t-shirt and a pair of floral pants you snagged from your grandmother’s wardrobe. You figure if you’re going to be staying in the countryside, you might as well look the part, though you find that it did little to help ease the turmoil in your heart. You think it has something to do with Pyoseon and everything to do with yourself— and annoyingly, maybe just a little to do with Kang Younghyun’s smug face greeting you at every turn. 

You scowl at him before he could say anything, shoving past him by the door and into the living area where some of the village elders are lounging. You instantly spot your grandmother, mid-conversation before her eyes land on you, and she immediately beams.

“My granddaughter!” She immediately stands up to engulf you in a hug, and despite yourself you find yourself smiling. Grandma has always been one to dote on you, and after the terrible first-half of the day you just had, a little comfort is just what you need.

She pulls back just enough to study your face. “Oh, look at you! Have you not been eating? Sleeping? Aish, I keep telling you to take care of yourself! Whatever it is, I’m glad you’re here to stay now, sweetheart. You need some real food in your system to make up for all those years of flying around.”

Someone snickers in the background, and you turn to see Younghyun, leaning against the doorframe casually with his arms crossed.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Something funny?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, no. It’s just- you’d think a city girl would’ve upgraded her diet by now. Still running on iced tea and whatever’s closest to the microwave?”

You laugh sharply. “Stop acting like you know me, Younghyun.”

“Oh, but he does, doesn’t he? You two used to be so close!” Grandma pipes in unhelpfully, and you turn back to her with warning eyes. Not like she noticed whatsoever. “How much I struggled to keep you at home because you’re always running off with this boy doing God knows what. And that peach orchard you kids used to frequent so much-"

“Okay, Grandma.” You force out a smile through clenched teeth, easing yourself out from her hold as you join the other elders on the floor, face burning for some reason.

“Ignore him. He’s just messing with you.” One of the elders pats your hand mindlessly before turning back to the group. “But enough talk about that. Where were we?”

“Ah, yes. The signboards! We need to retrieve them from storage to get them painted. The tent materials can wait until we’re done with housekeeping, so until then, let’s focus on cleaning up the area.”

You blink before whispering to the old lady. “What are we talking about?”

“The annual harvest festival, my dear! You remember, don’t you? We’re doing a big event this year— food stalls, performances. The whole village is coming together!”

Your lips part as you nod. After all these years, you’d forgotten about the harvest festival that takes place in the summer every year. You’d attended a couple of times back when you were younger, but your visits were never long enough where you actually got to help with the preparations beforehand.

There were a lot of food, and lanterns, and dancing— that much you could recall, and you vaguely remember failing miserably at ring toss while Younghyun laughed at you. Subconsciously, you glance at him, only to find him already looking at you with a lopsided grin on his lips.

You turn away.

“Well, now that we have an extra pair of hands, it seems that we have nothing to worry about this year, do we?” Grandpa appears from the kitchen. “Don’t underestimate my granddaughter. She may be a city girl but she’s a tough one.” He grins at you, and the compliment makes you smile.

“Good! Then you and Younghyun can get started on washing the sheets tomorrow.”

Your smile instantly drops. “Me and who now.”

Grandma ignores you. “Our machines aren’t able to handle the load, so you’d have to do it by hand. Don’t worry, Younghyun will guide you through it!”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” you mutter, though it falls on deaf ears.

The elders are quick to move on, chattering about what needs to be done for the festival preparations. You lean on your hands with a sigh, until you feel someone settle in the empty space next to you.

“So, looks like it’s me and you tomorrow, Peach.”

You don’t even need to look at him to know that he’s smirking. Younghyun slides something towards you, and you glance down to see that it’s a bottle of peach tea. You narrow your eyes at it suspiciously, and he laughs.

“Relax. It’s not like I poisoned it. Consider this a peace offering for earlier. Plus, thought it suited you.”

You turn to smile pleasantly at him, purposely batting your eyelashes. “Because I’m sweet?”

Younghyun leans in, his voice teasing. “Because you bruise easy.”

You instantly scowl, and Younghyun laughs heartily as he stands up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Princess. If we finish on time, we could even go disturb Grandpa Han at his orchard like we used to.”

“I hope you choke.”

"That's the spirit," he coos, patting your head before whistling his way out.

You don’t think you’ve ever hated a person more.

V. PEACHY CLEAN! OR SO YOU THOUGHT. The sun is high by the time you reach the courtyard of the village hall, shades resting on the bridge of your nose and a popsicle in hand. You don't stop the pleased smile that graces your lips when your eyes land on Younghyun, looking pathetic with his back to you as he hunches over a large basin, elbow-deep in soapy water.

"You seem to be hard at work."

He only spares you a glance over his shoulder. "You see, I am a man of my word. Unlike somebody over here."

You roll your eyes wordlessly, finishing the last of your popsicle before squatting down next to him. You've never washed a whole bedsheet with your hands before— not like Younghyun needed to know, obviously. All you had to do was spin it around in soap a few times before washing it out with water. Can't be that hard, right?

"Fill this one with water so I can rinse it out," he instructs, nodding towards the red basin to his left. You decide to swallow down your complaint about how you'd just squatted down, getting back on your feet to step to the faucet begrudgingly. You pick up the hose lazily, angling it to the basin next to Younghyun before turning the tap on. If you're being completely honest, this seems like a one-person job, one Younghyun looks totally capable of doing on his own, but you wouldn't be surprised if the only reason you're here is because he wants to see you miserable.

You squint at his back, the man clearly unaware of you throwing daggers at him as he continues to scrub the bedsheets with his hands. You note the way his brows furrow in concentration, the flex of his muscles with every wring, and the droplet of sweat formed on his temple...

You smirk.

"Say, Younghyun?"

"Hm?" He hums in reply, clearly too distracted to catch your overly-sweet tone.

You don't say anything as you flick your wrist, and in an instant the water from the hose arcs through the air, hitting him square in the back and soaking the fabric of his shirt.

Your grin grows wider. "Oops."

Younghyun freezes, far too long for it to be comfortable than you'd like to admit, before he lets out a low chuckle. He stands up slowly, but he doesn't face you yet.

"Peach."

Your smile falters slightly, but you tilt your chin upwards. "What?"

He finally turns to you, jaw tight and face devoid of any humour. He's dripping from the neck down, similar to how you were yesterday, and you can't help the satisfaction that blooms in your chest. Even if it's at the expense of you potentially getting killed by Kang Younghyun in the next five seconds.

He takes a step forward, and you don't wait for him to say anything else before you drop the hose, making a run for it. Unfortunately for you, Younghyun is fast— of course he is— because the next thing you know, you feel yourself get yanked backwards harshly towards his chest, and he doesn't even hesitate before drenching you with the hose.

"Let go of me, you freak!" You shriek as the ice-cold water hits you, thrashing against his hold.

Younghyun laughs— completely loud and completely unbothered— the running hose still in one hand while the other grips on to your waist tightly.

"Should've thought of that before you decided to mess with me, Princess."

"You splashed me first, asshole!"

“To which I gave you a peace offering! A peach offering, if you will-"

"Yah! What are you two doing?”

The both of you freeze. Younghyun is the first to let you go, and you slip slightly on the wet ground. He steadies you by the wrist.

“Didn't I tell you these needed to be done before noon, boy?” One of the elders squint at you and Younghyun from afar. “And you still have to collect the signboards from the old storage hut, remember? Now you’re behind!”

You tense, parting your lips to utter out an apology (since this was clearly a two-man disaster), but Younghyun beats you to it.

“Sorry, Grandpa. That’s on me. I’ll get it done.” He bows his head, water still dripping from his bangs. 

The old man grumbles under his breath before walking off.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, glancing at Younghyun awkwardly. “I-“

"You should go dry off,” he mutters, almost casually as he wrings his own shirt. "Before you catch a cold and blame me for the rest of your life."

You’re still stunned, but you still find it in you to scoff. “What, so you’re kicking me off sheet duty now?”

"Peach, I'm serious." Younghyun finally looks at you, and it's an expression you're not quite familiar with. He hands you a towel from one of the baskets. “Go. I'll finish the rest, okay?"

You want to make a sarcastic remark about him caring for you, but you bite your tongue, accepting the towel wordlessly instead. Younghyun goes back to tending to the sheets (but not before shooting you a wink, of course; that idiot), and you’re left staring at his back while your heart thumps wildly in your chest.

You’re not sure what this feeling is. Some of it has to be guilt, you believe. A small part of you is grateful, and the rest…

The rest, you think you’d rather not acknowledge.

VI. IF ONLY YOUR PAST IS AS FUZZY AS YOU FEEL. You lean against the windowsill of the village hall, phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder as you watch the quiet afternoon roll by. Chickens cluck in the distance, the occasional breeze rustles the trees, and the scent of freshly-cut grass wafts lazily in.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve developed a healthy loathing for dirt and manual labour. And the fact that freaking Kang Younghyun insists on making my life a living hell every single day, but apart from that it’s not all bad, I guess,” you mutter. “Better than being jobless in Seoul.”

“You? Hating manual labour? Shocking,” Wonpil chuckles. “You know, I still don’t know what happened between you and that guy. I mean, didn’t you have a crush on him for like, half your life-“

“Shut up,” you hiss, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. Fortunately, nobody else is in the kitchen besides you, the elders all gathered in living room. “I was young and stupid, okay?”

“You were twenty.”

You don’t respond immediately. Speak of the Devil— your eyes fleet to Younghyun’s figure outside as he hauls some crates onto the back of a small truck, his hair swept back messily and shirt clinging to his back with sweat.

Still irritatingly attractive, unfortunately.

“It’s… it’s stupid,” you mumble, looking away. “We were good friends. Until we weren’t.”

Wonpil is quiet for a beat. “He broke your heart?”

You inhale sharply, your mind instantly going back to that one fateful night, many summers ago. It’s been ten years, yet the memory still plays fresh in your mind like it’s just happened yesterday.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” Younghyun mutters, hands stuffed in his pockets as you walk side by side. It’s dark, the two of you having spent the whole day outside, and now he’s walking you home. You don’t know how to tell him that you don’t want to go back.

“Uni starts in a week. I have to prepare,” you reply just as quietly, as though going any louder would contribute to the growing tension in the air between you two.

“Yeah, but-“ Younghyun stops walking suddenly, moving to stand in front of you. “Couldn’t you- I don’t know- stay till then? Your parents have to be okay with that, right? Hey, maybe if I talk to them, they’d give in.”

He grins down at you boyishly, but you could still make out the hopefulness in his voice. Stupid Kang Younghyun. If only he knew how the sight of his smile alone is already enough to convince you to stay. Hell, even his stupid beach blond dyed hair that’s constantly unkempt and constantly needed to be held back with that stupid bandanna of his is making you reluctant to leave, no matter how much you make fun of him for it.

You think that’s just because you’re hopelessly in love with him.

"I'll come visit. I promise."

His smile grows softer, and he raises a hand to tuck a loose hair behind your ear. "I know, Peach."

You bite your inner lip, your heart thumping erratically at the nickname. You've always called him out for it, you think it's stupid and childish, but Younghyun has never agreed to let down. "You've made me climb peach trees for you since we were kids, and your cheeks always grow pink when I call you that. What else should I call you if not Peach?" He'd say, and that'd shut you up every time.

Tonight, however, you can't help but feel like there's more to it. Like a certain weight neither of you is willing to acknowledge.

His fingers linger on your skin, and you don't miss the way his eyes fleet to your lips. It makes your breath hitch, the way it always does when you catch him staring at you for too long but not doing anything about it.

So right now, you do. You lean in first, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips. It's clumsy, but it's soft, and just as you think he's about to meet you halfway, Younghyun pulls away.

“I- we shouldn't have done that," he mutters, just before you could say anything. He avoids your gaze as he runs a hand through his hair, and you scoff softly.

"Really?" You whisper, taking a step back. "Seriously, Younghyun, why do you keep doing that?"

He finally looks at you, his expression passive and not at all like the boy you thought you knew.

"You think I don't see the way you look at me? Like- like I'm the only girl in the world that's worth your time? You think I don't notice whenever you want to kiss me, only to hold yourself back at the last second because you're scared?"

Younghyun chuckles dryly. "Don't flatter yourself."

His words hit you like a slap, and anger courses through your veins. "What- so you're telling me none of these ever mattered to you? That I don't mean anything to you?"

"I never said that," Younghyun cuts you off, his voice low. "You don't get to do that, okay? You don't get to leave, only to come back and pretend like nothing's changed. I'm not about to be a chapter you come back to when things get boring."

"Is that really what you think of me?" You ask, voice trembling slightly. Younghyun stays quiet, and that's about all the answers you needed.

"Fuck you, Younghyun," you laugh slightly, wiping the tears that are already streaming down your cheeks. "You know, just because you're mad that some people can make it in the city and you can't, doesn't mean you get to take it out on me. You asshole."

You meant to hurt him, and you know you did, with the way he clenches his jaw at your words. Still, he scoffs humourlessly as he takes a step back, and in that moment, you know you're about to lose him.

"Then I guess we were never meant to be in the first place."

"Yikes."

"Yeah. But it's whatever. I'm over it."

"Really? Because it sounds like there's still some pent-up resentment-"

"I'm over it, Pil."

Wonpil pauses. "Alright, fine, yeah. Anyway, your birthday's in a few days. Thirty's supposed to be a fresh start, remember? Do you have anything planned yet?"

You scoff. "Maybe I'll go down to the farm and smear myself with cow dung."

"You're gonna jinx yourself."

"Whatever," you mutter, turning around as you push yourself off the wall, only to still when your eyes land on Younghyun, already looking at you with a brow raised.

"Hello?"

"I'll call you back," you mumble before ending the call. You clear your throat, crossing your arms as nonchalantly as you could. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to hear you want to smear yourself with cow shit. I didn't know you were into that kind of thing, Peach."

"Shut up." Your cheeks burn as you move to leave, but Younghyun blocks your path.

You look up to glare at him. "What?"

"I have to go to the local market to deliver some crates." He shrugs. "Wanna go for a drive?"

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

He chuckles. "Seriously, how low do you think of me?"

"Can't blame me for thinking that now, can you?" You blurt, and a flicker of something flashes across Younghyun's face. Before he could say anything, you beat him to it. "Fine. Lead the way."

You're surprised that he remains quiet after that, and for a moment you let yourself dwell on the possibility that maybe, he remembers that night just as vividly as you do.

Younghyun swings the door of his truck open for you, which you respond with a glare.

He grins at you cheekily. ”Knew you liked my company, Peach."

And just like that, the moment is ruined. 

✦ ✦ ✦

It's a short drive to the market. You'd tried not to enjoy the scenery too much— you knew Younghyun would be smug about it— but it was nice nonetheless. It reminded you of the drives you used to take with Grandpa when you'd follow him around to run errands, though most of the time you'd stay inside his truck to admire the stretches of farmland and clusters of wildflowers along the road.

The locals wave at Younghyun as he backs up into the unloading area, and you hop off as soon as he puts the truck in park. You don't wait for him to tell you to unload the crates (you're not really keen on a repeat of the bedsheet incident), greeting the uncle at the delivery bay as you get to work.

"Hey- what are you doing? Let me do it." Younghyun appears beside you, taking the crate from your hands effortlessly before he sets it on the ground.

You raise your brows. "Isn't that why I'm here?"

"No. I only asked you if you wanted to tag along, not to get you to do manual labour. These are heavy, Peach." 

You huff, crossing your arms. "What, just because I'm a woman-"

"Princess," Younghyun sighs, turning to face you. "I asked you to come because I wanted your company, not because I needed a second pair of arms. So just... sit there and look pretty, okay?"

Your mouth falls open in disbelief, though you can't fight the heat that's beginning to creep up your neck. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He grins, already turning back to unload the rest of the crates. "Pretty privilege. Take advantage of it."

"You're actually insufferable."

"So I've heard."

"Aigoo, I've always known you two would get together eventually," the uncle muses as he helps Younghyun. "Only took a couple of years, huh boy?"

"I- we're not together," you utter stiffly.

"Really? Then why don't you go do something about it?" The uncle smacks the back of Younghyun's head lightly before he turns to you. "Do you know how grumpy this boy's been since you left town? I haven't seen him smile this widely in years."

"Uncle," Younghyun groans as he rubs his head. "I'm not gonna deliver your fish for you anymore. I don't want to."

"Quit sulking, boy. It's not cute." The older man rolls his eyes. "But, little lady, since you're here, Grandpa Han just delivered a fresh batch of peaches earlier. Go get some for the drive back, okay?”

You don't know whether to be impressed or embarrassed that practically everybody remembers of your little... obsession, with the fruit, but you nod and thank him regardless. You don't wait to see if Younghyun follows you before you wander into the market, mostly keen on getting away from him before he could notice the rising blush on your cheeks.

The marketplace is bustling with people, but not in a way that overwhelms you. If anything, the crowd kind of reminds you of home, except here, everybody seems to know who you are.

“Isn’t that the chief’s granddaughter?” Someone murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear as you pass.

“Oh, you’ve grown so pretty! Just like your mother.” One aunty beams, stopping you as she reaches out to squeeze your arm affectionately. “I’m sure your grandparents must be so happy you’re back for good!”

“Um, I-“

“Excuse us, Aunty, sorry. We’ve got a delivery schedule to keep.” Younghyun suddenly appears next to you, his hand finding the small of your back as he gives the lady a polite smile.

“Oh, Younghyun-ah! Don’t forget, I need you to fix my gate for me!”

“Will do!” He calls out over his shoulder as he gently steers you away, and you could only afford to blink.

“Quite the talk of the town, aren’t you?” He bends down to whisper teasingly in your ear, to which you quickly shove him away.

“Shut up,” you mutter. You try not to notice the warmth that disappears from your back when he drops his hand.

You spot the fruit vendor at the end of the market, but just as you’re about to head towards it, a small stall tucked between two others catches your eye first. You find yourself making a beeline towards it instead.

The table set up is filled with handmade trinkets and an assortment of dried tea leaf pouches— basically stupidly cute handmade stuff you rarely ever see in the city. You don’t stop the soft smile that makes its way to your lips as you pick one up— a small hand-sewn pouch stamped with tiny peaches.

“If you buy one of these necklaces, I’ll give you the pouch for free.”

You smile at the uncle as your eyes fleet across the jewellery display, all dainty chains with pressed flowers encased in resin as charms.

“They’re all so beautiful,” you murmur.

“Each one has their own meaning. Like this one.” He picks one up. “The chrysanthemum symbolises health and good fortune. Or if you’re looking to get a gift for a friend, the sunflower would be a good pick,” the uncle explains before he looks at someone next to you, and that’s when you notice Younghyun’s been there all along. “What about you, son? Looking for something?”

Younghyun gives him a dimpled smile, shaking his head. “Just looking around.”

You thank the uncle, telling him you’ll come back another time. It’s almost lunchtime, and you figure you should probably get back soon to help Grandma get started on food prep.

You don’t realise that Younghyun’s stayed rooted to his spot as you wander off towards the fruit stall, his gaze fixed on your back.

“You sure you’re not looking for anything?” The uncle muses knowingly.

Younghyun turns to him, a small chuckle escaping his lips. His gaze drops down to the display again, scanning each charm carefully until one in particular catches his eye.

“This one.” He points towards the purple one, neatly pressed with its petals still intact. “What does it mean?”

“Ah, the lilac.” The uncle nods as he picks the chain up. “This one’s for first love.”

There’s a pause. Younghyun’s eyes flick to you once again, blissfully unaware, talking to the fruit stall vendors as you carefully pick out your peaches.

A faint smile touches his lips as he nods.

“Wrap it, please,” he tells the uncle, softer this time as he takes out his wallet. He makes sure the necklace is packed safely in the peach-patterned pouch he saw you eyeing earlier before pocketing it.

It’s just a small thing, Younghyun tells himself. A mindless gesture. A gift for your upcoming birthday which he still remembers after all these years. Or, if he wants to be honest with himself— a silent apology for all the things he’d left unsaid. For the way he hurt you on purpose before you left.

Maybe it’s foolish. Hell, maybe it’s even too late.

But if a flower could say what he never could, he figures it’s a start.

VII. THIRTY, FLIRTY DIRTY, AND… NOT THRIVING.

It's your birthday.

Grandpa had also tasked you to work at the farm today.

He'd said something about cleaning out the cowshed, as the farmer was down with a flu. What he failed to mention was that you'd be working with Younghyun— though at this point, you're not even surprised anymore.

So that is how you find yourself at the farm at the far end of Pyoseon, arms folded across your chest as you wait for Younghyun to lead all the cows out into the pasture. You narrow your eyes at him as he works, looking far too chipper for someone who’s about to be surrounded by animal shit.

You don’t like how the sight of his grin is making your heart accelerate. 

Wanting something else to do, you quickly grab the shovel leaning by the wall before stepping into the shed. Your nose scrunches at the smell— it’s warm, earthy, and a little too natural for your liking. Not like you’re left with a choice, anyway. You hesitate slightly before stepping into the first stall, the floor caked with straw, mud, and… well, the obvious.

You clench your teeth as you slowly manoeuvre between the piles, the mud squelching with every step you take. The sound makes you cringe.

And as if you’re not overstimulated enough, the straps of Grandpa’s overalls he’d loaned you keeps sliding off one shoulder, and his old rubber boots which are at least two sizes too big feel like they’re actively plotting against you.

You groan, pausing to hitch the fabric higher while you adjust your foot in the boot, all while hoping you could make it out of here unscathed.

You don’t hear him approach.

“Boo.”

You scream. And promptly lose your footing.

And the next thing you know, you’re on your butt, right in the middle of a particularly wet patch of cow dung. A few beats passes as you process the situation, and you look up to glower at the absolute menace before you. The asshole even has the audacity to look amused, his shoulders shaking as he tries to stifle his laughter.

“Kang Younghyun,” you mutter lowly, your gloved fingers already fisting the mud around you. “You have five seconds to run.”

He coughs to conceal his chuckle. “I mean-“

“Five.”

Younghyun yelps before he bolts away, and you immediately take off after him. “You coward! Come back here!”

The sound of his boisterous laughter as he sprints down the road is mocking, and you’re left screaming his name while simultaneously hoping that he’d trip over a rock and plant his stupid, handsome face to the ground.

You slip a little in your boots as you chase him, but you think it’s the pure fury that fuels you to catch up to him. Younghyun is fast— damn him— but you’re faster when you’re angry.

You soon catch up to him, and with a warrior’s scream you launch yourself onto his back.

“Wha-?”

Somehow, by some ungodly miracle, Younghyun doesn’t fall. He does stumble once, but he quickly recovers as he readjusts his grip on your legs, all while he continues to run for his life— with you clinging on to his back like a koala. The asshole’s still laughing, the sound much closer to your ears now that you’re on him, and for some reason, you can’t stop the incredulous, yet amused scoff that escapes your lips.

“I hate you!” You shriek despite yourself, punching his shoulder repeatedly with one hand while your other arm clings around his neck.

“I noticed!” Younghyun is grinning from ear to ear as he glances behind at you. “Did you eat bricks, or something?”

You gape. “Put me down, then!”

“Never,” he replies, almost sing-songy as he slows down, only to start spinning you around like some deranged carnival ride. You squeak, squeezing your eyes shut as your arms tighten around his neck, while your chin finds his shoulder as you will yourself not to fall.

His laughter eases into something softer then, just as he turns his head to meet your eyes. You gasp softly at the sudden lack of distance between you both. You’re close— so close, that if you were to just lean forward, your noses would touch. You could make out the specks of brown that dances in his irises, though they’re no longer filled with the mirth you’ve gotten used to since you arrived a week ago.

No— because right now, Kang Younghyun is looking at you the way he did back then, with that quiet, unspoken tenderness that always made you wonder if he loved you.

“You okay?” He asks, quieter now.

You don’t answer immediately, only now realising that you’re not even spinning anymore. You loosen your grip on him, letting yourself slide down his back.

“What do you think?” You mutter. “I smell like actual shit.”

Younghyun chuckles, but he doesn’t tease. He stares at you for a moment before he reaches towards you, like he wants to move a stray hair off your face.

Like the way he used to.

But he pauses at the last second, and you see the way his jaw ticks before he drops his hand. And just like that— the easy smile makes its way back to his lips. Like nothing’s ever happened.

You don’t dwell long enough to wonder if he’s faking it or not.

“We should probably get back to work if we don’t want to get yelled at again.”

You narrow your eyes at him, talking as if this whole thing isn’t his fault to begin with. You opt to bite your tongue, glancing towards the shed instead.

You turn back to him. “Last one to reach the stalls scrapes cow poop off the wall.”

Younghyun startles. “Wait, what wall-“

But you’re already gone, kicking up mud in your wake.

You hear him shout out your name, that stupid nickname you claim to loathe so much, before his footsteps follow after you, deliberate and teasing. He’s not even trying to catch up to you, and you know it.

And for the first time since you’ve arrived here, you don’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of your chest.

✦ ✦ ✦

It takes a few showers to completely get the smell off of you, and by the time you’re done, you’re starving.

The house is empty, just like you had expected, but what you didn’t expect was for there to be no food under the food cover on the table.

You frown as you turn to the fridge, where a particular note catches your eye.

Preparing for festival. Come to the village hall if you’re hungry. 

You’re seriously considering having sleep for dinner given how tired you are, but you’re also really famished, so that’s what eventually makes you drag your feet outside, not bothering to remove the towel from your neck as you trudge lazily towards the building a few houses down.

The village hall is dark as you near it, and you figure nobody’s inside and there’s probably just some leftovers for you in the communal fridge. You push the door open, and—

“Surprise!”

You nearly drop your towel.

The light in the living room flickers on, and you’re met with a crowd of familiar faces— including Younghyun who stands right in the middle, looking stupid with a party hat that’s far too small for him on top of his head. Someone sets a party popper too late, and the speaker screeches before blasting birthday trot music loudly. There’s even a banner with your name and a collage of your photos from when you were young to right before you left for university. And along the wall leading to the kitchen, is a long table packed with all your favourite dishes.

You blink, stunned. “I- what is this-“

“Your party, silly!” Grandma steps forward as she takes your hands into hers, smiling at you fondly. “Did you really think we’d forget our favourite granddaughter’s birthday?”

The tears are quick to pool in your eyes. “I’m your only granddaughter,” you manage to chuckle through a sob.

“Yes, but we’re not your only grandparents, are we now?” She motions to the elders behind her. “Go on.”

You barely have time to protest before you’re ushered away, pulled into a flurry of hugs and too many plates of food. You’re quick to get lost in the warmth of it all, though every so often, you still find yourself searching for the one person who demands your attention even in a room full of people.

And every time your eyes would meet across the room, he’d give you that same soft smile— the one that admittedly makes your chest twist a little.

It isn’t until much later when the laughter starts to die down and the crowd starts to thin do you slip outside the back door for some fresh air. It wasn’t like you were looking for him, but you’re still grateful to find him there, sitting on the steps, staring into the distance with a bottled drink in his hand.

Younghyun looks up, lips settling into an easy smile when he sees you. “If it isn’t the birthday girl.”

You don’t reply immediately as you sit next to him. “I didn’t think anyone remembered.”

He’s silent for a while before he replies softly, “I never forgot.”

Your breath hitches at his words. Younghyun chuckles under his breath before he inhales, looking at you. “Well, it’s not every day you turn thirty, huh? I know it’s probably different than how you would’ve done it in Seoul, but we make do.”

“I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed it in the city anyway.” You smile faintly, wrapping your arms around your knees as you hug them to your chest. You know Younghyun’s still staring at you, but you don’t look at him— not yet. “I … lost my job. Spent years flying all over the world, only to be grounded by age in the end. If you’d asked me a month ago, I would’ve told you I was miserable. But now that I’m here…” you pause to take a breath. “I guess thirty isn’t so bad when you’re surrounded by an ageing community.”

Younghyun laughs, even despite your poor attempt at a joke. It’s quiet for a while, but not the uncomfortable kind, until you feel him shift beside you.

You look at him as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small bag.

You recognise it instantly from the small stall at the market a few days back.

“Happy birthday, Peach,” he says, handing it to you.

You’re stunned, and it takes you a while to accept it. The fabric is delicate in your fingers, and as you pull apart the string to open the bag, a necklace drops onto your palm, the delicate lilac charm catching in the moonlight.

“It’s really pretty…” You feel your throat begin to tighten, but you don’t cry yet. “What does this one mean?”

Younghyun laughs under his breath, looking back to the view. “You’ll figure it out.”

You scrunch your brows at his obscure answer, but before you could press, he’s already handing something else to you. “Here.”

It’s a book— a planner, it seems— the numbers 2015 embossed on the cover.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion as you flip it open. Inside the front cover, scrawled in fading ink is a small note:

For all the stories you’ll live out there. Write them down and don’t forget about here.

Don’t forget about me.

— Younghyun

“I was supposed to give this to you back then. Before- you know,” he trails off.

You blink, only for a single tear to drop on the page, right next to the words he’d written for you.

“I was stupid,” Younghyun continues quietly. “I thought hurting you would make it easier to let you go. But it didn’t,” he chuckles. “It only hurt me even more.”

You shut the book. “God,” you mutter, biting your lip to stop it from trembling. “God, you suck, Younghyun.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles breathlessly, reaching out to brush his thumb gently against the moisture on your cheek. “I know, Peach.”

You laugh, but it comes out as watery. “You made me cry on my birthday,” you sniff, looking at him through your bleary vision. “You ass.”

Younghyun’s smile softens, and he shifts a bit closer. His hand lingers on your skin, like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t want him to.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, quieter now. “I’m so sorry, Princess.”

You didn’t need him to say more— not when the tremble in his voice is evident, like its holding the weight of the ache you’ve shared over the last ten years. For every silence, and for every what-could’ve-been.

And as you lean on his shoulder, his arm coming up to wrap around you, you start to feel at home again.

VIII. THINGS ARE SWEET LIKE SUMMER FRUIT.

The next morning, the air feels different. 

Not drastically so. Younghyun still teases you when you trip over the uneven path outside your grandparents’ house. You still threaten to hit him with your sandal every few minutes. But there’s something between the both of you, something soft and unspoken, unsaid but understood.

You’re sitting on the pyeongsang behind the village hall, a stack of signboards between your legs as you work on painting the one on top. You’re relieved to get a bit of downtime after being roped off to help with harvesting earlier, while Younghyun had gone off the collect the tarps and poles from the old storage hut.

You haven’t seen him since then, though you’re sure he’s probably just around the back where the tents are being set up. You’re almost tempted to go take a look, bother him for no reason, maybe even trick him into getting you an ice cream from the convenience store.

You don’t even realise you’re smiling to yourself like an idiot until Grandpa appears.

“There you are!”

You look up, brows furrowing slightly to see that he isn’t alone. You don’t recognise the man next to him, but the thing that catches your attention instead is his suitcase, attached to it a tag with the words: FLIGHT CREW. 

And judging based on the white dress shirt he dons, the shoulder tabs empty where a pair of epaulettes should be, you know who— or rather, what, he is—

“You’re a pilot,” you blurt.

The man laughs, though you could tell he’s slightly taken aback by your words. “I… yeah. Wow. I actually wasn’t expecting anyone to catch on.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I work as a flight attendant. Well, used to,” you quickly correct yourself. You wipe your hands on your pants before standing up, muttering out an apology for your lack of manners before introducing yourself meekly.

“This is Sungjin,” Grandpa says. “He’ll be staying over at the inn for a while. Thought I’d introduce you both since, you know, you have something in common.” Grandpa turns to him, patting his back. “You came at the right time, son! The harvest festival is taking place in a few days. I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”

Sungjin smiles, bowing his head politely. “If you need help with anything, please, let me know.”

“Ah, don’t be silly. You’re a guest! Though I’m sure my granddaughter would be more than happy to show you around, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

“I- of course!” You stutter slightly, not expecting for the conversation to be thrown back to you. “I do need to go to the market later. Why don’t you tag along?”

“That sounds great, actually.” Sungjin nods. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” You bite your inner lip to suppress a smile, though you don’t think it’s working very much.

Sungjin’s really handsome, and even from the short conversation you’ve had with him, you already know he’s effortlessly charming. It’s rare for Pyoseon-ri to receive visitors, let alone someone with a noble job like his.

“What’s got you smiling so prettily?” A new voice asks a few moments later, and you turn to see that it’s Younghyun.

“No one,” you mutter, before clearing your throat. “I mean, nothing. Are you done with setting up the tents?”

Younghyun shrugs, hands gripping the towel slung around his neck. “We’re putting up the lanterns tonight. Wanna come with me to the market?”

You gasp, a smile making its way to your lips as you set down your paintbrush, standing up eagerly. “Actually, yeah. There’s someone I want you to meet— I'll introduce you to him later. Pick me up at the inn in an hour, okay?”

“Him?” Younghyun echoes, but you’re already skipping back towards the village hall, blissfully unaware.

He watches you go, the warmth of your smile lingering even after you’re long gone. He exhales softly before turning back to the shed, though for some reason, he can't shake off the feeling of unease that’s beginning to bloom in his chest.

✦ ✦ ✦

Younghyun tightens his grip around the steering wheel.

You’re seated right next to him, knee bumping into his every time his truck goes over a hump, but even despite the lack of distance between you both, your attention isn’t on him.

It’s on Park Sungjin.

Younghyun hasn’t said a single word since he picked you and your new pilot friend up in his truck; he couldn’t, even if he wanted to. There’s an ease between the two of you— shared lingo, familiar gripes, jokes only people in the aviation industry would understand. It’s comfortable, natural.

And in the driver’s seat, Younghyun is anything but.

You’re laughing at something Sungjin had said, and the sound causes him to inhale sharply— not like he had meant to. But that must've caught the pilot’s attention, because he soon turns to him.

“What about you, Younghyun? Have you always been at the village?”

He could tell the question is genuine, but his lips still twitch in irritation. “Yeah,” he utters, keeping his voice level. “I did leave for a few years to do my masters, but now here I am.”

“You know, you never told me what you studied,” you pause before an excited gasp leaves your lips. “Was it music? You know, Younghyun’s really good with instruments.” You turn back to Sungjin. “Back when we were younger, he’d always have his guitar with him, even if it was just to go to the convenience store. It was so annoying-“ you laugh before your voice grows softer, “but everybody always looked forward to hear him play.”

Younghyun’s breath hitches at your words, though he’s not quite sure if it’s because you’d remembered, or the fact that he hasn’t heard you this animated since you came here.

You’re still turned towards Sungjin, cheeks flushed with laughter, and he watches the way you light up in a way he hasn’t seen— not for him, at least. Not like you did last time.

A flicker of something bitter coils in his chest.

“It was environmental law,” he utters curtly, knuckles paling as he squeezes the steering wheel again.

“Wow, really?” You sound genuinely surprised.

He chuckles dryly. “Why? Didn’t think I had it in me?”

“No.” You frown. “I just- wasn’t expecting that.” You’re quiet for a few seconds before you continue, “then… why did you stay?” You ask tentatively, as though unsure on whether your question would be deemed offensive or not.

Younghyun takes a beat to reply, but his words are sure. “Because Pyoseon’s my home.”

The ride is silent after that.

IX. YOUNGHYUN IS IN A BIT OF A JAM.

It seems like the harvest festival has gotten everyone’s hands on deck, because Younghyun hasn’t spoken to you in days. He’s seen you, of course, but most of the time you’re either busy helping out the grandmas in the communal kitchen, or out in the fields harvesting fruit as you giggle with Sungjin about God knows what.

Younghyun strikes down his axe with a little more force than necessary, the wood log splitting into two in one go. He just doesn’t get why Sungjin has to linger around, offering to help, but more importantly— why did he have to stick with you?

“Need help?”

Younghyun pauses, glancing over his shoulder to see that it’s the man himself, two cans of beer in his hands. He offers one— and because Younghyun doesn’t want to seem like an asshole— he accepts.

“So, is the harvest festival a big thing you guys do every year? Seems like everybody is involved.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Younghyun utters, tapping his fingers mindlessly on the rim before cracking the tab open. “It’s mostly out of tradition, not money. The elders have been doing it for years now.”

“I see. I like it, though.” Sungjin smiles wistfully. “The village spirit, I mean. You don’t really get to see that elsewhere.”

Younghyun hums, taking a sip of his beer for the mere sake of needing something to do. It’s not like he has anything against small talk, but it’s obvious from the get-go that him and Sungjin are worlds apart. That, and—

“You don’t like me very much, do you?”

Younghyun raises a brow before he chuckles, though he’s sure it comes off more sarcastic than amused. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, for starters, you always look less than thrilled every time I’m around. Even now, you’re gripping on to that can like you have a personal grudge against it.” Sungjin nods towards the can in his hand, which, true to his words, is being held in an iron grip. Younghyun relaxes his fingers.

“I’m just not too keen on newcomers,” Younghyun mutters under his breath, taking another swig from his drink.

“No.” Sungjin pushes himself off the wall behind him. “You’re just not too keen on me.”

Younghyun laughs humourlessly. To think that he thought he was being stupid for not liking the dude when he hasn’t done anything wrong— scratch that. He thinks he might actually hate the guy now.

“And it’s all because of a certain someone, isn’t it?”

He didn’t even need to say your name. The knowing glint in his eyes is enough.

“Well, I don’t blame you,” Sungjin continues lightly. He takes a slow sip of his beer, eyes still on Younghyun. “She’s easy to like.”

Younghyun’s jaw tightens.

Oh, he’s really starting to hate this guy.

“There you are!”

The sound of your voice causes Younghyun to look away first, breaking whatever staring contest he was having with Sungjin. You approach them with a smile, clearly unaware of the tension in the air.

“Can somebody help me lift the fruit crates? They’re heavier than they look,” you huff, brushing your hair behind your ear while your other hand stays on your hip.

You’re sure you’re looking a mess right now, your skin flushed pink due to the heat and your shirt clinging to your body with sweat. You’ve been on your feet since daybreak, and you think your limbs might just fall off if you so much try to carry something with your arms.

“I got it.”

“I’ll help.”

Both men say at the same time, and your eyes widen before you let out a chuckle. “Okay. Didn’t know I was so in-demand,” you attempt at a joke, but only Sungjin laughs.

“What can I say? It must be your lucky day.”

Your smile drops a fraction as you glance at Younghyun, who only looks away when your eyes meet.

He still hasn’t looked at you properly since your conversation with him in his truck, and you’re stuck wondering if he’s mad at you— that you’d crossed a line without meaning to.

You thought things were better now— they were supposed to be, because what the hell was that night on your birthday, then? Or that little moment you had at the farm?

Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you’d been looking too much into it.

Or maybe, Kang Younghyun's still the same boy you knew from ten years ago— bad with words, and even worst with emotions.

✦ ✦ ✦

The three of you end up working side by side, but even then, you can't stop your eyes from drifting to Younghyun every now and then.

He's quiet, mostly keeping his focus on the task at hand and barely speaking unless he has to.

Now you know that something's definitely up.

You wait until Sungjin excuses himself to take a call before stepping closer. "Hey," you say softly, tentatively. "Can we talk?"

Younghyun glances over his shoulder. "Sure," he exhales before facing you completely, wiping his palms on his pants. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just..." you trail off, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve as you think of your next words. "The other day? In your truck. I'm sorry if I said something out of line. I never meant to make you feel like your choice wasn't good enough."

Younghyun tilts his head, almost in confusion as his brows furrow. "Wha- Peach," he sighs as he steps closer. "You didn't say anything wrong. Did I really make you feel that way?"

"I don't know." You shrug, averting your gaze. "I guess I just thought you were mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you. I could never be mad at you, Princess," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry. I worried you, didn't I?"

You meet his gaze again, and for the first time in days, it feels like he's really looking at you.

You bite your inner lip, and Younghyun's gaze softens. He doesn't hesitate before bringing his palm to your cheek, caressing your skin gently. "I'm just... figuring things out," he says quietly. "Don't think about it too much, okay?"

You're not convinced, and you're sure he could see through you, but Younghyun settles for a smile— soft, genuine, and unlike the teasing smirks he'd always shoot your way. You can't help but wonder if things really are changing between the both of you.

"Tomorrow," he continues softly. "Would you make some time for me? During the festival?"

You don't know why he even felt the need to ask. "Of course, Younghyun."

His smile grows wider then, but it still doesn't reach his eyes. "Then that's enough consolation for me."

You don't know what he means by that, but you decide to let it be for now.

Because maybe, you were wrong. As much as Kang Younghyun is still bad with handling his emotions, it didn't mean that he's still the same boy you left ten years ago.

Because this time, he's not pushing you away.

This time, he's finally trying.

And you're not going to let the same thing from before happen again.

X. BEFORE THE STORM IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH...

Lanterns glow overhead, casting the village in a warm haze. The air smells of sweet teok and grilled seafood, and as much as you’re tempted to help yourself to another round, the fireworks show is about to start, and you’re still yet to find the one person you’ve been looking for since the festival started.

You’re breathless by the time you spot Younghyun, over at the game booths where he’s currently competing in ball toss with one of the village kids. He’s looking far too engrossed and far too set on winning that he doesn’t even notice you, only doing so when the game ends and he turns to give the kid a high-five. The bright smile on his face grows softer then, and you step towards him.

“You couldn’t have let him win?”

Younghyun chuckles. “He’s twelve. He’ll be fine. You didn’t see me give him my prize?”

“I did. I just wanted to tease you.”

The soft smile is still etched on his lips as he gazes at you. Quietly, he says, “come. I want to show you something.”

You nod, letting him lead the way. The chatter and laughter of the crowd grow more distant the further you set out, and soon you’re surrounded by nothing but the occasional chirping of crickets and the sound of your own footsteps.

“You’re not kidnapping me, are you?” You ask warily. “At least let me watch the fireworks first.”

Younghyun laughs as he glances over his shoulder. “You’ll get your fireworks, Peach. I’m not that cruel.”

You roll your eyes, though it lacks any real bite. It’s dark out, making it difficult for you to actually tell where you are— that is, until the path you’re on starts looking a little too familiar, and you realise—

“The peach orchard?”

Younghyun nods with a proud grin. “I just thought it was weird we haven’t been here since you arrived. So I figured, why not tonight? For old time’s sake.”

You let out a short laugh as you step forward, taking in the scene before you. It’s still the same as you remember, with the four-seater swing under the oldest tree where you used to spend too much time eating peaches on, and the solar-powered garden lanterns that would only turn on at night lined along the pathway.

You turn to Younghyun to say something— anything, at that point— but the sudden series of whistles and crackles in the sky cause you to look up instead.

You marvel at the explosion of colours, streaks of red and gold sizzling at the edges before dissapearing into smoke.

“So pretty,” you murmur, mostly to yourself.

“The prettiest,” Younghyun replies just as quietly, and you turn to see that he’s already looking at you.

His gaze doesn't waver, not when the sky lights up again, not when the boom rattles around you. You wonder how long he's been watching you instead of the fireworks.

"You haven't changed," he continues. "You still light up like that when you're happy."

You heart thunders in your chest. "I- what do you mean?”

Younghyun smiles faintly. "Your birthday. The day at the farm. This moment right now," he exhales. "I've been holding myself back from saying it all this while, but I don't think I can keep doing that anymore."

Another burst of light reflects in his eyes when he finally turns to you fully.

"I never stopped loving you, Peach.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and when you see the way his eyes flicker to your lips, you’re sure you stop breathing completely.

Slowly, Younghyun leans in, his fingers reaching up to brush against your cheek. You don’t pull away, and the moment his breath hits your skin, you close your eyes.

But just as his lips are about to touch yours—

Your phone pings.

You flinch, hands fumbling to silence it. But Younghyun’s already glanced down, catching the name on your screen.

Sungjin.

He inhales sharply. It’s quiet, but you catch it anyway.

“We should head back,” he mutters, taking a step back. “Before somebody else notices you’re gone.”

“Younghyun, don’t do that,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I’m not letting you push me away. Not again.”

“I’m not pushing you away, I just-“ he pauses to sigh. “He likes you too, you know?”

“So?” You scoff. “Sungjin’s just a friend, and he’s literally leaving next week. It’s not like he’s staying here forever.”

“And you are?”

His question sounds simple, but it carries a certain weight you’ve been dead set on avoiding. You look away. 

“I don’t know.” It’s silent for a while before you sigh. “He told me there’s an opening at his airline. I- I haven’t said yes yet, but-“

“But you’re thinking about it.”

You nod slowly. “It’s a good opportunity.”

“If it’s something you want.“ His eyes drift to the sky. “Then you should go for it.”

You remain silent as you search his face, trying to find a hint of sincerity. But his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and that tells you all you need to know.

“Do you want me to?”

“If it makes you happy,” Younghyun quips simply, like that in itself is enough— it isn’t.

You step closer towards him. “That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s what matters,” he corrects you, and your heart twists. Because as much as he’s saying all the right things, you can see right through him— the ache he’s trying to swallow down.

And suddenly, it feels like you’re staring at twenty-two year old Kang Younghyun again, only this time, he’s not just letting you go— he’s bracing for it.

XI. PEACH BETTER HAVE MY HEART.

You ended up taking the job.

You didn’t tell Younghyun, but he found out anyway. Word spreads fast in the small village of Pyoseon— that, and that Sungjin had already told him, the day he was set to leave.

"I don't know what happened between you two, but I think you fucked up, dude," Sungjin muttered as he loaded his bags into the taxi. He turned to Younghyun. "But anyway, she already said no to me. Do what you will with that info." He smiled briefly, patting him on the shoulder. "I don't suppose you'd be up for a drink the next time I come here?"

Younghyun chuckled, and for the first time, there wasn't any hint of malice in it. "Have a safe journey, man."

And that led him to now, in his room, lying down on his bed as he stares at the ceiling blankly.

Younghyun knows he's in no place to blame you for not letting him know. After all, it was him who had run away like a coward— all because he was far too afraid to tell you that he wanted you to stay. Needed you to stay.

But who is he to do that? Who is he to stop you from chasing your own happiness? You'd left ten years ago and managed to make a name for yourself— that alone was evidence at how well you could thrive without having anything holding you back. Meanwhile, his masters degree is collecting dust somewhere in his drawer, all because he couldn't bear to leave the village and the people he calls home.

Maybe this is what it means to love someone. Wanting you to be happy, even if it doesn't include him.

But of course, what he doesn't know is that he's missed the point entirely— because there's no damn way you could be happy without him.

You stare out of the window blankly, the fields passing you by. You don't notice the way Grandpa keeps stealing glances at you as he drives, far too caught up in your own thoughts.

"He'll show up. Don't worry."

You turn to look at him. "Huh?"

"Younghyun."

You scoff humourlessly. "I highly doubt it."

"Even then, what seems to be the issue? You're finally getting back on your feet. Soon you'll be flying again, and you won't even remember it happened."

"I don't think I could ever forget him," you say quietly. "I never did. Even when I left ten years ago. Even when I kept coming back to visit and he wasn't around. Even when-" you pause, fiddling with your fingers. "Even when he hurt me. Pushed me away."

Grandpa sighs. "Did he ever tell you why he left?"

"Yeah? To get his masters."

"No," Grandpa chuckles. "Well, he did, but that wasn't all to it. Said he wanted to give it a try— do something new. Just like you did." He smiles wistfully. "So he took on environmental law. And he was good at it, you know? Until he came back and said it wasn't for him."

He shakes his head. "But I knew it wasn't his job he disliked— it was the system. He realised he'd be spending more time fighting paperwork than actually making a change, so... he left. Because in this day and age, where everyone wants to sell and modernise, someone has to stay behind and say no."

You swallow harshly. "I didn't know that."

"He never stopped talking about you, you know?" Grandpa glances at you softly. "About how much he admired you for going out there, living life in a way he never could've imagined himself to do."

You remain wordless, though your heart rings loudly in your ears.

He sighs then. "He never wanted to hold you back. A quiet life in a quiet town? That's Younghyun. But it isn't you, is it?"

"I could be." The words tumble out of your mouth before you could stop them, and when you turn to Grandpa, wide-eyed, he's already smiling at you softly.

"What's stopping you, then?"

Your pulse beats faster now, louder, and though your next words come out in a hushed whisper, you've never been more sure.

"Turn back around, Grandpa. Please."

✦ ✦ ✦

Younghyun isn't home by the time you reach his place. Grandpa's already left, and so that leaves you with no choice but to sit at his front doorstep— not like you even wanted to leave, anyway. You'd wait all night for him if you have to, just so you could scream at his face and call him stupid and then kiss him senseless. In that order exactly.

You don't notice how much time had passed— definitely far too long, that's for sure— as you tremble in the cold, fiddling with the charm of the necklace he gifted you; like doing so would give you some semblance of hope that he'd return.

And he does, hours later, his hair unkempt like he's brushed his hand through it one too many times, face sullen and eyes red like he'd been crying.

He spots you the same time you look up, and Younghyun stops in his tracks, lips parting.

"Peach-"

"You weren't even going to say goodbye?" You whisper harshly, getting to your feet as you step towards him until you were toe to toe. "I waited for you." Your voice trembles, and you know you're about to start crying. "I waited for you and risked almost missing my flight, but you never came. And then Grandpa told me we had to go, and I did, and then I told him I couldn't do it and asked him to turn back around and- and you weren't even home!"

Younghyun gazes at you silently before he looks to his shoes, exhaling shakily. "I went to the airport," he murmurs as he clenches his fists, knuckles turning white. "I thought- I thought you left. That I was too late. That I missed my chance to fix things again-"

"Then why do you keep doing that?" You question him exasperatedly. "After everything! My birthday, the fireworks— you told me you never stopped loving me. And you were just going to let me leave?" 

"Because I knew you'd stay," he fires back, voice cracking. "And I didn't want you to drop everything just because I asked you to."

"God, Younghyun," you chuckle bitterly. "That isn't your choice to make!"

"You think I don't know that?" He exclaims, frustrated. "You think I haven't kicked myself for every second I spent not running after you?"

Younghyun clenches his jaw as he turns away, tears pooling in his eyes. "Ten years ago, I let you go because I was scared— scared that loving you from halfway across the country would wreck me. And maybe it would have. But watching you leave again, not because you wanted to, but because you thought I didn't care— that broke me worse."

You're quiet as you let your first tear fall.

"I didn't let you go because I didn't love you," Younghyun whispers, meeting your gaze again. "I let you go because I did. So much. And I didn't know how to hold on to someone whose dreams would always take her to anywhere else."

"That's why you didn't fight for me?" You ask quietly, shakily.

A humourless scoff escapes his lips. "I didn't think I deserved to."

"Idiot." A choked sob escapes your lips, followed by a short laugh as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand. "I love you too, you know?"

Younghyun gazes at you sadly through his own tears.

"Grandpa told me everything," you continue, lips still trembling. "The actual reason you stayed. And if you'd just told me—" you hiccup. "We could've figured something out. Anything. Because I don't think I'd be able to leave a second time knowing I'm not the only one still holding on," you pause. "Am I?"

"God, no." Younghyun runs a hand through his face. "Never."

"Then let's take this chance," you whisper, taking his hands into yours. "We've lost ten years already, so don't you dare push me away because you think you're not enough. Let me decide if it's worth it."

Younghyun chuckles softly, and he lets you reach up to wipe the moisture from his cheeks, still staring at you like you're the only thing that matters in his world. You are.

"I'm not staying for you, Younghyun. I'm staying with you. Remember that."

Finally, he pulls you in, and this time, Younghyun holds you like he's afraid you'd slip through his fingers again. You let him, clutching the back of his shirt like it's the only thing anchoring you to the ground.

"Okay," he murmurs, his lips brushing the crown of your forehead. "I don't want to run anymore. Not if you'd still have me."

"Stupid. Of course I'll still have you," you mumble against his chest before pulling back to look at him. "But you'd have to spend the rest of your life making it up to me."

He smiles, thumbs brushing the sides of your face. "I wouldn't dare think of doing otherwise."

And then, he kisses you, and it feels like a new life has been breathed into you once again.

It isn't loud, or overwhelming— just the steady beat of two hearts finally catching up to one another.

Home.

20 Minutes Later

"I'm an empath -- have you ever heard of that? It's when someone can feel other people's feelings so keenly that it's as if that person is feeling the same things himself. I'm an empath, which is honestly kind of a curse, but it also means I'm really emotionally intelligent and available, and women say they want that --"

"We do," you interrupted.

You weren't even half an hour into this date, and you were already comfortable with interrupting him. And, truly, this guy -- Evan -- desperately needed to be interrupted.

Not that it did much good.

"But as we can see, I'm still on the dating apps looking for someone. So, I think we can both agree that women don't really know what they want."

"I do," you rebutted.

He smiled at you as if to say Right, of course you do in the most patronizing, condescending way.

"Then you should really give my podcast a listen," he said with a nod. "I promise, even just the first episode, you'll learn so much."

Highly doubtful.

"What's it called again?" you asked placatingly.

"Nice Guys Finish Last," he answered.

Raising your eyebrows, you lifted your water glass and sipped at the last dregs of half-melted ice just so you'd have something to do.

Usually, you weren't comfortable with conflict. In just about every aspect of your life, you avoided it as much as you possibly could.

So, when you put down your glass and the words, "Isn't that a bit negative for a title?" came out of your mouth, you immediately wanted to blame Brian.

He was your most argumentative friend, by far -- in fact, the most argumentative person you'd ever met -- but somehow, his unfailing need to debate anything and everything never made you uncomfortable. It irritated you, most definitely, but... some secret part of you had always wanted to be more like that. More combative, more apt to play Devil's Advocate.

And now you were.

Brian was absolutely to blame.

"Negative?" Evan questioned with a frown. "No, absolutely not. Why do you say that?"

...Really?

Okay, you had two choices: let it go or instigate.

If you let it go, then there was a much smaller chance you wouldn't get more annoyed than you already were.

If you instigated... then there was a much better chance this date would win you the bet.

"Well, the term 'nice guy' has become synonymous with an Incel Neckbeard who thinks he's nice but, in actuality, he holds women to the highest, most impossible standards and, at the same time, in the absolute lowest regard. And, yeah, obviously, someone like that will finish last because, with that brand of thinking, he believes he's entitled to a woman's time, love, and body simply because he's attracted to her and is maybe willing to buy her dinner. No woman who has any respect for herself would choose to be with someone like that."

...God, that felt good.

But instead of leaving Evan speechless like you'd hoped, he very quickly responded by scoffing, shaking his head, and saying, "No, you've got it all wrong. That's not at all what it means, and that's especially not what my podcast is about."

Yet again, you found yourself at a crossroads. If you continued to instigate, this could turn into a full-on debate at the dinner table. But since the goal was to have a bad date -- not a debate that would most certainly end with you storming out of the restaurant in a matter of minutes -- that didn't seem like the best choice.

So, you did something you swore you'd never do for a man (but, again, since this wasn't actually a real date, it didn't count) -- you played dumb.

"Oh? Then, please, enlighten me. I'm all ears."

And he spent the next ten minutes doing just that.

Hey, if I tell you about the date I just went on, would that exclude it from counting toward the bet?

Absolutely not, because I also just went on a date, and I don't think I can not tell you about it.

THANK GOD. How close are you to Spill the Beans?

Not far. I can be there in 10.

Perf. Meet you there.

You'd barely been able to make it out to your car before texting Brian -- the date had been that bad. And, honestly, the thought of a debrief with Brian afterward had been basically the only thing to get you through the evening.

Well, that, plus a hot decaf latte from your favorite local coffee shop.

Really, you couldn't believe your luck. Not only had Brian also been on a bad date, but he wasn't too far to meet you. What were the odds?

Before you pulled out of your parking spot, you pulled up your Girl Power playlist -- the one you'd crafted of only female artists -- and turned your volume up a few more notches than usual.

After the conversation you just had, you needed to belt out some female empowerment tunes.

Sadly, the drive to Spill the Beans was so short that you'd only been able to listen to two songs all the way through -- hardly enough to get your adrenaline pumping. But could you really complain? Getting a sweet, hot beverage and actually spilling the beans about your terrible date to one of your best friends was far more important and rewarding, and that's exactly what you were here to do!

Within just a few minutes after parking outside of the coffee shop, you'd stepped up to the register and greeted the employee working the counter (whose nametag read 'Imani') with a smile.

Right as you were opening your mouth to order your decaf vanilla latte, you felt someone appear right behind and beside you, their hand familiarly taking hold of your elbow.

Before you even had a chance to turn and see who it was -- or rather, confirm that it was who you thought it was -- you heard "Decaf vanilla latte and decaf Americano, both hot, and for here, please," in Brian's voice.

"Sure thing," Imani replied as she typed in the order. "Anything from the bakery?"

"Cinnamon bun, please," you answered without hesitation.

"Make that two," Brian added.

"Two cinnamon buns, coming right up." Imani handed you a numbered sign to put on your table. Then, when she announced the total of your order, Brian handed his card to her without giving you a sliver of a chance to offer to pay for it.

"Thanks," you murmured as the two of you turned away from the register and started walking toward an empty table in the corner. "You didn't have to, though. Weren't you just on a date? I'm sure you had to pay for dinner."

"Oh, boy, did I," Brian chuckled. "She made sure that I did, don't you worry about that."

"Good grief," you sighed. "Sounds like your story will be just as entertaining as mine!"

Brian let out a soft groan as he sat down, and once you set the number on the table and took your seat across from him, he lifted his eyebrows and said, "I'm happy to go first, but I'm also happy to listen to you first."

"Okay, wait, before we get started: we're making a promise right here and now that everything we share with each other tonight will be exactly what we share with the book club at the end of the bet. No more, no less, no differences," you stated, reaching your hand across the table so the two of you could shake on it.

But, unsurprisingly, Brian scoffed instead of shaking your hand. "What?!" he cried. "You think I would lie just to win?"

"...Yes, absolutely," you answered, brow furrowed. You were confused as to why he'd even ask. He definitely knew you would think that! Or, at least, he should have known.

"I would not!" he cried, clearly offended.

"Oh, please," you retorted, pursing your lips. "Maybe you wouldn't lie, but you would definitely exaggerate."

Brian simply frowned at you, but you didn't budge; you kept your hand outstretched, waiting for him to confirm his promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

After a few moments (moments that were somewhat awkwardly silent, if you were being honest), Brian leaned forward and said, "I'm going to shake your hand, but I want you to know that I'm not shaking your head because I'm admitting that you're right. I'm shaking your hand because it's not worth arguing about right now."

And he did just that: he reached over across the table and shook your hand once, firmly.

"All right, go ahead," he said in somewhat clipped tones as he settled back into his chair.

...Had you actually hurt his feelings? Why had he said it's not worth arguing about right now, and why was he being so short, and why was he barely looking at you?

This was new. In all of your years of friendship with Brian, you couldn't remember a time when you'd truly offended him. You'd teased him relentlessly and countless times, and he'd always either given it right back to you or agreed with you.

"Tell me about your date," Brian prompted, making you realize you may have been too lost in your thoughts about this.

"Right, sorry," you murmured, shaking your head slightly to get out of your head and back into the coffee shop.

"Well," you began. "He has a podcast."

"Oh, lord," Brian replied, rolling his eyes heavily.

"Exactly."

As you continued to explain everything that had happened and everything your date had said -- with a short break when your beverages and cinnamon rolls were delivered to your table -- you saw Brian gradually visibly relaxing.

Thank goodness, because you really hadn't known what to do with his brusque behavior. You couldn't stress enough how foreign his words and actions had been, and you hadn't been at all prepared for it. So, to say you were relieved that he now seemed like the Brian you knew was an understatement.

In the back of your head, you also wondered why the whole thing had affected you to this degree.

But... that wasn't something you needed to think about! Now or... ever.

"No!" Brian cried, brow furrowed. "You did not play dumb! Why?!"

"At that point in the date, I knew it wasn't worth it to debate with him," you explained. "It was bad enough! I didn't need to make it worse by causing a scene and arguing with him."

Brian sighed, lifting his mug and taking a sip before saying, "Yeah, I get that. But I'm sorry you had to experience it."

"Nah," you shrugged. "I wanted to go on a bad date, and a bad date it was, indeed."

But Brian spoke before you could laugh it off. "No, it's not fair that you had to play dumb," he stated, shaking his head. "It's not fair that women, in general, have to play dumb just so they won't start arguments with men and fear for their safety. It actually --"

He cut himself off, his forehead so deeply creased that it... well, to be honest, it surprised you.

You weren't sure why it surprised you, because Brian had been a pretty outspoken Feminist for as long as you'd known him. He'd always supported and encouraged you; he'd just never been this... angry about it.

"Hey," you interjected, keeping your voice low and calm. "It's all right. I didn't do it because I feared for my safety, though that does happen all the time. But that's not something we can solve right now, here in this coffee shop, so let's table that for the time being, huh?"

Brian shot you a glance -- one that clearly said he was sorry -- and simply nodded. "Now it's your turn," you reminded him. "What happened on your date?"

As if to calm himself down, take some time to breathe, Brian took a bite of his cinnamon roll before launching into the retelling of his own experience that evening.

Honestly, his date sounded pretty similar to yours: she talked at him rather than having an actual conversation, she was dismissive of his interests, and -- maybe worst of all -- she didn't read.

"No, but wait," you gasped. "I just saw something that said the average person reads, like, four or five books a year. Meaning as many as half of all people don't even read that many, if any at all!"

"And she was in that half, apparently!" Brian replied. "Then, when the check came, all she said was our server was great, make sure you leave them a nice tip, and then went to the bathroom."

"Wow," you chuckled. "Honestly, we're going to need the book club, because I can't pick which one is worse."

Brian opened his mouth to -- you assumed -- agree with you, but then he quickly shut it and took a sip of his drink instead.

"...What?" you asked suspiciously. It certainly wasn't like Brian to not say something.

"Nothing, I -- Well, I was just going to state my opinion, but the bet's only just begun. I should probably hold my thoughts until the end, don't you think?"

As much as you wanted to know what he was thinking... you had to agree with him.

"Sounds fair to me," you nodded. "Because who's to say these first two dates will be our worst, right?"

Although the idea of going on a date worse than tonight's made you shiver.

Yikes.

"Exactly. But I do think we should meet after each date to debrief," Brian suggested. "Here, my place, your place, wherever we can. I want to hear all of the details, and I want to share everything in return."

A smile sprang to your lips, and you lifted your mug up in a friendly cheers.

"Agreed," you nodded before taking a drink.

And, honestly? The thought of meeting up with Brian after a terrible date to tell him everything about said terrible date... kind of... made you feel like going on all of these horrible dates was going to be worth it.

Young K laughed politely, shaking his head. “There is no secret.”

The interviewer gasped, faking annoyance. “Stop it, tell us! We must know, MyDays want to know – where do you find inspiration to write such heart-wrenching and soul-touching rock ballads? You’ve been told in the past that you write as though you’ve been through multiple divorces – is that true?”

“Hyung!” YoungK laughed at that comment, recounting that particular interview. “You know me well enough to know that I have not, in fact, been married or gotten divorced.” 

“Then how? We are all at the edge of our seats, dying to know. Those words, those lyrics – they must come from somewhere.”

“Well, if you must know…” Young K mulled over his words as comfortable silence fell between them. The soft instrumentals from their title song played in the background as he thought carefully about his response. “I consume a lot of media. Books, movies, videos, poetry… Everything inspires me. I take time to immerse myself in art so I can draw inspiration from it and create my own art. Of course, the members and I bounce off each other’s ideas and energies as well. Even something as simple as a walk in the park or a trip to a café can bring about unexpected scenes that can be inspiration for a tune or melody, which can eventually become a song on one of our albums.”

“Wow…” The interviewer clapped his hands in amazement once more. “Of course, as expected, you’re a true artist. Although… is there really no one special in your life that inspires you to write these songs? A girlfriend, or a crush, perhaps?”

“Hey…” Young K tutted, playfully shoving his colleague. “Like I said, you know me, there’s nothing like that.”

//

Your scissors rested heavily against your palm as your fingers carded through her hair, re-evaluating the length with great consideration. 

“Eonnie!” Your current client, Seulgi, gasped. “Isn’t this…”

Her words trailed off as she raised her phone towards you. 

The moment you laid eyes on the video, you hushed her. 

“Ah, so it is him…”

“Seulgi, please, you need to stay still, otherwise the cut will be uneven.” You muttered, your mood turning sour at the slightest mention of him.

“With you as my stylist? I don’t believe it. You’d never let me walk out of here without my hair looking absolutely immaculate.” She retorted. “How long has it been, a year?”

You gently fixed her posture before picking up a chunk of hair on her left side, diligently snipping away to give her face-framing layers. You mulled over her question, purposely making her wait. Sometimes you regret confiding in her. The lesser people knew about whatever happened between you and Young K, the better. “Hmm, a year and a bit.” You responded nonchalantly.

“Do you still think of him?” She asked, full of curiosity. She was half-paying attention to Young K’s live-streamed interview, half-listening to your replies. 

You considered this for a moment. It was a hard question to answer. In some ways, you had moved on. Your waking thoughts were no longer consumed by him. You took down the shared photos stuck on your fridge. Your head no longer turned at every indication of a customer walking through your salon’s doors, hoping that it would be him. You could finally listen to Day6 songs without having to skip over his parts.

And yet…

You still kept his unopened messages in KakaoTalk, unwilling to delete them. His hoodie from the previous world tour occupied a permanent space in the very edge of your closet. The bungeoppang vendor in front of your salon never stopped asking about ‘the tall, handsome young man’ whenever you bought a bag of red bean stuffed-pastries on cold winter days. You had to walk a different route every morning towards your bus stop to avoid the convenience store you frequented together on one too many late date nights filled with soju and ramen. Even now, as the harsh winter transitioned into spring, you couldn’t bear to throw away the plane tickets you kept from your trip to Jeju two autumns ago.

“Y/N eonnie?”

“Hmm?”

“I think he’s talking about you.”

You scoffed, combing through Seulgi’s soft locks.

She persisted. “I’m serious – didn’t you two go on that trip to Jeju? He’s talking about it now.”

//

“I love travelling, but personally for me, the purpose of the trip really matters. Say, for example, a trip I take with the members for a performance is vastly different to a holiday.”

“Of course, that makes sense. You can relax properly on a holiday because it’s not work.”

“Yes, and that’s not to say that I don’t enjoy touring and seeing MyDays from all across the world. But the intention is different. There’s a lot of things on my mind when I’m on tour – do I have all my music equipment? How am I gonna play this particular song, or what adlibs should I do for this performance? Questions like that constantly pop up in my head, and it’s hard to quiet them down.”

“Yes, you want to perform and do your best.”

“Exactly, but the trips that I take for leisure, that is my true healing time.”

“You mentioned going to Jeju?”

Young K nodded, pausing for a drink of water. “Yes.” 

“Tell me about that trip. What did you do? Did you still think about music?”

“Well, it was very healing. In fact, it was one of the only trips I’ve taken in the past few years where I could truly let loose and be myself. I think that’s why I could come back and write all these songs.” Young K admitted. 

“Ah! So you wrote songs for this album on that trip two years ago?” The interviewer asked, intrigued. 

Your breath hitched, fingers pausing its work on Seulgi’s hair. 

“Not all of them, no. Since the start of Day6 I’ve realised how important it is to be constantly writing, constantly thinking of new songs, to ensure that we have melodies ready, on the go, that we can pull out at any time. So subconsciously, I’m always thinking about music.”

“Wow, as expected of a talented musician like yourself.”

Young K laughed it off humbly. “No, but seriously, it is so helpful to have a few melodies in the arsenal. Inspiration can strike at any time, and an unfinished melody could turn into a song at the drop of a hat.”

“Right, it’s almost like it was waiting for the right timing to come into fruition.”

“Yes, and that happened to me several times in Jeju.”

“Which songs did you finish on that trip, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Bits of the title song were written in a little hut next to the sea.”

Your breath hitched at the mention of the hut you stayed in with YoungK. The linen bed sheets, your tangled bodies, the smell of fresh saltwater and lingering scent of Hallabong oranges – the memories crashed over you in relentless waves. You set your scissors down as you and Seulgi watched YoungK’s interview with unwavering concentration, hanging off every single word. 

“So we have Jeju to thank for this wonderful title song! Anything else?”

A sad smile flashed across Young K’s face. You blinked, and in the next second, it was gone. Young K, ever the camera-trained idol, buried his true feelings and memories under layers of professionalism.  

“Songwriting has several stages to it.” Young K explained matter-of-factly, eyes wandering into a distance. “Melt Down was already near the stages of completion, and only needed a tiny push to get it over the line. Other songs like Help Me Rock&Roll had started a long while ago, so I brushed off the dust and progressed it further.” He paused for another sip of water. “She Smiled and Still There… I didn’t finish them until much later, but you could say they were conceived during that trip.”

The interviewer let out several gasps, praise after praise falling off his lips at Young K’s talent and creativity. As the conversation meandered towards more mundane questions such as Day6’s touring schedules and their plans for the upcoming year, you found it harder and harder to listen to his voice.

“Eonnie…” Seulgi’s voice was soft. 

She set her phone down and handed you a tissue. Unknowingly, your cheeks were stained with fresh tears. “Ah, thank you, Seulgi…” You always had your suspicions that those songs were related to your time together, but hearing him admit it out loud triggered an emotional response deep within you. 

“What happened?”

“Honestly… I don’t really know.” You sighed deeply. “Things just kept getting in the way. He’d be busy, and so was I, and we kept fighting over the same things, over and over again. Until one day, I just… I don’t know. I stopped answering his messages. And I guess he stopped trying to reach me.”

“Oh, Y/N…”

“I messed up, didn’t I? I’m so messed up…” You dabbed the corners of your eyes before they were filled with another round of tears. “I let him go…”

“No, it’s not all your fault. Relationships go both ways. If anything, he’s equally as responsible.” Seulgi reminded you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “Also, it’s never too late to fix your mistakes.”

You hiccupped, lips forming into a pout. “Isn’t it?”

“Of course not, look.” She nudged you to watch the television which was coincidentally playing the highlights from Young K’s interview that just ended.

The timing was immaculate. 

“Tell us, Young K, do you have any advice for those who resonate with your songs, especially the heartbreaking ballads? What do you hope MyDays will take away from your songs?” The interviewer asked his final questions. 

“Comfort, of course. We hope that Day6 songs can provide comfort to anyone out there who is hurting.” Young K turned to look at the camera with a sincere, piercing gaze. “No matter what happened in the past, just know that you and that person both tried your best. Sometimes things don’t work out for various reasons – perhaps it’s incompatibility, or maybe it’s timing. Call me a romanticist, but I believe that love conquers all. We have a song called The Power of Love, don’t we? Time heals all wounds, and maybe with a bit of luck, everything will turn out okay. Until then, Day6 and our songs will be right here with you.”

Seulgi shook her head at her fellow idol in mock disbelief. “I can see why you fell for him, he has such a silver tongue. Even I was convinced – and I work in this industry!”

“Me and all the other MyDays, I’m really not that special when it comes to vying for his attention.” 

“Are you joking?” Seulgi laughed at your denial. She cocked her head towards your phone, buzzing in front of the mirror. “You owe me 5 bottles of soju if he just texted you.”

You rolled your eyes, fingers shaking in trepidation as you picked up your phone. 

// 

[12:09pm] yk: hey, i know it’s been awhile. sorry it took me so long, but what are the chances that you’re free tonight?

[12:09pm] y/n is typing…

[12:10pm] yk: dinner’s on me.

[12:10pm] y/n is typing…

[12:11pm] yk: and drinks

[12:11pm] y/n: ok

//

“I should’ve bet more soju!”

“Aren’t you supposed to stay off alcohol before your comeback?”

He nodded happily and let you go after pecking your cheek to grab some wine. You played some soft music in the background, humming along as you set the logs in the fireplace alight, making yourself comfortable.

"Here you go, m'lady."

You giggled joyfully as Brian handed you a wine glass, clinking them together before taking a sip.

"Come dance with me," you ordered, pulling him up with you and basking in the sound of his laugh.

Swaying around with his hands on your waist and your hands on his neck, your fingers played with the hair at his nape.

"This turtleneck looks good on you. You should wear it more often."

"Is that so?" He smirked, leaning in to gently kiss your lips. His hands traveled down your side. You laughed brightly when he suddenly hoisted you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as you kissed on the way to the couch. He laid you down, hovering over you as he kissed you to oblivion.

You hummed when he pulled away to nibble at your neck, your fingers intertwined with his hair, gently pulling on the strands.

"Now, now. Not tonight," you muttered after he tried sliding his hand up your shirt, grinning when he whined childishly in response. "Some other night, love. Right now I just want you to hold me."

Brian heaved a sigh but held you innocently, making himself comfortable on the couch. You wrapped yourself around him and kissed his jaw gently.

"I love you, you know?"

"I love me too," Younghyun teased, giggling as you gently smacked his arm. He kissed your forehead and pulled away to look at you quietly, admiring you.

"I love you more, dove."

Tick…tick…tick.

Time passed as slowly as the molasses you poured into your cookie batter. Warmth radiated from the oven but you still felt cold in your sweats. Feeling lazy, you hadn't changed from them this morning but rather laid around all day. You only recently pushed past the unwavering exhaustion to eat a quick dinner and make you and your lover a treat. Cookies in the oven, you started on some tea.

“Ah shit,” you whispered to yourself quickly bringing your finger to your mouth in an attempt to soothe the ache from your finger hitting into the side of the hot pot.

Your dry eyes blinked as your thoughts wandered, and you lowered the heat while continuing to stir the bubbling beverage. Even though it was only 8 o'clock, the week had worn you out, leaving your head feeling heavier than ever. Taking your tea off the burner you checked the weather again and re-read Jae’s last messages.

Jae-Jae <3 ~

*This bug screwed us over.* - 6:34 pm

*we're gonna eat dinner here* - 6:45

*be home in an hour xoxo* - 7:23 pm

Jae had gotten up before you, having been called into work on a weekend due to a coding issue that you were too sleepy to fully understand when he tried to explain it to you. Your brows furrowed as you checked your watch for the hundredth time. Anxiously you checked outside the window as the gentle snowflakes that were fluttering down picked up speed.

Absent-mindedly, you went to fetch two mugs, running your slightly stinging fingers under some cold water as you rinsed them. Your two cats, Peanut and Butter, brushed against your legs, longing for attention and a taste of what you were preparing.

Carefully dodging the felines under your feet you placed the now steaming mugs on a tray before rushing to take out the cookies.

Perfectly golden and prettily plated, you set the cookies on the tray before cleaning up after yourself and heading to take a quick shower.

Refreshed yet somehow colder you nabbed one of your boyfriends sweaters before grabbing your phone to check your messages once again.

Beep! Beep! The sound of an incorrect password reached your ears before you could unlock your phone, followed by the exasperated swear of your lover. With a laugh, you unlocked and opened the door, quickly throwing yourself into his arms. He stumbled back slightly, his arm instinctively wrapping around you. The cold wind lashed at your skin through his sweater and your thin house clothes, but you hardly cared.

“Baby, it’s freezing. Let me get inside,” he said.

Your body warmed to the wistfulness in his voice as he squeezed you tightly and peppered your head and cheeks with his cold lips.

“You took soooo long,” you whined, waddling together back into the house. “I was soooo bored!”

“I thought you were going to catch up on some sleep,” Jae replied, using the few seconds you were willing to let him go to remove his coat and hang it in the closet. You reached up and pulled off his hat, dusting the snowflakes from it.

“Turns out I couldn’t sleep without you,” you said as you pulled him back into your embrace. “My poor baby, you’re freezing!”

“I just barely beat the snow. I feel bad for anyone who works further away than I do, the highway is already getting icy.”

“ I can’t believe they called you guys in on a weekend and in this weather, no less.”

“Assholes. And it was a mistake on their end.”

He gave you a tighter squeeze. “But enough about them… you smell so amazing… and warm.”

He tightened his grip again, pulling giggles from you as his cold cheek pressed against your neck, seeking warmth.

“I made cookies and tea,” you said proudly, pulling back to look at him. The bags under his eyes were heavy, but his smile still lit up his face as he gazed at you.

“I’m going to go shower,” he said, trying to pry your arms from around him.

“Wait.” You pouted.

He chuckled. “I’ll be back, and then we can relax.”

“Hurry.”

“Hurrying.”

You lived together and saw each other often, but your free time was limited. It felt like forever since you had hugged him like that. With one of you working overtime while the other left early, your daily life felt empty whenever you found yourself without each other.

Sitting in thought you blew on your tea between sips, the mug warming your cold numbed hands. Your thoughts filled with him like oxygen filled your lungs, and the warmth of the tea filled your chest.

Through the ups and downs of life, like a raft you kept each other above the floods of burn outs and constant burdens. You relied on those soft moments with Jae to help you heal from the exhausting weeks that crowded your schedules.

Jae laid his head on your lap, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Your hair is still a bit wet, love,” you giggled.

“I couldn't keep waiting,” he replied, turning to bury his face into your belly, causing his glasses to slip askew. You took them off for him and placed them on the coffee table.

Picking up a cookie you gave him a bite before taking one yourself. Warm in chewy you savored the sweet taste on your tongue. His hand reached up, popping the last bite of cookie into his mouth.

Jaes hands snaked around your waist, tickling your sides.

“What the heck, Jae?” you laughed, trying not to spill your drink.

His response was the delightful sound of his laughter as he sat up and took your mug from you.

He took a long sip before nodding his head in approval. “This is also very good.”

“Yours is right there.” You reached for your mug, but he pulled it away.

“Nah, yours tastes better.”

“They're exactly the same,” you said, rolling your eyes but still smiling.

“Impossible.”

“And why is that?” Your eyebrow quirked in response to his change of tone.

“Because yours tastes like you.” His eyes tracked your lips as you licked them.

“Well, then why drink that when you can get a taste from the source?” you said with a tilt of your head.

It felt so good to banter with him like this. The butterflies in your stomach danced warmly and familiar as you watched him put down the mug and turn back to you. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you to him, your legs settling around him as you comfortably fell into his lap.

Holding his face, your lips hovered close together, buzzing with joy just to be near each other.

“Gosh, I missed you,” you whispered against his lips.

Jae's lips brushed softly against yours, a gentle knock at your body's door. His fingertips sent chills across your skin as his caresses moved up your thighs to your hips, sliding beneath your shirt, and to your back. Your skin flexed and relaxed under his touch.

Your thighs squeezed around him, as your body craved more.

You pulled at his shirt and he chuckled softly against your neck, his hands gently gripping your arms to pause your desperate motions.

Jae pulled off his shirt before removing his sweater from your body along with your shirt. With flushed cheeks and blown pupils you watched his eyes devour you. Your chest heaved as Jae’s hands began once again to caress you, his mouth leaving hungry bites against your burning body. The grinding of hips came naturally as you both desperately desired the next portion of the intimacy you missed.

Throwing your head back you shut your eyes and allowed your other senses to enjoy the moment. Open-mouth kisses and gasps filled your ears, the smell of his body wash and freshly baked cookies, the warmth of his body radiating into you in electrifying ecstasy.

“Honestly,” Jae said between kisses, “my back hurts way too much to continue this on the couch.”

Your laughter broke the kiss and almost made you fall off his lap, but he caught you with hands wrapped securely around you.

“Sorry,” he said, holding your skin flush against his, hearts beating in sync.

“No worries.” You stood up, intertwining your fingers with his as you pulled him up with you. “Besides, I don’t like it when the cats watch us; it feels weird.”

Jae laughed, the sound light and infectious, as he followed you into the dimly lit hallway. “You know they don’t even care, right? They just want to be around us.”

You shook your head. “I don't know. It feels like they’re watching too intently.”

“Sorry Peanut and Butter.” Jae whispered, shutting the door quickly behind you two, locking the perverts out and only leaving behind their meows of protests.

You stretched out on the bed, heart racing with excitement.

Leaning against the doorframe Jae grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched your body in full.

“Now I see where the cats get it from.” You laughed.

With your finger you beckoned him closer. “Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna join me?

Seductively you slipped your thumbs into the sides of your shorts, catching your underwear as well, as you began to shimmy a little and pull them both off.

With a single, smooth motion, Jae closed the distance between you, his hands gliding up your thighs and grabbing your hands, igniting every nerve in your body. "That's my job," he whispered, breath warm against your ear.

His hands gripped your waist, his eyes roaming over you and drinking in your form up close in the low light of your shared bedroom.

You watched as his tired eyes darkened, arousing desire reflecting in them as he dipped down and captured your lips in a searing kiss. Jae’s hands roamed lower, exploring the curve of your hips before slipping underneath your shorts. His fingers brushed slender and electric against your delicate bud. His lips hungrily swallowed your gasps as the skill of his touch sent waves of pleasure rippling through you.

"God, I missed you all day." he groaned as he pulled back just enough to drink you in once again. The sight of you, vulnerable and eager, sent his senses into a frenzy.

Your own hands took the opportunity with him raised above you to roam along his chest and down to his waistband. Unsanctimoniously you grabbed him as you pushed on his waistband and pulled at his cock, freeing him from the confines of his clothing.

Jae let out a shaky breath, his eyes rolling back slightly at your touch.

Feeling restless and ready you whined as he slowly pulled down your shorts and underwear, kicking them off the rest of the way.

“Jae… the day was far too long for you to be playing around,” you complained as he pulled your hands away from him pinning them above you.

He chuckles at your neediness before letting go of your wrist and sitting up.

Jae's fingers trailed down your body before settling on your waist and pulling you towards him. Gripping your hips, he pushed into you and scattered stars into your vision.

Every thrust sent fireworks through your vision but that didn't stop you from trying to take in the look of pure ecstasy on his face when Jae felt your walls squeeze around him.

You could feel the tension building between you, a delicious pressure that promised a long overdue release. One hand reached for your clit, nearly throwing you over the edge as your bodies collided against each other. Normally you would hold out longer but your head was already spinning.

“Cum for me baby.” The low whisper of his voice was enough to set you spiraling as your body shook and your walls fluttered and squeezed his cock.

“Just like that,” he encouraged, his voice thick with desire, urging you on. You could feel him deep within you, every movement sending you higher into your orgasm. The sensations were intoxicating, and you surrendered completely, allowing the moment to consume you, your senses bursting in a kaleidoscope of pleasure. You felt him soon after, his hot seed spilling atop your chest as you tried to catch your breath.

Looking up you watched him in the glow of the city lights from your window. His eyes fixed on yours, your hearts still racing and bodies glistening with sweat.

"Let's take care of you," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. He disentangled himself from you before retrieving a warm, damp cloth. After cleaning up, he returned the cloth to the bathroom and flopped back into bed next to you.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, you curled into him. With the covers pulled up to your ears, you let the warmth of his body envelop you, completely cocooning yourself in the moment. Jae's arms snaked around you, his nose burrowing into the crook of your neck as he pulled you impossibly close. Your bodies lay skin to skin, the quietness of the cold night embracing you and pulling you into sleep's welcoming arms.

THANK YOU FOR READING 😊