#destinyverse

With your boyfriend asleep on your lap, you lay your flower basket in front of you and fish out your floral tape and wire from underneath the fresh marigolds and cosmos you’d managed to pick — before Hyunjin dragged you back to the grass and insisted he hadn’t had a good night’s rest, and proceeded to doze off into a peaceful sleep. You smile when you remember the pout on his face.

You carefully tie the flowers onto the wire, one by one, and secure them with floral tape, using the leaves to fill the space in between. The yellow petals look like liquid gold in the sunlight, the small beads of dew forming on them reflecting off the light and creating one of the most prettiest sights you’ve ever seen, all over the field.

A little whine breaks you from your focus, and you laugh heartily when Hyunjin tries to grab your hand, leading it back to his hair. You comb through them once again until he falls asleep — god, he is so adorable. A gentle smile accentuates his features — he looks so peaceful and calm right now, and a tiny part of you is simply set alight at the fact that it’s because of you. His fringes fall over his face, and you push them away. The white highlights in his hair only intensified his beauty, and all of a sudden, you feel warm on the inside and certainly not because of the weather. Hyunjin turns over in your lap and falls asleep once again. You figure it’s going to be a real pain to get him off of you once it gets late, but right now, you don’t think of it much.

When you finish making the crown and silently check if it fits Hyunjin, you bind both the ends together and revel in the masterpiece that you just created. Well, masterpiece is quite a stretch, but knowing Hyunjin well, you know anything you create, or that comes from you, is a masterpiece in his eyes. And that’s something you adore about him. How caring and adoring he can be about the smallest things when it’s about you. How excited he gets when you say you made him something, even if it’s a stupid charm bracelet you learnt to make off the internet.

Another whine from below, and you giggle to yourself when you realise it’s reason is because Hyunjin’s fringes are getting into his eyes. They’ve grown long enough to the point where you could braid and hold them behind, and just when you realise it, and idea strikes you. You softly rummage through your basket, and find the small amount of gloriosa and english daisies you found amidst the stalks of marigolds. They’re small enough to hold themselves up when braided into Hyunjin’s hair, and if they don’t — you could just tie them in with the black thread you brought along.

You hum a little tune that just happens to be Hyunjin’s favorite song, getting to work as you tie in each of the flowers into his hair and braid them as you go. Surprisingly, Hyunjin does not shift through this — you presume he knows what you’re doing, even in his subconscious mind. The smile on his face is still present when you bend a bit to glance at his face. He’s gorgeous, you can’t deny that. You could write lines and lines of poetry just about how absolutely ethereal he looked at any instant, yet run out of words to say with one look at his face at the same time. There was just something so magical about him — how he could look like the prettiest man on earth whilst sitting idle, how his happiness would directly correlate to yours, how all he needed to do was hold your hand tenderly before you forgot about anything on your mind and only embraced him.

To any outsider, you look madly in love right now — smiling uncontrollably as you figured out what positions of the yellow and white flowers looked the best — and you are. You are madly in love with him. And little things like these were your ways of showing him how much you cherished him, and deep down, you knew he felt your effort, even if he was fast asleep. You’re almost done with your work when a butterfly flutters down to sit on one of the flowers braided into his hair, and your smile only widens more, if that’s possible in any way. The light colors of the cabbage butterfly compliment the dark color of his hair even more.

Once you’re done braiding his fringes back, you stick the remaining five flowers arbitrarily. Thankfully Hyunjin’s hair is thick enough to support them, although you’re sure the ones that aren’t braided are going to slip off once he moves due to how silky his locks are.

You delicately place your flower crown on his head, which has now attracted it’s own crowd of butterflies. It feels like heaven right now — his head on your lap; the warmth of the sun on your skin, not too harsh, the humidity in the air, the sound of birds and insects chirping in harmony — you wish you’d never leave. You really want to wake him up now — half to admire how gorgeous he looks with all the flowers on his hair, and half because you simply want to see the look of surprise on his face when he realises what you’ve been up to.

And just on cue, Hyunjin wakes up, thankfully not turning over fully and squishing all the flowers you carefully placed, and sits up straight. He lets out a muffled groan as he rubs his eyes to get the remnants of sleep out, before blinking once, twice, thrice and looking at you. 

And the smile that takes over his face can knock you off your legs right now. Well, if you weren’t sitting, that is.

He scoots closer to you, resting his hand on your hand before lacing his fingers with yours. “Did you sleep well?” You ask shyly, feeling very aware of the way his thumb runs over your hand — a soothing action that spreads the warmth to your cheeks. You silently bite down a laugh when you realise he hasn’t noticed what you’ve done to his hair yet, and even more so when you notice all the butterflies fluttering over his head. Thankfully there’s no bees, because Hyunjin would be mortified if he found one of those on top of his head.

“Mhm. The best sleep I’ve had in my life.” He yawns, stretching his arms and looks at the sky, when he notices exactly what you’re trying to contain.

You laugh out at the confused look at his face, and paired with the sleepy daze that still paints his features, it’s one of the cutest sights to the eye. 

“Wait? Why are there so many butterflies flying over me?”

He gently touches his hair, already suspecting what might be going on, and smiles when he finds the flower crown.

“Awh, sweetheart, thank you for making me one too.” His eyes form into tiny crescents and he smiles widely, expressing the purest forms of joy you’ve ever felt.

You can’t focus on anything he’s saying right now, though. It’s pure overload for your vision, all this beauty at once. When he looks around, you catch the tiny flowers, and he looks like he has little flecks of gold and silver in his hair. You can feel your jaw drop, and you silently capture a picture of him facing away from you. It’s too beautiful of a moment to let go.

Hyunjin is simply an art in his own form, that you can’t help but appreciate.

When he turns back around, you silently stare at your phone and smile at the picture, and Hyunjin frowns. 

“What are you looking at?” He asks, grabbing the phone from you, and his eyes widen in shock — the good kind — at what he sees. He smiles even wider, and gently brings his hand to the back of his head, touching the small flowers in his hair. A giggle takes over him, and he moves closer to you, placing a soft kiss — on your cheek, then on your lips.

“Thank you, love.” Hyunjin looks at you like he believes he’s in some sort of dream, and holds your hands like he never wants to wake up from it.

“D-do you like it?” You look into his eyes, and almost lose yourself counting all the little speckles of warmth contained in them.

“I love it. It’s gorgeous.” 

Just like you are, my love. He doesn’t need to say it, because at the moment, you feel like your hearts are connected on such an innate level, you can sense anything he feels about you, and all you feel is the undying love and affection he holds for you.

Truly, he was breathtaking, even in his most mundane moments, and definitely in his most gorgeous ones.

𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: Okay, so I’ve not written in *check’s time* 7 MONTHS? Anywho, I came up with this idea whilst in a conversation with furat , and suddenly i could not get the thought of braiding flowers into his hair. So here you go! <3 This is written in a lovely world where the mc is not freakishly scared of butterflies like I am. Now do not ask me if my floral knowledge is accurate, because it probably isn’t. This is just your average ‘dawn is sappy and writes a kissing blurb’, minus most of the kissing and cuddling. Happy to making a comeback in writing. Expect more fics (don’t hold me to my words) from now on <3

“Mmh, someone’s in a good mood,” he mumbled in a sort of lovesick daze once you pulled away, leaning down for another kiss. But you gently pushed Wooyoung’s face away, laughing slightly at his crestfallen expression.

“I have a restaurant to run, Woo. Get your ass back on stage, they love you up there!”

Wooyoung gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, placing feathered kisses against the nape of your neck, running his nose just beneath your jawline. You smelled of jasmines and powdered sugar, and he just couldn’t seem to get enough of you. “They can wait five minutes. Come to the balcony with me. Just for a bit, hm?”

It was hard to resist him when he was practically glued to you, whispering sweet nothings into your skin. You felt your cheeks flush with heat. And much to your own dismay, you found yourself nodding.

Wooyoung broke into a bright smile against your shoulder, pecking your cheek fondly before leading you to the balcony with a skip in his step. Stars freckled the night sky like grains of sugar spilled across a blanket of diaphanous storm-blue satin, glimmering and twinkling beside the elegant curves of the moon. You smoothed your hands over the stone of the balcony ledge, humming softly in contentment at the feeling of Wooyoung’s arms hanging loosely over your hips and his chin planting on your shoulder.

“Wanna hear a joke?” he whispered against your skin, staring at the side of your face with hearts for eyes.

You arched an eyebrow skeptically, but nodded nonetheless.

“Okay, I totally didn’t steal this joke from Seonghwa, but… what do you call a fake noodle?”

A gentle scoff escaped you as you leaned your head backwards to rest against Wooyoung, rolling your eyes up to the glossy moon.

Taking your silence as a cue to continue, Wooyoung blurted out, “An im-pasta! Get it? Pasta? Noodles?” Your husband chortled loudly, one of his hands releasing your hips to poke at your abdomen in a fruitless attempt to get you to laugh. “Tough crowd tonight, huh?”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Your lighthearted words fell upon deaf ears, because Wooyoung only hummed in response, trailing affectionate kisses along your neck once more before pulling away reluctantly. “Is your tattoo still sore?”

You could feel him shake his head slightly against your neck. Slowly, you turned in his arms, nimbly rolling his sleeves up his forearm until bunched around his shoulder. You stared at the inked art etched into the rolling muscles of his outer bicep with bated breath. The design was but a mere sketch of a frog you had half-mindedly drawn in the wee hours of morning, your name resting just below the critter in loopy cursive.

“Looks nice, doesn’t it?” Wooyoung whispered, leaning forward to brush his lips against your hairline. “Wish I could see yours. Maybe tonight?” His warm palm shifted up from your hips to your ribcage, tracing shapeless figures above your satin dress, where your matching tattoo was residing under. One with Wooyoung’s name inked below.

Humming, you rolled his sleeves back down, pushing him away with a grin.

“Okay, time’s up. Get back on stage! I can’t run our restaurant without your incessant ukulele and your charming smile.”

Wooyoung chortled at that. “Just say you love me and go, Y/N.”

When you jokingly mimed gagging, your husband pulled on an expression of false-offense, placing his hand over his heart in a wounded gesture. He dramatically turned on his heel with his nose in the air, leaving you alone on the balcony. And a couple seconds later, you could hear the rambunctious music swing back on, the wave of cheers loud even from outside.

Your gaze flickered back up to the moon, your own palm grazing over your new tattoo subconsciously.

All was well.

For now, at least.

Though it was midnight, there were still a few sparse customers enjoying their food, swaying almost drunkenly to the lulled music. Wooyoung had long retired playing his ukulele up on stage, fingers raw from strumming for hours on end and throat sore from his loud cheers.

He was now practically plastered to your back, unwilling to let you go.

“When do you think we’re closing down, hm?” he whispered, nudging your cheek with his nose. “I’m tired.”

“Soon,” you replied, swatting his wandering hands away as you worked the bill for a group of customers. “Had fun tonight?”

He grinned into your skin. “Thinking of having more fun with you once we get back home.”

“I thought you were tired?”

Wooyoung slanted his lips against your temple, then backed away to help you clean up. “I’d think you’d know by now that I’m never too tired for that.”

Before you could scoff out a biting retort, the glass doors to your restaurant slammed open, knocking against the pillars behind them, reverberating with a startling echo. Both of your heads snapped upwards quickly, confused concern etching into your features. The air suddenly felt tight and lethargic, as if you were dunked in a bucket of molasses. You glanced around in befuddlement, a heavy stone sinking into your gut. Everybody… all your customers and waiters… seemed to be frozen in time. Some were stopped mid-bite, others statue-still with their lips parted, as if they had just been casually conversing with their friends. Slightly panicked, you looked backwards to make sure Wooyoung was still with you, and he mirrored your gaze with matched bewilderment. He nodded his head to tell you he was okay.

And much to your horror, purple smoke started to seep into your restaurant through the agape entrance, lilac mist crawling across the floor rapidly. Subconsciously, Wooyoung reached forward to grab you, pulling you backwards so he had his arms around you protectively. And through the foggy violet, a figure emerged, stepping forward.

She was clad in an extravagant dark mauve suit, skulled jewelry decorating every inch of her bare skin. Perched atop her mane of dark curls was a long, feathered top hat. Her sharp nails were wrapped around a short walking stick with a magic ball for a handle, narrowed and vengeful eyes the same hue as the purple mist enveloping your restaurant.

What had once been wholly golden, now looked drab and dreary.

She looked familiar, but you refused to acknowledge it just yet.

Dr. Facilier had been taken by the voodoo spirits… that wretched man was gone for good, wasn’t he? So who was this woman?

A peculiar smile fanned across her lips as she batted her long eyelashes at the two of you.

“Excuse me,” Wooyoung practically squeaked out in a particularly high-pitched register, “you need to wait to be seated!”

One of the strange woman’s manicured hands raised up into the air, her tongue darting out to run along the ridges of her teeth. You felt sick to the stomach.

“I’m not here for your damned food,” she hissed scathingly. Her voice sounded like it was spun out of pure silk, wispy and delicate, yet honed and severe. It would’ve been nice to listen to if it weren’t for the derogatory undertone lacing her words. “Do you really think I’d sit with the people that took away the only person I ever loved from me? No, I’m here for something far more pleasant than what you could ever serve on a cheap platter.”

Wooyoung’s grip tightened around you. You could practically feel his heart thrum rapidly against his chest pressing against your back. If it were under different circumstances, you’d point the fact out and tease him, but you were pretty sure he could feel your frantic pulse just the same.

“Sit,” the strange woman commanded, flicking her fingers.

And against both of your volitions, Wooyoung stiffly pried his arms away from you, and you rigidly stepped around the counter to roughly set yourself onto your cushioned restaurant chairs. Your husband followed suit, taking the seat next to you. Unable to move, you stared forward with a clenched jaw. You had no control over your own body and it was driving you insane.

“You sit and listen because I’ve remained silent for far too long. It’s my turn now,” she purred as she drew closer. Something dangerous flashed in those wined eyes of hers. “My name is Maeve. My lover, with whom you’ve already been acquainted with in the past, is… was Doctor Facilier. That is, until he was dragged away by voodoo spirits. Because of you.” She glared at you with the intensity equivalent to a million suns.

Oh. Oh, shit, this was not good. It was just as you suspected. You wanted so badly to turn to Wooyoung, tell him you loved him one last time. Or maybe smack him over the head for good measure; after all, he was the one that got involved with Doctor Facilier in the first place. Either would work.

What was she going to do to you? You could handle getting hurt, but you just couldn’t stomach the idea of your husband taking the brunt of the force for you. Though, knowing him, he’d probably try to sweet talk his way out of things, the idiot.

Maeve trailed her sharp nails along the smooth tablecloth menacingly.

“You’re probably wondering…” she knelt down ever so slightly between the two of you, her cold skull-adorned necklace dangling noisily by your ear and dark locks brushing against Wooyoung’s cheek, “what I’m going to do to you, hm? I won’t hurt you.” A dry chuckle tumbled past her lips. “Not physically, at least.”

Those words sent your mind into a tumbling frenzy, and it was evident that Wooyoung was feeling just the same, seeing as he began to squirm on the chair despite the dark magic locking his limbs together. He was struggling against the invisible force so much so that the veins in his neck protruded amidst his efforts.

Stop, you dimwit, was what you would’ve said if you could even crack your lips open. Just do what she says and maybe… maybe she won’t hurt you.

“I loved him,” the woman muttered with hatred staining her tone like blood seeping into a river. She straightened herself, skull jewelry tinkling almost like mocking laughter, sauntering in front of the two of you once again. “More than anything in the world. You couldn’t have ever comprehended our love for each other. I would’ve given him the moon, the sun, all the stars in the galaxy.” She curled her fingers into a fist, before blowing into it slightly and unfurling her hand to reveal a small, shadowy figure. You could make out the infamous pointed hat and the cane of Doctor Facilier. The smoky being faded into the air when Maeve dropped her hand.

She was broken, and now she wanted to cut you open with her jagged edges.

“Facilier was the only person I ever loved. And you… you took him away from me. Now, I thought I’d just return the favor. How does a universe where your love for each other doesn’t exist sound?”

From your peripheral vision, you could see Wooyoung fight against the invisible bonds thrice-fold, pinpricks of perspiration dotting his temple. A part of you wanted to join him, thrash and scream against Maeve’s dark magic. But you sat still, soaking in her malicious words. The air was cold, closing in on you. You, living without Wooyoung? Or, worse yet, Wooyoung living without you? The man could barely decide which cereal brand he wanted to have in the morning without your help, much less live out his entire life without you by his side. You were the love of his life, after all. Just the thought of losing you had him sick to the stomach.

From out of nowhere, she brandished two silver chalices. Inside was a bubbling green liquid, like luminous molten emeralds. They floated towards you at her beckoning, stopping just short of your lips.

“Drink.”

In spite of your efforts, your mouth pried open and the effervescing viridescent liquid slid down your throat like thick honey. Your heart thrashed against your ribcage at an alarming rate. You could see that Wooyoung was being forced to do just the same as you. However, with his mouth open he managed to garble out three short words.

“I love you.”

You wished you could reply. I love you so much, Wooyoung.

And just before everything faded to inky black, you could’ve sworn you heard him scream, “I’ll find you!”

Just hearing his voice managed to soothe the ache in your chest, even if it was momentary.

At first, black spots danced across your field of view, ghostly shadows dancing along to the intangible strums of your pounding heart. The darkness then encapsulated you under its wing, surprisingly gentle and tender. It wrapped around you like a fire blanket, consuming you pure and whole until all the purple mist in your vision dissipated, taking your husband along with it.

ONE YEAR LATER.

Time was a fickle thing, you grew to realize. Has it really only been a year since you landed yourself a job as a waitress at the music cafe? It almost felt like it was just yesterday you stepped foot inside the establishment, wide-eyed and mouth slightly hanging agape in unadulterated awe.

Besides, it has always been your dream to open up your own restaurant.

Despite your initial starry-eyed disposition, it seemed like you were stuck here for now. These days, it’s hard finding a job you could tolerate, much less earn a decent salary to live off of.

At first, working at the music cafe felt like a breeze. Everything fell into routine order, and you were content helping out the manager, Hongjoong, with whom you grew to be close acquaintances with. You were surprised you found him intimidating when you first met him, in all honesty. That man was anything but scary.

And just as the saying goes, nothing good ever lasts.

It was a warm evening when a performer, who went by the name Wooyoung, sauntered through the glass doors with a smug look permanently coloring his features. You remembered it clear as day; he was decked out in an eyesore of an outfit consisting of a loose white tank haphazardly tucked into frayed jeans, mismatched socks of varying lengths, and a patterned vermilion bandana tied around his slightly curled raven locks. He was in desperate need of a haircut, you surmised with pursed lips. In his hands clutched a small ukulele, black-polished fingers wrapped around the spine of the instrument.

The customers in the cafe all turned their heads in his direction while he passed, several of them running their eyes up and down his form as if they were ravenous lions surveying a steak buffet. You would’ve pitied the performer if he didn’t so obviously display how much he was loving the attention, practically soaking it all up like a sponge. In a needless show of extravagance, the man winked at the crowd whilst sporting a flirty grin, even taking it a step further by lifting his biceps to flex his muscles.

At that point, you turned around with a slight scowl framing your lips, clutching the notepad you used to jot down orders a bit too tightly.

He’d been coming by almost every single day to perform at the music cafe, strumming on that stupid ukulele of his with that infuriatingly handsome smile and that awfully gorgeous voice. You’d dig yourself a grave six feet down before you would verbally admit that his songs were actually catchy and rather fun to listen to. There were several instances in which you had to stop yourself from bopping your head to the beat or tapping your foot along in sync with his strumming.

There was just something about him that irked you to no end. He was far too loud when not performing, constantly howling in laughter with his friends in the cafe’s booths. Flirting seemed to be his lifestyle, as he attempted wooing his way into far too many pants of men and women alike. Once, a bra was thrown onto him while he was performing onstage, and the man did nothing but chuckle breathily mid-song and tuck the offending garment into his back pocket before carrying on.

Not to mention the awkward fact that you had a tattoo etched across the skin of your ribcage of a messy little frog with ‘Wooyoung’ scrawled just underneath. It was strange because you had no recollection whatsoever of getting that tattoo, nor any clue as to why that name was there. For a while, it troubled you so much that you had stayed up to unthinkable hours of the night, coming up with elaborate theories as to how you got the tattoo and why you couldn’t remember. Maybe you got wasted and made a really awful decision… and the person that had tatted you signed their name below their art. You settled on that ludicrous option for now. What an awful coincidence that the name you had permanently engraved into your skin was also the name of the person you despised at work. Besides, you’ve had that tattoo long before Wooyoung came into your life. He couldn’t possibly be the Wooyoung your little frog was referring to.

Alright, so it seemed that you had no real reason to dislike the handsome performer. Perhaps you longed for his carefree attitude, or how he could shrug things off like it was never a big deal. Hongjoong was always telling you to loosen up a bit.

Much to your dismay and your manager’s delight, Wooyoung raked in customers from all over the town. Soon enough, the cafe was constantly bustling with life, the atmosphere heavy with friendly chittering and clinking mugs and the shrieking of frantic fans of Wooyoung’s.

You learned not to pay him any mind. In fact, as soon as you heard the familiar plucks of his little ukulele and his soft humming into the microphone, you found yourself beelining towards the kitchens situated at the back of the cafe to get as far away from him as possible.

Actually, now that you thought more about it, you probably just misliked the fact that your heart seemed to clatter against your ribcage whenever he was near. It was just… bothersome, for a lack of a better term. You barely even knew the man!

You bumped the kitchen doors open with your hip as you shuffled out, balancing two trays of sweet drinks in your palms, ice cubes clattering about in the glass flukes. As he always was, Wooyoung was up on stage, crooning out a song with that honeyed tone of his. You wondered if anybody would notice if you popped in a pair of earbuds and listened to your own music.

“Here are your drinks.” You smiled at the customers politely. “Just shout out if you need anything else!”

Their ‘thank you’s were drowned out by the stupid performer on stage. You rolled your eyes to the cafe’s leafy ceiling.

And to your chagrin, you found your gaze naturally shifting towards him. He resembled a work of art when he performed. Even that you couldn’t deny. When he wasn’t strumming the ukulele, he had his hands cradling the microphone, eyes closed as he immersed himself in a tidal wave of emotion. He was soulfully singing lyrics of lost love, exposed and tender.

Had playboy extraordinaire Wooyoung ever gotten his heart broken before? You highly doubted it, but the raw ardour you detected in his voice wasn’t something one could just conjure out of thin air.

It was when he finished the emotional song and lowered his bare arms back down that had you reeling in shock.

For almost three months Wooyoung had been a regular performer at the cafe, and only now did you see the strangely familiar pattern inked onto his right bicep, courtesy of his sleeveless shirt that left his forearm out for the world to see. After narrowing your eyes down to slits, you just barely made out what it was. A small sketch of a frog… with what seemed to be a word… underneath…

A choked gasp fell past your lips.

That motherfucker had the same tattoo as you! With your name just underneath! And… and you had his name below your frog tattoo as well!

“What the fuck…?” you found yourself mumbling under your breath just as he waved farewell to the crowd, hopping down the stage with a jubilant smile so bright, it was a worthwhile comparison to the sun. Damn him, you internally grumbled.

Without thinking, you strode forward, subconsciously grazing your hand above your work attire, hovering right over where your tattoo resided.

“Wooyoung!” you called out, scowling.

He turned to you with quirked eyebrows, slinging his ukulele over his shoulder. “What’s up, sweetheart? Did you need an autograph?”

A muscle ticked in your jaw.

“That tattoo. On your arm. Where’d you get it?” you cut straight to the chase in a blunt fashion, crossing your arms over your chest. Up close, Wooyoung looked all the more attractive, and it was making your stomach do all sorts of dances. He even smelled good, like a strange blend of forest musk and sweet coffee. Your brows furrowed in frustration.

“Woah, woah, woah there. Is that a no on the autograph?” he asked with widened eyes, holding his palms up as if he was taming a nervous filly. When you betrayed no signs of speaking further, he flashed you his most charming smile and tilted his head to the side, most likely thinking he was indulging you in some fangirl’s fantasy. “Tattoo stories are more of a third date kind of topic, don’t you think?”

You grit your teeth as you hissed out, “Do you even know whose name that is?”

This seemed to catch him off guard, seeing as he hesitated to answer, lips left agape in thought. When his eyes trailed downwards from your gaze, and towards the nametag on your uniform, his mouth formed a round circle in realization.

“Oh, I see what this is. You have the same name as my tattoo. I hate to break it to you sweetheart, but I don’t know you. Sure, I’ve seen you around the cafe a ton, but I’ve had this froggie long before you came around. You’re not the same Y/N as the one on my tattoo.” Wooyoung reached forward to pat your hand in meek consolation, nodding with a stupid pout plastered across his features. “I’m truly sorry to have gotten your hopes up. Would an autograph make you feel better?”

It took all you had in you not to deck him in the face as you yanked your hands away from his grasp. “I don’t want your stupid signature! I-”

Just when you were about to tell him about your own tattoo, Hongjoong’s shrieks from the kitchen had you swivelling your head around. Oh shit, there was smoke coming out of the kitchens. You forgot you were making waffles.

This was all Wooyoung’s fault.

“Looks like you gotta go,” the accursed man hummed in mild amusement, plucking an iced lemon tea out of a random waiter’s tray as they passed by. He sucked on the straw obnoxiously loud. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Maybe then you’ll change your mind about that autograph.”

You didn’t bother to reply as you scampered towards the kitchens, frantically turning the waffle maker off before the emergency sprinklers could turn on. That day ended with you emanating the faint aroma of waffle smoke accompanied with a scowl permanently etched into your lips, thoughts of Wooyoung and his matching froggie tattoo bogging your mind.

The damp rag was quick to swipe across the recently bussed tables, your fingers nimbly plucking off empty plates and placing them onto a tray to wash. Today wasn’t a very busy day, and for that you were grateful. Perhaps it’s because Wooyoung hadn’t showed up yet.

Your thoughts were jarred to the side when a hand tapped your shoulder, and you turned with raised eyebrows, drying your hands on your leaf-patterned apron.

A sour taste twinged the back of your throat at the sight of him, decked in a baggy lemon-hued crop top, snug jeans of navy blue fitted across his hips. He had a pair of sunglasses with white frames the shape of stars perched atop his slicked back curls of ebony. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes to the side. What kind of loser wears sunglasses indoors?

He stuck out a photograph with lines of sharpie scribbled on the bottom-right corner, arrogant smirk dancing across his lips. “I know you said you didn’t want an autograph, but I figured you were just being shy. Even wrote a special note for you and everything.” The words were said with a hint of excitement as he pointed at the little message he had written on the picture card.

a little congratulatory gift for not burning the kitchen down xoxo :)

The stare you gave him was a harsh deadpan, and Wooyoung’s smile faltered slightly.

Perhaps it was the mounting frustration spidering through your veins, but you huffed out a string of exasperated obscenities and promptly plucked the signed card out of the singer’s hands, ripping it in half in front of his face.

You left him no time to say much else before you took hold of his wrist, dragging him along with you to the back room where the cafe stored extra food stock. Wooyoung was blurting out incoherent rambles of protesting, questioning, and whining comments of how expensive those photo cards are.

However, other than that, much to your pleasant surprise, Wooyoung showed little to no resistance whatsoever.

“Oh, shut up,” you said curtly once shutting the door behind you.

“Am I being kidnapped?” Wooyoung asked with narrowed eyes, scanning your visibly strung up form. “If so, you’re an awful kidnapper. Why would you choose to do it in broad daylight at your workplace? If I were you, I’d at least wait until I’ve performed my first round of stages. People are going to be looking for me-!”

Wrinkling your nose in clear distaste, you jabbed a finger into this chest with a glare. “I have something to show you, pretty boy, and you’re going to have to promise not to freak out.”

With a dubious narrowing of the singer’s eyes, he nodded once. “Okay. But we’re not doing creepy ouija board shit, right? I watched a movie once where…”

The words seemed to melt right off his tongue as you hurriedly reached behind you to untie your apron, placing it behind you on a stock shelf before pulling at the edges of your cream-hued work blouse, lifting it just enough to showcase the art etched across your ribs. Wooyoung watched you with skepticism chiseled plainly across his features, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Were you really undressing yourself… right in front of him?

Understanding seeped across his expression as soon as he caught sight of your froggie tattoo.

“That’s… that’s my name you have there.”

“I know.”

“Well, are you sure you do? You don’t really seem to be making a big deal out of it.”

A sharp sigh left you. “You have one of me too, you idiot.”

“Hey, that’s not nice!” Wooyoung paused, biting on his tongue as he tilted his head, studying you. The tattoo was the exact same as his, the only difference being his name scrawled under in an identical font. “So this is why you were acting strange yesterday. It’s not new, is it?”

“Of course it’s not new,” you snapped. “I’ve had this for forever. I don’t even remember how and when I got it.”

Heart jumping into your throat, you quietly observed the way his gaze seemed to grow distracted, and Wooyoung’s hand jerkily reached forward as if he wanted to run his hands along your inked skin. He stopped halfway through, however, and awkwardly hovered between the two of you. With pursed lips, he clenched his hand into a fist and forced it back down to his side.

“I don’t either,” Wooyoung quipped after those tense seconds. “I’ve had this for as long as I can remember.” He rolled the sleeve of the canary crop top up to his elbow, displaying his own tattoo.

Much like Wooyoung, you had the terribly strong urge to reach out and graze your fingers along his bicep. You managed to refrain yourself by just an ounce of your being, though with blatant disappointment curling your insides.

“Well this is weird,” Wooyoung whistled out in a half-laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I want to think that this is a coincidence but… I don’t know… I feel like I know you from somewhere before the cafe. We haven’t met before, have we?” Almost subconsciously, he stepped forward, close enough so that you could catch a whiff of his cologne.

His gaze was intense, but you rivaled him with your own stare, trying to figure out if he was keeping something from you.

“Before the cafe? No,” you huffed derisively. “I think I’d remember somebody as… impressionable as you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” was what he said, even though the both of you knew it most definitely wasn’t.

It was then that the door to the storage room swung open, the wooden slab moving so quickly that the doorknob banged against the wall like a gavel onto its block. Your manager, Hongjoong, stood at the entrance. With hands cocked onto his hips, he raised an expectant eyebrow at the two of you. Although you and Wooyoung weren’t in a particularly compromising position, your cheeks flushed with resounding heat at the fact that you were still holding your work shirt up. You scrambled to smooth the fabric down, looking everywhere except Hongjoong.

“You guys couldn’t wait until after Wooyoung’s performances?” the man at the doorway snapped. “You’re lucky I like you, Y/N. Now get back to work, there are tables in need of their drinks! Wooyoung, the people are waiting for you, get on stage!”

After you snatched your apron from the shelf, the two of you shuffled out of the storage room with downcast expressions, awkwardly stepping around Hongjoong’s semi-bristling form. It was evident that Wooyoung was trying his damned hardest not to laugh his ass off at such a situation, lips pursed tightly to stave off his laughter.

Before you could head back to the main room to do your job, however, his hand wrapped around your wrist, effectively halting you in your tracks.

“Do you have a pen?” Wooyoung asked once you turned to look back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“A pen? Yeah, why?” You noticed that his warm hand was still gripping you. Strangely, it felt like pinpricks of lightning were traveling through your veins at his touch, electricity dancing along your limbs. Or perhaps you were just sleep-deprived. Probably the latter, come to think of it.

The performer held his free hand out with an expectant expression. With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you reached into the front pocket of your work shirt, procuring the black-ink pen you used to write down orders for tickets.

He swiftly plucked it out of your hand, bringing you closer to him as he hurriedly uncapped it with his teeth. You made a mental note to sanitize that before you went back to work. The faint scratching of the pen against your palm was completely ignored, only because you were too close to him for comfort. The air felt static; had you suddenly forgotten how to breathe?

A smile glossed over his lips once he was done and he released your wrist.

“Call me,” he said boldly once you glanced at the string of numbers Wooyoung haphazardly wrote onto your palm. “Or text, whichever you’re more comfortable with,” he added as a hasty side note.

And with that, he flashed you a blinding grin accompanied with a sly wink before sauntering back to the main room, hopping onto the stage. He was born to perform, you mused, watching the way his eyes lit up at the raucous crowd’s cheers. Wooyoung was beautiful when he did what he loved, that was nearly undeniable. Watching him practically melt into his singing, passion splayed so vividly across his handsome features like the blues and yellows in a Van Gogh painting, you couldn’t help but wonder why you had disliked him so much in the first place.

The soft threads of your comforter were cold beneath your bare skin as you eased yourself onto your bed. You were clad in nothing but a loose t-shirt of some niche band you’ve never heard of and dark basketball shorts. An odd combination, but it wasn’t like anybody would see what you were sleeping in. The day had been long and tiresome, and you were glad to finally be at home.

Strangely, the tattoo inked across your ribcage felt hotter than the rest of your body, as if calling to you. When you had checked, however, nothing seemed out of the blue. You just hoped it wouldn’t start hurting. That would be an issue you wouldn’t have the heart to deal with at the moment.

With the thought of tattoos plaguing your mind, you suddenly remembered Wooyoung’s number scribbled onto your palm. Hesitant, you took a look at what he had written. The pen’s black was slightly smudged, but still clear enough for you to read, though you had to squint in the dimly-lit room to make out the numbers.

A low groan rumbled from your chest as you reached towards your phone laying on the nightstand, hissing out a sigh of relief when you managed to pull it towards you without dropping it onto the floor. The screen cast a bright blue film over your face and you flinched at the sudden onslaught of brightness, hurrying to dullen its luminosity to the lowest setting. Your thumbs paused just before hitting the screen as you rethought what you were just about to do.

A couple days ago you regarded Wooyoung with an immense dislike. What was different now? Was it the tattoos? Did you just want answers or had you genuinely changed your mind about the performer?

A slight frown played at the corner of your lips.

Ah, fuck it. You keyed in his number before typing out a short text and pressing send without giving yourself more room for doubt.

y/n ☕️: hi, is this wooyoung ?

Almost immediately, he started typing back.

unknown number: it is ! but if this is yeosang on a different phone then ,,, , ,, no 🥴

A smile flicked across your face as you rolled your eyes to the ceiling, recalling a man named Yeosang that Wooyoung often dragged into the cafe to watch him perform. You added Wooyoung’s number to your contacts with a subtle grin.

y/n ☕️: this is y/n, from the cafe y/n ☕️: uh im the tattoo person if you dont remember ukulele man 🎶: lol how could i forget a pretty lady with a tattoo of my name ?? saying this with love ofc <3 y/n ☕️: dude you have a tattoo of my name too but okay ig >:| ukulele man 🎶: im surprised you acc texted me 😌 y/n ☕️: yeah well i was real close to washing your number off y/n ☕️: expected it to be a pizza parlor’s number or sumn ukulele man 🎶: 😡😡😡 ukulele man 🎶: i wouldnt do that to u ukulele man 🎶: yeosang ??? yea for sure ukulele man 🎶: u ? ofc not

Much to your surprise, a genuine laugh tumbled past your lips, an uncontrollable smile blossoming on your face. It scared you how quickly you changed your opinion on the cocky performer. You puckered your mouth to the side in thought.

y/n ☕️: alright well i just wanted to check if it was rlly you ukulele man 🎶: in the flesh, baybee ukulele man 🎶: well not rlly flesh ukulele man 🎶: in the screen, baybee 😎 y/n ☕️: ,,, y/n ☕️: its way too late for this y/n ☕️: im going to sleep bye ukulele man 🎶: sleep well !! ukulele man 🎶: ill see you tmrw wink wink y/n ☕️: ew dont wink at me y/n ☕️: good night wooyoung

With that, you promptly shut off your phone, blowing out a content sigh, accompanied by the ghost of a smile playing at your mouth. It mildly concerned you how your tattoo felt as if it was on fire, but you shrugged it off, paying more mind to the strangely familiar butterflies rattling within your ribcage and the queer sense of nostalgic deja vu that washed over you like a tidal wave.

The last song of the day was always a sappy romantic one, you’ve come to notice. The customers were slowly dwindling along with the fading sunlight, a few stragglers seated in scattered spots and listening to Wooyoung’s sweet vocalization of sentimentality.

Out of nowhere, a part of you wondered what it’d feel like to have him sing like that for you. Shocked at your own line of thought, you mentally chastised yourself with a sullen frown.

Once the song waned down to the final strums of his little instrument, a bouquet of roses was tossed onto the stage in a flurry of petals and plastic from somewhere within the crowd. It was amusing to watch Wooyoung’s expression shift from one of shock to gratitude, bowing down slightly.

He jogged down the stage after saying his goodbyes, the stark crimson flowers clutched in his hands. And at your utter surprise, he marched up to you, plucking a singular flower out from the middle and handing it to you with a confidently boisterous grin. You didn’t like how your heart seemed to scream obscenities within your ribcage.

“For you,” he purred out, ignoring the fact that a thorn was painfully pricking at his thumb. You rolled your eyes to the side, but a smile colored your lips nonetheless. Mouthing a gentle thank you, you plucked the blossom from his hands and placed it into your apron pocket.

Satisfied, Wooyoung leaned closer to mumble just loud enough for you to pick up. “So… are we ever going to talk about that other day? When you dragged me into a storage room? Rather scandalous, don’t you think?”

“Oh, shush,” you hissed, taking his elbow to lead him to the corner of the cafe where it was a little more secluded. You were particularly aware of Hongjoong’s piercing stare from the kitchens, but you shrugged it off with a frown. Your break was coming up soon, anyways. “What is there to talk about? We both don’t know how it happened. And we both know for sure that we haven’t met prior to the cafe.”

“Okay then, new theory.” Wooyoung stuck his pointer finger into the air. “We’re soulmates!”

It was hard to keep a straight face at his suggestion. “We’re not in a wattpad fanfiction, get your head out of the gutter. There must be a logical explanation to this.”

He threw his hands up into the air. “Then I have no clue, Y/N! I didn’t become a performer to solve riddles. I’m not a part of buzzfeed unsolved. I’d totally be down, though. They look like they have fun.”

“Buzzfeed unsolved doesn’t solve cases, that’s kinda the whole point - !” You broke your own train of thought before it could evolve into an argument. “This doesn’t have to be an issue if we don’t make it one.”

“We have our names tattooed on each other and we don’t know how it happened. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think that’s a wee bit concerning.”

You frowned. “Don’t say wee, that’s weird.”

“I’ll say wee if I want to.” His eyebrow raised at your remark, and you waved it off. He could obviously tell that your growing annoyance was what caused you to nitpick at his every sentence. Desperate to keep you in his good books (for whatever reason, Wooyoung couldn’t quite figure out the reason himself), he found the words leaving him before he could think twice. “We should go to a fortune teller together!”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when all he was met with was an extreme look of skeptic deadpan.

“What?”

“Yeah!” Even Wooyoung himself was starting to sound unsure of his proposal. “I know one downtown, Yeosang went there once for shits and giggles and he told me it was legit. Not sure if what he’s saying is true, though. Yeosang pulls my leg a lot. Sometimes I think he’s more my personal bully than my friend.”

Narrowing your eyes into slants at his nervous rambling about his friend, you asked with an air of nonchalance, “Are you asking me on a date?”

It was your first time seeing the usually flamboyant performer so flustered, skin flushing just slightly at your light-hearted jab. The fumble was short-lived, however, and he quickly regained his poise by shooting you a smug grin that sent your nerves into haywire. How you hated him.

He winked smoothly and a part of you wanted to sock him in the face. “Trust me, when I take you out on a date, it wouldn’t be to a tacky fortune teller.”

You ignored the fact that he said when instead of if.

The maroon curtain’s tassels brushed against you softly as you ducked into the dim fortune teller’s room. Beside you, Wooyoung gazed around the room with round eyes. Yeosang was definitely not kidding; this place looked truly authentic. The only thing illuminating the space were scattered candles, flames blazing a soft orange, and a glowing blue crystal perched on an ornate golden stand. It was set atop a circular table in the back, shrouded by wispy gauze and gentle fog. You absentmindedly wondered where the smoke machines were. Under the table, perhaps? It was covered in a bejeweled purple fabric, after all. Eerie oil-paint portraits of somber people you didn’t recognize lined the wine hued walls. Dozens upon dozens of books with an alphabet you couldn’t recognize printed on the spines were stacked on the shelves. Maybe your eyesight was messing with you.

“Welcome,” the woman behind the misty cerulean orb susurrated. She was beautiful, but a strange, ghostly kind of ethereal. Sallow were her cheeks and dark was the lipstick applied to her shapely lips, accentuated all the more by large golden hoops dangling by her ears. The dark blouse she wore hung low on her chest, showcasing layers of glinting necklaces slanted over her collarbones. A crimson bandana held the fortune teller’s silvery hair away from her face as she waved her elegant hands into your direction, beckoning the two of you closer. She then placed both palms flat on the table. “I’ve been expecting you, darlings. Come, sit.”

Only now did you notice two velvet seats in front of the table. Were those there before? The both of you sat down, Wooyoung bounding over like a recklessly zealous hound, and you carefully striding forward like a skeptic fox. He cracked open his mouth, ready to explain the peculiar situation to the mysterious lady. Before he could do so, however, the woman raised a hand and stopped him.

“You need not tell me why you’re here. I already know.” The words were said mischievously, hanging heavy in the air between you.

Wooyoung looked impressed. You looked like you wanted to leave.

The fortune teller waved her hands about the crystal ball, jewelry dangling along with her movement. “Two blooming roses with intertwined stems,” she narrated with low-hanging eyelids. Much to your reluctant awe, a moving image of what she was saying appeared in the ball. You heard Wooyoung gasp from beside you. Even if this contraption was fake, at least it made for a high quality experience. “Grew into weeds through careless choices.” True to her story, the display of beautiful roses of stark rufescent hues shifted into a rotten husk of what used to be. The two of you observed the spectacle with bated breath.

“Ah, but love fixes all, you see! The weeds return back to their rosy origins.”

Wooyoung leaned closer. You could see the reflection of the orb’s light in his blown pupils.

“But I see something else!” the fortune teller practically shrieked, startling the pair of you. “They start to wither with the sweet poison of vengeance…” she trailed off dramatically, as if truly heartbroken at the thought. In the crystal, your brows furrowed watching drops of molten sage fall onto the soft petals of the flowers. With a blink of an eye, both of the blossoms disappeared into the haze, and the ball clouded over until all that was visible was pure mist.

“Their stems are no longer intertwined,” she said solemnly.

What did any of this have to do with you and your tattoos? You wondered with a glower tracing your lips.

The words she said next only furthered your anger. “That’s all I can say for now.”

Wooyoung gaped, brows furrowing. “What the…? You can’t just stop there! Do you want more money?” Before she could answer, the man was already rifling through his jean pockets in search of the crumpled bills he usually stored.

“If you want me to keep showing you your future, yes. The gift of sight past our time doesn’t come for a cheap price,” the fortune teller quipped almost snobbily. Wooyoung paused in his ministrations, eyeing the woman warily.

After a tense couple of seconds, your hand found the back of Wooyoung’s arm and you tugged just lightly enough for him to get the hint. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines as well. So this place was just a sham, after all.

The setting sun’s rays illuminated a husky golden as you stepped out of the fortune teller’s room. Wooyoung’s car, a small grey thing with absurd stickers plastered all over the sides of the windbreaker, stood to the side of the road. He swung the door open for you to clamber in before heading to the other side and plopping into the driver’s seat with an absentminded hum.

“I’m sorry for dragging you all this way to see a scam,” Wooyoung said while drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. The car growled to life when he turned the key in the ignition. “I swear, Yeosang told me she was the real deal.”

A meek, half-hearted smile made its way to your lips before fading away just as quickly. The shadows the setting sun casted along your face made you out to be more sullen than you really were. “It’s alright,” you replied with obvious doubt lacing your words. The queasy feeling in your stomach was telling you that it most definitely was not alright.

You stared out of the window for the rest of the ride, eerily silent. It worried Wooyoung to see that you were quieter than usual, but he opted to let you process the events, careful not to push you too far. He already felt bad enough as it is. The purring of the engine rolled to a stop when he parked in front of your house.

“Thanks for the ride.” Your hand reached over to pat his shoulder awkwardly, lips quirking upwards into a grin that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t regret going with you, you know? It was worth the shot, so don’t beat yourself up, Wooyoung.”

The man across from you seemed to perk up at that. “Really?” A genuine look of relief flooded over his visage, and he ducked his head in an uncharacteristically bashful manner. “That’s good to hear. I honestly thought you’d never want to go out with me ever again.”

Before you could think twice about what you were saying, you found yourself disclosing with a softened tone, “I’d go out with you again. As long as it’s not back to that shady fortune teller.”

A laugh reverberated throughout his car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Wooyoung,” you mumbled with a stout nod, pushing the door open. He mock-saluted you as a goodbye. Though you missed the way he longingly watched you go, you still found it sweet that he waited until you were safe inside the sanctuary of your home before he drove off, thoughts of your pretty smile imprinted into his memory.

A migraine unfurled about your temple the minute you stepped foot into your living room. With a grimace marring your visage, you shuffled into the kitchen to fix yourself a cup of steaming tea. With the electric kettle on, you leaned against the counter with a ponderous sigh. Once the water was done boiling, it was transferred to a smooth beige mug and you steeped in the extra strawberry tea leaves the cafe didn’t need, tossing in heaps of sugar to your liking. The sweet aroma filled your senses as you stirred mindlessly, blowing before gingerly taking a sip.

With your steaming cup of tea in hand, you ambled back into the living room, pausing by the book shelves to grab a random book to pass the time and hopefully alleviate your headache. The couch cushions sank underneath your weight. The softest of grins found your lips once you noticed that you had grabbed a compilation book of old fairy tales. Worn pages flicked beneath your fingers until you reached the tale of The Princess and the Frog, one of your childhood favorites.

As you sifted through the story, you noticed your tattoo begin to sting with heat, and you hesitantly shed the sweater you were wearing. The page you landed on depicted a cartoon-ish illustration of the princess holding the frog in her cupped hands and leaning down to kiss him to turn him back into a prince. Worrying at your bottom lip, your thoughts drifted to the tattoo you had, and the name printed just beneath it.

The sudden splitting in your head almost had you doubling over, and you immediately snapped the book closed. It felt as if your skull was being cleaved in two, and you buried your face in the softness of your discarded sweater. There was something so heavily suspicious about all of this, as if you had all the fragments of glass, but nothing to piece the mirror back together. It was evidently taking a heavy toll on you. You hated being left in the unknown.

Perhaps that was enough reading for today. With a hefty exhale, you slipped the book back on the shelf and promptly turned towards your bedroom. You just needed some sleep, was all.

Hours later that same night, you dreamed of a golden restaurant with your name plastered in front, and a handsome performer that looked eerily familiar. He called himself your husband, and it had felt so painstakingly real. A raw memory fabricated from lies. It ended when purple fog clouded your subconscious, and the dream that felt too good to be real cut itself short.

“I’ll find you!” A voice that sounded awfully like one you’ve heard before but couldn’t quite place echoed. You woke up with a start, shooting from the bed with heaving breaths, cheeks dampened with searing tears you hadn’t realized were yours amidst your sleep-addled haze.

You weren’t quite sure what pushed you to the decision, but you suddenly had half the mind to revisit a certain fortune teller.

“Are you okay?” was the first thing Wooyoung asked you the next day, hurrying into the cafe and brushing past an affronted and confused Hongjoong before shoving the doors to the kitchens open. As he expected, there you were, flipping over an order of grilled cheese and blending chocolate milkshakes at the same time. It was the bustling hours of lunch rush and tickets were flying in like there was no tomorrow. Somehow you managed to look completely frazzled yet the true epitome of professional stoicism at once, and Wooyoung found it particularly endearing watching you meander about the kitchen with such confidence in your work. Just as you found beauty in his singing, he found art in your efficiency.

You barely spared him a glance before shoving two plates of burgers and fries into his arms and nudging him out the door with your hip. “I don’t quite think I have the time to answer that question right now but take these to table eleven, please?”

Normally, Wooyoung would’ve been irked at the thought of being shrugged off so quickly. He was a hit with the ladies and gents and nonbinary peeps of all kinds, after all. It’d been a while since he was treated like a regular person.

But with you, things were different. He found himself nodding with a slight grin, raising his hand (with a precariously balanced plate of food, mind you) and saluting you whilst barking out a quipped, “Yes, boss!” before scampering away to do as you bid. It was as if you had him wrapped around your pinky finger, and you had done nothing but show him disinterest from the start. Perhaps the change of pace was what Wooyoung enjoyed so much. Nothing more than that, right?

It was two hours later when lunch rush faded into leisurely flow and you finally had your break. After cleaning yourself up in the employee’s bathroom, you flicked the water from your hands away and pushed out of the bathroom, immediately greeted with Wooyoung singing a song with quite vulgar lyrics, body rocking with slow yet sensual movements. You bit your tongue, half of you holding back snorts of laughter and the other part of you far too flustered to react in fear of thinking inappropriate thoughts about this man you barely knew. A man you had a tattoo of, no less.

Crossing your arms and leaning against an unoccupied booth’s seats, you caught the performer’s gaze as he crooned into the mic, all husky and… was that a growl you just heard? His dark irises scanned the audience once more before landing on you, winking slyly. The pair of fans in front of you swooned, thinking the action was directed to them, but you knew that it was all for you, and you couldn’t quite tell if you were disgusted or pleased at the fact. Swallowing away your dignity by downing a whole bottle of water, you patiently waited until he finished performing before bowing down to the crowd and hopping off stage, despite everybody asking for an encore.

“Hi,” he said with a smile. “I got the text you sent me asking to talk. Sorry I didn’t get to chat once your shift ended. You were busy when I was free, and I was singing when you got off.”

Something inside your chest warmed at his unnecessary but considerate apology. You turned to head towards the kitchens, where the two of you would have more privacy and nobody would be gawking at the ordinary waitress and talented, handsome performer interacting. “It’s no worry. You, uhm… you looked… you did good up there.” Clearly compliments weren’t your strong suit. You cleared your throat before gesturing vaguely to him. “You’re good at what you do.”

“So are you. I’ve seen you work like a damn machine. A pretty one, at that.” Wooyoung smiled, a flirtatious lilt to his words.

An eyebrow raised at his response. You pointedly ignored his last comment. “What, waitressing? I wouldn’t really consider that a huge deal. I mean, you don’t see any fans throwing their lacy undergarments at me through the kitchen window, do you?”

“If it’s underwear you want, then all you have to do is ask, Y/N.” He leaned forward teasingly, but you swatted at his arm with a roll of your eyes.

“Anyways, I have something to ask you. You can say no, by the way. I’d completely understand.” The tone you took was cautious, almost scared of how he would reply. At his expecting nod, you continued, “I want to go back to the fortune teller.”

If Wooyoung had been drinking something, he would’ve spit it out. But alas, his hands held nothing of the sort, so he opted for enlarged eyes and an incredulously garbled, “What?” His palms sought out your shoulders, gripping you tight, his touch radiating warmth through the fabric of your work uniform. “You want to go back? Why?” It wasn’t quite like you to want to do something stupid. No, that was usually his job. And twice, no less. Must’ve been some sort of record.

You puckered your lips to the side in thought. “I just feel like… something’s off. It’s like I was promised closure on something and it was ripped away from me before I could give it a second thought. Don’t you feel the same?”

The man across from you swallowed the lump in his throat, smoothing his hands from your shoulders down your forearms, halting at your elbows to gently tug your closer. You weren’t quite sure what had kindled the need for physical affirmation, but you weren’t going to push him away now.

“I did, last night. My tattoo started itching? Burning, kind of. Not really sure how to describe it. And I got a horrible headache, too,” he said, wincing.

At his words, a staccatoed gasp reverberated from you, fingers shooting out to curl against the lapels of his shirt. At this point, your faces were only inches apart. You could smell his subtle aroma, a pleasant concoction of ground coffee beans and fougere.

“Me too!” you replied in a whisper-yell. Then you seemed to notice how close the two of you had gotten during the exchange, clearing your throat and stepping back awkwardly. Wooyoung, wanting to respect your space, dropped his hands as well, opting to fold them neatly over his chest.

Concern danced over his eyes. “Your tattoo hurts?”

“Not right now,” you murmured while shaking your head. He watched as your fingers grazed over your ribcage, where the tattoo was situated just beneath. “But this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

Wooyoung pursed his lips. The thought of you biting the stick and bearing through the pain didn’t sit well with him.

“Okay. I’ll take you back to her after work ends, hm?” Carding his hands through his midnight-hued tresses, a breathy laugh falls past his lips. “A shame our second time going out together is back to that shady fortune teller.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on your face. “Then we’ll have to make our third time count, don’t we?” Throwing him a challenging grin, you sauntered out of the kitchen to head towards Hongjoong’s office to ask for an early end to the day, leaving Wooyoung in the kitchen with an irregular pulse and a lopsided beam one might’ve labeled as lovesick.

The money the fortune teller demanded was nothing short of the culmination of both you and Wooyoung’s savings. At the absurd request, you almost turned around and stomped right back out the tent, but Wooyoung’s hand trailing down your arm seemed to ground you to reality.

If the two of you passed this up, you would have nowhere else to turn for answers.

The room hadn’t changed at all, and the fortune teller’s eyes shone with a particular gleam that you couldn’t quite place. Her smile was far from welcoming, resembling a fox’s sneer. You cautiously sat down on the circular seat across from her. The cash clutched in your fist was a fat wad of bills, skittering over the smooth surface of the table as you pushed it towards her.

“Try not to frown so much, dear,” she rumbled in a deep timbre as she forked through the cash with a smirk. “Disrupts the energy of my sanctum, you see?”

You did not see, but you kept your mouth shut.

Now that she had her money, the fortune teller seemed to drop any need for compelling theatrics. She waved her hand over the crystal ball. At first, nothing appeared, the sphere remaining a hazy cloud of grey. Then, much to both of your surprise, a vividly crisp image formed through the ball’s mist. What appeared elicited a gasp from the pair of you.

There you were, in the fanciest of satin dresses, meandering about what looked to be… your dream restaurant. The very one you would fantasize every day while working at the cafe. The person who wore your face smiled so brightly it illuminated the whole restaurant, and you swayed between tables to chat to the customers.

Was this really you? Or was it just a twisted trick?

The hand that clutched at your heart only grasped tighter when Wooyoung, clad in a tank top and beige trousers, sauntered into frame, wrapping his arms around you and whispering softly into your ear. A cocky smile played at his lips, identical to the one you often saw in real life, and he pressed gentle kisses against the column of your neck. The Wooyoung sitting next to you snorted upon seeing you in the crystal ball shove him away, most likely telling him off for not wearing something nicer.

What really caught your attention, however, was the tattoo splayed clear as day on his right bicep.

“Oh my God,” Wooyoung whispered from beside you.

The scene ended abruptly, but a new one conjured shortly after, splaying nothing but dark purple staining the once golden surfaces of your restaurant.

A headache was starting to form in the back of your temple.

Another woman that looked so awfully familiar materialized in front, her dark mane of curls tumbling over her lilac suit, a feathered top hat sat tall and proud on the crown of her head. She introduced herself as Maeve, and another jolt of pain ricocheted throughout your skull.

Maeve, Maeve, Maeve. Were you supposed to know that name?

The Y/N and Wooyoung in the crystal ball looked to be just as bewildered, strapped down to chairs. The scene played out until they were crying, tears forming rivulets over their cheeks, and were forced to drink a steaming potion the hue of molten emeralds. They both disappeared in a fog of violet, and two golden rings clattered to the floor as they vanished.

“Wedding rings,” you breathed out in recognition.

The crystal ball reverted back to its original state, and Wooyoung’s voice was shaking as he uttered, “That’s it?” The both of you hadn’t even realized you unconsciously moved towards each other while watching, his arm practically draped over your back and your hands clutching at his knees.

“That’s it,” the fortune teller replied, nodding grimly. “The two of you are not from this universe, you see. You’ve been sent here by a witch as an act of revenge. Memories wiped, lives restarted, but without one another. The fact that you even found each other is a feat said to be impossible. Never have I believed in the concept of soulmates before, but this is the closest thing to it.”

It was all too much, too quickly. You and Wooyoung… soulmates? The echoing laughter of yourself from a month ago would’ve made quite the impression.

“We were…” despair swam about Wooyoung’s eyes. “We were married, Y/N. The tattoos…” His voice fell away, lost to the overwhelming situation at hand.

Things were finally starting to click in place. The closure you had so desperately wanted fell right into your lap, but you had half the mind to shove it away, run from the truth, flee from destiny. A sick feeling pummeled at your insides. You barely even felt Wooyoung’s fingers grazing over your jaw, turning you to look at him. Concern etched across his rugged visage. Pain swallowed you, whole and raw, and you had to rip yourself away from his touch. You didn’t notice the slightly wounded look that crossed his features. After all, he was going through the exact same thing you were.

“Can we go back? To our old life?” Your throat was raw, as if you had swallowed down a handful of broken glass. However much conflicted you were, you were still bothered by the fact that you were happy, you had everything you wanted in life, and it was brutally ripped away from you.

What would it be like? Married to Wooyoung, a man you barely even knew. If you loved him in your past life, would you be able to love him now, knowing what you already knew?

“You can.”

Wooyoung quirked an eyebrow. “How?”

A delinquent smile danced across the fortune teller’s mouth. “You’ve heard of all the old fairy tales, no?” She flicked her finger between the two of you, running her tongue along the rims of her teeth teasingly. “True love’s kiss, my dears.”

You stiffened at her words, glancing at Wooyoung. He was staring at you incredulously, gaze flicking down to your lips as if he wanted to try, right then and there. Uncomfortable and tired, you turned back to the mysterious woman and quietly asked, “Is there no other way?”

The shaking of her head paradoxically brought both relief and disappointment to you. “As they say, love cures all. One kiss of raw devotion shared between the accursed will break the curse of separation. You’ll go back to your normal lives, have your old memories back.” Her maniacal laughter sent a shiver spidering over your spine. “It’s a shame that you two aren’t in love.”

Yeah… you thought while reaching over to slowly lace your fingers with a surprised Wooyoung. A weak smile morphed his pretty lips, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly. It was obvious that he was trying to hide the abundance of emotions he felt, but he wasn’t very good at it. Wooyoung always wore his heart on his sleeve. What a shame.

Love, according to the few and far romance movies you’ve watched (and even less you’ve enjoyed), meant grand gestures. Thousands of letters expressing deep affections sent across the seas, bouquets of multi-hued flowers the size of a large fish tank, public proposals filled with jubilant tears and heartfelt monologues, running after somebody in the rain to kiss them, or risking your life to preserve one you thought was far more precious.

If someone were to ask you what you thought love was, you would stop in your tracks and mull the question over. Did you really know the answer? Should you trust google with a question as nuanced as this? Does love even have a concrete definition? It wasn’t like there was some sort of scientific equation to figure such a complex notion of human behavior.

And so, in reply, you would shrug your shoulders, and respond with a simple, “I don’t know.” Because how could you explain something that was taken away from you? Something you couldn’t even remember experiencing?

Perhaps love was the way his overgrown tendrils of hair fell in front of his eyes, the bitter melodies of sorrow he sang, the way his obnoxious laugh made your heart swell. Maybe love was when he stood close to you, his intoxicating scent making you dizzy with an untamed need for more, the way his eyes betrayed nothing but fondness when he looked at you, the flirty passing remarks he quipped just to get you riled up. Love was Wooyoung, love used to be Wooyoung, love is Wooyoung. Or was it? You weren’t quite sure.

So when he asked you “What do we do now?”, you were at a true loss for words.

“Let’s take this slow, yeah?”

Wooyoung nodded at that. “Yeah.”

“We’re not in love with each other.”

He bobbed his head again. “Yeah.”

“So let’s take it slow.”

“Okay.”

You wanted to sock him in his stupidly handsome face. Despite the overwhelming urge, you managed to reel yourself in with a harsh exhale.

“Take it slow” was a pretty loose term. Over the course of a week, Wooyoung had already taken you out to three dates, much to the both of your bafflement. Had you forgotten to ease into this whole relationship thing or did you consciously ignore that? Were you taking things too fast because you were under pressure to ‘be in love’ or was it because you genuinely enjoyed spending time with him?

The first official one was more or less a test date; he took you out to a cliche spin through the theaters, giggling into your popcorn buckets and hushing one another teasingly, despite paying nearly no attention to the sappy film splayed on the large screen. The night ended with Wooyoung looking as if he wanted to kiss you, but paused before he could do anything too hasty. It’s only the first date, he reminded himself almost bitterly. You had to admit, his hands ghosting over your waist felt nice, though. Bidding him adieu with a quiet good night, you smiled at the thought of how painstakingly obvious it was that Wooyoung wasn’t the type to settle down. You found it sweet that he was even trying with you.

The second date consisted of ferris wheels and saccharine cotton candy and an oversized pink teddy bear (that you won for Wooyoung, mind you). The ecstatic smiles the both of you wore lasted the whole evening, from when you teased him for being spooked at the creaks and groans of the ferris wheel, to when the sun nosed the horizon and the stars arised from the silky darkness, to the car ride home where the both of you hummed along to his nostalgic playlist. You gave him a soft hug goodbye before slipping into your house. Wooyoung swore his knees almost buckled upon inhaling your fragrant perfume. It drove him crazy up on the ferris wheel, and now, when you had your arms wrapped around him, his brain was practically going into overdrive.

The third date was the most intimate yet, spent in the sanctuary of your home. When he first stepped foot in, he looked to be a starry-eyed toddler, eyeing everything with wonder. He stopped by every picture frame on the wall, every plant you had laying around, every organized bookshelf he passed by. This is where the person he loved in his past life lived. Safe to say, Wooyoung was just a tad overwhelmed.

After getting yourself situated (the both of you came here fresh from your work shifts), the two of you were gently swaying in your kitchen with sock-clad feet as a slow song crooned on the radio. You weren’t quite sure how you ended up dancing with him when you were supposed to be cooking up dinner, but the pleading look in his eyes when he turned on the music was hard to say no to. Wooyoung had the most foolish of grins on his lips, and you weren’t any better, slipping along the tiled floor with him. One of his hands clasped yours, the other snaked around your waist. He smelled so good it sent you into a giddy haze. Your arms were wound about his neck, gazing into his molten eyes as if he was the only person in the world. Just the two of you.

It shouldn’t have happened then. No, confessing on the third date was quite literally the exact opposite of ‘taking it slow’.

But Wooyoung did it anyway, throwing any and all caution to the wind.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, pulling you close and resting his chin against the crown of your head. “I think I’m in love with you.”

The freezing stiffness of your limbs didn’t go unnoticed by him. You stopped moving along with him, pulling away slightly to look him clear in the face. With gentle hands, your fingers traveled from the nape of his neck to his jawline, studying his features, as if searching for any physical signs of sincerity.

Scared was his heart, beating a song of terror against his chest. Pressed up so close to him, Wooyoung wondered if you could feel the thumping yourself.

“Yeah?” was all you uttered, looking at him in a newfound light.

“Yeah,” he whispered, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. “I love you. You don’t have to say it back, I just needed to let you know.”

There was so much he wanted to tell you, so much just on the tip of his tongue. But he withheld himself, opting just to stand there with you, in the middle of your kitchen, in the midst of your heart. If he had to wait, he would. Patience wasn’t his specialty, but for you, he’d wait eons.

With naught a word, you tugged him in your direction, eyelids slipping shut as your lips caressed against his. A gentle brush at first, tentative in nature. Only millimeters away, and it was all just him, only him. Then another one, firmer and confident, with practically no space between you. Wooyoung’s eyes were still blown wide open in shock at your boldness, and also because he couldn’t possibly miss a second of this. No, not when you were kissing him, not when you were so breathtakingly beautiful it physically pained him. Not when you weren’t his just yet.

You detached yourself from him with a hand on his chest, the other caressing his cheekbone softly with your thumb. You tried your damned hardest to ignore the harsh burning of your tattoo.

“Either the fortune teller fucked us over, or that wasn’t true love’s kiss just yet, then.” Despondency laced Wooyoung’s tone after a second, and you so desperately wanted to deny, come up with an excuse. But you merely casted your gaze to the side, silent.

It was too soon. It shouldn’t have happened then. Wooyoung should’ve waited. He cursed himself for his recklessness.

With a lingering press of his lips to your forehead and a quiet farewell, Wooyoung fully drew away from you. You stood in the middle of your kitchen, arms wrapped around yourself as you listened to the faint echo of the door shutting.

The romantic slow song playing on the radio no longer sounded like love, but a distorted echo, warped and inauthentic. Love didn’t sound like love anymore, not without Wooyoung.

You hadn’t been able to sleep all night. Wooyoung’s confession plagued your mind, his hand caging a steel fist about your heart. He wasn’t lying, you could tell that much from the way he looked at you, the way his words were so soft it practically melted in front of you.

Were you in love with him? If you truly did, the two of you would be back in your old lives, married and happy. Guilt warbled its horrid song throughout your abdomen.

You were extremely fond of Wooyoung, but perhaps you just hadn’t reached the drastic level of true love. Or it could be that you just weren’t aware of how far your feelings for him went.

You wished love was as easy as it looked in the romance movies. People fell in love so easily, so quickly, like water bubbling through a forest creek. What you were feeling was… slow, broken, tedious, a journey of healing rather than falling. Were you ready to give up everything you had here, to have a perfect life that actually already belonged to you with Wooyoung? Thinking about it, the answer seemed so very obvious, but you couldn’t help but hesitate. Maybe the issue was the amalgamation of both your attachment and commitment issues. You couldn’t help but snort at the thought.

But just thinking about him, you felt lightheaded imagining his smile, his beautiful voice, his questionable outfits, the way he held you as if you were everything of meaning. Wooyoung wore his heart on his sleeve, ready to love so easily, but you had it buried deep down in the sandy pits within your consciousness, afraid and unyielding. You had always been a stubborn thing when it came to emotions.

The million dollar question was: did you love Wooyoung?

With a teary-eyed smile, you realized that for him, perhaps you would grab a shovel to dig through said sandy pits.

The next morning, Wooyoung texted you that he was going to be picking you up for work, followed by a strange fusion of emojis you couldn’t quite decipher. What was the worm emote even doing next to the crying cat?

You could hear your pulse thundering in your ears, a steady drum of anxiety. What were you so nervous for? You knew that he loved you back. Perhaps you were worried that you’d mess it up. Maybe he regretted it and changed his mind overnight.

The chirping thoughts were silenced away when the doorbell rang, and you scrambled to the door, flinging it open with a breath. Before Wooyoung could even begin to say hello, you blurted out, almost unintelligibly, “I think I’m in love with you too!”

The surprise jolted through his veins, his muscles grew rigid, shock painting his features with a stark crimson blush. Then, the startlement gave way to pure, unadulterated joy, the kind that nothing else could possibly deter.

His smile sent you into a dizzying spell as he said, “You think?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, breathy. Your hands fumbled to grab his loosened tie, tugging him inside your house and his own fell upon your hips. “The fortune teller said we weren’t supposed to find each other again. But we did. And… and then you fell in love with me and I thought… I thought it was way too quick, way too fast. I didn’t… I didn’t know that I was in love with you just the same. Our past selves were also in love, married, we had this!” you exclaimed, pushing your shirt just enough to reveal the inky etches of the frog tattoo before allowing it to billow back down. “I want that back. I might not remember it, but I want it back. And I want to love you, I want to live my life with you, I want that restaurant we own together, I want…”

A pregnant silence buzzed between the two of you as your words trailed off, inching closer towards him.

“I just want you,” Wooyoung finished your thoughts for you, a dazzling laugh tumbling past his lips. Tears laced his eyes as raw emotion overtook him, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting in the back of your throat as well.

Time moved in slow motion when he leaned to you grasping at your waist so tightly as if he was afraid you’d crumble into dust. The feeling of his lips against yours was a taste of heaven, the sensation of your hands in his hair so distracting that he almost hadn’t noticed the sudden swirling of golden light materializing around the two of you, growing brighter and brighter.

Blinding, blinding, blinding.

It was terrifying, exhilarating, intoxicating.

All you could feel was Wooyoung, just Wooyoung.

Were the two of you floating? You couldn’t quite tell.

Then, all of a sudden, it felt as if a brick wall fell atop your head, and both you and Wooyoung separated, groaning.

Slowly, like ink dripping into a mason jar of water, you remembered. The memories of your restaurant, of your marriage to Wooyoung, of your time being frogs for crying out loud, of you defeating Dr. Facilier, of Maeve forcing you away from this picture-perfect life you had.

You remembered everything.

Salty tears fell over your cheeks uncontrollably, sobs ripping through your throat as you grappled for Wooyoung.

“Oh my God.” His face mirrored yours, sorrow, happiness, passion, loss, confusion, all conglomerated into one expression of love for you, just you. “Y/N, holy shit. Come here. Oh my God. I love you, I missed you, fuck, I love you so fucking much.”

The two of you embraced each other in a mess of tears and laughs.

“We did it!” he yelled a little too loud for your ears, kissing you soundly.

“We did,” you hummed against his lips.

“Where are we?” Wooyoung looked around, before the gentle realization dawned on him. “Our restaurant’s balcony. We’re home.”

The stars blinked down at you, as if glowing in congratulations. The moon, pale in its polished beauty, whole and glistening stood stark in the black inky sky.

“You’re so beautiful,” Wooyoung’s words drew your gaze back to him. “I’m so sorry I lost you and I couldn’t protect you from…”

“No,” you said, pressing a feather-light kiss onto his nose. “You said you’d find me, remember? And you did, Wooyoung. We found each other. I’m right here.”

This seemed to have Wooyoung dissolve into another fit of tears, and you pulled him into a hug, clutching him tight and rubbing circles into his back. What a crybaby, you thought as you swiped at your own tears.

“I’m sorry,” came a voice that didn’t belong to either of you. Both of your heads whipped to the doorway, gasps tearing through your throats. Not again. Please, not again.

“Maeve,” you growled at the purple-suited woman, grabbing onto Wooyoung’s forearm. Hatred bubbled in your stomach.

The woman that ruined your lives stood in front of you, desolated and daunting. She looked horrible, bags under her lilac eyes that shined dully in the night, her magic ball cane tapping against the stone floor with a thud, thud, thud. The untamed curls draped over her shoulders seemed all the more unruly. The feather on her top hat drooped so low it fell in front of her face pathetically.

“What do you mean, you’re sorry?” Wooyoung demanded once getting over his initial stupefaction, stepping forward bravely. Or stupidly, come to think of it. Had your idiot of a husband forgotten that she was an all-powerful witch hell-bent on revenge?

Though Maeve’s voice was once silky and fluid, it was now scratchy and rough, as if difficult to force out of her throat. “Facilier never loved me. He only used me as a distraction, I was well aware. I never meant anything to him. Despite that, I was still in love with him and the unquenchable anger I felt when I found out he was gone, taken away from me… it destroyed me. I took it out on the people who took him away from me. He was a horrible man, Facilier. Always tricking people for power. Nobody was friends with him, not really. Not even those voodoo spirits ended up being loyal to him, I’m sure you remember. I was blinded by my grief, and for that, I’m sorry. I understand if you’re still angry at me; what I did was unforgivable.”

Her sharp nails drummed against her cane in agitation.

Your grip on Wooyoung loosened as the fury you had felt so strongly waned away, like sand down an hourglass. With a reassuring glance towards your husband, you stepped forward and extended a hand.

“Love is cruel, Maeve. I’m sorry for your loss,” you said with genuine sincerity. There was no point in holding a grudge, not when you were back, not when you were safe, and most certainly not when you defeated the laws of fate itself.

She was surprised that you hadn’t lashed out at her, fighting tooth and nail. “I…” The witch looked to be at a loss for words, lips falling agape in search of something to say. “Thank you,” was what she settled on, before clasping your palm and giving it a firm shake. Her free limb went up to her collarbones, brushing against the mass of skull necklaces before fishing out a singular silver chain. After unclasping the metal lock, Maeve slid two golden rings into her palm and held it out to you.

Your wedding rings. Swallowing away the lump in your throat with the ghost of a beam, you clenched your fist about the cold metal circles. You finally had your life back. The shattered bowl of glass glued together by liquid gold. Beauty created by damage.

Wooyoung held onto your shoulders from behind, quaking like a leaf. You internally scoffed at the thought; your husband would definitely be the first to die in a horror movie, no doubt about it.

With that, Maeve spun on her heel, striding out of your restaurant.

You turned to Wooyoung with a gentle, relieved grin. He pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek, smoothing down your stray hairs with one palm and the other trailing down to brush above your tattoo. “I’m going to miss Hongjoong,” you commented off-handedly, to which Wooyoung only responded with a bark of a laugh. “Who knows, maybe there’ll be a Hongjoong in this world too.”

Fatigue laid dormant in the both of you, evident in your heavy limbs and hanging eyelids. The both of you could most definitely use a long bubble bath and cuddles in bed and a dozen hours of sleep. Despite your exhaustion, you’ve really never felt happier in your life.

What was once drab and dreary, now wholly golden.

All was well.

"i need you to fill in for someone's partner," your friend, younghoon, blares on the phone clearly panicked and desperate to get you.

"hoon, i told you i can only fill in if it fits my schedule. and you know my sched. i have full-day classes on wednesdays," you explained, sighing on the phone.

younghoon shrieks and you could almost see him in front of you to know that he was already pacing around while biting his thumb to think of a solution.

"aren't there anyone who can fill in?" you ask, trying to ease him.

"you're the only one left." younghoon replies, the panic in his voice getting bigger. "this is a big event, y/n. this client- it's his first time too so," he shakes his head- as you assume, groaning and groaning. "y/n, i'll raise your pay for this one."

"younghoon, i know you pay well, but i really can't." you pout, though as enticing as the raise of pay was, you didn't want to skip school.

being a seat filler was one of your many part-time jobs. and it so happened that it was managed by your closest friend, younghoon, that you got a little more privileges than the other employees.

"doubling your pay on this one. please, it really is a big event,"

"hoon."

"triple."

"younghoon!"

"quadruple?" younghoon asks one last time, and you could only sigh.

"..fine. but a double will be fine," you finally agree, marking the day on your calendar. "let's just i wouldn't miss much a day without school or i'm going to get you," you hear younghoon celebrate on the other line, thanking you repeatedly as he gives you the details on where, and what the do's and don'ts were.

"his name is kim sunwoo, by the way." younghoon adds, and before you could ask again, he had said his goodbyes and hang up on you for some client that was calling him.

sighing for the nth time, "..the senior?" you crane your neck, then shook your head. the world was big. it was impossible it was your senior.

it was your senior.

standing before you outside your house- as the client had insisted to drive you to the event to prevent any misunderstandings and mistakes from the way you dressed because this was such a big event, you now gawked at him.

"..y/n. you're.. y/n, right? from.. my school." he stuttered, his hands fiddling with the hem of his coat.

he wore a simple black suit, one that will make him mingle with a shit ton of formally dressed rich people, but his colored hair made him stand out.

"yes." you awkwardly stuttered, tugging on your long evening dress and trying to make yourself comfortable with it.

"...you're a seat.. filler?" he cautiously asks, walking closer to you to assist you in walking to his car.

"yep. needed more money," you gladly take his hand, frowning at how the heels hurt your ankle at every step you took.

sunwoo just hums and like the gentleman that he is, opens the shotgun seat's door for you and runs back to the driver's seat after assisting you.

"so.. younghoon didn't say much because he said you'll be the one to relay everything," you start, wanting to cut the awkward atmosphere at the obviously long ride.

"you just have to sit there. literally- a seat filler." he gives out a low chuckle, easing your tensed shoulders. "my parents have been bugging me to go to this dinner, and i really just don't want to go alone so,"

"younghoon begged for this big event. this was the big event?"

this was a big event.

after sunwoo said dinner, you thought it literally was just dinner. but now, you're gawking at the event place right in front of you, formal- as you're dressed for, but looking at the tons of people walking in and out of the place, you felt underdressed, even.

"i thought.. this was just.. a normal dinner?" you nudged sunwoo, who once again offered his hand for you to take.

"a dinner with lots of people. don't worry, it really doesn't matter. we're sitting with my parents and you just have to smile and greet them, then eat. surely, they won't talk." sunwoo leads you after making a beeline away from the people that eyed you, or maybe it was sunwoo, you didn't care.

apparently, this event was just some dinner. it was a celebration because of a successful opening of a company, then you didn't bother following the toast that was being made because sunwoo offered you a seat between him and his dad that was still busy listening to the one speaking in front.

"cheers!" his dad shouts almost too cheerfully and bumping onto you if it weren't for your fast reflexes. "oh, i'm sorry! i didn't see you there," he eyes you head to toe, then finally letting his eyes settle behind you. "sunwoo, you're late,"

sunwoo doesn't even bat an eye, only giving him a single nod to pull the chair for you to sit down.

seconds later, the one speaking in front was making her way to your table, then sitting with a big smile on her face. you assumed it was his mother.

"oh.. sunwoo brought someone," she mumbles, giving her husband a side-eye.

smiling politely at them, your fingers fiddled with the wineglass in front of you.

"you're..?" his mom quirks an eyebrow, waiting for your response.

"y/n. i'm y/n," giving them another smile, your eyebrows furrow for a second at their response- a chuckle, an elegant one, you must say.

"silly. i meant your relationship with my son," your back slowly straightens, cursing sunwoo on your mind.

you said they wouldn't talk?

eyeing sunwoo, he must've felt your eyes on him and he immediately takes interest in the conversation, crossing his arms over his chest.

"she's my girlfriend," sunwoo nonchalantly answers, holding your hand. you almost flinch at the contact, your eyes widening.

this wasn't part of the information he had given you.

"what?" mr. kim, obviously amused at the scene that was playing in front of him, was way too familiar with sunwoo's tricks.

sunwoo squeezes your hand and you instantly understood what he wants you to do- to play along. but this just wasn't it. your work was to be a seat filler. not some fucking girlfriend-for-hire.

"sorry-" you turn your back on sunwoo and smile at his parents. you thought again of what you should say, sunwoo's doe eyes almost begging you. "it's just that he hasn't asked to be my boyfriend yet, so i'm quite perplexed," you nod at them, giving them a small, disapproving shake of your head to explain the suddenness of your reaction after sunwoo had said you were his girlfriend.

"honey, that's not a very kim to do," his mom sips from the wineglass, looking at sunwoo with a stink eye. "why would you bring someone whom you're still pursuing, more on to a closed-off gathering?"

"well then- y/n," sunwoo takes both of your hands, staring right at your panicking eyes. "will you be officially mine?"

you pinch his palm discreetly, but he doesn't budge. he just gives you the same doe eyes, hopeful that you'll just go with the flow.

"of course," you breathe out, wanting to end this as much as sunwoo does. sunwoo lets go of your other hand, letting you face his parents again.

"there- are you satisfied?" you didn't even know if his parents know that this was all an act to how sunwoo acts around them.

"go tell the world then," his father challenges, nodding at the podium.

"uh- no, i don't think that's necessary," you mumble, but sunwoo was already walking to the podium half-aggressively.

fuck, no.

"i would like to take this time that i, kim sunwoo- the son of the ceo and vice president of kim finance has gotten a partner- one he sees as a potential fiance for a long run, and i seek your understanding to halt the continuous blind dates you set me on, thank you. cheers," sunwoo raises his glass, then glances at you. at that move, everybody's eyes were now on you, while you stupidly smile at them awkwardly.

you were just a seat filler.

now you're someone's girlfriend.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, i'm sorry, y/n!" he apologizes in a higher tone after he got you inside the car, and he himself.

you were far too dumbfounded at everything that just happened, just wanting to get your pay but then you got between a supposedly family feud.

"kim sunwoo.. with all due respect, i am just a seat filler. if you don't know what that is- it literally means seat filler. a person who fills a seat. hell, you should even be thankful that i went to this dinner. i just go to events, sunwoo. literal events. no eating. no talking. and absolutely no pretending i'm with someone- romantically." you ramble, veins popping on your neck as you explained your side job.

but apparently, it was funny to sunwoo. after your rambling, he chuckles to himself for god knows what reason, showing a little effort of hiding it.

"..excuse me? what's funny?" you deadpanned, looking at him in disbelief.

"sorry, i just.." he bursts into laughter again, and you could only crease your face in confusion. he gathers his breath again and focuses, trying not to laugh. "i just find the situation funny. that's all."

you didn't know if he was just really finding the situation funny or he was just an asshole.

you let him laugh though. you just watched him. because how can someone look so good and cute laughing? it wasn't a secret to the whole campus that sunwoo was indeed charming.

you just didn't have the time to drool for other people. you'd rather drool because you sleep. but then you don't. you barely sleep, so you didn't have any choice.

he looked so lively, in contrast to how he was acting in front of his parents. a while ago, he was that son that everyone thinks is only the next generation of his parent's company- but now, he was just a normal college boy. a college boy who was laughing for no reason.

"are you done, sunwoo?" you quirk your brows at him, sighing. "we're not even close- if anything i should be calling you by sir, right now."

"but now you're my girlfriend," he cuts you off, a teasing smile plastered on his face.

"my point! and apparently, a potential fiance!" you mock him, throwing your hands in the air. "what the hell was that?!"

"well- you're now really my girlfriend. sorry for that," sunwoo shrugs, looking forward and started the engine.

"w-what?! sunwoo! i barely know you!" you check your watch, "hell- it's not even a mere five hours since i first talked to you!" you grunt, throwing in the seatbelt around you.

you just hear sunwoo faintly laugh, making you more annoyed.

"sunwoo, i'm serious," you whine.

"i'm serious too!" he defends, "i'm sorry, okay? but you're now my girlfriend- or my parents will kill the both of us for lying,"

"can't we just find you another one?" you pout, "sunwoo, come on. for the love of god, you didn't even ask me to pretend that i love you, nor to be your girlfriend," you roll your eyes, trying to contain your annoyance.

"i'm not asking this relationship to be fake. i told you, you're my girlfriend now. this isn't a fake thing- it's a real relationship," sunwoo explains nonchalantly, making you grow more anxious.

"much worse, then! are you hearing yourself, dear client?" you slump on your seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

"you hate it that much?" sunwoo just chuckles, focusing on the road in front.

"of course- no offense. i just.. look. i want to fall in love normally, okay? not on some- sudden, first-time meeting." you mumble, explaining.

because that's how you really wanted to fall in love. i mean, who in the world would want to be someone's girlfriend overnight- with a person she just started talking with when in the first place, he should only be a client?

before you know it, sunwoo has already driven to your street and to your house, thinking to himself.

"..find someone else to do this job for you, sunwoo. not someone from younghoon's, no. we are all literally just seat fillers. we're not girlfriends-for-hire," you sigh out, unbuckling the seatbelt and opening the door.

closing it, you were ready to walk away before you heard sunwoo's voice.

"then i'll make you fall in love normally. we'll do this normally," turning to look at him, he was wearing a sheepish smile while he looked out of his seat- half of his body out of the car to see you off.

but even before uttering a what? to him, he had already slammed the door and drove off. for the nth time that day, your face just creased in confusion while you watched his car fade through the streets.

weird. you remember leaving your house normally- without anything on your face, or your clothes. you left your house dressed normally, but why was everyone staring at you?

warily walking down the hallways of the campus, you squirm under everyone's watchful eyes.

well- not until one of your blockmates comes running to you.

"y/n, y/n!" he grabs your arm, making you cautious.

"sorry, you're eric, right?" you double-check, and he only gives you a quick nod. "what's happening?"

again, he only gives you a smile that went to his ears, pulling you through the morning crowd to the back of the campus.

there he was. you almost even gagged.

sunwoo, in the middle, was holding the biggest bouquet of assorted flowers you have ever seen.

"...what the fuck," you mumbled, your face creasing. you don't know how sunwoo did it, but he always made your face crease, frown.

sunwoo's face brightens up, though, making the least of your worries and annoyance fade away.

"y/n!" sunwoo shouts at the top of his lungs, and you doubt that the professors around didn't hear it. detention for him, you guess. "would you be my girlfriend, now?" he gives you a silly smile, holding the bouquet out to you.

you bite your lips in suspense, taking his challenge. you slyly smirk, only to respond with a simple no, then going your way after leaving sunwoo speechless, and the crowd with so much oh's and damn's.

though sunwoo was rejected publicly, his smile was kept on his face for the whole day. he knew you weren't just going to give in like that. and he liked it.

"i know it's not my place," younghoon says through the line, "but it's been a month full of asking you to be his girlfriend. you're always expecting him to be put to detention- but with his grades? no way," younghoon explains, as if you weren't the one sunwoo was bothering.

"i know, bbang. i just," you pause, narrowing your eyes to see sunwoo approaching you. "i'll call you later," you didn't let him finish, hanging up on the call.

"i need you to come with me," sunwoo stops you, and you could only roll your eyes. "to a family event,"

"i told you- find someone else to be your girlfriend-for-hire. i'm not taking it," you grip your bag tighter, stepping aside to continue walking home.

"i'll pay you,"

"no."

"i'll pay you double,"

"no."

"triple,"

"no."

"for your tuition!"

"i already paid for it, though?" you quirk your eyebrow, he seemed desperate more than last time. "sunwoo, please," you shake your head, feeling guilty as soon as he pulled a frown on his face.

"y/n, please, just this one time. i'll stop bothering you.. i'll.. pretend i don't know you tomorrow," and with this deal, your ears perk up. sunwoo doesn't fail to see how it did, feeling his heart sting.

"fine." you shrug your shoulders, sighing. "but i'm not doing any talking there. i'll act like last time, leave like last time. you hear me?"

sunwoo eagerly nods, taking your hand and pulling you out of the campus.

"wait- you mean now?!" you stop on your heels, pulling sunwoo back. "like this?!" pointing on your casual clothes, you gawked at him.

"yeah, now. i think you missed hearing that part," he chuckles, pulling you again until the familiar black car was on sight.

"you missed saying it," you correct him, ironing your clothes with your other hand while you let him pull you.

"here's a little run down the memory lane," sunwoo starts as he revived the engine, a little bit on a rush as you've assumed. "you love me, i love you- we're together. i'm sure they won't want to go into details, but i guess you can handle anything thrown to you, i trust you,"

"you don't even know me," you snort, shrugging. but with his words, you feel a sense of pride emitting from within you. "how are you so sure?"

"i know you more than you're aware," he mumbles, but with how quiet it was, you managed to catch it.

"yeah? how so?" you quirk your brow, narrowing your eyes at him.

he uncomfortably shifts on his seat, not taking his eyes off the road.

"sunwoo," you press on, getting a better view of his faint pink face. "we haven't even talked before," leaning back to your seat, you try to remember in any events that might've involved you talking to sunwoo- but none came to mind.

"i was just joking, stop thinking about it," he suddenly comes to a stop, in front of a rather large building. he unbuckles his seatbelt, getting out of the car while your eyes lingered upwards to the top of the building.

kim finance.

"ah, the company," you muttered, as if in displease. unbuckling your own seatbelt, you were just about to open your door when sunwoo did it for you.

a fake, big smile was plastered on his face already, one that you were not used to seeing because you always see a sincere smile in him.

"we're starting?" you try making the atmosphere lighter, chuckling. he only chuckles back, then assisting you out of the car.

intertwining his hand with yours, you feel your heart beating more than usual. sunwoo looks at you as if asking if you were ready.

you were ready. you weren't even nervous in the first place. but why the hell are you melting under sunwoo's eyes that shined for you?

heaving a sharp breath, you avoided eye contact and nodded, nudging him to start walking.

"are you good?" sunwoo whispers as he smiles at the guard, letting us in with a smile.

"of course," it sounded like you were anxious- out of breath. you didn't mean that.

"your hands are sweating,"

"my hands are like that," you retort back, a sarcastic smile on your face.

"oh, baby," sunwoo pulls you closer to him, chuckling at your confused face. "don't be nervous. it's just my family,"

yeah, just family.

including his extended family.

looking ahead, on the sixtieth floor of the building came a wide space, full of lingering elegant people in their formal dresses.

"you said it's just your fucking family," you mumbled, squeezing his hand. "i look ridiculous,"

"sorry 'bout that, but yeah, here's my family," he gives you a sly smile, pulling you out of the elevator to find his real family- his parents.

"sunwoo, is that you?" a rather young voice among the rough called out, and you hear sunwoo sigh before pulling you closer once again.

"oh hey," sunwoo pulls a tired smile, and you only took a good look at the woman in front of you, dressed casually- and by casual, you meant like a casual rich girl.

you see her eyes dart from your foot until it reached your eyes, and she only gives you a smile that lasted for a second, then she went back to sunwoo.

"you're here? i thought this was a family event," low blow. you hide a snort at sunwoo's remark, bringing your eyes everywhere but the girl who embarrassingly succumbed in front of sunwoo.

"yeah, your mom invited me, thought we'd have some alone time or something," giving you a side-eye, sunwoo senses your irritation with the way your fingers fiddled with his fingernails.

"ah, here's y/n," sunwoo shakes his hand off yours to snake it on your waist, gripping it lightly to comfort you. "my girlfriend,"

"i heard," she simply says, but finally facing you with her arms crossed over her chest. "she looks.. normal," she holds a smirk, challenging you.

before sunwoo even protects you from her, you chuckle, turning to him.

"sunwoo, would you rather date someone hideous than normal?" you stained your voice with a bit of whine, tugging at the hem of his coat.

sunwoo just widens his eyes, then bites his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

"what? urgh," after she gets no attention from sunwoo, she finally stomps away, a frown on her face.

"i told you, you can handle literally anything," he overreacts, his voice a little louder than usual that caused some of his family to turn to look at him and you with a scowl on their faces.

"now where're your goddamn parents so this can be over with," you groaned, and just the perfect timing- your eyes landed on his mother's figure, walking to the both of you with a hundred-dollar fake smile.

"what'd you say with our lovely princess, sunwoo? y/n?" she pulls sunwoo closer, threatening with a low voice. "her father's a big asset, don't forget that,"

narrowing her eyes on you, you knew well how she knows how you acted around the girl.

"i thought this was a family gathering," sunwoo sighs, raising his eyebrow.

"it is, and she is family- soon to be yours," she gives you a smirk, and you could crumble if it weren't for you being so used to every bad word thrown to you.

every work you seat-filled on was enormous. gigantic. the work younghoon always assigned to you wasn't something normal people can't get on, so you were used to all the gossips, and retorts that were supposed to pierce your heart.

"mom, we've talked about this," he sighs, his hands clammy around yours. "besides- that's extremely rude in front of someone i just said was my girlfri-,"

"fiancee," you cut sunwoo, a confident smile on your face as you pulled sunwoo closer, giving his hand a squeeze. sunwoo just looks at you dumbfounded, but a hint of smile wanting to be shown. "and yeah, it's kinda- no, like sunwoo said, extremely rude," you scrunched your nose at the woman, not giving a fuck even if she's older.

"excuse me?" she acts disgusted, her hand coming to her chest as a sign of shock. "you do not talk to me like that,"

"i just did," you shrugged, narrowing your eyes at her.

"you're going to regret this," she huffed, turning her back on you to stomp back to her husband, just like how the girl earlier walked out on the both of you.

"i probably won't, and i feel like fainting," you clutched on sunwoo's hand tighter, finally crumbling in the littlest with nervousness. "you think your mother will kill me?" you asked, turning to sunwoo.

he had this biggest, proudest smile on his face, assisting your weak body against his body.

"i think we've had our fun," sunwoo chuckles, leading you back to the elevator. "we can leave,"

"your dad?" you ask, looking up at him.

"he just gave me a go signal," he pouts to a corner, and you whip your head in the direction. his father smiles at you reassuringly, raising his wine glass to shoo you off.

sighing as the elevator door closes, you step away from sunwoo, breathing deeply. sunwoo's smile drops for a second that came unnoticed, feeling cold without your hand around his.

"are you okay?"

you weren't okay. you don't know why but your chest feels heavy thinking that this was over. just like that- not even half an hour through the event. you don't understand, why were you sad this was over?

"would you like to roam around the city tonight? no cars, no destination. just around. i would like some unwinding," you turn to sunwoo with expecting eyes, shined as though the galaxy was brought to your eyes.

sunwoo becomes speechless, in awe of how your eyes looked at him- as if it held the deepest love- if he wasn't assuming. he can't be, with how you smiled at him as you waited for an answer.

instinctively leaning closer to you, his hands slowly found their way back to yours, a fond smile growing on his face.

"should we?" he cranes his neck, and just right on time, the elevator dings and the doors open. for some reason, you didn't retract your hand, only tightening it and giving him a bigger smile.

excitedly hopping out of the company, the both of you just looked like teenagers who had no plans for tonight- more so in the future. the smile never left your faces even with the judging eyes around you, freely walking around with your hands intertwined.

twirling around with sunwoo's hand guiding you, you laugh after stumbling a bit, him catching you to his embrace to avoid you hitting other people and even more, hurting yourself.

you laughed the night away.

it was so simple, you just enjoyed the night. it was the first time sunwoo seeing you so happy, so bright, and the moonlight above you just made it more special.

sighing as you plopped on the soft grass, tired of all the walking after an hour or maybe even two, a smile was still on your face as you pulled sunwoo down beside you.

even you were shocked with how you acted tonight. so carefree, so out of your comfort zone.

and your eyes land on sunwoo.

it was all him, and his invisible magic that made you so comfortable around him. maybe it was his personality or his aura, or basically, just him that you didn't find with anybody else- you admitted it.

you like sunwoo.

and you would give the world just to see him brightly smiling at you, just like he was doing now. you would give the world, anything there is- to never see a frown on his face.

you would give the world for sunwoo.. but would he?

you still didn't know where your place was. were you still someone he played games with, to continue this act around his family? still a seat-filler, one of the thousands of workers he met to fill in a position he wanted gone, to rebel against his parents? or just a friend, who happened to be there when he needed it?

"phone," you asked, reaching your hand out at him. he raises his brows but gives it anyway unlocked. after watching you tap a few times and giving it back to him, he tucks it back to his pocket, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"texted your driver the address, you should go home," you give him a small smile, your eyes trailing back to the dark sky.

"what, why?" he instantly opens his phone again to check, and you really did and the driver already responded. "how about you?"

"leave me here, i'll be fine. i can take a cab," you simply reply, not taking your eyes off the moon that shined brightly.

feeling his heart break, he just stared at you longingly. he thought something was already there. something was forming- a relationship. he doesn't know when he started developing feelings for you, but he was already so deep in it that he can't escape. maybe it happened between the lines of just annoying you to your guts with the will you be my girlfriend thing for a month, or maybe he just liked you for who you are, because even before he had called for a seat filler, you had already caught his eye.

but how was he supposed to say that now when he was the one who called a deal of leaving you alone after this event?

dick move, he thought.

keeping the words he wanted to pour to you to himself, he squirms back to his place until he feels his phone vibrating- signaling the arrived car. his jolt because of it causes you to look at him, immediately knowledgeable of the arrival of his driver.

"go, sunwoo. i'll be fine," you stand, dusting your pants off. sunwoo follows, his eyes still on you. you reached out a hand, asking for a shake. "it was nice doing work with you, at least for tonight," you chuckle, and he reluctantly shakes your hand.

"yeah.." he mumbles, looking down. sighing, he looks up at you with his usual smile, one he pulled so hard to show you that he was indeed okay.

"i'll see you around the campus, yeah?" the hint of anticipation in your voice and eyes made you shiver, almost breaking just to feel his warmth on your body even for a second.

"sure," he smiles, retreating his hand and tucking it into his pockets. he turns around after giving you a wave, silently walking to his waiting car.

you let him walk away, and this feeling is exactly what you hated.

you hated feeling happy only to break afterward.

you shouldn't have asked for a walk. you shouldn't have asked sunwoo. you shouldn't have agreed to this event a while ago. you shouldn't have agreed to younghoon in the first place.

sinking to your place after seeing his car drive away, you kept your cries inside you, breathing slowly to balance your heartbeat. the silent pleas of yourself finally show after stepping a foot to your apartment, feeling more than empty than ever.

"you like him," younghoon says through the other line, making you sigh. "come on, whenever the both of you are on the same hallway as me, within a blink of an eye, you're gone. y/n, it's obvious the man likes you. cut him some slack and lower your pride down. if you would just talk to him- the last stupid deal of yours will be long gone,"

taking his words jokingly, you baby-talked your way out of the conversation.

maybe it was such a childish thing to do, but at least it made you escape his truth pill a few more days.

well- not until he drops the bomb.

"sunwoo needs a fill today," he says sternly, and you could almost imagine him narrowing his eyes at you. "apparently, he hasn't been attending a lot of his family and company events."

"i'm out of your job already, hoon," you give a light chuckle, busying yourself with your notes in front of you.

"the event is his mother's," he explains anyway, and maybe you were too curious to stop him. "his mother announcing his only son's engagement with another company's daughter. he wants a fill.. because maybe it can make him escape one last time," your hands stop abruptly, the ink spreading on the plain white paper.

"and why do you know all this?" you furrowed your eyebrows, your body already doing what it wants to do- change into your clothes and run to wherever the company was.

"okay, maybe i haven't been as honest to you," he giggles, "sunwoo is a close friend of mine, okay? i'm sorry, don't freak out," you hear him stifle another giggle, before finally noticing your quietness. "you're going, aren't you? what do you plan on doing?"

"maybe, you'll see tomorrow," you simply said before hanging up, picking up your pace. "shit!" and it was such a bad idea to pick up the pace. all of your formal dresses are now tangled and tied up to one another, making it impossible to untangle in a few minutes. "guess i'll go like this then," you scoff, running out of the house with your casual, only-going-to-school attire.

hailing a taxi right away, you almost thanked the gods for how fast this was all happening- not until the traffic jam. you were still miles away from their company, the choice running out of the window. scrolling through your phone, you see the news all over the internet and pictures of possibly even a formal red carpet.

"sir, this right here," you show the driver your phone, "is the hotel right there, right?" you confirm, hopeful eyes looking at him.

"yeah, that's why we have this goddamn long-ass traffic here," he snickers, his head peeking out of the window.

"then i'll run," you mumble, giving the cash to him and cautiously running out of the highway, to the streets. you weren't a marathoner, nor a great runner. you sucked at phys ed, the easiest class there is because you loathed getting tired and catching your breath. but here we are, willing to do everything for the man you loved.

you know sunwoo hates flashing lights. you didn't bother going to the front gates of the hotel- but straight to the back door where no one is around.

thankfully, he was still standing there, anxiously fiddling as he stared right at the door.

"kim sunwoo," you screech, letting out an unfeminine shout just like you did in phys ed classes to catch your breath. holding to your knees to assist yourself and squinting your eyes at the exhaust, you miss the way sunwoo's face lit up at the sight of you. "give me a sec," you sigh, taking baby steps to him.

sunwoo meets you in the middle, grabbing your arms to assist your exhausted body.

"are you okay? where the hell did you come from and why run?" he asks worriedly, but a bit brighter- happier than it should sound.

"younghoon said you needed a fill," you stretch your back, groaning in pain. sunwoo just looks at you, and even though you were talking about being a seat filler just for another day, the thought that you were in front of his eyes- even if you had this deal, and even though younghoon told him you were out of the job, you were still willing to partake on an event. "but i'm not here for that," you add, waving your hands in front of him.

"what?" taken aback, sunwoo stares at you confusingly and cranes his neck. "..what are you here for, then?" the small drop of his face causes your heart to wilt, his smile doing its best to cover up everything was okay.

"hoon told me.. you were getting engaged," you almost mumbled, looking down on your feet that wore almost weary shoes because of how much you were rushing a while ago.

"yeah, i needed one more escape of it," he shoots you a small smile, looking down on his hands that was still gripping on your elbows.

"about that," you start, retracting your elbows to hold his hands. "first things first. i like you, sunwoo. i like you so so much- hell, i think i even love you already," you confess, looking straight into his eyes that bore into yours. "do you like me back?" you ask expectantly, squeezing his hand.

you knew he did. how his eyes sparkled when it looked at you, or when his smile always grew bigger at the sight of you. when his warm hands intentionally snake on the small of your back whenever you're feeling uncomfortable, or when his face always blushes when it unintentionally brushes with yours.

how he always wanted to intertwine his hands with yours, just like how you did now.

"i love you," sunwoo replies breathlessly as if he's the one who's been running minutes ago. "i.. fucking love you, y/n. i always did, even before this seat filler thing, even before i begged younghoon to get you to fill in with me on that first event- i love you," he explains, a smile on his face you can't decipher how big and genuine it was.

not to say more that he feels euphoric you feel the same way.

"..then let's do something crazy," you give him a sly smile, "let's register a marriage, right now. i don't care whether we're still young, and irresponsible- let's think about that another time and get a divorce when needed. but right now.. let's get our marriage registered," you explain, and sunwoo's failure to respond in a second almost made you crumble in embarrassment.

if it weren't for his smile to get impossibly bigger and his hands that squeezed tighter in yours, you would've run away and hidden in the dark for years.

"let's get it," he agrees, pulling you to run away with him and to his car.

driving to the municipal, you both knew you were more excited and on cloud nine rather than scared of what's coming that's only explained with your smiles. it may be just because you were so in the moment that you decided to register your marriage, but you didn't care.

as long as you were happy and knew you loved each other.

"y/n," sunwoo says after signing his certificate, stopping your hand from doing the same. "are you sure.. you're not just seat filling this?" he asks, making you snort and laugh, weak on your knees.

the choice of words made the registrar in front of you more confused, the first reason being that the both of you were still young- but still legal.

"kim sunwoo, i am more than sure i am not just seat filling this and now- with your smile that's only for me.. i am more than sure i can willingly spend my life with you," you explain, cupping his cheeks to assure the lightly anxious man. "i should ask the same to you, though you've signed,"

"y/n, this is the day my parents molded me to be ready- but just for you. if it's not you then.. i don't know how else i'm going to live," he cheesily burrows his cheeks further to your palm, making you smile.

"then let's get this signed and show them to your parents, yeah?" you confirm, and his other hand finally lets go of your hand to make you sign the paper.

feeling contented as you hand in the papers, you tangle your arms with sunwoo's and leaned on his shoulder, later his head dropping on top of yours.

"i love you, you don't regret this, right?" he sighs, still anxious for you.