#jayb fluff

You'd fallen asleep scrolling through your phone again and you wake up in a disarray. The kind of sleep that leaves you feeling like you've stumbled into another universe. The discombobulation was definitely felt because you could have sworn that you had decided to take your snooze on the couch, but here you were in your bed — emerald green sheets strewn around your body. You groan slightly because you definitely hadn't meant to sleep the night away, you'd told yourself just a quick nap so you could wake up when your lover had gotten home. Selfishly you wished that you could have spent the whole day pampering him on his birthday but alas his promotional schedules had him tied up the entire day. You haven't opened your eyes yet so you blindly reach around for your phone, half expecting it to be dead since you'd passed out with no recollection. Instead of being faced with the no battery sign you're actually blinded by your lockscreen: a picture of you and Jae from behind at a secluded beach. This was taken by your friend the first time you'd met. She just knew you two would hit it off so in her mischevious and scheming way she set the two of you up. You remember the day so clearly.

Once your eyes adjust to the brightness you notice that your phone was actually charging the whole time. You were starting to fully wake up and your ears perk up at the soft beats of Killshot by Magdalena Bay coming from your living room. A slight smile creeps onto your face because this probably means your favorite person is home. Which also leads you to believe that he moved you to the room and also plugged your phone in for you. Even on his special day, he was still thinking about your comfort. You check the time and there was still a couple hours before midnight. Wrapping yourself in a the duvet, you shuffle out of your bedroom.

There's only one light on but it's enough to cast a small beam of amber around him. Quietly tiptoeing towards him, you notice that his shoulders are a bit slumped. You try to suppress a chuckle because he's probably trying to fight sleep just like you were not too long ago. Before you wrap him in the blanket you notice that he has some tabs open about copyright law open. You make a mental note to ask him about it later. You open up the duvet and envelope him in hug from behind.

Pressing a small kiss to his temple you greet him softly,

"Happy Birthday Jae."

He leans into your kiss and you get a deep whiff of his cologne. It's the perfect mix of warmth and musk. He removes your arms from around him and with the most ease pulls you into his lap, your back softly tucked into his chest. He nuzzles his face delicately into the space between your neck and shoulder. He's admitted many times how this is his favorite place to be, tied with being on stage with his members and fans. You swear there's probably a Jaebom shaped divot in your shoulder, but you don't care. Who were you to deny a beautiful man like him a place on your shoulder?

"Mmm, thank you baby. Missed you all day," he says into your neck. You giggle at the sensation and take his hands to clasp them with yours. He locks his arms around you and continues to leave little pecks in the same spot he'd been talking into. You whip out your phone with one hand and start scrolling.

"What are you looking for?" He preens over trying to look at your phone. You shush him and move away so he isn't able to see you ordering his favorite stew from the mom and pop restaurant a few miles away from your home. Distracting him, you cock your head towards his laptop.

"Thinking about a mid-life career change Mr. Lim?" He pinches your side softly and a giggle comes from you. He tells you that he's looking into how he can help his group get their name back. Your heart swells. This is the second time today he's shown just how deep his care for his people are. This is one of the things that made you fall in love with him in the first place. He continues to go on about how he's setting meetings with the rest of the guys and speaking with other people in the industry. And you listen intently. The both of you are so wrapped into this conversation that the knock on your door startles the both of you. You jump so much that you almost tip out of his lap, but of course Jae's there to catch you. He helps you up so that he can answer the door and you slide to the kitchen to start setting up for a late night dinner.

He comes back in with the biggest smile on his face, food in tow.

"I love you so much," he declares as he sets the food down on the counter. You smile and give him a soft peck. He holds you in place for a bit, all the love he has for you beaming in his eyes. The outer corners of them crinkled with adoration.

His hand moved to caress the side of her face and she leaned into the warmth of it.

“No, not you, baby. Never you.”

Such soft words helped calm her down, despite the fact that she’d known that she wasn’t the intended target of the words. He’d been on the phone for almost an hour trying to work out some deal with a producer and things were at a stalemate. They both seemed to want the same things, but the other guy was being very anal about how to proceed and taking the ‘my way or the highway’ approach to things. Which was something Jaebeom was used to, but in this case he was putting his foot down so that no time was wasted doing things in such a convoluted fashion. Though with all the back and forth it was clear that time and energy would be wasted either way.

“I’m guessing this won’t be resolved before we leave?” she asked.

A loud sigh pushed past his lips and the anger filtered back in. Along with what appeared to be exhaustion. He shook his head.

YN set her book onto the end table and scooted over a little, patting the space beside her on the love seat. Like the million other times she’s done it, Jaebeom got onto the couch and placed his head on her lap. Her fingers slid into his hair with that same kind of ease, softly massaging his scalp.

“Do you want to cancel it?”

A response of no came in the form of a head shake.

“Push it back?”

Head shake.

“Shorten it?”

And another head shake.

None of those were the answers that she wanted to go with, but first and foremost she knew how much work meant to Jaebeom and wanted to be accommodating of that, especially when things were picking up in his solo career. Plus, despite all the work and fight he’d used to ensure that his group was able to keep their music and name, he wasn’t really that person in general. It was hard on him to always have to stand his ground and more so with him entering spaces where being an idol meant people thought they could take advantage of him in little ways or that he would just be agreeable.

Which is why YN was often one of the people in his corner who had to remind him his voice mattered and that if he saw something worth pushing for then he should do it without worry of the blowback.

“Ok, I have another idea. One I’m not sure you’ll like.”

He hums.

“You send him an email with all your points and what you don’t agree with about his. Then end it by telling him you’re going to be out of reach for a week. Then you can leave that phone here and come back to d…”

“Yes.”

She raised a brow, surprised he didn’t even let her finish and that he agreed without any questions. Which further proved how out of sorts the whole thing had him.

“That easy?”

“Mhm.”

Laughter escaped her and she leaned down, pressing a kiss to his head.

###

"Just let me wash up and get changed and you can have all the kisses you want," he replied.

You groaned and stretched your arms out in his direction, hoping to summon him closer.

He chuckled as he approached you, shaking his head. "You're always so clingy when you're tired," he said running a hand through your hair.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his fingers in your hair. All too soon he was pulling away again. Your eyes snapped open as you reached out to grab his hand and put it back. Unfortunately, in your sleepy state, JayB was quicker.

"I'm just getting ready for bed, jagi, then I'm all yours."

You still whined a little as he left you to head to the bathroom but you were for too tired to launch any sort of actual protest.

After far too long, he was climbing into bed behind you, enveloping you in his arms as a kiss was pressed to your shoulder.

"I love you, my needy jagi," he whispered.

You grunted at his teasing and snuggled further into his embrace.

There was a moments silence before you felt his finger tips digging into your waist and tickling you slightly. You squirmed but JayB didn't relent.

"Say it," he demanded.

"Who's needy now?" you retorted.

He tickled you again.

"I love you, too." You told him what he wanted to hear to stop the attack.

"That's better," he replied. "Sleep well."

With one last kiss placed gently on your neck, he held you tightly again, allowing you both to drift off to sleep, comforted by each others presence.

It was sacred in the way that climate used all its forces to brew together a prayer that included chill, humidity, and rain. Although it was an occurrence partially guaranteed, there was something about the anticipation of the glimmering flurries that never allowed one to relinquish that breath of waiting. Right before the first snowfall every year, there would be a period of continuous rain, blanketing Seoul in the melancholy ash skies that delivered the premature wish of winter. Though you hadn't minded it much in the past, recent years have made your commute strategically difficult.

The word is petrichor, but it smells more like the way you imagine a wet stray dog does when you're on the subway, crammed with the aromatic hints of human and pollution. The end of your day had already arrived as the sun bid farewell just before you shuffled down the steps into the train tunnel — not that you could have seen it from the thick masts of cotton that shrouded the sky — but nonetheless you were ready to be back in the comfort of your home. Checking your watch, you listened to the speaker announce the next stop, just one away from your own, while you shifted against the bar you were propped up against. Your feet were pulsing from your pinched heels that were a sorry excuse for support while you stood all day. The door slid open as you arrived at your stop, led by the wave of others, you headed with the current before resurfacing to the street. Sliding your umbrella out from its cover and launching the automatic release mechanism, you carried it over your head as you scurried down the street and towards the alley of your neighborhood. Right as you hit the home stretch, it occurred to you that your excitement to wash away the day's customer rants and murky rain had to be halted when you remembered your refrigerator was empty. Cursing yourself for not picking something up at a convenience store — now a ways away — and knowing that at this hour, there were no restaurants within a block you could simply order from, you marched back towards the main street.

Had you decided to simply starve that night, perhaps you would have never had the chance to meet him. It's an extreme way to express how you had spun the situation a million times over, wondering if there could have perhaps been a different outcome, but the resulting factor was that it had already happened and there was nothing you could have done to stop it. There was no reason to linger on something that was no longer tangible, even if somewhere in the crevices of your thoughts, you continued to do so. As you exited the store, produce in tow, the rain had subsided and instead exchanged you for the falling starlights of snow. Dragged by the weight of your groceries and captivation to stay just a bit longer to watch the flakes drift from the sky, you stalked up the hill towards your apartment building. Neck craned to observe the particles coming into full view, you could have completely missed the stranger on the corner who was plucking away at his guitar. The strums pulled your focus the same way his fingers tugged at the steel, and you listened to the way he posed his voice like the flakes above — cold and clean, but somehow it felt like he was praying. To who or what, you weren't sure, but honestly you didn't need to know. It's was methodical, soothing, and every note of his melody had meaning.

That's how he said your name too, months later when you had decided you were irrevocably in love. A plethora of songs written like love letters delivered to your ears, the subtle intimate moments where he stared at you between mundane actions like sharing dinner or reading a book. And he kept you warm through the winter, you like to think. You like to think he wasn't the chill that left you shivering, alone, when he finally melted away come spring. You like to think that the sudden gap in messages — your fair warning that you did not heed to because you were in love, blinded by the spell of snow — that spanned at first, as a daily occurrence and slowly grew into a weekly one, and then none at all, were all because he was busy. But when the crashing wave of realization came to you, you liked to think, you weren't thinking at all. Because maybe you weren't. Maybe, none of this had happened, and you were simply dreaming through the illusion of winter. None of your friends had a chance to meet him anyways since your schedules never quite lined up, so perhaps, he was less like waking up to a blanket of snow and more like watching flakes melt the moment they kissed the pavement. Maybe you weren't cold enough to keep him, or worse, too warm to preserve.

"Please, please please, you missed every lunch date we have had for months," you listened carefully to your friend, her voice carrying with desperation into your receiver as you somberly smiled, "The least you can do is let us have dinner with you for your birthday!"

What was there to celebrate? You had finally stopped living in a delusion and blaming yourself for the disappearance of someone who you thought you may have had a future with, but other than that, you still lacked the confidence to be fully present with others because it wasn't necessarily that he left but more that you waited, made up excuses, and tenderly hoped for something that deep down you knew wasn't going to happen. You felt foolish, and honestly, swallowing laughter was stiffening your facade. Never quite gaining the courage, you had told everyone around you that you both realized you were no longer interested in whatever relationship you were cultivating. It wasn't their fault, but the timing never felt right and how could you possibly seek comfort when your short and quick burn of a relationship would only earn responses even neighbors and passerby's could offer.

Oh that's too bad. You deserve better. I'm sure there's plenty of fish in the sea.

You didn't want to hear these generated answers pointed to your aimless plight, so you stayed silent and nursed your wounds on your own.

"I don't know, you know the shop has been busy lately," your excuse is mumbled as you peer up to check if a customer would magically fabricate and you could use them as a way to hang up, unable to continue lying.

"Someone can cover the evening shift I'm sure. You always go in so early just to do all those arrangements anyways," you hear a pout on her mouth as her whines increased.

"It's best to do them fresh or the flowers will wilt!" Chuckling softly as you twirled a piece of ribbon around your finger, a silence drifted between you two, "Please, I know you have been busy, but I miss you."

I miss you too.

But you didn't have the heart to see the faces of your friends, not when it took everything in you not to feel the rushing rapids of emotions that were still tittering between apathy and desperation. You found yourself crying into cups of coffee when it tasted too sweet, or when you arranged roses in a vase and the light bent against the convex glass. You felt frustrated and rage filled while you emptied the laundry drum and the clothes were sopping wet because you put it on the wrong setting, and even more upset when you'd see the milk would expire next week. Nothing felt like anything and yet felt like everything, all at once.

"Just for your birthday," the soft whisper of your friend emitted as you sighed, succumbing to your people pleasing antics, "Okay. Just dinner though."

And it was just supposed to be dinner. Everyone promised you. That is, until they all got drunk off the wine that was at the table and begged you with slurred speech to go to some bar with them. You should have figured honestly, but trapped between the loving affection of your missed company and the guilt that you had been deceiving them with a smile all night, you begrudgingly accepted. There was some popular live band playing, so your friends had been thrilled that they got to snag a table just early enough before the place got packed, but for you, this was how you began concocting your escape plan, oh sorry, I got lost in the crowd and couldn't make it back in! easy.

Execution was key here, and commencing meant to perfect your timing. Any misstep and you'd be sent back to this table, to your detriment, where you may have to remain all night. This was your limit, and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold up. While the band was setting up on stage, you managed to keep up your air of confidence amongst your drunken friends — whether you were actually good at acting or they were just too shit faced to notice didn't really matter at this point. Sipping through half your ombre cocktail that didn’t have enough juice, you managed to hold out through the first song of their set before mentioning to your friend beside you that you were headed to the bathroom. As they arranged themselves to let you out — smart that they trapped you between the wall and table — you took a deep breath before brisking towards the crowd.

An unsolicited but familiar shout of your name ruptured through the murmurs from the crowd, through the melodic guitar strums and echoing high hats, through your body as — by nature — you halted and swung your head towards the owner of the voice. Fingers wound tightly around the strap of your clutch, your eyes met with your winter, with your snow, with your melted river that had departed to the ocean. But the voice didn't come from him it came from her, an acquaintance of yours that you only associated with because of a friend of a friend of a friend, or something like that. You can't even remember her name, honestly. Here she was, the degrees of separation so much closer than you thought, with her arms hung from someone who was now a stranger to you. It took you a moment to meet her gaze, so fixated on him as if you were finally met with a reality check, a reminder that he did indeed exist. At least, at one point.

"I knew it was you! Hey!" The chiding excitement in her voice indicated booze before you even needed to lean in and inhale it. Peeling her arms of him, she embraced you in an awkward hug as you patted her back gently, some weird sick feeling of comforting her for this compromising situation that scrapped your escape route entirely. While being held by the drunken almost stranger, you looked over at him to see a deep rooted wall between you, this creation of amnesia that erased your existence from his knowledge all by choice. It was in the way he directed his gaze past you as if you had not been standing there, in the arms of his — new? — lover. You were so entranced by this warmth, this coddling from someone you would have least expected to see in contrast to the cold chill that you were delivered from the eyes of a stranger who once loved every inch of you. Pulling away, you heard her pipe up, "What are you doing here?! Is everyone else here?"

You can't remember what you responded that had her gingerly waving as she dragged along her love — perhaps you directed her to the table where everyone was waiting — but you suddenly had no energy to leave. No energy to go back, but none to move you from that very spot. If there weren't a crowd of individuals surrounding you, wedging your weight from one to another, you may have collapsed right there. You wondered if this was the ultimate form of jealousy, where every atom in your being had suddenly felt like it did not belong to you, but it wasn't necessarily part of anything else either. The feeling of isolation in your own vessel, so hardened and cold, that even if you wanted to lash out at her, there would be no reason to. Not because he didn't belong to you anymore, or that the way you watched them walk away reminded you of how you two once were, it was simply because you did not want to be here. Not at this bar. Not in these clothes. Not in this body, not in this mind. You suddenly felt such a detachment to every identifiable piece of you, and all at once nothing mattered.

Was it your ego speaking? Is this really how you felt? You were unsure, but now at the bar, nestled in your very own corner with three shots and eight cocktails in, the numbness was the only emulation of what you could find befitting for your current state of mind. It helped that the band was actually as good as your friends mentioned, your head swaying to the beat as you giggled to yourself in reminiscent memories that floated through your eyes, the thick and viscous waft of nostalgia rendering your current state useless. Had you been just slightly sober, you would have realized the tears that festooned your waterproof mascara — thank goodness for makeup that repelled any kind of liquid right? The bartender had pitied you, watching as you cried between each sip of your drink, and really didn't have the heart to shoo you away.

While the band announced an intermission, the lead singer shuffled down the steps and towards the counter eagerly to finally grab a drink he had been promised since the start of the set. Had he not overslept, he would have been buzzed like the rest of his bandmates, but his fucked sleeping schedule said otherwise. Dropping into one of the stools, he propped his elbows up while leaning into the counter to read the labels that were doused in fluorescent blue lights. Gaze trailing up and down like he was scouring a crossword puzzle until his eyes fell onto you — head against the wall and glass cradled in your hand. Honestly, it would have been more surprising if he hadn't noticed the mourning individual — you — in the corner. Peering towards the bartender in an attempt not to make you feel so conspicuous, he ushered her over to order.

"Is she okay?" muttering quietly as his drink was being prepared, she nodded softly in response before whispering back, "I don't want to bother her, she seems like she wants to be alone."

"...What happens when it's time for closing?"

"I hope she leaves by then," pouring the caramel tinted liquor over the block of ice as it cracked against the glass, she tucked a napkin beneath it before pushing it towards him.

"You hope? You know how emotional drunks are, Somin."

"Yeah yeah, I know I know, but she looks harmless."

"Looks," rolling his eyes, he took a sip of his drink as she ran the faucet, wetting her hands and retorting, "You know, I kicked your drunk ass out of here all by myself, Jaebeom. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Ooo, scary," feigning a shocked expression, he stole another glance at you, your head propped up from your palm, your elbow a makeshift stand against the counter. It wouldn't be a stretch to say he knew how you felt, a man with a mess of a relationship track record where he was notorious for giving a little too much for those who never gave enough. But he wasn't one to impose on others, he told himself, so he simply observed you.

"Besides, today is her birthday."

"...You're joking."

"Nope," Somin lifted the license that was in her possession to hold the tab before reading the month and date out.

"How can you be sad on your birthday?" It's sort of rhetoric, but in many ways, it left an acrid taste in the back of his throat knowing just how many melancholy birthdays he had spent — probably more than his current lifetime. Taking another sip of his drink, he wondered what kind of night you had that led you here, somewhere full of people but longing for solitude. You were traveling through your own daydreams, though, whimpering by yourself and unable to notice that there was another individual at the bar, even with how deeply he stared at you — or even the other two that were approaching you from behind.

"Hey! You know everyone was looking for you," the acquaintance of yours who you still could not manage to name happened to find you for the second time that night. Your rationale was running low, however, and had you not been wearing waterproof makeup layered beneath a waterfall of setting sprays and baked on powder, perhaps she would have seen how tormented you truly were, "They left already, but if you want, my boyfriend and I have a table!"

Something about the new strangers that approached the frame suggested to Jaebeom that these weren't your friends, your body language warping in discomfort. The dried tears were preparing to resurface as you straightened yourself out, hoisting in your throat, a polite way to decline without turning int a sobbing mess. Your boyfriend, huh? You had so many questions you wanted to ask, these words you could not find swimming in the depth of your skull between the cocktails and old, meaningless song lyrics. Your inquiries fall into your hands and slip past like snow, disappearing at your touch. You must have stayed quiet too long because you see your acquaintance's face light up, "Oh! Speaking of which, where is your boyfriend?" Craning her head around excitedly, it takes all your strength not to let your jaw fall open. Teeth clenched, you cursed whoever mentioned to her that you were seeing someone, and even more fervently that they failed to include that you had stopped seeing him.

Jaebeom wasn't one to eavesdrop — nearly always disassociated to his surroundings — but he had heard more than enough. Reading beyond just this interaction, he had a few assumptions that he could safely make. Honestly, he definitely didn't have enough to drink just yet to attempt the brewing plot he had patchworked together in his mind, but perhaps he felt pity for you. There was something familiar about your feelings and how they surfaced, so in some ways, he thought of it as saving himself. Downing the rest of his glass of whisky, he stood up and strode over towards where you were, affectionately running his fingers up your arm and around your shoulders, "Are these your friends?"

"...Wait! Oh my God why didn't you say you were dating the lead singer?!" The tone of her voice is absolutely thrilled and starstruck but you're unable to register what is going on, the amount of liquid depressant in your system truly slowing every moment down. The only thing you capture is the face of your ex contorting with some tinge of disgust you are unable to quite fathom. Unsure if it was directed towards you or your acquaintance's reaction, you peered up at the stranger who was holding you — ready to deny his claim and inform him that he had the wrong person.

"You didn't introduce me, love?" Looking directly at you, the jolt of his gaze is so immersive you felt your breath diminish — unsure if it left your lungs or simply combusted, "...Sorry."

You're not even sure why you apologized.

"No wonder you didn't want to sit with everyone!" Having a conversation all on her own, you're unable to figure out a way to evaporate, so focused on wanting to disappear at this very moment as if manifesting your wishes would be instantaneous. The discomfort of the heated glare Jaebeom felt from the other male confirmed his suspicions — that's who she's crying over huh. But according to this interaction, it seems they're the only ones who knew of their secret. So he played along.

"I have one more set to play, can you wait for me?" You simply nodded in response, suddenly deaf and mute to your surroundings, particularly because of the way he created this energy around you that made you feel so overwhelmed with warmth and focus, it emulated the flare of sun when your eyes just didn't quite dilate enough. Watching the stranger trail back up the stage, your acquaintance and ex had disappeared back into the crowd, while you replayed the events as if you were watching someone else in your mind.

The velvety vocals that matched the nylon strums yanked your haggard thoughts that were swimming in the volatile pit of your core sloshing with flammables, recapturing your dazed confusion. Though you had vaguely remembered enjoying the vocalist's performance earlier — or what you could manage to recall from it — the shapes and color from the sounds spun more effortlessly in your mind, your focus long gone from your self pity and now redirected to the honey dipped tones of the stranger. You both captured one another's gaze as you felt an elusive moment where the spotlight carried on his presence amongst the crowded bar, hazed with smoke and laughter that wasn't meant for anyone in particular. There must have been something in your drink, because you swore you were going to be sick with the onslaught of this rush. Thank God you were well trained in autopilot, if there was a degree for it you'd have the highest prestige. Before the end of the last song, you managed to crawl out of your trance — barely — while your body carried you towards the exit.

Trudging through the crowd proved to be more difficult than you initially anticipated as the wave crashed towards the barricade of the stage. The shortness of breath that constrained your throat and lungs confused and manipulated your directional sense, every time you managed to spot the blaring neon sign that led back outside, you lost it between the swarms of people. It really didn't help that your vision was an impressionable vertigo from your reckless regard to how much you could actually handle drinking. It felt like you were swimming, except the current was stronger than you were — waded through the crowd like a piece of mere driftwood and much less like a person. You empathized with the emptiness of the inanimate object though, stumbling along before feeling your arm hooked by a firm hand right as you managed to escape the labyrinth swarm, "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

It seemed so much harsher than it sounded, but you were relieved there was some sort of humanity between the sea of people. You had been told long before that sometimes things that were desperately trying to be seen, would be, even if they weren't in plain sight, "I need to go."

"You owe me one," the singer gently dropped your arm as you shifted your weight between your heels, awkwardly, unable to figure out a proper response between the repetitive numbness of the beating drum against your skull and the fact that his gaze was just as warm now as it was earlier.

"Look, I appreciate it, really, what you did back there," vaguely gesturing towards the bar you took a short step back, "But I really need to go."

Honestly, Jaebeom would have let you go had he not watched you be jostled between the crowd during your attempted leave. At this point, he questioned if you knew just how drunk you were, the pupils of your eyes blown to a pretty deep dilation but painted with a backdrop of red he assumed came from the dehydration and your cry fest from earlier.

"Where?"

You don't know how to answer him, "...Just, just anywhere, not here."

"Then let's go together, Cinderella."

You liked to think that the amount of loneliness outnumbered your logical reasoning one hundred — no, one thousand to one. There were no fronts to put up because this was a complete stranger who didn't even know your name but his recognition seemed to be just high enough that if something were to happen to you, there would be no way he could simply disappear from the consequences. Your decision to trust him is rather vague, but you don't have the ability to really question it. It doesn't take you long to decide and he sees the flame of interested that burrowed into your pupils as you both disappear backstage and out the door towards the parking lot where you see some of his bandmates loading up a van full of their equipment and instruments.

"Let me take the car," directed towards them, he helped lift an amp into the trunk before one of them scoffed, "Hell no. You're not going off to get laid this time, Jaeb."

Other than the two conversing, you heard laughter and couldn't help but feel the infectious spark that coaxed you to do so too even if you were the butt of the joke, technically. Eyes rolling, the singer nudged him aside as they took apart a mic stand together, "I'm not, I wanted to get her home."

The sudden looks you received from every band member had you awkwardly pulling the hem of your skirt down as you tittered in place, trying to keep still but your vision still hazy.

"You know if you're so jealous of Jaebeom getting laid, maybe you should try singing, you always say the lead singer is the one that gets it in," a different person attempted to continue the joke while you swung you bag in front of you, letting it tap at your knees. So his name is Jaebeom.

"Seriously, please? It's her birthday—"

"...Oh?" They simultaneously looked at you again as you flinched in place, half paying attention to the conversation but mostly just listening to the chattering of those who stepped out for a smoke, "...Huh?" Registering what they were talking about, your brows knit in confusion, "Wait, how did you know it was my birthday?"

"You forgot to pick up your bar tab, sweetheart," Jaebeom held your license up between his thumb and index, waving it around as you suddenly felt your lungs crash into the pit of your stomach. As if this night couldn't get any worse, you really were making yourself out to be the best fool you could concoct. Whether or not you decided it was a good idea to have followed him, you realize now that it wouldn't have mattered because he had your ID. Though, he didn't seem hostile? Or so you hoped.

Finally given a set of surrendered keys, you climbed into the small two door with Jaebeom as the others told you both to be safe and ushered you away, "No more pretty girls exclusively for you after tonight, Jaeb!" The comment had left your cheeks flushed, hidden only beneath the well applied makeup. After dropping your license into your lap, he pulled out onto the main street while you peered at him curiously, "...You're not holding my ID for, I mean, as a...As hostage?"

"Why would I do that?" Wrinkling his nose, he stole a glance at you before laughing and rolling the windows down to let the warm evening air waft in while you slipped the card onto one of the pockets of your clutch, "...You came along all on your own, didn't you?"

And the flush on your face must have deepened, whether you could spot it or not, you felt it. Well, it was either that or the alcohol spiking in your system as you felt your mouth go dry and that tunneled dizziness set in hard while in the moving vehicle. Jaebeom must have noticed because he kept peering at you, gently placing a hand on your knee as you got quiet, "Hey, you good?"

"...I feel sick."

Not wanting to make a mess out of the communal car, you waved him away as he cursed beneath his breath. Obviously not at you, but the fact that it was getting late and that left him with fewer options to help remedy the situation. Of course he should have listened to Somin when she offered him to take some water along, but that honestly was even before he found you wandering the crowd with no way out. Pulling up to the side of a convenience store, he murmured a curt "be right back" and before long, returned with a small bag of items. The only thing he handed you was a massive water bottle longer than your forearm before instructing you to drink. Propping the passenger door open, you simply nodded while taking shallow sips. The soft bell of your phone perked your ears as you unzipped your clutch and, right before your eyes, watched the device somersault from the safety of your bag and onto the pavement. Wincing, Jaebeom flinched from the sudden crash and your whimpering before asking if you were alright.

"...Yeah, but," with a soft cry, you lifted the now shattered screen of your phone to show him the damage you caused from your clumsiness.

"Would you like to use mine?"

"Who the hell memorizes phone numbers in this day and age!" Tilting your head back against the car's rest, he found himself attempting not to vocalize a chuckle he desperately wanted to release. Your antics were rather cute, especially for someone who had drank themselves under, but he didn't want to add gas to the fire.

"...Well, it's still useable right now. I think. Would you like me to respond for you?"

"Who'sit from?"

Squinting at the lockscreen, he took a moment to formulate what the sender's name was between the cracks and chipped glass, "Kyungah?"

That was her name, Kyungah. That bitch. But you stopped yourself. Was she? Honestly she probably had no idea the history you had with her boyfriend. Exhaling softly, you took another swig of water and secretly thanked that your phone was crushed.

"...Ignore it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, ignore it."

After half the water was consumed between your head tossing back and forth with your eyes shut while Jaebeom sat quietly beside you, you finally felt a sense of normalcy return. But that relief was only diminished by the suddenly embarrassing sound of your stomach croaking in hunger. Stiffening, you tried to rush out a response as the engine turned, "Cool, I'm hungry too."

How you two end up in this retro western themed diner is beyond you, but it was open, nearby, and it seemed clean enough. The cherry red interior somehow helped perpetuate a sobering ritual that was calming you between its glitter and chrome finish. You can't remember what you ordered, but you're so caught up in how warm you feel again, but this time simply from the silence of your company. It's more welcoming than you'd felt in ages, and somehow it released the tension that you had been feeling for months, completely constrained in the worry of yourself. Even when Jaebeom finally broke the silence, it didn't feel like anything was taken from you, "...I'm assuming Kyungah was your friend at the bar." The way he said it hinted the term loosely as you shrugged, taking a sip of water, "Sort of."

"And I'm also, just assuming, that her boyfriend might be your crush or something like that?"

"Wow you found out all that from stealing my license?"

Biting back a grin, he shook his head in response, "I didn't steal it, you left it behind. And I mean, you practically showed it."

Slowly tipping your head back and forth, nodding in silence, you let out a soft sigh while contemplating what you wanted to tell him. Or rather, how much you wanted to tell him, "He's my ex." When the words leave your mouth, you feel a sense of liberation in a way you hadn't, even when you told yourself that many times over. When you woke up and recalled a dream that felt more like a memory and less like fantasy, when you came home and had to stop yourself from announcing your arrival. All these moments that piled up and reminded you that you were a singular entity, on your own, and though being alone didn't equate to loneliness, this was sadly not mutually exclusive in your current state. Perhaps it needed to be relinquished so you could feel that sense of release, it needed to be told to someone, anyone, so that you could finally stop causing your wound licking suffering.

"Ah, I see," hands folded in front of him, you offer him a smile even before you meet his gaze — afraid to see that stupid look of pity that you were dreading and why you held these words so close to you, even in the presence of your closest friends. But rather than that, you get a look of understanding, the expression of someone who wanted to listen. There was no sorrowful sympathy or pained empathy, there was only understanding.

You're so taken aback, you can't seem to form another word in relation to the subject before deciding to change it entirely, "You know you're carrying a bag bigger than mine?" Gesturing towards the crossbody that was slumped beside him in the booth, he peered over at it before laughing.

"Why didn't you leave it in the car?"

"Because the stuff I picked up at the store while I was getting you water shouldn't be left in the car."

"...What's inside?"

"A surprise."

The food arrived, consumed — mostly by Jaebeom to your surprise, my God that man could eat, and plates departed between a few short stories about nothing really at all, and somehow you weren't quite ready to leave. You realized that the company was soothing and healing in a way self-isolation could never have been, and you regretfully felt apologetic to your friends' missed shopping outings and dinner dates, the endless brunch invites and parties that you could have been participating in, letting your mind drift and heal instead of letting the wounds fester out of control. So caught up in your thoughts and the individual ways you were planning to apologize to each friend that you had dismissed during this time, you don't realize the check had already arrived at the table and that Jaebeom was already prepared to return it.

"Oh wait! Hold on!" Grabbing your clutch, you opened it to your horror. Where was your wallet? Shifting around the stray receipts and your compact as if it would magically surface what you were looking for, you dug through frantically while the waiter took the folded checkbook. Lifting your head to look at Jaebeom with a confused expression, you began apologizing immediately.

"Don't worry about it, I was planning to pay anyways," pausing, he peered towards the edge of the table, "...Maybe you left it in the car?" Fishing the keys out from the pocket of his bag, he handed them to you as you rushed out to check. Scouring beneath the passenger and driver's seat — in case — you peeked at the floor on the off chance it may have been kicked to the back. Nothing under the car or around it, you leaned your forehead against the frame of the automobile in defeat, tapping your skull along as if it would make you generate your thoughts properly. You couldn't catch a damn break tonight.

"Did you find it?"

"No."

"I have a key to the bar, we can go back and check," Jaebeom began shrugging off his bag as he gently placed his palm at the center of your back, causing you to shiver at his fervent touch, "Don't get worked up over nothing, you know?"

Emitting a sigh, you nodded in agreement as you tugged at the handle. Surprise. You peered through the window to see the keys gingerly sitting on the driver's seat, all doors locked. Parting your lips, you can't even make a noise at this point, because you simply want to crawl into a hole and rot inside of it. Jaebeom only laughs, pulling you away from the car as he started down the street and back towards where the bar was, "...You know you could have just said you wanted to spend more time with me."

Almost completely silent for the next block, feeling as though your presence may have been a complete burden, you are proven wrong as you watch his hand direct your vision towards a building, "You know that cinema used to be a regular theatre?"

"...Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, when I was a kid, my stepdad had a little shop out front and he must have felt so bad during the summer when I got stuck helping him that he used to let me go see a movie like once a day," chuckling softly, you felt guilty for smiling at this shared memory, still so frustrated that you had to put him through such a night, "...They show art films here now right?"

"Yeah, nowadays," humming softly, only the sounds of both your steps ricochetting off the empty and barren sidewalk, you stopped when you saw a forsythia tree still in bloom. Jaebeom barely notices as he took a couple steps back to match with you, "Hm?"

"...It's kind of late for these to be in bloom," mumbling softly, you stared at the yolk colored blossoms illuminated only by the street lamps above.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the green stays around but the flowers usually fall away..." neck craned as you wandered around the tree, he mimicked your action while observing the plant.

"You know a lot about this tree."

"I'm a florist."

"A flower artist."

Bursting out laughing, you nudge him gently, "Yeah, something like that." Both of you quiet back down, but this time, you felt less like a nuisance and more like you were strolling with a friend. Well he was kind of like your friend now, right? He even knew something none of your other friends knew.

"...Hey, I want to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Do you really get laid that much?"

Swinging his head to face you, though still matching your short strides, his expression is plagued with shock. You're not quite sure if he'll answer you honestly or laugh.

"Are you still drunk?"

"No!" Smacking his arm, you tilt your head back as the laugh that came from your diaphragm swam up, "I mean it! Your friends said—"

"They say that any time any of us ends up grabbing attention, don't think about it too much."

Smiling, you continue, "And how do I know you're not lying?"

"Well we're just walking, aren't we?" His smirk could practically drown you.

"Ah, touche."

Creeping through the narrow alleyway, stumbled thumping up the metal steps, and through the back entrance, you hid your giggles behind your teeth. There was something that offered exhilaration, as if you weren't allowed to be here regardless of Jaebeom's key. Even after the mess of the evening you made at this very location only hours ago, it felt like there was something welcoming you as you both entered the dark end of the stage. Filtering the lights on, he led you towards the main hallway and into the bar.

"I'll wait for you here," wandering onto the stage, he collapsed his weight in the center before propping his arms back and reclining. It takes less than a minute for you to spot your wallet, jammed between a barstool and the counter at the corner you were taking salvation at. A breath of relief left you as crouched down and retrieved it, pushing it into your clutch as you went to return to the stage. Squinting from a distance, you wondered what Jaebeom was unfolding in his hands as scarlet wrappers were being discarded beside him. Flipping open a matchbook, you walked up the steps and saw several stacked Chocopies tiered up to resemble a cake. Coiling a paper around a match, you watch the flared light as he shoved it in the center of the highest tier before singing the soft, familiar song while clapping his hands for added percussion.

If it were any other time, you'd be rolling on the floor, laughing. But tonight, you felt like you needed exactly this. Settling beside him as he wrapped up the song, you closed your eyes and really did wish your hardest before blowing it out. You both clapped before he grabbed one of the pies and shoved the entire thing into your mouth, to your disgust and surprise. Taking one of your own and having a bite, you tucked your legs close to you, "...So this is why you carried such a big purse huh?"

Rolling his eyes while chewing, you imagined he had a good comeback for you, but he doesn't. Rather, he asked what you wished for. But you tell him it's a secret. After that, you can't really remember what else you both conversed about, but when you wake up against the stage you're reminded that you really can't make any of this any worse. But somehow, it is better than you expected, as you peer up and see the warm glow of what feels like the sun, waiting for you.

Your wish was that this would be the first of many birthdays to come where Jaebeom felt like summer, and summer never ended.

While I was reading through one of my poetry books, I felt some kind of pull. I decided to go ahead and attach it with a translation, in case you wanted to know where my inspiration came from:

종이배 하나 접어 Fold One Paper Boat