#oprandomfeels

- you were different. all of his prey succumbed to his desires immediately upon hearing his voice, their eyes dull and their hearts and minds already lost to his melody. instead, you, the curious you had asked him naively, "your voice is beautiful. who are you and what are you doing here?" you showed no signs of lost self-will.

- and so began a strange relationship between you

- your heart and soul smells delicious to him, but you never fell under his spell despite hearing him sing countless times whenever you visit him

- his brothers, united in everything but blood, initially discouraged him

- seungkwan nags at him "don't play with your food!" and gives him a judging look

- the playful jeonghan and jisoo had been warned to not play pranks on you (jeonghan whispered, "possessive kid" to jisoo, and their uncle beomju tells them that he thinks jihoon was born when the sun was in scorpio... or whatever that was)

- and seokmin, well, seokmin was warned not to sing whenever you are around, for jihoon fears his loud voice may entrance you where his own couldn't. you're his

- you've asked him about the glass orb he carries around in a pouch. you wonder why it glows so brightly when he sings

- you can sense that there is something inherently dangerous about jihoon

- once, you found him with a tiny speck of red on the side of his mouth. you forgot about it when he licked it away and gave you a soft smile after

- his voice is too beautiful, almost inhuman. his canines seem sharper than average. his skin is beautiful. he claims to be in his mid-twenties, but his skin looks smooth and pretty with very few wrinkles. he speaks with mature thoughts, which throw you off several times. you wonder if he is actually way older than he says he is

- he hopes you never find out that his diet doesn't actually consist of human food

- the glass orb contains the souls of all the humans whose hearts became his meal. the orb glows, because they hear him when he sings. they are still lured by his voice even when they're gone

- and so he wonders why the tables have turned in this relationship. why is it the opposite, when he is the one with the alluring voice

- you are special to him. the way your eyes shine like moonlight upon seawater. the way your voice lilts when you speak his name.

- you are precious to him. you are both naive and smart, kind and headstrong. from your countless conversations, the more he learns about you, the deeper he falls

- you are seductive. your voice calling him countless times, your soft moans and desperate gasps are like honey to him whenever he enters you

- seungkwan has already given up on nagging him at this point

- he wonders, he ponders, if he shouldn't sing when the full moon comes soon. sirens achieve the peak of their powers on every full moon, and you, sweet you, he cannot bear to lose you to his ever-simmering appetite. he will not be able to bear keeping you by his side in the glass orb, when your voice is his drug. you're a siren in your own way - you're his siren

A love that was enough for you to let him go. To encourage him to pursue his dreams and share his words with the world.

A voice breaks you out of your reverie.

“Y/N? Y/N L/N….?” You turn your head, and question yourself if you were dreaming.

“Jihoon….” your lips put a name to the face that even with a cap and mask, cannot hide what your heart so dearly misses. The name that haunts your memories with both happiness and pain. You catch hints of blonde under the cap. He removes the mask to speak to you.

“What brings you here?” you ask.

“I’m here to pick someone up. You?”

“Just felt like coming back here,” you answer, and he nods. It has been years. You are no longer able to read him like a book. He feels familiar and foreign to you all at once. “How are you? Seventeen seems to be doing well, I’m surprised you’re out and about.”

“We do get our breaks every now and then,” he says.

“I listen to your songs. They’re good,” you mention, and he smiles. Something about the curve of his lips overwhelms your being. And you add, “I missed you. A lot. I watch all of your performances.” Your heart beats loud against your chest when you let those words go.

He is silent for a moment, and you wonder if he understands what you are trying to say.

“I hope you enjoyed our songs and dances. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it is day or night when I’m stuck in the studio writing and composing. It’s good to know someone appreciates our work,” he says, and you nod, unable to say something else without sounding awkward.

Just then, a little girl who looks about four walk over to where you both are.

“I’m here!” she yells excitedly and Jihoon picks her up. Your breath catches in your throat when you wonder if the child is his. You quickly shake the thought off. 

“Let’s go. Say bye to Ms. Y/N,” he grins and prods the girl, and the girl smiles brightly.

“Bye, Ms. Y/N!” she says, and you wave to her. Jihoon gives you one last smile before he turns, carrying her away.

You wish you can say “See you around” but he turns the corner and is gone. 

~~~

“Did you have a good day at school, Byul?” Jihoon asks the girl when they get into his car.

“Eung! Uncle Jihoon, who was that woman?”

This is one of the reasons why your friend is cooking for the both of you.

She had asked you to drop by that little herb store tucked behind tall buildings and coffeehouses to get her cilantro when you were done with your errands for the morning. What she forgot to tell you was that there were several herbs that looked like cilantro. The only thing on your mind when you saw the herbs were ‘they all look like parsley’. The funniest thing was that none of them were labelled. You secretly eyed the guy with tanned skin sitting at the counter, hoping he was not going to ask you too many questions if you whipped out your phone to take pictures of the herbs and send them to your friend. Great, you were going to look like a total idiot. Bracing yourself for whatever that would happen, you slowly pulled out your phone, made sure it was on Silent mode, opened the Camera app --

“May I help you, Miss?” a deep voice asked and you almost jumped out of your skin. When did the guy walk over to you so quickly? And quietly, too. You turned to look at him, unsure of what to say without sounding like you have never cooked in your life. Sure, you had cooked a fair few times, but those were simple dishes like fried rice and the typical sunny egg. You blushed with embarrassment, letting the question escape your lips rather than let your body escape the store.

“I, uhh- I’m looking for cilantro?”

“Oh! These are cilantro,” he pointed at one of the batches of herbs on display. You nodded, taking the amount of cilantro you needed. You turned to head to the counter to pay for your purchase, but found him looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

“Do you want to know the difference? This one,” he pointed to the herb to the left of the cilantro, “is parsley. They have sharper leaves.” He then pointed to the herb to the right, “This one is the leaf celery. They have less grooves, see?” You nodded when you found them easier to tell apart after his explanation. “Thanks! I see the difference now,” you grinned at him. He bore no sort of disdain on his expression, instead, he looked pleased to have helped. You paid at the counter, discreetly admiring his tall stature and handsome face as he handled the register and gave you the receipt. You put it in the bag of cilantro, and he smiled and gave a friendly goodbye when you left the store. It made your heart flutter as you walked home.

You put the bag of cilantro and your other items on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t until later when your friend found the receipt in the bag and passed it to you with a smirk. “Turn it over,” she said.

He wonders when you will let him into the depths of your fragile heart.

Jihoon is already used to the routine - a call from you and he instantly stops whatever he is doing, and shifts his focus to you. Especially when you ask if you can borrow his vocal booth. Especially when you come to him, head hung low to hide your face; hands shaking and shoulders trembling.

On days like those, he can never fathom what kind of demons have snatched your brightest smile and happiest chuckle. The booth mutes your sorrow, but he can still hear your tears loud and clear through the soundproof walls.

If only you would use him to spill your heart out.

"That looks good. Is it good?"

You almost jump at the male voice chirping from your right. You turn to him and take him in instead. He is fair, blond hair askew, eyes slanted prettily. He does look sort of charming. You wonder what it is about him that makes him look... handsome. Mischievous, even. His cheeks remind you of round eggs. Which brings your attention back to the topic at hand. You turn back to your tamagoyaki.

"They're delicious. They're the reason why I keep coming back here," you answer, a little shy. You hope he does not say any more - you want to enjoy the gold-equivalent in the land of food at your own pace. As you resume trying to eat your favourite dish in the whole wide world, you are thwarted in your attempt again. 

"Can I... Can I try a piece, please?" he asks. You turn your head to him at Mach speed. His face pleads, eyes watery and lips quivering. You sigh.

"Yes. Only the one." You push the dish slightly closer to him, and he brightens up with a huge smile. Sunnier than your tamagoyaki. You feel all warm inside. He slowly uses his chopsticks to pick up a golden, precious piece and puts it into his mouth. His eyes close as he chews, and you think his expression conveys what you feel every time you have this sacred dish. He smiles contentedly, and you know he can taste all the flavours that are holy and good. His eyes open and look at you like you have offered him the wine of eternity.

"This... This is so good! I love it!" he exclaims, and you can't help smiling back. "I'll order a plate of my own and give you two pieces of it, how's that? Thanks for sharing yours," he adds, and you nod appreciatively. He does as he says, and then turns to watch you eat while waiting for his own sushi set to arrive. It is strange how you can't focus a hundred percent on your beautiful tamagoyaki, now that you have found your rolled-omelette soulmate.

"So... what do you think about sharing your number too? I want to show you a place where they serve really good egg sushi roll," he says, and you detect an undertone of nervousness in his voice. You turn to him again and he gets excited, sensing your curiosity. After a moment of thought, you nod. He silently cheers by pulling his fist down from mid-air in celebration (assa!) and you can't help but chuckle.