#utwt

As the sun sets down, casting shades of orange and yellow over the trees, Armin drags his feet down to the river. He smoothens down his shirt with trembling fingers, runs his hand down the intricate patterns, hoping he didn’t get the fabric dirty. His legs are throbbing from the long day of standing, the skin on his hands red and raw and itchy, and the dirt under his feet feels so much worse than he remembers– he could almost bet, there are splinters and cuts on his feet.

Armin comes to a halt a few blocks away from the river, searching his surroundings for Annie. The grass shines in the golden rays, spotted with white and blue flowers here and there; the river’s bank, the willow tree on its shore, the bulrush growing along the river’s flow, swaying slightly with the wind.

And there, under the willow tree, barely visible through its thick hanging leaves, he spots her– sitting quaintly under the tree, her shoulders hunched and head hanging low as if she were reading something, her hair let loose much like it was earlier. As he approaches her, her image becomes more visible, clearer. Her shoes are kicked to the side, laying in the grass next to her. She’s sitting with her legs crossed, the same book as earlier resting open on her lap, and she’s so focused on the page she doesn’t acknowledge him. Armin studies her, her relaxed expression, the way she gently flips the page with a kind of care and consideration he wouldn’t have expected from her.

And then his knee gives in and he loses his balance, yelping a little as he stomps his foot down to stop himself from falling. Which only sends a sharp tinge of pain all throughout his body, making him squat down and groan in pain.

Annie jumps in her skin at the sudden sounds, snapping the book closed and raising her eyes towards him, wide and alert.

“What are you doing?” comes her voice, high and pitched. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

Armin whimpers helplessly. He fully sits on the ground, grabbing his foot between his hands and running his fingers along its sole in search of wounds. Thankfully, he finds none.

Annie narrows her eyes at him, scanning him up and down.

“What's wrong with you?”

Her voice is much more leveled, as it were earlier in the day, and if he didn’t know better he could have mistaken that change of tone for worry.

“I think I stepped on a rock,” he says, rubbing his foot to chase the pain away. “I didn't mean to scare you,” he adds truthfully.

“That's what you get for walking around barefoot,” she comments.

Armin breathes in deeply and lets the air out through his nose. “Not all of us have the luxury of affording shoes,” he retorts.

Annie presses her lips together, looking away for a second as if she resented her words. Armin shuffles to his feet, drawing her attention towards himself again. He dares approach the willow tree with short, careful steps, her eyes scrutinizing his every move, her stare burning through his skin.

Before he gets the chance to sit down, she fires another string of leveled words at him. “Where have you found that blouse?”

The boy narrows his eyes, looking down at himself as if to check what he was wearing– an old blouse belonging to his late father, hanging a bit loose on him. It was supposed to be white, he thinks, but time had worn it out and yellowed it. Yet the patterns carefully embroidered on its front are as lively as the day his mother sewed them on, little blue birds adorning the cloth. The sleeves are adorned with the same colorful pattern, closing around his wrists with a band of blue rectangles.

He looks back up at Annie with furrowed brows. The glint in her eye takes him by surprise, for she looks far too interested in the old piece of clothing.

“…in my basement?” he answers her question, a bit of intrigue in his voice.

She frowns. “Don't mock me,” she warns.

“I'm not mocking you.”

“Then where have you found it?” she insists. “Such a color as that of your blouse is rare, it must have cost a fortune. And look at that pattern!”

Armin blinks once, twice. There is a sort of excitement in her voice that he doesn’t quite understand. He dares sit next to her, letting his body finally relax. He leans his head back against the tree's trunk and closes his eyes, letting the soft wind wash his thoughts away. He hears Annie shuffle closer, getting so impossibly closer to him, her knees pressing against his thigh. His face warms up.

When he finally opens his eyes, he finds Annie huddled right next to him, marveling at his sleeve. She’s so close that he can take in her scent, sweet and flowery.

“You can touch it if you want,” he offers.

Annie startles momentarily, and she looks up at him with wide eyes, her complexion dusted pink.

“Is that alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He offers her his arm, and she slowly and carefully takes it in her hands as if afraid to break it. She runs her fingers along the pattern, tracing the little birds with her index finger, a little smile forming on her lips. Armin takes the chance to study her features– her blonde hair that looks so soft, cascading over her shoulders and down her back, the shape of her nose, the curve of her lips, the color of her eyes, so icy and cold and yet so warm, glistening with a kind of curiosity he finds rare. He doesn’t think he's ever seen anyone this beautiful before.

“My mother made this blouse,” he finally answers her question.

Annie hums lightly, still enchanted by the blue. “Where did she find such a color?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Armin presses his lips together. “I'm not sure,” he admits. “I've never asked.”

Truth be told, there’s great many things he hasn’t asked his mother, and will never get the chance to know.

Annie looks up at him then, meeting his eyes. She parts her lips, and he can guess what she’s about to say by the look in her eyes, so he cuts her short.

“She passed when I was but a child,” he blurts out.

Annie closes her mouth, her eyes widening the tiniest bit. She presses her lips together in a tight line and casts her eyes down, staring at his blouse a moment longer.

“We have that in common,” comes her voice, low and leveled.

Armin’s eyes widen slightly. He figures he must express his condolences, yet he finds himself at a loss of words. The girl peels her hands away from his sleeve and clears her throat.

“Will you teach me how to dance now?” she asks, adopting a more serious expression.

Armin shakes his thoughts away. His eyes narrow.

“I'll teach you how to dance after you let me read.”

Annie clicks her tongue dismissively. The boy raises an eyebrow, feeling his heart pick up speed. She's tricked him. It was all a prank, a trap he so foolishly fell into, she was never going to share her spoils with him.

“First, you'll teach me how to dance, then you can read,” she says, a note of authority in her voice. He doesn’t quite like the sound of it.

He bites his tongue, stopping himself from habitually agreeing. Behind the blonde, the sun is lazily setting, it will be twilight soon. He cannot read in the dark, and he desperately wants to read, his fingers itching to hold a book again, to feel its weight, its texture, to run his fingers against the pages, to breathe in the scent of the forbidden fruit. To delight himself in endless knowledge and let his mind finally relax. He needs to read again, for he has not touched a book since the day they were dumped in this village.

“No.” He presses his lips together and stares at her with what he hopes is a decisive look. Annie stares him down with an unreadable expression, making him question himself. He gulps down, gathering his courage. “I'll read first. Until the sun sets. Then, I'll teach you how to dance.”

Annie blows out air through her nose. “How can we dance in the dark? I won’t see the steps,” she argues.

“And you think I can read in the dark?” he shoots back. He can feel the tips of his ears heating up.

The girl furrows her brows, as if she didn’t expect that anyone would oppose her word.

“Besides, these dances usually happen at night. You don't need to see anything, you just have to feel the music–”

The mayor's daughter scoffs. “What music?” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the tree bark. “We don’t have any music here,” she mumbles.

Armin presses his lips together. She does have a point, there is no music. He casts his eyes down, staring at the book and its brown covers, calling out to him. He so desperately needs to hold it, to read it, to bask into whatever new world it hides.

An idea starts blooming In his mind– but no, he cannot do that, not in front of the mayor’s daughter. He cannot embarrass himself that way.

But the sun is setting and he's running out of time.

“I can hum,” he says. His voice comes out in something of a sequel, and his face immediately heats up.

Her head snaps up. She stares at him with wide eyes and a crooked eyebrow, as if questioning his sanity. But he cannot back down now.

“I can hum a song for us to dance to.” He steals a glance at the sun dangerously setting behind her head. “But I really need to read first. Please, miss Leonhart,” he adds, and he hates how desperate his voice sounds. Though he guesses he is rather desperate.

Her eyes widen the slightest bit. She stares him dead in the eye, and he quivers under her glare, his face slowly heating up. He would have never thought he'd end up begging anyone for anything, much less the mayor's daughter of all people, yet here he is.

“It's Annie,” she eventually says. She thrusts the book towards him. “You can read, until the sun sets, and then you will teach me how to dance.”

He nods thoroughly. His hands grab the covers, but Annie doesn't loosen her grip on it. He frowns. She's already staring at him with a stern look on her face.

“And don't ever call me that again.”

Armin nods slowly, and Annie finally lets go of the book.

His hands shake as he runs his finger across the letters on the front cover– One thousand and one nights. He has a vague memory of his grandfather reading it to him when he was but a toddler, in the warmth of their little home, way before they were ripped out of it. He can’t help but smile when he opens the book and reads the familiar formula.

As he reads, he feels Annie’s eyes on him, burning holes through him. He raises his gaze, finding her eyes already studying him. But her expression is much softer, almost gentle. Her complexion picks up color upon realizing that she's been caught and she casts her eyes away.

His lips pull up the tiniest bit. “I can read out loud, if you want.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “If it's not too much trouble,” she mutters.

Armin hums. He starts again from the top, keeping his voice leveled as he goes on. He steals a glance at Annie, just in time to see her bring her knees to her chest and rest her chin on top of them.

He lets himself sink into the story, getting lost in the world Scheherazade describes. He's fascinated by it, enchanted by it.

And then the chapter comes to an end just as the story is about to draw its conclusion. He flips the page, unsure if he should go on or not. He steals another glance at Annie, quietly asking for permission to go on. He finds her eyes already on him, studying him closely, following his every move. The sun is slowly disappearing behind her, closing into twilight.

She doesn’t say anything, her lips sealed shut, but her eyes sparkle of curiosity and something like impatience.

Armin closes the book carefully, then thrusts it back to her. She looks at it for a second before taking it from him.

“You can go on, you know,” she mutters, setting it between them.

He shakes his head. “That's alright, thank you.” He raises to his feet and offers her his hand. “Let's dance.”

Her eyes widen the slightest bit, a small smile flashing on her lips. She takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. Yet his hand lingers, taking in the softness of her palm for a moment before she drops it.

Armin clears his throat. “What dance do you want to learn?”

“All of them,” she answers simply.

Armin hums, tilting his head to the side. “Well, we don’t have time to go through all of them tonight.”

Annie averts her gaze, staring at God knows what. She crosses her arms across her chest, pouting slightly as she thinks.

“But,” he says, an idea slowly forming into his mind. Annie crooks an eyebrow at him. “We can do this again. We can meet here every day after I'm done with work. You'll let me read one chapter and I'll teach you one dance.”

Annie hums, then nods. “That sounds like a plan.”

You are of the opinion that adults really don’t realize how hard eight-year-olds have it.

It’s a thought that crosses your mind repeatedly throughout the impossibly long car ride to the airport, then in the impossibly long plane ride across the ocean, and when you got back in the car to drive home.

Adults don’t realize that your favorite place is your grandparents’ modest (modest to you, but you don’t realize that until you’re older) home in the dreamy climate of southern California, and only spending the three or so months of summer vacation that you get there is nowhere near enough time. You don’t want to go back to Korea, and you don’t want to sit still for that many hours on end.

But as you expected, your parents just placate you towards the end of the second car ride with some cookies they got at the airport and a smile, promising you that the chauffeur will drive quickly to get you home.

The car pulls up in the long, circular driveway in front of your estate outside the city of Busan, where your family goes when there’s not much business to be done. You like the estate because of how it at least isn’t in the big big city like your other house is- the penthouse suite in Seoul is too high up and the view of busy people constantly around makes you feel weird. You’re young, and you like that you can run around in a backyard and pick flowers and do whatever, so you always drag your parents into staying at the estate.

It’s only as you arrive there that you feel less antsy, and less annoyed with your parents, since they carefully get you out of the car and let you take the elevator up to your room (usually they make you climb the stairs, insisting you not be lazy just because you can be).

You jump right into the bed that’s too big for you, a new maid you don’t recognize coming in just to draw the thin curtains around your bed with a soft smile and turn the light off. For a moment before you drift away into the milky darkness of sleep, you wonder why you haven’t seen her before- after all, you like to keep track of the nice ladies who help you out around the house when your parents aren’t there. Despite your wonder, though, the long voyage has you tired beyond belief, and drawing the blankets up to your chin, you fall into unconsciousness.

School doesn’t start for about another two weeks, which is both a dread and an excitement for you. Firstly, a bore, because you’re really not sure what to do for these two weeks alone. Your older brother hadn’t come to America with you and your parents, because of his summer studies in Seoul, and your dad had left last night to go stay with him, so there would be no beach trips, because your mom hates the beach. So, you’ve deduced, you’re going to be extremely bored until you have to get back to Seoul to start school.

The excitement comes from not being in Seoul. At least you can be bored out in the fresh, salty air that blows in from the ocean water not too far away. It’s better company of nature than Gangnam, so you can’t complain too much.

However, your idea that you will be alone, and therefore bored, is cut short the very afternoon after you come home.

You’d spent the day lounging around, waiting for your mom to be done with paperwork in her office, and after a seafood lunch splayed out for you too artistically for an eight year old to really appreciate, you ended up in the expansive backyard.

You’ve never done much exploring in the back, since your mom was afraid you might get lost if you go out too far. After all, the backyard is just very well groomed grass and carefully placed selections of trees that extend until the property line too far for you to see- the fact that it’s so large probably being why it makes your mom nervous.

Despite that, nearby the house are paved walkways lined with short hedges and flowerbeds, and some wooden benches scattered under trees. You stick around those places, bringing a book in English out with you to practice reading it under the shade.

You settle down on a bench under some willows, the long spindly branches almost cocooning you away from the outside world as you shift around, trying to get comfortable. You finally stop in a position where you’re on your back on the bench, feet stuck through the hole made by the opposing curves of the wood and the wrought iron armrest on one side.

“Charlotte’s Web.” you read aloud to yourself, feeling the words form on your lips. English isn’t uncomfortable for you, especially since some of your cousins can’t communicate with you outside of it, but sometimes the sounds feel strange as they pass your lips. You’d learned a lot this summer, and don’t want to forget, so you’ll force yourself to read the whole book out loud to nobody.

You take a breath, opening your mouth to start the first sentence of the book, when a similarly young voice mirrors what you’d just said.

“Charlotte’s Web,” repeats someone who must be in front of you, in English that sounds a little more awkward than yours. You shoot upright, the book dropping to your lap as your eyes fall on a boy who can’t be much older than you, if he is at all; hair the color of nearly-burnt caramel sweeping across his forehead, head tilted to the side curiously, his eyes so dark they look black in the shade crinkling up in amusement as he registers your surprise.

“What?” you blurt, thoughts of speaking English slipping away. The boy laughs heartily at your exclamation, purposely dropping to the ground and crossing his legs casually.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” he replies. Oh, good. At least he speaks Korean, even if he does have somewhat of a slight accent.

“I mean…” you start, then frown a little. What do you really mean? “I was just surprised.”

The boy nods, remnants of his laughter still on his tanned face. “I see. Why?”

You raise your eyebrows, sitting a little straighter. “Are you serious? Why? You appeared out of nowhere!”

“Nowhere seems a little dramatic,” the boy shrugs. “I was right over there.” he gestures with his head to the kitchen's entrance to the house.

You purse your lips. “Well how’d you get there?” You’re sure you’ve never seen him before.

“My mom started working here a couple weeks ago. She told me this morning that your family came home last night, so I went looking for you this morning.” he tells you, reclining back on his arms folded under his head.

You hum, then remember the unfamiliar woman in your room last night. “Oh! I saw your mom. She turned off the light in my room yesterday.”

The boy scoffs. “You need someone to do that for you?”

You frown, suddenly feeling a little attacked. “Excuse me?” Someone has always done that for you, and for your brother, too. It’s not weird like he’s making it seem.

He peeks up at you from his lazy place on the grass. “Ever thought about it? You know normal kids don’t have people to do easy stuff like that for them.”

“Normal?” you repeat, feeling more and more annoyed. “Are you saying that I’m not normal?”

“Of course you’re not,” the boy says like you should have already known that. “You’re rich.”

“And you’re rude,” you snap, huffing a breath out and turning up your chin at him.

“Good one,” he replies, sarcastically, and suddenly you want to throw your book at his stupid head.

You’re pretty much about to, when the nice lady from last night pushes the hanging branches of the willow behind her and steps in.

“Hello, young lady,” she addresses you with a sweet smile, then turns to the boy, her face switching instantly to a disapproving expression. “Yukhei, didn’t we talk about how you can’t just run around without telling me where you’re going?”

Yukhei. So that’s his name.

“I was looking for her.” he replies, sitting up and pointing at you. You huff again.

“Don’t you know that pointing is rude?”

“I don’t care,” he shoots back, crossing his arms.

“Well you should!” you hiss, grip on the book tightening.

“Kids,” the woman intervenes, and you immediately shrink back in embarrassment at how you’d acted. Your mom would’ve told you off just then. “Yukhei, you can’t just antagonize other kids when you barely know them.”

“Can’t is one thing, shouldn’t is another,” Yukhei replies without an air of concern. You roll your eyes. He really is insufferable!

The lady sighs, but a smile crosses her lips. “Alright. Say goodbye to Miss Y/N, maybe you can start again on better terms tomorrow.”

He seems to get the idea, and stands up, not even brushing the grass off of his pants. “Bye,” he says in your direction, with no remorse at all.

“Psh,” you mutter under your breath, and don’t respond.

The lady laughs again, then puts her hand on Yukhei’s shoulder and quietly leads him out of the area under the tree.

The next time you see Yukhei is three days later- you’d purposely not gone outside and pretty much stayed in your room or in the library during them so that you’d have no chance to encounter him.

However, your mom tells you on the third day that if you’re going to complain about leaving the estate and living in Seoul that you better be enjoying your time in Busan.

So you put pants on instead of the usual skirt and decide to teach yourself how to climb a tree.

The trees outside are a lot more daunting when you’re standing under them compared to what you were imagining in your head. The weeping willow you’d had your encounter under before seems good, since there’s one shorter branch you think you can reach before going up higher, but you figure the thing must be at least a thousand feet tall.

Well, actually, you have no clue how tall trees are, but it looks pretty high from here.

You walk around to the side where the lower branch is, and instantly, your mood drops.

“Are you kidding me?” you say before you can even think. Because there he is- Yukhei, the insufferable boy that you’ve been avoiding- sitting on the branch you were going to climb!

He looks down at you, and you’re expecting a sour reaction, but he has the same amused smile from when he first talked to you a few days ago. “Surprised to see you back here.”

“I live here.” you state, eyes narrowing.

Yukhei laughs, throwing his head back, and you frown in confusion.

“What’s so funny?” you question, hands on your hips.

“Sorry I was mean to you before,” Yukhei says, effectively surprising you. “I wasn’t expecting you to fight back when I teased you.”

Teasing? That’s what he calls teasing? You’re tempted to let him know just how off his definition of that word is, but you just sigh to yourself, imagining mom encouraging you to be polite.

“And why’s that?” you ask instead of reprimanding him for his poor vocabulary.

He shrugs, swinging his legs over the branch so he’s facing you completely. “Don’t know many girls.”

You roll your eyes. “So you thought a girl wouldn’t argue with you.”

“Well, you proved me wrong, so…?” he trails off with a cheeky grin, which makes your annoyance fade away way too quickly.

“Whatever,” you say, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “You’re in my tree, though.”

“Your tree?” he laughs again. “It’s a tree. It can’t be anybody’s.”

“Yes it can,” you say smugly. “My parents own this whole place, so it’s my family’s tree.”

Yukhei seems to think about this for a second, before another bigger smile breaks onto his face. “So what you’re saying is it isn’t your tree, but your family’s?”

For whatever reason, your second meeting with Yukhei changes your mind on him. He likes joking around with you, pressing your buttons and seeing how frustrated he can get you before bursting into laughter, which usually makes you laugh too. His mom, who had in fact been the same lady (you were right, you might add), sends the two of you off to explore the property in the morning and makes you snacks throughout the day, and you and Yukhei become quick partners in crime.

It’s why you’re even sadder than usual when barely two weeks later, your mom comes into your room with a sympathetic smile and your essential things already packed, saying it’s time to go back to Seoul.

You share goodbyes with Yukhei, who assures you that he’ll still be there when you all come back to the estate for winter break later in the year.

Throughout the rest of your childhood and adolescence, you don’t make many friends in the same social class as you. Before you met Yukhei, you’d had somewhat of an idea that you and him came from different worlds- you, daughter of a multi-millionaire couple with a business empire that you and your brother would inherit, and Yukhei, son of a maid at your parent’s estate and a teacher who remained back in China where he had come from. Despite this, you only realized how your friendship with Yukhei had changed you when you got older, and possible friends gave you strange looks when you mentioned your best friend back in Busan, asking questions like “why would you hang out with someone like him?”. You realized that you had grown up a little different from other kids at your private academy- you had grown up knowing what a life outside of yours was like.

And that brings you to being sixteen, a grin on your face that you just can’t wipe off as you get close enough to see the Busan property in the flattened part of the valley.

“You’re always so excited,” your brother Jaehyun says to you from the driver’s seat, chuckling. He’d insisted on driving, since your parents had the chauffeur in Seoul and had to make quite a few more stops for business than the two of you. It was just easier this way, he’d argued, but you think he was hoping for some peace and quiet instead of the intense classical your mom likes to turn up in the car.

“Duh,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Yukhei and I are going to go to the beach tomorrow. We gotta plan out what we’re going to do while we’re there.”

“The beach?” your brother asks incredulously. “It’s like, 23° outside.”

“So?” you say, shrugging. “He really wants to, and I like the beach too, so.”

“Pshh,” Jaehyun says, looking sideways at you with a vague smile. “I think he just wants to spend some time with you.”

You want to shove him, but you’re not sure how much to trust his driving skills, so you just stick your tongue out. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Manners,” he chides, but you know he’s not really trying to reprimand you.

Jaehyun parks the car on the long circular driveway that’s so familiar to you, and you practically jump out with the one bag you bring between your two residences.

You don’t have to look far for who you’re thinking of, because there at the very edge of the lawn in front of the house is Wong Yukhei.

He stands with the unshakeable confidence that he’s always had, hands tucked into the pockets of his baggy pants tucked into heavy work boots- he’s been helping out with gardening on the weekends and during breaks for two or so years now. He brushes through his hair with a grin full of anticipation as you make eye contact, lifting up one hand in a cheeky wave.

On the inside, you’d like to run over and throw your arms around him in greeting, but there’s other employees around as per usual to welcome you and Jaehyun home, so you just speed walk with as much grace as you can, bowing your head politely to others that you pass until you finally reach Yukhei, Jaehyun chatting with everyone else and leading them into the house to give you some privacy.

“Hiya,” he says, ruffling your hair as you stop in front of him, a smile you can’t even consider losing spread across your lips.

“Missed you,” you say, and he just laughs to himself. “What?”

“We facetimed like two days ago,” he replies, then reaches over and takes your bag as you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be dumb,” you try to take back the bag, but he’s already slung it over his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

He laughs again. “Of course.”

Yukhei’s mom, who you greet with a big hug and are given some kisses on the cheeks in return, made you and her son a simple lunch, sending the two of you off through the backdoor with a blanket to sit under your favorite weeping willow.

“So,” you say when the two of you settle down, Yukhei pulling out your favorite meal of jajangmyeon in two thermoses and some side dishes, spreading them out between you. “How’s life?”

“It’s good,” he breaks your chopsticks for you and passes over the food. “I don’t know if I told you yet, but my dad is visiting in few weeks.”

Your jaw drops just as you’re about to slurp up some noodles. “Are you serious?”

You’ve never met Yukhei’s dad before, or even talked to him. Telephone calls with him never happened around you, and you respected that. All you know of him are some family photos from when Yukhei was really young, since he’s lived here since he was eight.

Yukhei nods, humming in confirmation. “I guess you’ll finally meet him.”

You frown- he sounds almost bothered by that statement. “Isn’t that a good thing? I’ve never met my best friend’s father and now is the chance.”

He looks down, sighing, which only confuses you more. “I’m just…” he sighs again, deeper, brushes through his hair with his fingers. “I guess I’m just nervous for him. I don’t want- I’m not, I’m not saying you’re like this, Y/N, cause I know you’re not, but… I don’t want you to think less of my family when you meet him.”

Your eyes widen, food practically forgotten as you stare at your best friend while he avoids your eyes, fiddling with his chopsticks. You can’t help but feel a sudden sense of regret and sadness, wondering what you could have done that he even considered you might look at him differently because of his father’s working conditions. You’ve known Yukhei and his family aren’t exactly in the best place financially, but he’s always turned down any help you’ve offered and you’ve always tried to be understanding and disregarded the social classes meant to separate the two of you.

Another smaller part of you is a little offended that he thought that of you, but you push that away. After all, you don’t know what it’s like being in his situation.

He must have noticed your expression, because Yukhei quickly sputters an explanation. You purse your lips, setting down the food, and interlocking your fingers solemnly.

“Yukhei,” you cut him off, and he looks up at you with concern. You sigh. “I thought we both knew there was never going to be any judgement. I’d never…” you sigh again, frustration leaking into the release of breath.

“I know, but-” Yukhei starts, but you keep talking.

“I don’t know where you got that idea, but you should really get rid of it. I’m never going to think of you any different than I think of other people. Actually no, that’s not even true. I think so much higher of you than other people- everyone at school only tries to be friends to make connections or because they know I have more money than them or they know I have a summer residence or whatever they know- and they’re the kind of people I think less of because they have no fucking personality!” you shake your head in exasperation. “But I’m never going to think less of you or your family because you’re never going to be like that, okay?”

A moment passes in silence, and you look down, a little nervous that you’ve said too much. You and Yukhei tend not to talk about just how opposite you are on the spectrum of wealth often, because despite how much you want to laugh when he jokes about how much money you have, it usually just makes you feel awkward. You also don’t usually talk about the other people you know, your classmates, since you feel like the more he knows about your life in Seoul the less he’ll see you as the you that he knows.

A chuckle breaks you out of your thoughts, and you look up in time to see Yukhei clambering over and wrapping you up roughly in his arms, tousling your hair as he laughs.

“How did I ever doubt you?” he says through his laughter, and you can’t help but smile too, leaning into his familiar embrace.

The next morning, you wake up in your baby blue king size bed that’s still too big for one person and feel a rush of excitement when you remember what you’re doing today.

You get ready faster than ever before, skipping on makeup since you’ll probably be in the water anyway and getting your hair out of your face carelessly. You try on a few different swimsuits, trying to decide which one is most appropriate for the weather, before you pick a one piece with a halter and some kind of light pink pattern across it, and figuring there’s a chance you’ll be cold, you put on a jumpsuit instead of the planned sundress.

You make it downstairs by nine am, finding Jaehyun and Yukhei in the dining room talking over some breakfast.

“Good morning,” you say to announce your presence, and they both look over, Jaehyun just rolling his eyes while Yukhei smiles.

“Ready to go so early?” he says, standing to pull out a seat for you at the table.

“Ooh, what a gentleman,” Jaehyun teases, a smirk lining his face. You roll your eyes and sit down while Yukhei just laughs.

You prefer sweeter things for breakfast, having gotten used to it in the summer days and weekends spent in California, where the only savory breakfast food is eggs and potatoes, and sometimes meat. So you don’t neglect to notice the sugary parfait and chocolate waffles laid out for you on your first day back to Busan.

“Where’s your mom?” you ask Yukhei as you dig in. “I want to thank her.”

He shrugs. “She didn’t cook, I think she went to town since it’s Saturday.”

Your lips form an o shape, nodding.

Breakfast passes smoothly, Jaehyun excusing himself after around 20 minutes telling you that he has a big finance project due tomorrow that he has to get started on, so you and Yukhei finish together in peace.

Once you’re done, the head butler Shinhae tells you to be extremely careful on the road and not to fool around (you get a little rosy at that comment) and to be home by the evening. He sends you and your best friend off with the same kind old-man smile you’ve seen your whole life, and you get in the car with a similar smile on your own face.

Your parents aren’t back yet, which means your regular chauffeur isn’t either. You called up a different chauffeur (well, Jaehyun called) to take you to the beach, and he drives with earphones in instead of playing music in the car. It’s a little weird, but you and Yukhei have a laugh about it and settle into casual conversation,

You talk about how exams went for the both of you- Yukhei has always hated school and didn’t try at all, but the smile that lights up his face when you tell him you think you did well makes it seem like grades are all he wants to hear about. You’ve grown up trying not to complain too much to him about your classes, since that brings up the conversation of what you’ll have to do once you graduate high school. Which is, inevitably, go to college, and unlike Jaehyun who has an abundance of friends equally as rich as you to make his college life in Seoul interesting and beneficial for the company, your parents want you and your practically-fluent English to study in the U.S. for your bachelor’s degree.

Obviously you have enough money to come back to Busan every weekend if you really wanted, but you doubt you’ll have the time or energy once you’re a business student. And you really hate thinking about a future where you can only talk to Yukhei in person once or twice a year.

The beach is only about an hour and a half drive, and it passes fairly quickly. The chauffeur drops the pair of you off near the shore, telling you he’ll being around the quiet beach town you’re in and to call him when you’re ready to leave. You shoot him a thumbs up, and once he nods and turns away, you pivot and race down the steps, not looking behind you to see if your best friend is following.

“Yah! L/N F/N! Are you crazy?” Yukhei shouts after you, and you hear his footsteps on the wood echoing your own.

“You know it!” you call back, hopping down the last step onto the sand. You quickly remove your flip-flops and stick them in the duffel bag you’d brought along, eager to feel the warm sand between your toes and along the curves of your feet.

Oof!

You stumble forward when a way too strong for his age young man crashes into you like he calculated with how much force to do so. Yukhei wraps his arms around your shoulders and takes the bag from you wordlessly, looking out at the ocean water in front of you.

“So pretty, huh?” he comments. You look up at his face and see an expression so full of wonder and curiosity that your heart tugs.

“It is,” you pat his hand on your arm so he lets go, and grab his hand on your other side instead, leading him off so you aren’t standing in front of the entrance. “I’m not sure where the yacht is right now, but I’m sure we could bring it out sometime.”

He snickers at that, and you realize how that sounded- one of your “rich kid moments” as Yukhei called them.

“Or we can just do this again and come to the beach like teenagers do,” he suggests humorously, and you cringe, offering him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“I know,” he ruffles your hair, then points to a fairly empty spot on the beach. Well, the whole beach is fairly empty; after all it’s the beginning of summer so there aren’t many students or tourists, just a few families scattered around. “Let’s set up there?”

You nod, and realize you’re still holding hands as he walks over, faster enough than you that you end up a foot behind.

Yukhei sets up the umbrella and your chair, dramatically complaining the whole time that you’re using him for his muscles and you should be paying him for this. You’d wince but he’s the one who stopped you from helping in the first place, telling you to enjoy your beach trip without doing ‘hard labor’.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t bring a chair for yourself,” you chide, sitting down as he pulls a towel from your duffel bag and throwing it out over the sand next to you.

Yukhei grins up at you. “A chair is a place for a princess.”

You roll your eyes, groaning. “Stop. You’re so annoying.”

He reaches up and pinches your cheek, then sinks back down and throws his shirt off in one swift movement, tugging his towel away from the shade of the umbrella and settling down in a relaxed position. “Changed my mind, I think I’ll tan over here.”

“Tan?” you repeat, bewildered. “Did you put on sunscreen?”

“I don’t need sunscreen, the sun loves me.” You groan, reaching down and digging through the bag until you find the bright orange SPF bottle, throwing it at Yukhei’s head. He yelps dramatically and you throw your head back in laughter.

Once Yukhei has laid back down, you take a deep breath, wondering why you’re suddenly so nervous to shed your jumpsuit and be in the swimsuit you’d chosen in front of him. Something about the mood and how it’s just you two gives you a weird feeling that you don’t usually have around Yukhei- when you glance over at him and see just how much older he really looks right now you feel heat rise to your cheeks. Or maybe that’s the literal heat from wearing a jumpsuit at the beach.

Gathering up your confidence, you take off the jacket first, folding it carefully and placing it in your bag. You look at Yukhei in your peripherals and see that his eyes are shut, so you quickly slip your pants off and stuff them in the bag, hopping back onto your beach chair.

“You’re jumpy today.”

Your head snaps over to see Yukhei hasn’t moved, but the ghost of a smile lines his lips after he spoke.

“What?” you say, but you know he’s right.

He chuckles. “Ah, you’re cute sometimes, Y/N.”

Your eyes open wide and the heat in your cheeks is back as you whip your head away from him and put your face in your hands. What is happening? Seriously!

You pull out your English copy of Charlotte’s Web from the bag and try to pretend like that little interaction didn’t happen.

As you expected, Yukhei lasts about thirty minutes before deciding he’s bored of “not doing anything” and drags you from your seat, insisting that you go in the water.

“But we need to watch our stuff!” you exclaim as he pulls you down the shore. “What if we get distracted and our phones get stolen?”

“Buy a new phone, princess,” he teases, spinning you around randomly in the sand to get you to smile. “You can afford it.”

You roll your eyes but don’t stop him when he lets go of your wrist and starts chasing you down the edge of the water, cupping his hands to fill them up and throwing water at you shamelessly as you yelp and hop away, laughter ringing in the air.

Yukhei manages to drag you waist deep, taking both your hands and interlocking your fingers as you turn round and round in the water, feeling sand puff up around your ankles.

“We should swim,” he says on your fifth rotation. You snort in disbelief.

“The ocean isn’t for swimming.”

He looks at you incredulously. “So what the hell does it exist for then?”

You shake your head. “Pools are for swimming, the beach is for… hanging out at the beach.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I came to swim,” Yukhei states firmly, which you snicker at.

“Go swim then, Prince Charming,” you let go of his hands to tap him on the cheek. He scrunches up his face and pouts.

“Without my princess?” he reaches for your waist but you dance just out of his reach, water splashing up around you.

You laugh, starting back towards the sand. “I’ll watch our stuff. Enjoy yourself, okay?”

Seemingly accepting that you won’t join him, Yukhei smiles in response and starts wading the opposite way, deeper into the ocean water.

You dry off your lower half once you’re back at the umbrella, pulling your phone out from your bag and checking to see if you have any notifications. You don’t, so you put it on your lap as you sit down and continue reading, occasionally looking up check that he hasn’t gone and drowned during your fun beach trip.

You think it’s probably been about thirty minutes when your phone starts ringing, the loud tune of TVXQ’s Mirotic (yeah, you had never really gotten over that song) playing from between your legs where your phone had fallen.

You scramble to get it, hoping not to disturb any other beachgoers with the (amazing) song playing at such a high volume. Seeing that it’s Jaehyun who’s calling, you swipe accept and put the phone to your ear.

“Need help with your project already?” you joke, dog-earing the page of your book.

“No, Y/N, this is serious.” he responds, his voice sounding thick and scratchy like he’s been crying. Immediately you sober up, sitting straighter and listening closely.

“What?”

Your brother takes a deep, shaky breath before speaking. “Our… Mom and Dad, Y/N, they…” he trails off and panic sets into your chest, forcing you to stand.

“Jae, what the hell happened?” you snap, clenching the hand that’s not holding the phone.

“They crashed.” he manages to choke out, and suddenly Jaehyun’s not keeping it together anymore and your strong older brother is sobbing over the phone. “They crashed- and they, they were- the ambulance came but they were already-”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “No, Jaehyun, fucking stop it right now. Stop fucking with me right now.”

He doesn’t yell at you, or tell you to stop, or tell you it’s true. He just keeps crying, hiccups and strangled sounds coming through to your ear.

Your stomach drops, and you lifelessly fall back onto your chair, barely remembering to stay on the call in case Jaehyun needs you.

Your parents are dead.

Your kind, understand parents who have shaped such a perfect, worriless life for you. Your parents who encouraged your friendship with Yukhei over the other rich kids because they believed he was genuine enough for you. Your parents who without hesitation spent months in the heat and cramped house of your grandparents in California, year by year, for you.

They’re gone.

“Y/N?” Jaehyun’s weak voice comes through, snapping you out of your trance. “Y/N, are you there?”

“I’m here,” you reply quickly.

“You need to come back to the house.” he croaks. “We have to… we have to figure something out. I know I’m older and I should be strong but… but I can’t be alone.”

“I’ll be home.” you assure him, already pulling out your clothes and shrugging them back on, hurriedly flinging sand off of the towel on the sand. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

“Okay,” you can imagine Jaehyun nodding. “Okay. Text me every ten minutes?”

He wants to make sure you don’t meet the same fate as your mom and dad. “...Yeah. I will.”

“Okay. Bye.” he says, sniffling once more before hanging up.

You’re halfway through trying and failing to fold up the chair, just about screaming in frustration inside your head, when a hand on your shoulder stops you in your tracks. You whip around to find Yukhei- oh, Yukhei. How can you tell him this?

His eyes are full of concern, his grip on your shoulder telling you that he knows something is wrong.

“What happened?” he asks lowly, as if he’s afraid to speak louder. You can only stare into his eyes, lip trembling, not having shed tears yet but feeling them burn along the rim of your eyes. “Y/N, what happened?”

“We need to go,” you manage to respond, voice shaking so obviously that you’re surprised you can even talk. “We need to go right now. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N-” he starts, drawing you closer, but you push him away.

“My parents died. That’s what happened.” you swallow down your tears as you turn, kneeling down to get a better view of the chair.

Yukhei gasps softly behind you- you can tell he was trying to make it subtle, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Your hands are shaking as you look for which part to fold, but they’re being pushed gently away just a second later.

Yukhei kneels next to you, wrapping up your hands in his and pulling you into a tight embrace, pressing your face against his shoulder. He doesn’t talk, and you manage not to cry, but both of you know you need him then. You need him not to talk, you need to just wrap your arms around the base of his neck and let him squeeze your waist so that he’s close to you, and shut out the way your world has just fallen apart in the span of five minutes. You need his comfort so that you might not fall apart too.

You stay there for a while before the sense of urgency from before hits you and you gasp out a “we need to go”. Yukhei pushes you away from the stuff, telling you to call the chauffeur and tell him to pick you up right now, no questions asked, and that he will pack everything up.

By the time the chauffeur arrives, Yukhei has just finished with the things, and quietly hauls everything but the bag slung over your shoulder up the stairs as you race up before him.

“Back to the estate,” you tell the chauffeur in a rushed, breathless voice as soon as the car door opens. “We need to get back quickly but drive as safely as possible.”

It’s with that little detail that Yukhei is clued into what happened to your parents. The ride back is silent, but he wraps his arm around you and turns your face into his shoulder once again, asking the chauffeur to please put on some calm music. He texts Jaehyun for you, assuring your brother that everything is just fine.

You feel sorry for just a moment after you jump out of the car with nothing but your phone the second it parks in front of the house, knowing you’ve left Yukhei without even a goodbye, but that feeling is gone right away.

Even though your parents hadn’t been here when it happened, or even here recently, knowing they’re gone makes the grand mansion loom in front of you like a gray part of history, the beauty of its construction overshadowed by the fate of its owners.

You rush to the front door, it opening for you by the time you’re halfway up the steps leading to it, Shinhae looking at you from the doorway with a somber expression that you try to ignore. You bow your head to him, then speed past as he steps away, not even caring who sees you run through the entranceway to the main staircase, bolting up the stairs faster than you ever have before, and down a series of hallways until you reach your brother’s room, where you’re expecting he’ll be.

You knock three times, calling out that it’s you, the door flings open immediately, and then your brother’s arms are around you, squeezing the life out of you as he wraps his fingers around the fabric of your jacket in desperation.

Multiple members of the staff employed at the estate come by Jaehyun’s room throughout the day, but the two of you ignore everyone but each other. You’d decided right away that you would contact all your family that didn’t already know tomorrow, and then contact the heads of different sectors of the business to see what their thoughts were in terms of what to do about the sudden lack of two joint CEOs. You’d also have to check your parents’ wills, in the safe in your dad’s office which only Jaehyun knew the password to. Not to mention, do something about going to Seoul to the mortuary that they’d been taken to, and figuring out something with a funeral or…

You have a lot to do. So much that the stress of the day and what is to come brings you and Jaehyun to an agreement that just for a while, you’ll put off living the nightmare you’ve been thrown into, and just stay together.

The next week is the hardest week of your life. You know you can’t see the future, but you also can’t imagine anything that could happen that would hurt worse than becoming an orphan before you had any time to accept it.

You and Jaehyun spend as little time in the mortuary and funeral house as you can, organizing the funeral in just an hour so you can get out of that building in which the air is thick with freshener, covering up the stinging stench of death. Jaehyun stays in Seoul, though, knowing he has to arrange a meeting for the future of the business.

When you come back to Busan, your father’s brother and his wife are there waiting for you. They greet you warmly and with teary eyes, telling you and your brother not to worry now that they’re here. They handle the talking to your relatives, sending out messages detailing what happened to your mom and dad and the date and location of the funeral.

You spend the time that you’re not talking to Jaehyun on the phone or with your aunt and uncle holed up in your room, door locked and curtains closed. The idea that life is moving on for other people even though you’re missing two of the most important people in your life is unbearable, so you push the rest of the world away.

Yukhei and his mom try to come up to see you every single day, desperation for you to answer more and more evident as every day passes, but you can’t see them. You can’t see anyone. You just flip through photobooks with pictures of your parents, unable to stop the waves of tears that hit you in bouts of ridiculous pain- you’re so worn out after you cry that you sleep, and when you wake up everything seems gray. Over and over again.

Jaehyun finally comes home, and your aunt and uncle sit you down at the dining table, having sent all of the staff away so it’s just the four of you.

“So,” your aunt, Seoyeon, begins, adjusting her glasses as she sighs. “What kind of conversation did you have with the department heads, Jaehyun?”

You and your brother share a momentarily confused look, having expected this to be about your parents and staying together as a family, not the business.

“Well,” Jaehyun starts, frowning slightly. “They seemed to agree me and Y/N will take over as CEOs once we’re both a little older, so until then-”

“Ah, of course,” your uncle Sungjoo cuts in. “The two of you are just so young. I never expected my brother’s children having to take up this terrible burden at such an age.”

Aunt Seoyeon nods, humming. “Your father mentioned to us a couple times that if this were to happen, we should step in and take over until you grow up a bit. It’s why we came so quickly.”

You cock your head, practically speechless.

“In both mom and dad’s wills it says that Y/N and I inherit the company if they were to die.” Jaehyun states, raising a brow. “And I’m becoming an adult next year, so there shouldn’t be a problem with that.”

“But you’re a student!” Aunt Seoyeon exclaims, a deep frown creasing her forehead. “Sweetie, there’s no way you can get your degree and run a multi-million dollar business at the same time.”

“Maybe not, but the officials at the head office will be there to guide me and support us until Y/N and I can fully take over.” Jaehyun argues, shaking his head. “It’s what mom and dad wanted.” “I think what they would have wanted more is for their children to finish growing up,” Uncle Sungjoo says, sighing deeply. “Of course, we’ll consult your grandparents in California first, but this is the right choice for us and for the company.”

You and Jaehyun share another incredulous look, and Jaehyun scoffs, standing abruptly.

“I’ll get the law involved if I have to. It’s our business, not yours.” he snaps, then leaves the room, a cold and awkward feeling setting in with his absence.

Your uncle looks at you like he’s expecting you to say sorry, but you don’t. And you won’t.

“When are my grandparents arriving?” you ask instead. Your uncle frowns.

“Arriving?” he repeats, and you frown.

“Yes, for the funeral.”

“Ah,” Uncle Sungjoo nods. “Well, we’ll look into booking them tickets.”

But for whatever reason,a feeling of distrust settles into your chest, and later, after you’ve managed to get back upstairs and be with Jaehyun, you buy your grandparents’ tickets yourself, sure that they would not make it to the funeral otherwise.

It’s the next week when Yukhei finally catches you.

You’re walking down the hall from your room to get to Jaehyun’s as quickly as possible in an effort to avoid your aunt and uncle when a hand lands on the crook of your elbow.

You yelp, jumping away instinctively, but you catch sight of who it is as soon as you turn, Yukhei’s grip on your arm not loosening in the slightest.

“Y/N,” he says, and although you want to pull away and pretend like you don’t have to face him at some point like you have been doing, the look in his eyes makes you stay. He’s watching you with fear lacing his expression- he’s not angry at you, he’s just…

He’s just worried.

Tears spring to your eyes as soon as it hits you that you’ve not only abandoned your best friend but probably worried him out of his mind the past two weeks. You haven’t gone this long without speaking since you were ten and he didn’t have a phone yet.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, drawing you into a hug as you try to get yourself under control. You won’t cry again. You’ve spent too much time crying.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and pull away from your best friend’s embrace, holding him at arms length as he stares down at you, brows drawn together in a deep crease.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, teeth latching onto your lower lip. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he responds quietly, hands slipping down your arms to hold on to your own. “We need to talk.”

“I know.” you breathe out heavily. “It’s just that right now-”

“Y/N?”

The sharp voice of your aunt causes you and Yukhei to both look left. You don’t bother to let go of each others’ hands; after all, everyone here knows how close the two of you are, so its more instinct to stay together than apart.

You open your mouth to greet your aunt, but she cuts you off before you can even talk, stalking towards you with narrowed eyes.

“Isn’t this the landscaper?” she points with no respect at Yukhei, not even looking at him. You narrow your own eyes.

“The landscaper?” you repeat, then laugh with no humor, shaking your head. “This is Yukhei, my best friend.”

Your aunt laughs louder than you had, dryly. “Your best friend is a maintenance worker? Don’t kid with me, Y/N.”

Yukhei lets go of your hands, and you turn to him to see him almost sinking in on himself, looking ashamed.

“He’s not just some staff member, he’s been my closest friend for eight years, and even if he was, how can you laugh like that?” you question her sharply.

Aunt Seoyeon cocks her head dangerously. “Darling, you’re much too wealthy to be hanging around someone like that.” She grabs your arm and pulls you to the side, then looks pointedly at Yukhei, whose expression is unreadable. “Well? What are you still doing here?”

“Why are you talking to him like that?” you snap, hating the way that Yukhei just nods and pivots, quick footsteps leading him away from you. “He’s not below me just because he doesn’t have as much money as me.”

“Yes he is,” she hisses. “All of that sort are no good for company. You’re not to see him or contact him anymore. In fact, I think it’s better if you finish your summer in Seoul.”

“What?” you exclaim, and she hushes you hurriedly. “No, I’m not going back there until the new school year. Busan is our summer residence, and I’ll stay here for the summer.”

“I am your legal guardian now, Y/N,” your aunt says darkly, and you frown. “You’ll do as I say. In fact, since you fought me on it, you’ll leave tonight.”

You throw her hand off your arm and whip around, heading back to your room steaming with anger.

You aren’t even given time to say goodbye to Jaehyun or Yukhei before your aunt stuffs you in a car, telling the chauffeur to take you to the airport, where she’s already bought you a one-way flight to Seoul.

“L/N F/N! You haven’t been here during the summer in ages!”

You look up from your lonely spot in a crowded cafe to see Han Jieun, one of your classmates, strutting towards you in shoes that probably cost more than your entire current outfit combined.

“Hello, Jieun,” you greet politely, a little surprised when she pulls out the chair in front of you. “You’re right about that.”

She smiles, red lips curving to points. “So what brings you here? Everytime we ask about your summer plans you mention the estate in Busan. Did it burn down or something?” she laughs, a high, bell-like sounds.

You shake your head. “No, I just have a lot going on and was encouraged to stay in Seoul for a bit.” You’d rather not tell any of the classmates you’ve never entrusted with a secret as small as having kissed a certain boy once upon a time- let alone that your parents passed away and you were sent to Seoul by force.

Jieun nods, humming pensively. “Yes, those things do happen. Well, what are you up to today? Don’t tell me you’re doing work or anything like that?”

You are. You met with one of your dad’s closest advisors in the company in secret yesterday, and he gave you some assignments, trying to prepare you as quickly as possible to take over leading the company once you explained the situation with your aunt and uncle.

“Nothing important.” you shut the notebook you had open and take a sip of the latte you’d ordered before. “Why?”

Jieun tosses her fashionably cropped black hair over her shoulder with a wider grin. “Yuyeon, Jia, and I were going to head down Gangnam today and do some shopping. I know you’re more of the studious type, but I’d love it if you came along!”

Just for the fact that she tried to sound sincere, and you kind of want a distraction from the stress that’s overtaken every second of your life, you bite your lip with the tiniest smile, and agree.

Your aunt made you delete Yukhei’s number from your phone with her watching before you left a week ago, but you know it by heart anyway, so you’ve been texting him simple morning and nights every day since you left.

Today, he facetimes you when you’ve already tucked yourself into bed, but you answer regardless.

“Hiya,” he says, face pixelated on your screen. You guess his connection is bad.

“Hi,” you reply, knowing your voice shows how drained you are.

“Heard from Jaehyun that you went shopping today,” he wiggles his eyebrows and you chuckle.

“Yeah, this girl I know from school saw me when I was out and convinced me to come along with her and her friends. It was okay, I guess.”

“Buy anything?”

You shake your head. “I just watched them spend a shitton of their parents’ money.”

Yukhei laughs, his head tipping back. “Blow it all on fancy shoes and jackets, huh?”

You laugh too. “Jieun bought a 800,000 won dress for a dinner party her dad is throwing. She invited me but said I have to wear name brand if I come.”

“Well, you should go.” he shrugs, but you see something uncomfortable within it. “Y’know, network, meet some new people.”

You shrug back. “We’ll see. I’m worried about spending money right now with my aunt and uncle doing whatever they’re doing.” Yukhei hums, so you continue. “When does your dad get in?”

“Tomorrow at noon, I’m gonna take the bus to the airport to pick him up.”

“I’m so pissed that my aunt forced me to come here,” you mutter. “I can’t believe I’m missing my chance to meet the one other person in your family.”

“He doesn’t speak Korean or English anyway,” Yukhei says, but you can tell he’s disappointed too.

“I’m going to figure something out,” you say firmly. “I’m coming back to Busan. My parents wouldn’t have wanted this for me.”

Yukhei is quiet for a moment, and you start to get worried, but he speaks up just as you’re about to ask if he’s okay.

“I think it’ll be good for you to stay in Seoul for a while, Y/N.” he says, and your lips fall open.

“Wait, what?”

Yukhei looks down, his expression turning vague. “I want you to do more of what your classmates do. It’s not fair that you have the opportunity for that kind of lifestyle but you always end up staying with me.”

You shake your head. “Yukhei, we already talked about this, there’s a reason for that-”

“I want you to live your life, okay?” he cuts you off. “You’re going through so much and being tied down to one friend isn’t going to help. Just let your aunt and uncle handle the stressful things and be a teenager.”

“Did something happen?” you sit up, leaning closer to your phone. “Did my aunt tell you to say that?”

He shakes his head, a bitter-looking smile lining his lips. “Nobody told me to say anything, Y/N.”

“I don’t understand,” you say plainly. “You’ve never wanted me to hang out with those people before. I thought I explained what they’re like- they don’t care about others, all they care about is money and power.”

“But maybe they don’t!” Yukhei runs a hand through his hair. “You never even gave them a chance.” and quieter, as though he didn’t want you to actually hear: “Because of me.”

“Yukhei-” you start, but are interrupted again.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he says simply, and the call ends, nothing but a black mirror reflecting your emptiness back at you.

You sit for a moment, and then in frustration, chuck your phone at the wall, ignoring the way that the screen shatters over the wood floor- another mess that someone else will have to clean up for you.

If you were to describe the next year and a half of your life, you would start with the word luxury.

You and Yukhei had drifted farther from each other than you ever had in all your years of friendship- and as much as you wanted to take part of the blame so he’d never feel guilty about it, it was him who’d done that. You tried endlessly to keep in touch with him, sneak back to the estate at random times and search him out, but it was like he was purposely avoiding you at every moment. He came to see you on your seventeenth birthday and for the Chuseok holidays, and that was about it.

The luxury comes into play because of Yukhei’s absence in your life. Jaehyun was ultimately unsuccessful in prying the company out of your aunt and uncle’s hands, and even after he became an adult they kept such close tabs on him that he gave up trying to fight the choices they made for him.

You’d done the same- Yukhei’s leaving you behind and the absence of both your parents and your brother (who’d been sent to Harvard to stay far away from the company) left you constantly feeling alone. You accepted Jieun’s consistent offers of going to parties and dinners and galas and “study sessions” (there wasn’t much studying done at those). You made friends, gilded, shells of friends who were all smiles and no compassion. When the word got out that the reason you stayed in Seoul that summer was because of your parents’ death, you got no visits from the people you were associating yourself with- you got dozens of bouquets of expensive fresh flowers and short notes of condolences. There was no reason to be bitter, since you’d ultimately done this to yourself, but compared to the excitement and passion for life you’d had before the accident, you never felt like yourself anymore.

Pulling up in the circular driveway in front of the mansion in Busan seems strange now, since it’s been so long. You thank the chauffeur as he gets out of the car with you, helping you with your bags before driving down to where the other cars are parked.

You’re about to start dragging the multiple suitcases you’d brought up to the front door, when a hand over yours stops you.

“I’ll get it, little sis,” Jaehyun says, voice full of warmth.

You melt in happiness, wrapping your arms around his torso immediately as he hugs you back, then spins you around, chuckling.

“Thank god,” you say when he puts you down. “I need someone I can trust if I’m going to be stuck here with the devil couple until my birthday.”

“Eighteen,” Jaehyun muses, picking up your luggage. “It’s a big day.”

You shrug. “Same old, same old. Jieun was disappointed that she wasn’t allowed to plan some big expensive party.”

Jaehyun sighs. “Jieun, Jieun. Is she your new best friend?”

You wince, looking down as you follow your brother up the steps to the doors. “Haven’t we talked about this?”

“Sure we have, but I still don’t get it.”

You’d like to reply that you don’t get it either, but the double doors swing open, and there is Aunt Seoyeon, in a calf-length white silk dress that’s far too fancy for just welcoming you back to Busan.

Of the things you’re still fiery about, your aunt and uncle taking up residence in the estate is at the top, along with them taking the company. It’s your house, that your parents built for you and Jaehyun to get away from the city in, and the fact that they’ve been here while keeping you away is still insurmountably frustrating.

“Welcome home, kids!” she pipes, falsity lining her every movement and word. “We’ve set up dinner- I figured you’d both be hungry after your trips here.”

“Thanks,” you say halfheartedly, as she turns and leads you and your brother into the house, down familiar halls past the double staircase until you reach the dining room.

You sit down, tuning out whatever your aunt and uncle are saying to the staff about the food, as Jaehyun quietly responds when they start asking him questions about Harvard. You look through the window as the others begin to eat at the starkly empty table- long enough for twelve but set for four. A part of you knows you’re not paying attention because you’re looking for someone else- will he be out there today? Or could he be in town, maybe even with other people… another girl? You wonder if he’ll avoid you when you’re both in the same place like he had before.

“Y/N,” your uncle’s voice says, and you turn your head from the windows, looking across the table at him. He smiles at you, a careful, curious look on a face too jubilant for someone who had practically stolen wealth from the cold hands of his dead brother. “Why don’t you tell us about your friend Han Jieun? Her father is an investor, right?”

“He owns an investing label,” you reply, finally picking up your spoon for the soup in front of you. “Jieun doesn’t care much for it, though.”

Your uncle nods, humming. “You’re still attending her parties and events, yes?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I am.”

“I hope you’re not interacting with the waiters there!” Seoyeon chirps, laughing like she made a wonderful joke. You know its a dig at your friendship with Yukhei, and you don’t feel like pretending like that doesn’t bother you.

The conversation continues in a chopped, awkward fashion, as your aunt and uncle try to push you and Jaehyun into talking about the connections you’ve made and just about nothing else, while the two of you answer in the shortest possible ways.

By the time dinner is coming to a close, you can tell your legal guardians are getting very frustrated with you and your brothers’ attitudes.

“I think the two of you should go up to bed,” Seoyeon snaps just as someone is bringing out the fruit for dessert. “It seems that you’re both too tired to properly talk with us.”

“You’re right,” Jaehyun replies immediately. “Come on, Y/N, we can clock out early.”

“Pardon me?” your aunt scrunches up her pointy features, catching the tone in Jaehyun’s voice, but he’s already stood and pulled out your chair, and the two of you are out of the dining room before anything else can be said.

“They really piss me off,” Jaehyun mutters as you walk with him towards the stairs, two pairs of expensive shoes clicking against the marble floors.

“Me too.”

You’re halfway up the stairs when you see him.

He’s on the other side of the leftmost staircase, half-hidden by the curve of the structure, but in a way that tells you he was intending to be. He’s wearing the sort of work clothes he always felt “gross” in but you thought reflected his humble personality. He looks older than the last time you saw him, almost like he’s been weighed down with responsibility and its aged him past his eighteen years.

Yukhei looks up at you with the strangest expression- in that moment before he realizes you’ve caught him staring, that is. His eyes are round, brows just the slightest bit furrowed, and lips parted. He looks… it seems that he can’t believe you’re there, and it seems… ah, you don’t really know.

But then he sees that you’re looking back at him, and his face hardens into something unreadable. Yukhei ducks beneath the staircase, the weight of his heavy boots resonating in the large hall.

Jaehyun notices your distraction right away, but doesn’t say anything until you reach the hallway where both your rooms are.

“You two need to talk to each other.” he says simply, standing in front of your door.

You scoff, shaking your head incredulously. “Jae, that’s not- that’s just not going to happen. I’m not the one that can decide we’re friends again, he’s the one that cut me off like that-”

“He loves you, Y/N.” your brother says, his face the most serious you’ve seen in a long time. “He was afraid because he realized he loves you.”

You feel everything stop in that moment.

Love, as you have understood it, is not something that people fall into or out of easily.

In your parents, love was a connection that made them stronger together than they were apart, and brought them happiness unlike any other. Your own happy moments as a child often came from seeing your dad bring your mom a cup a coffee late at night in her office, sitting down and talking quietly together, content with just sitting near each other. Or in the car, when they would hold hands across seats, your mom running her thumb over the silver band on your dad’s ring finger, him doing the same when they sat in opposite places. But you had never seen anyone other than your parents in love.

And you hadn’t yet considered whether you would ever be or not.

“Where did you get that kind of idea?” you whisper, unable to look straight at your brother.

Jaehyun sighs. “You two are the only ones who don’t know. Mom and dad knew, I knew, Seoyeon and Sungjoo knew, the whole staff did, too.”

Your brows draw together, and you let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you mean. Yukhei and I aren’t… we were never… we-”

“Just look back on things tonight, okay?” your brother pats your cheek, a smile lifting up one side of his lips. “You’ll realize.”

Before you can respond, he’s pivoted and is down the hall, opening the door to his room and disappearing inside.

You wake up the next morning feeling groggy and anxious- you hadn’t fallen asleep for ages because of how much was on your mind and then your sleep was unstable, the kind of in-between state of consciousness where the body is struggling to stay under the deep water of sleep, and the mind is constantly pulling to break the surface.

You’ve always been more curious and confrontational than not, and this is no different- your instinct is to spend the day seeking out Yukhei and figuring out a way to force him to talk to you. So you take a long shower to try and gain some confidence and peace, and then dress in a simple sweater and jeans, trying not to look like the wealthy socialite image of yourself that you’re sure Yukhei has seen on your social media the past year and a half.

The staff kitchen is where you take your breakfast, but neither Yukhei nor his mom are anywhere to be found. You ask the old woman who made your eggs and toast for you if she’d seen him today and her only answer was that she thought he might be in the backyard.

You push open the back door, through the staff kitchens to the steps where Yukhei would often sit to lace up his boots. He isn’t there, but you weren’t really expecting him to be anyway.

The air is crisp today- kind of chilly for the summer, although you suppose it isn’t anywhere near the hottest days of the season. Accompanying the bite the air gives you as you step outside is a breeze that passes through the loose parts of your hair, and brushes the planes of your face, leaving you breathing in movement while you walk down the steps and out to the end of the paved part of the back porch.

It’s then that you catch sight of Yukhei.

He’s leaning against the base of the willow tree, head tipped back like he’s watching the sky, every few seconds lifting up the red apple in his hand to take a bite out of it. He must be taking a break, since his pants look stained with the green dew of fresh grass.

You take a bit of a detour, a curved path to get around to the back of the willow tree without Yukhei noticing. You don’t want him to see you coming and then run- not that you really think he’s so committed to avoiding you that he’d do that. You just don’t want to risk it, really.

“Ya, Wong Yukhei,” you call once you’re within the curtains of leaves. Your best friend turns, his head coming down from its tilted position so that his gaze lands on you. An eyebrow raises, and you see the very corner of his lip just slightly lift up.

“Morning,” he replies simply, then takes the last bite from his apple. You’re expecting him to go on, but he doesn’t and you end up at a loss for words.

Sure, you’d planned some sort of confrontation with Yukhei… but you hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“...Are you working today?” you finally say.

Yukhei shrugs, sticking the apple core in his pocket. “I work everyday, Y/N.”

You frown. “What about the weekends? Surely you have breaks.”

He raises his brows, then sighs, seemingly realizing something. “I guess your aunt and uncle never told you about the changes they were making. Anyway, even if schedules hadn’t changed for everybody I think they’d have done it to me regardless.”

“What do you mean by that?” you cock your head, brows drawing together. “Did they say something to you?”

Yukhei seems like he’s about to say something, but catches his words just before they leave his lips, and lets out a sigh that’s half a hiss instead. “...You shouldn’t worry about it.”

You take a breath to respond, but realize you still don’t know what to say.

It bothers you that it’s like this. Yukhei was never someone you ran out of conversations with- he has always been full of energy to supply endless stories that you could laugh at and talk about for hours. But now, it feels like there’s something between you, whether it be tension or awkwardness or unexplained history.

So you say the one thing that comes to mind every time you’ve thought of Yukhei since that call a year and a half ago.

“I really miss you.”

His expression doesn’t change, which kind of worries you, until he replies, low voice quiet and nearly swept away by the breeze.

“I missed you too.”

You don’t jump back into your friendship with Yukhei immediately. It takes a few days, maybe even a couple weeks, before you feel the same level of comfort around him that you used to. He can tell from the beginning, you think, that it’s you who has become nervous around him, the worry of him cutting you off again never quite leaving the back of your mind.

He proves it to you, though, that he won’t do it again. He sneaks with you around the estate at wicked hours, leads you through staff doors to quiet rooms where you can sit together without the concern of being caught by your aunt and uncle. There’s a rush to it, knowing that you’re not allowed to see each other, and doing it anyway.

The only times you can feel Yukhei’s past disillusionment coming through is when he catches names like Han Jieun’s appear on your phone, and you generally turn away with an apologetic face and answer.

But even if you answer her calls, you turn down her endless invitations to come back to Seoul for the summer.

It’s one of those nights where you and Yukhei are out by the willow tree, in light clothes because the heat has begun swelling deeper and deeper into the hours on the clock, when you ask him if what Jaehyun told you is true, and your best friend tells you that it’s the truest thing he knows- and you fall into something you’re worried you will never return from.

Jaehyun notices that something is different not even a week after that night- raising his eyebrows when he catches you smiling to yourself, and then nodding along with a knowing look. You don’t mind that he knows. He’s the only one that can, anyway.

You spend early summer mornings drunk on the taste of Yukhei’s lips, and you struggle to imagine how the two of you had forced yourself apart for so long. A part of you, though, knows summer won’t last forever, and you don’t know what you’ll do when you go back to Seoul this fall. It’ll be your last year of high school, but you can’t help but wonder how your already secretive relationship will continue across the length of the country.

It’s two weeks before your summer is set to be over when your aunt and uncle call you into the dining hall. You sit down, facing the both of them as they are beside each other, and prepare yourself for what you’re assuming this is about- that they’ve found out about you and Yukhei. You can’t think of anything else that would bring this kind of formal setup.

“Y/N,” Seoyeon begins, and you clench your teeth in preparation. “You’re turning eighteen soon, yes?”

...Wait, what?

“Yes?” you reply, tilting your head curiously. “Why?” Your aunt and uncle share a look, and suddenly your heart drops, knowing this definitely isn’t about you and Yukhei.

“We know we didn’t ask this of Jaehyun, but since you’re the second child and a young lady, we were thinking, that for the best possible future for you and for the company, it seems like a good idea to-”

Seoyeon cuts off your uncle. “We’re arranging a marriage for you.”

A marriage.

The noun repeats itself in your mind, over and over as you struggle to reply. A marriage. At eighteen years of age. An arranged marriage.

“...What?”

Your aunt lets out a breathy chuckle, reaching across the table and patting your hands that are resting on the tablecloth. “Now, I know it seems out of the blue, but we’ve really thought a lot about this. You do have a choice between two young men around your age whose parents we’ve been in contact with- I didn’t want to make all the decisions for you, of course.”

You’re stunned out of your mind- you can’t find anything to say.

“It’ll be a good inheritance,” your aunt continues. “And you won’t have to worry about finding a husband later in your life. Really, there’s no drawbacks here, so I hope you’ll just be content with picking between your suitors today.”

You can’t very well expose your relationship with Yukhei suddenly to get out of the marriage- you doubt it would have any sort of impact other than getting Yukhei and his mom fired, so all you can do it blankly nod, watching your aunt pull out two strangely investigative-looking files for you to look at.

You barely skim over them; choice one, Kim Jungwoo, choice two, Mark Lee. You see the words “speaks English” on Mark Lee’s file and choose him because of that, the whole process taking you just under a minute.

“I’m so glad to see that you’re not fighting us on this, Y/N,” Seoyeon says with what you could hope to describe as a proud smile. “You really have grown up well.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. “I think I’ll head back upstairs now.”

You turn to go, but Seoyeon calls after you shamelessly. “I’ll send you Mark’s number! You’ll meet him in just a few days, so prepare yourself!”

You sit under the willow tree on a bench that Yukhei dragged out a few weeks ago, your left side pressed against his right, left hand intertwining with his right, his thumb sweeping affectionately over the back of your hand. The sun is setting- the only reason you’re out here at this time is because your aunt and uncle happened to leave to “take care of some things” in Gwangju. It feels nice, though, to have some time where you don’t have to feel that thrill of possibly being caught. You can just be a normal couple for once.

You’d suggested going out to the willow tree as soon as Seoyeon and Sungjoo left, and Yukhei hadn’t questioned it at all, following you outside with a smile that sang adoration. He loves the willow tree just about as much as he loves you, you think. He’s always been nostalgic like that.

“You seem sad.” Yukhei’s low murmur has you glancing up at him, finding his eyes already on you. “Are you okay?”

A sharp pain stings your heart when you match his gaze. How are you supposed to tell him what you were told this morning? When he looks at you like someone could only dream of being looked at? When you have each others’ past, present, and future in your hearts, and the idea of letting go of any of them hurts you enough to make a reality like that seem catastrophic- how can you?

You know that this secret relationship has been harder on Yukhei than it has on you. Even if he kisses you with fervency and passion, you can tell there are days when he hesitates. He hesitates like continuing to love you may be the wrong choice for him, and he realizes it in those small, intimate moments. You realize it too, in times where he sighs heavily and puts his head in his hands when he thinks you aren’t looking, or when you catch him and his mom having serious discussions in the kitchen as you pass by, or he holds onto you with an extra desperation that seems like he’s preparing himself to lose you.

Yes, you have always been more confrontational than not, but now, Yukhei isn’t someone who you can easily bring those sort of things up to. Maybe you’ve become more of a coward since you understood your feelings for him, but you try to avoid anything that might be too hard to talk about.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, leaning your face against his shoulder and turning your body into him. You don’t want to think of Mark Lee, of Seoyeon and Sungjoo and the way they’ve torn the future you were supposed to have apart piece by piece. You just want to sit here under the setting sun and love and be loved.

Yukhei hums, nodding. You can feel the movement of his head above yours. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Mark Lee’s number in your phone is still untouched by the time a Lamborghini pulls up in your driveway a few days later and he, accompanied by his mother and father, step out of it, beginning to walk up to where you, your aunt and uncle, and Jaehyun are standing in front of the house.

Seoyeon had a red viscose jersey dress from Gucci shipped in this morning, and had the butler at your Seoul suite send the Louboutins you’d left there too, emphasizing that you had to look your best for this meeting. You feel a little silly in the bright red and black ensemble, having gotten used to more casual clothing over the summer, but seeing that Mark and his family are dressed up in equally expensive wear, you relax. Well, about as relaxed as you can be.

You know you should have told Yukhei about the arranged marriage before the Lee family’s arrival, you know he’ll probably find out today via someone else’s words, and it brings a shame on you that you know you deserve. But that night a few days ago, you just couldn’t do it, and pretending it wasn’t happening was all too easy after that. You’re just dreading his reaction.

“Park Seoyeon, Kim Sungjoo,” Mark’s father calls as the party of three approaches. “What a beautiful property you have here.”

“Hello again,” your uncle greets. “We’re glad to welcome the three of you to it.”

Seoyeon nudges you forward with a blinding, all too plastered on smile. “This is our niece, Y/N, and our nephew Jaehyun.”

Taking the hint, you bow slightly, offering a quiet hello.

“And our son Mark,” says his mother, placing her hand on her son’s shoulder as he smiles shyly at you.

Mark isn’t exactly what you expected. For some reason, even after briefly seeing his picture, you’d formed an idea of him in your head- something like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. You’re not sure why, but the whole arranged marriage deal had you thinking he would be drastically different from you and show up thinking you’d become his property. However, despite his no doubt wildly expensive suit and carefully styled hair, Mark Lee looks approachable, kind, even handsome, and you don’t believe your prejudice of him is accurate at all.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly, bowing to your aunt and uncle and then to you and Jaehyun.

“Ah, what a gentleman,” Seoyeon says, even though nothing has really directly indicated that about Mark. “Let’s head inside, shall we?”

The chefs have cooked up a meal of endless courses, which you saw as you peeked into the kitchen window on your way to the dining room. You withhold a sigh, anticipating how long today will be.

Your aunt directs you to a specific seat, and then places Mark directly across from you and your aunt on your left. She urges you to talk to him quietly as her and the other adults get into conversation, Jaehyun at the other end of the table looking very obviously like he’d rather not be here.

You don’t initiate any sort of conversation, but Mark clears his throat as the first few dishes are set down.

“So,” he starts, nerves evident on his face and in his mannerisms. “My dad told me you speak English?”

You nod, picking up your spoon and taking a long sip of soup before answering. “I was better when I was young, but I’m not bad.”

Mark nods. “Have you always lived in Korea?”

“Yes.” you reply simply. “Have you?”

“No,” Mark shakes his head. “I lived in Canada until a few years ago.”

“Ah,” you nod. You know really you should continue the conversation, but you just… your mind isn’t on Mark or the marriage or the dinner at all. Your mind is on how the curtains in the dining room are drawn wide open, and Yukhei could walk by at any time.

“I think I saw you at a gala once,” Mark says, drawing your attention back to him. “You’re friends with Han Jieun, right?”

“I suppose,” you shrug. “We’re not that close.”

“Have you met her boyfriend?” Mark asks, and seeing your confused expression, he adds, “Kim Doyoung?”

“Ah,” you gesture in recognition. “Yes, Doyoung. I’m not fond of him, though. He’s always a bit stiff with her friends.”

Mark snickers. “That’s Doyoung for you.”

“Are you friends?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. He’s very much the rich type, you know? Like Jieun.” You raise your eyebrows and Mark’s eyes shoot wide open. “Oh, sorry, that was pretty rude, I don’t mean anything by it, just-”

You wave him off. “No, you’re exactly right. They are that type.” then, in a quieter voice to keep your aunt from hearing: “That’s why I’m not close with Jieun and her circle.”

Mark chuckles. “Same here. I guess we’re sort of in the same boat.”

“I suppose so.”

After a generally-less-awkward-than-expected dinner, your aunt and Mark’s mom insist that you show him around the mansion and the rest of the estate, despite Mark saying that it really was okay if you didn’t.

You hadn’t seen Yukhei yet, and you could only pray you could at least make it through tonight without him finding out, but walking the grounds would certainly make it harder.

You start by leading Mark out of the dining room and down the wide halls until you’re back at the front hall with the double staircase.

“Everything connects to here,” you tell him.

“I like the stairs,” he comments, an impressed look on his face. “Fancy.”

You don’t spend long in the house; briefly you show him the library and the small theatre, and then you head outside, hoping to walk once around the house and then come back inside.

You start from the front, since the gardens wrap from the front of the mansion down the side and open out into the back property that you’re so familiar with.

“Pretty,” says Mark when you head into the organized groups of hedges and flowers.

You nod. “My mom picked everything.”

He stills. “I- I’m sorry my parents didn’t give their condolences. It’s really terrible… I really can’t imagine- I… I’m really sorry.”

You look down as you walk, his apology bringing back those weeks just after your parents’ deaths, when it seemed that every time someone spoke to you it was to tell you something similar. “Don’t worry about apologies. It’s clear to me that you’re a sympathetic person.”

“About that, Y/N… I,” he starts but stops, shaking his head with a sharp sigh. “I know this really isn’t the best situation. Like, we’re both pretty young and we’re getting thrown into this whole arranged marriage thing, but I hope at least we can be friends.”

The two of you stop in a circular clearing, Mark stuffing his hands in his pockets nervously.

“I just, I get the feeling that this isn’t really what you wanted and I understand that, because like, it is marriage after all and we kind of aren’t getting to live our lives freely and-”

“Marriage?”

A cold hand grasps your heart, and you whip your head to the left, seeing exactly who you were hoping you wouldn’t see tonight.

And Yukhei looks as pained as you had predicted.

“Sorry, who are you?” Mark asks politely, turning to face Yukhei.

“Y/N,” Yukhei says, ignoring Mark. Your heart tugs at the way he says your name, already a note of pleading within his tone. “Tell me I heard that wrong.”

You dig your nails into your palms as you stare back at him, burning tears welling up in the back of your eyes, at a loss for words.

“I- I think I’m missing something here,” Mark says, looking frantically between you and Yukhei. “Should I go?”

Yukhei’s eyes sweep over to Mark, tilting his head when they land on him. “Tell me who you are.” His jaw has tightened, tension evident in his every movement.

Mark holds his hands up defensively. “I’m Mark Lee,” he replies. “Hey man, just let me know if this is a personal thing-”

“I’m sorry Mark,” you cut in, placing your hand lightly on his shoulder. “Would you be offended if I talked with him for a minute?” You don’t miss the way Yukhei’s eyes snap right to your hand touching Mark, and you lift it right away.

Mark shakes his head. “No, no, that’s fine, we can talk tomorrow though, right?” you nod and he nods back quickly. “Okay, sure, um, I’ll walk around a bit?”

“I’ll meet you back at the front in fifteen minutes,” you assure him, and seemingly ready to escape the clearing that feels thick with tension, Mark turns and heads back the way you came, footsteps fast.

You turn back to Yukhei, finding him regarding you with a look of clear betrayal. You open your mouth to talk, but he beats you to it.

“You’re marrying him.” he bites out, his lip trembling. A wave of guilt washes over you as he shakes his head, then throws it back to look up at the night sky, running his hands through his hair over and over in a show of frustration.

“Yukhei,” you call softly, but the way he groans stops you from continuing.

“Please just wait,” he says, wiping his hands over his face as he starts pacing. “Just give me a second.”

You do as he asks, but you can’t stop the way your hands shake fervently, even as you try to clasp them together, and you can’t help the hiccups that accompany the beginning of tears as the first few drop from your lower lashes onto your cheeks.

He looks over at you once he hears the sound of your crying, but you can tell he’s not quite ready to drop his mistrust and come comfort you.

“What happened, Y/N?” he half-shouts, clearly trying to control the volume of his voice but the emotion of it making that hard. You take in a choked breath as you watch the tears start spilling from his eyes. “I thought we- I thought I was good enough, for once, I thought that- I thought that finally I could have something other people don’t have! I thought that for once I would be-” he cuts himself off with a strangled cry, turning away from you and shoving his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he sobs.

“Yukhei,” you call again, voice tight and desperate. You’re not sure if he’ll want you to touch him, you’re afraid of overstepping because of what you’ve done to him. “Please listen, Yukhei,”

He lifts up a hand and wipes at his face again, then turns, swallowing down his tears for a moment as he gestures for you to talk. “Tell me then, tell me why.”

You step from side to side, taking a moment to try and find the right words, hands shaking as you hold them up the way that you always do when you try to explain things. “I… I love you, okay? You have to know that, you have to believe it, I love you and not him, okay?”

Yukhei bites his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, and doesn’t reply, so you keep talking.

“I don’t have a choice. I found out a few days ago, my aunt made me pick between two people for a marriage that she arranged, she said that it’s for my inheritance and didn’t leave me room to argue. I couldn’t tell her about us, you understand, right?”

At this, he shakes his head wildly, then snaps at you the loudest that he ever has. “No, Y/N! I don’t understand! I don’t understand your rich folk politics, I don’t understand why you make things more complicated than they are, I don’t understand why it’s hard to tell someone that you’re in love! I don’t understand why I’m not good enough for you!”

“You are good enough for me!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up. “I thought you knew that! I never wanted you to feel like you’re not!”

“You’re the only one that thinks that way, Y/N,” he chokes out. “Ahh, ah, why did I do this to myself?”

“Yukhei,” you repeat desperately. “Yukhei, I can’t tell her because she’ll fire you, don’t you see? She’ll fire you and your mom, and I-”

“She’s already doing that!” he snaps, and suddenly, everything feels like the glass that was dropped has shattered.

“...What?” you whisper weakly, finally catching his tired eyes so that you’re looking into them. He looks unbelievably drained, that heaviness that you’ve noticed on him for weeks seeming more prominent now than ever.

“She’s already doing that, Y/N.” he repeats quietly, biting his lip again. “Your aunt and uncle are firing half the staff once you and Jaehyun leave.”

You can’t do anything but stare at him, lips parted, in absolute shock. “She can’t do that,” you manage. “No, they can’t do that!”

Yukhei looks defeated, finally reaching forward and taking your hand, pulling you towards him until he has you pressed against his chest, resting his chin atop your head as you continue crying into his shoulder, mumbling a series of “no, they can’t”s into his plain white shirt.

He sways you, and you feel a few more wet drops land on your hair as the two of you hold each other, crying, in the gardens that the mother you wish you could talk to in this moment designed for you when you were young.

“I know you love me,” Yukhei murmurs into your hair. “I’m sorry I made it seem like you’d done something bad.”

“I should have told you right away,” you respond, pressing tighter to him. “I was going to, when we sat out under the tree a few nights ago, but I just couldn’t.”

“At least this way I met the guy,” he says, chuckling, and you let out a breathy laugh as well.

“I won’t marry him, Yukhei,” you tell him, sure of yourself as you speak. “I will find a way for us.”

He doesn’t reply for a while, and you start to get worried, until he says, “You told him fifteen minutes. You should probably go.”

You pull away, looking up at him. “Are you sure?”

Yukhei nods. “It’s not fair to worry him.”

You regard him, affection filling every part of your being. You reach up with one hand, gently tracing the planes of his face with your fingers as his eyes flutter shut. “You are the kindest person on this planet.”

His eyes open, and he places the softest kiss on your forehead. “I will see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Y/N.”

Mark’s family leaves at around 11:45 pm, Mark not having questioned the way you took him upstairs after you found him in front of the house so that you could fix your makeup so that it didn’t look like you’d just cried. You’d profusely apologized for the situation and explained that the reason why you didn’t seem enthusiastic about the marriage had to do with the fact that you were very much in love with someone else. He smiled and told you he understood, and that the both of you still had time to figure out if there was a way to get out of it.

You did sleep well, that night, for how much had happened. You dreamt of your mother, her soft fingers brushing your hair away from your face and telling you words that were certainly wise but that you forgot as soon as you woke up in the morning.

Jaehyun knocks on your door in the morning, finding you with messy hair, puffy eyes, and in your silk pajamas.

“What?” you grumble, never having been a morning person.

Your brother’s expression is serious. “Come to my room with me. I have to show you something.”

Jaehyun leads you through his room, locking that door, and then to his office, locking that one behind him too.

“What are we doing, spying on someone?” you ask quizzically at his apparent paranoia.

“No,” he replies, sliding into one of the two office chairs in the room, patting the other one so as to suggest you sit on it. You do, and he continues talking. “I’ve found something important about mom and dad’s accident.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

The police had told you and Jaehyun that the accident was merely that- an unfortunate turn at the wrong time and someone else running a red light. The other driver had escape unharmed but paid a ton of money to your family since the accident had been fatal. You’d never met him or wanted to, knowing that he had been the cause of your orphanage.

“I mean that I got my friend to dig into the police camera recordings, you know, the ones they use to catch people who run reds.” Jaehyun shakes the mouse to get his computer to turn on, and does some quick clicking around. “He found the day mom and dad crashed.”

“Jae, I don’t want to watch it,” you say feebly, already feeling sick as the still beginning of the video pops up on Jaehyun’s screen. Your brother turns to you, his face stony.

“Y/N, I’m going to tell you something now that you have to swear on your life you won’t repeat anywhere else.”

You frown deeper. “What?”

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

Your brother nods, then sighs heavily. “I know it seems far fetched, but I’m looking into more evidence now- it’s just that watching this had me thinking, and I really do think that-”

“What is it Jaehyun?” you interrupt.

He looks at you, swallowing nervously. “I think that uncle Sungjoo orchestrated mom and dad’s death.”

“What?” you exclaim, and he hushes you.

“Look, they can’t by any means find out that I’m researching this. If it’s true and they did purposefully kill mom and dad I’m sure they could find a way to do it to us, too.”

You shake your head. “Jae, you know I’d trust you over them any day, but you have to explain this, and well.”

“I’ll skip to the important part of the video.” he says firmly, and speeds through the crash, then moves the screen so that it’s halfway covered by another browser, covering up the car your parents were in so that only the other car is showing.

The driver steps out, and looks absolutely calm as he watches the scene you can’t see, then pulls out his phone as another car pulls up from down the street. The driver of the second car gets out, and seems to have a short but unfazed conversation, before the second man gives a sharp nod and gets back into his car, driving away. The one who crashed puts his phone to his ear, and the video ends.

Jaehyun turns to you. “Seem weird?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah, actually. Really weird.”

Your brother nods. “What makes it weirder- look.” he rewinds a little to when the second man gets out of his car. “The camera didn’t catch his license plate, but I recognized him after watching a few times. It’s uncle Sungjoo’s business partner Choi Youngchul, the one who replaced Kang Hyungdon in the finances department at the headquarters in Seoul.”

“So then…” you sigh, eyebrows drawing together. “What would that entail?”

“I think it’s some sort of business deal,” Jaehyun says, leaning back in his chair. “The driver crashes into our parents on that left turn in the middle of nowhere, and ideally for him they die. The driver gets paid big bucks to keep quiet, and Youngchul is the one paying. Sungjoo takes over the business once our parents are out of the picture, and gets Youngchul the job at the headquarters. My guess is that eventually they’ll try to sell the company and leave us with nothing.”

You slump back in the chair, tipping your head back and sighing heavily. It’s a lot to think about, so suddenly. It’d been two years since your parents’ death and at this point you had accepted it, even if from time to time you still end up crying yourself to sleep when you think of them. Being confronted with the idea that it hadn’t been an accident at all brings the suffering of that first day back.

“...Well then, what do you suppose we do about it?”

Jaehyun scoffs. “We aren’t doing anything. I told you so you wouldn’t be completely in the dark, but you can’t get too involved in case they find out. You can convince them you didn’t know anything about my plans and get out safe that way.”

You stare blankly at your brother. Are you in the mood to argue with him?

Not really.

“Fine. But you have to update me at least once a month. Are you just going to try to collect more evidence about the deal thing?”

He nods. “I have a few people working on it already, and whatever intel they send me I’ll relay to you. Don’t actively search for anything, but if you happen to find something out make sure you tell me.”

“Got it,” you say, nodding your head. Jaehyun looks at you solemnly, and you cock your head in question. “What?”

“I’ll get the company back for us, Y/N,” he tells you seriously. “We’ll have the future mom and dad wanted for us.”

You both stand, you hug your brother tightly, wishing with all your heart that he is wrong about your aunt and uncle, simply because if he’s right, the tragedy in your life will multiply and multiply. And you’re not sure what your limit is.

The next day, Jaehyun leaves for Seoul with the excuse that he has some friends to meet up with before going back to America. Your aunt and uncle encourage him to make connections, all proud smiles, but your brother looks back at you with a knowing expression that tells the whole story. He’s only going to Seoul to further investigate his idea.

You spend the rest of the day in the library, reclining on a big armchair, occasionally texting with Mark so you two can get to know each other. In the event that your uncle didn’t in fact orchestrate your parents’ death and you aren’t able to take over the company, you want to be prepared to marry Mark. It’s the last thing you want to do, but life hasn’t exactly gone in your favor for a long time.

You know Yukhei must have been looking for you for the whole day by the way he throws open the library door around the time the sun is setting. His hair is mussed and hands dirty after a day of work, but your heart swells when he walks quickly across the big room and draws you from your seat and into a long kiss.

It’s only as you’re kissing him that you realize something about it is wrong.

“Hey,” you whisper, pulling away. His eyes remain squeezed close and he rests his forehead against yours, hands gripping your waist tightly. “Are you okay?”

Yukhei lets out a shaky breath, slowly opening his eyes to look at you. “I need to tell you something.”

You frown, fingers that had been intertwined behind his neck slipping down to hold onto his arms- you feel like suddenly you need traction to support whatever he’s about to say. “What is it?” you ask weakly, unsure of what to expect.

Yukhei takes a deep breath, looking away from you, before looking at his feet as he talks. “My mom and I are going back to Hong Kong.”

Your stomach drops.

“You’re… you’re leaving?” you manage to say, hands shaking as they hold onto him.

He nods, teeth pulling on his lip. “My mom thinks there’s no point in staying here if-” he seems to cut himself off, and think of something else to say. “...If she can’t work here.”

“I’ll employ her,” you rush to say. “I can find her a job, I could find her dozens- tons of people I know always need help and, and anyway, you’re graduating this year so once you finish school you can go to college here or even, well, you speak so many languages you could find a good job no matter what, so really-”

“Y/N.” he says softly, stopping your desperate rant. You look into Yukhei’s eyes, and see profound regret. “It’s already decided. I convinced her to wait until you get married, but once that happens, I’m leaving.”

You frown again, but this time out of confusion. “But I might not even be getting married. Or even if I am, not for years.”

Yukhei chuckles, but there’s no happiness to it. “I guess you weren’t paying attention during your meeting dinner. Jaehyun told me they set the date for September 25th.”

September 25th? Barely four weeks after you’re starting school, meaning it’s only just over a month away from now.

Suddenly, the realization that all of this is real- Jaehyun’s theory about your parents, your marriage that will come before you even graduate high school, the person you love leaving you for what seems like forever-

You choke up, throat feeling tight and hands trembling. Yukhei tries to steady you as you stumble, but you push him off, reaching down to grab onto the arms of your chair and sink down, clenching and unclenching your fists as you fight off tears.

“Y/N,” Yukhei says faintly, kneeling down in front of you and reaching for your hands, but you pull them away, curling up into yourself as the onslaught of tears you desperately didn’t want to come rush over you.

It’s probably the ugliest you’ve ever cried. You’ve shed tears so many times in the past couple of years, but never like this. Never gasping for air because it feels like there’s blocks of iron on your chest, never choking out incoherent sounds because your throat is drawn so tight it’s hard to breathe, never felt so crippled and weak.

“Baby,” Yukhei whispers, a twinge of anguish in his voice- but you can’t even look at him. “I’m so sorry, you know that right? I’m so, so sorry.”

“Please go,” you grit your teeth and force out. “Please.”

“What?” you hear the disbelief in his tone, and for a moment regret even asking him to leave. “You want me to go?” “Get out, Yukhei,” you mumble, voice quivering. “Now.”

You can feel his hesitation, can feel the way he wants to take your hands and force you to look at him and tell him why you’re like this.

But Yukhei has always been cautious of your desires, and so after a few moments where the silence of speaking is filled only but the sound of your sobs, you hear the library door click shut.

After a few minutes of incessant pain and tears, you manage to slow your breathing and relax just a little, still gripping the arms of your chair.

Maybe it’s best to separate yourself from Yukhei now, so that the pain when you have to stand on that white altar and say that you’ll be with Mark Lee through sickness and health won’t be as terrible.

Maybe it’s best, so that when you look into the dancing crowd at your wedding, you don’t catch the eye of someone who is leaving the next day and decide to run away with him.

Or maybe, you’re a coward, and you can’t face losing another person that you love.  

Mark invites you to a party on his friend Doyoung’s yacht down by Jeju Island, and you say yes immediately, ready for a reason to get away from the damage you’d done to your and Yukhei’s relationship.

Your future husband picks you up from the estate in his far too expensive car, making the drive to the Busan airport a little more fun than it probably would have been if a chauffeur drove you two. The plane tickets are last minute, but your wealth speaks for itself, and the last two seats on the last flight of the day to Jeju are yours and Mark’s in minutes.

Mark chats to you in a way that makes you feel like he knows you’re unhappy, but doesn’t feel right asking you about it, so he’s just trying to distract you. You welcome his explanations about things he used to do in Canada and people that he knows and really good food the two of you should eat sometime- the effort to distract you somewhat works.

You land in Jeju about forty-five minutes after boarding, and Mark quickly hails a taxi to take you to the beach where Doyoung’s yacht is- and once you see it, you understand why Mark was excited.

It’s a bigger boat than your family’s, and it makes a huge impact in the darkening sky, lit up with gold and white bulbs and a shining blue pool on deck. There’s people all over the things, and just walking up the stairs to board you can tell that the drinks here are all going to contain alcohol.

“Y/N!” you hear a high pitched voice call as soon as you step onto the deck, Mark just behind you. There is Han Jieun, in a short sequined black dress with matching black nails wrapped around a champagne flute, red lips pulled into a tipsy smile. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

You smile, embracing her so she doesn’t fall over in her tall heels. “I should have figured you’d be here.”

She giggles in the pretty tinkling way that she always does. “Duh! Doyoung had the party because I asked, isn’t that so sweet of him?”

Ah, yes, Doyoung happens to be her boyfriend.

“So sweet,” you nod, settling her back on her stilettos.

Jieun seems to notice Mark, who had been awkwardly hanging behind you. “Oh! Mark Lee! Are you two together now?”

Mark steps forward, looks at you with an expression that says ‘what is the answer to that question’, and chuckles to fill up space while you think.

“Tentatively,” you say, with that exact word lining your tone.

Jieun gives you a knowing smile and a long ‘ahhh’, her face crinkling up into an amused smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” she winks, laughing again. That doesn’t really make sense to you, but you just smile and nod. “Anyway, come on, it’s weird just standing here at the front!”

You look over at Mark, and he just shrugs. “Why not?”

The next thing you know, you’re at the bar next to the pool, significantly more drunk than you’ve ever been, laughing as Mark and some of Jieun’s friends try to convince you to jump into the pool.

“But my dress is expensive!” you whine, but don’t fight the girls as they drag you from your seat at the bar and start walking you towards the pool.

“Come on, Y/N!” one of them says, laughing through her words. “I’ve never seen you have this much fun!”

“Woo! Let’s get it Y/N!” Mark shouts from the bar, and you look over your shoulder to see him cackling, his friend Sicheng that you were introduced to… at some point, rolling his eyes dramatically at Mark’s antics.

“Okay!” you exclaim, giggling as you push your hair off your shoulder. “I’ll do it!”

“I have your phone, don’t worry!” Mark calls to you, and you send him a thumbs up, kicking off your heels as even in your intoxicated state you can remember that those aren’t worth getting wet.

The girls start chanting your name, and you even see Jieun and Doyoung appear from around the corner where they’d been passionately making out for a while. The people in the pool already are laughing, spilling vodka drinks as they desture for you to jump. You hear a count of one, two, three-

And you jump.

You’re not sure how you ended up on a way stiffer, smaller bed than either of yours, but as you sit up in the dark room, that first waking thought fades as the feeling of nausea sweeps over you, and you jump from the bed, pushing open the first door that you see and thanking whatever higher power that it’s a bathroom.

You throw open the toilet lid, and have the sense to grab your hair before leaning over the toilet bowl and proceeding to throw up all of the expensive drinks you must have had.

Mark Lee appears beside you so quietly that you jump from your tragic position when he places a hand on your shoulder, taking the hair you’d gathered up from your hand and softly telling you that it’s okay. You’re not sure what he means by that, but after a few minutes, you think you’ve thrown up as much as you can, and as soon as you sit back Mark pulls the lid down and flushes the toilet, letting go of your hair.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you try to stand up weakly, your fiance rising to his feet to help you, before you stumble over to the sink, grabbing a packaged toothbrush and quickly wetting it, wishing there was toothpaste but utilizing a ton of water to get the taste of bile out of your mouth.

It’s only after you’ve significantly washed out the aftertaste of vomit that you turn to Mark, leaning back on the sink. He’s still wearing the outfit he was before… before the crazy night that you’re sure you had, but you can’t quite remember. Looking down at yourself, you’re not in the blue dress that you remember being in before.

“Where are we?” you ask, wiping at your eyes. “I can’t remember anything.”

Mark nods, a pensive smile crossing his lips. “We’re on Doyoung’s yacht. He gave us this room since you passed out a few hours ago.”

“Ahh,” you sigh, then purse your lips. “I hope I wasn’t too much trouble. I don’t think I’ve ever drank that much.”

Mark shrugs. “Not really. I was kinda drunk too, but I slept it off. I’m surprised you’re even up right now.”

You chuckle. “Me too.” A beat of silence passes, and for a moment there, in the small bathroom in a room of Kim Doyoung’s yacht, you can imagine that Mark is really someone that you could love. He is reliable enough to have stayed with you, trustworthy enough to have just let you be even though you were in a vulnerable state, and kind enough to have woken up just to be with you while you threw up. Maybe… maybe it won’t be so terrible getting used to Mark Lee.

“Your boyfriend called.” Mark breaks the silence with his quiet comment, looking down at his face. Your lips fall open, brows drawing together. Does he mean Yukhei? “I didn’t answer, but he left some messages and texted you, too. I think he must’ve seen that picture you posted after you jumped in the pool.”

First of all, you jumped in the pool?

Second of all, shit.

“Where’s my phone?” you ask, biting your lip. What an awkward thing for him to have to tell you.

Mark silently walks back into the bedroom and you follow him. He points at the nightstand on the left. “I’m gonna change in the bathroom since I’m up.” You nod, and he reaches into the dresser next to you, pulling out loose clothes that seem to match yours. Did he… did he change you out of your clothes?

“Jieun took your dress to wash,” Mark says, seemingly reading your mind. You think you catch a blush on his cheeks as he mutters the next sentence. “I wasn’t present.” He escapes quickly to the bathroom with the clothes in his arms, the door shutting quietly behind him.

You chuckle to yourself, then remember the whole reason you’d walked out here.

Walking over to the nightstand, you pick up your phone and turn it on. 4:47am. The time is accompanied by enough messages from Yukhei that you can scroll for a few seconds before reaching the bottom. You sigh and unlock your phone, first opening the texts.

From: lucas wong, man!!!!

[12:34am] Where did you go? I saw your photo.

[12:37am] Are you with Mark Lee?

[12:46am] Are you drinking? Tell me you’re not drinking when you’re out with him.

[12:51am] Who else is there?

[1:32am] Hey, are you okay?

[1:57am] Can you text me back? I just want to know if everything is okay

[2:33am] Y/N, I’m not joking please text me back nobody knows where you are

[2:42am] It’s getting really late, are you coming home? I’ll wait up for you okay

[3:01am] Please text me back as soon as you see this

[3:01am] please

You sigh deeply, chewing on your lower lip as you open the phone app and play his voicemails.

“Hey, Y/N… I um, I know you were upset at me, and I don’t want to intrude since you seemed like you didn’t want to talk but- um, I just want to know if you’re okay? I guess you’re not coming home tonight since it’s so late, but just let me know that you’re safe… I love you, you know? I… ah, neverm-”

“I’m just calling again since it’s past four… You’re in Jeju, right? I guess I kind of snooped around your friends’ social media, sorry, haha… Call me back, please.”

The guilt that washes over you as you hear his impossibly tired and yet very clearly stressed and worried voice is so much that it almost becomes painful. Your fingers tremble- should you call him back, or if you text that you’re alright, is that enough?

You shake your head. If you were in Yukhei’s situation, you’d want to hear his voice. It’s not fair to him to leave a text after worrying him like that.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings, and you’re about to give up and leave a voicemail when he answers, a sleepy mumble of your name coming through the receiver.

“Hey,” you whisper, and you hear a deep sigh of relief.

“You’re okay,” he mutters, and you hear the sound of rustling blankets. “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you say reflexively. “I got drunk.”

There is a few seconds of silence. “...You didn’t- you didn’t do, um, do anything with Mark, right?” Yukhei says in the smallest voice you’ve ever heard from him.

Your heart sinks, realizing how many things he might have imagined happened to you. “No,” you reply quickly. “No, we didn’t. I swear on my life.”

“I believe you,” he says. “Are you coming home?”

You bite your lip, looking at the bathroom door. “I don’t know.”

“You’re in Jeju, right?”

“Yeah, a friend of Mark’s has a yacht. That’s where we are now.”

You hear Yukhei take a short breath. “Are you with him right now?”

Suddenly you feel more guilty, even though you and Mark haven’t done anything. “He’s changing in the bathroom.”

“So you slept in the same room then?” Yukhei mumbles, half a question and half not. “Did you have to?”

“I passed out,” you tell him honestly.

More silence. And then; “I’ll talk to you later. Come home soon.”

“I’ll try,” you reply, and he hangs up.

The door opens a few seconds after, and you’re sure that Mark was waiting for you to be done talking to Yukhei before coming out. He offers you a small smile as he walks over.

“Do you mind being in the same bed now that we’re not drunk?” he asks sheepishly, hands clasped behind his back.

You sigh, one part of you feeling like you’re betraying Yukhei, and the other part telling you that when you told him to leave and then came on this trip you were ending things with him. “...We’re both tired.” you tell Mark, and lay down on the sheets. “So it’s fine.”

He nods, walking to the opposite side and promptly settling down.

“Mark?” you say after a few minutes, half expecting him to be asleep.

He hums in indication that he’ll answer.

“I’m sorry I’m such a shit fiancee.”

He laughs, throwing you off. You roll over to face him, and he just smiles at you. “Whatever happens to us, Y/N, you’re a good person.”

You frown in confusion, ready to ask what he means by that, but Mark Lee shuts his eyes and tells you goodnight.

You end up spending a few more days in Jeju after letting your aunt and uncle know (they are proud of you for being sociable, is what Seoyeon says on the phone) and get to know Mark some more. You don’t tell him about what happened between you and Yukhei for fear that it might complicate things even more, but he seems content with both being your friend or at some point being more than that. You find that you like his company more than you’d initially expected, too.

By the time you return to Busan, there’s only a week left of summer, which means you have to head back to Seoul in a maximum of three days from now. You start packing the things you’d brought immediately, having them sent down to be taken in advance. You want to see Jaehyun before he leaves for America, too, so you’re planning on going early.

You know you should talk to Yukhei before you go, too.

But it just so happens that Jaehyun texts you the day after you get back from Jeju, telling you that your aunt and uncle showed up at your shared apartment in Gangnam and have their eyes on him. And to take advantage of that and do some snooping in their stuff while they’re gone.

[9:44am] Aren’t there cameras in their office?

[9:45am] Shit, yeah. I’ll have someone jam them

You sigh. Your limited understanding of technology is really holding you back in this whole ‘expose your family members as corrupt murderers’ thing, huh?

Jaehyun shoots you a text about half an hour later that just reads ‘done’, and you take that as the cameras being down.

You try to look as confident as possible when walking to your uncle’s office, knowing that since you are the only owner of this house that’s currently home, the staff won’t question you.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself as you stop in front of the office door. It’s locked. Duh.

“Y/N,” a soft voice says from a few feet away, and you look up to see Yukhei’s mom, a somber, apologetic expression on your face. “I haven’t seen you in so long, my dear.”

You smile, bowing your head. “Yes, unfortunately.”

Mrs. Wong opens her mouth like she’s going to say one thing, then closes it, then decides to talk. “Is there anything I can do for you, sweetheart?”

An idea pops into your head, and you nod slowly. “Actually, yes.”

Mrs. Wong lends you the master key with no questions after you told her that your aunt has some paperwork in the office that you need to take back to Seoul with you.

Once inside the office, you look up at the camera in one of the corners on the ceiling, hoping it really is down. If not, you have no clue how you’ll handle explaining why you were searching through your aunt and uncle’s documents.

First, you look through the two desks, but there’s nothing more than letters updating the weekly growth for the company. Then you open the filing cabinets, thankful that those aren’t locked at the very least, and start rifling through paperwork, looking for the names of your parents as well as Choi Youngchul and Kang Hyungdon.

Nothing.

Sighing deeply, you sit down on your uncle’s office chair, shuffling the mouse to his computer around for a little until the screen lights up. Password protected, of course.

What could your uncle’s password be?

You try everything related to your aunt, or the house in Busan, or Gwangju, where they lived before, but nothing seems to work.

Hint?

The computer flashes the one word question at you, and you nod, as though it can see you, then come to your senses and click on it.

What I always wanted.

You frown. You’d already tried everything about the estate… what else did your uncle want?

...Well, if Jaehyun’s idea is right:

You skeptically type in your father’s name, and immediately, the computer unlocks and goes into your uncle’s home screen. The background is a photo of him and your aunt in front of your estate, which you narrow your eyes at.

Shaking off any annoyance, you open up the files app and start scrolling, opening only what really looks promising, since you know it’ll show the date last opened the next time Sungjoo goes on his computer.

After another half an hour of looking, you’re starting to believe this whole theory is completely incorrect and your aunt and uncle have done nothing wrong, when you realize you haven’t opened any of Uncle Sungjoo’s emails yet.

Taking a deep breath, you click on the email app and start scrolling through the trash, looking for anything between him and his wife, or Choi Youngchul. You know there’s no way anything incriminating would be among his regular emails.

“Ah,” you whisper to yourself as you see Choi Youngchul for the first time so far. You open the email thread, and immediately, your hands are over your lips instead of on the mouse.

From: Choi Youngchul

Subject: __________

Everything is done. Dead on impact, from what I could see.

To: Choi Youngchul

Subject: ________

The position is yours.

Your first thought is that you have an absolute idiot for an uncle- he should’ve deleted this conversation, really deleted it, as soon as it was over with.

Your second is to grab your phone from where you’d set it and take multiple pictures of the conversation, making sure to include everything that would show it really is from your uncle’s email account and not created. You also make sure to show the date, as you realize with a tightness of your throat is just a week after your parents’ death.

You slump back in the office chair after retracing all your steps and trying to clear any evidence that you’d been on the computer.

Jaehyun had been right.

Your parents were not in an accident.

And if it were not for your power-hungry aunt and uncle, you wouldn’t be an orphan.

You throw open the office door, shutting it behind you and locking it, wrapping the string attached to the key around your fingers as you clench your fists.

[11:17am] Send me all the evidence you have. I’m going to mom and dad’s lawyer.

[11:18am] Why? Did you find something?

You don’t answer until Jaehyun texts you again a few minutes later, telling you to come to Seoul as soon as you can, as your aunt and uncle are leaving in just an hour and you should be out of the house before they arrive home. You agree, and grab all your last minute things, stuffing them in a bag, calling your chauffeur and asking him to hurry here as fast as he can, flying down the left staircase in Prada flats.

“Are you leaving?” a hand on your arm stops you as you’re about to open the front door, bag slung over your shoulder. You turn to find Yukhei’s sad eyes looking down at you, his grip on your arm tightening.

“Yes,” you say simply. “Jaehyun needs help with something.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, breathing slowly, before he looks away, hand dropping from your arm. “You said we would talk.”

You look down too, knowing you had said that on the phone with him in Jeju. But you hadn’t exactly been expecting this to happen back then, had you? “I’m sorry. It’s short notice but it’s really important.”

“Okay,” he whispers, seemingly unable to now look you in the eye. “I hope you’ll come back soon.”

You know what he really means when he says this is that he wants to see you at least one last time before you get married.

“Don’t worry,” you say, confidence swelling up in you. “It’ll be sooner than you think.” You hesitate for a moment as he looks up, tilting his head in curiosity. Should you offer him a goodbye kiss in case this really is the last time you speak before your wedding? If you can’t get your aunt and uncle out of your life, that’ll be the case.

No. You’ll come back for him.

You turn and open the door, sweeping into the humid outdoors, expensive car waiting to pick you up outside.

There are more than a few people at the apartment once you walk in, Jaehyun having opened the door for you. One face you weren’t expecting to see looks up at you with an amused look in his pointy eyes.

“Kim Doyoung?” you can’t help but exclaim when you see him bent over a computer.  

“Thanks for not throwing up on any of the carpet,” he replies, smirking when your brother frowns.

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s nothing,” you assure him, patting his arm. “What’re you up to right now?”

“Putting things together, really.” he says. “What did you find?”

You bite your lip. “A confirmation.”

Jaehyun’s brows shoot up his face. “A what?”

You pull out your phone and then open the pictures, handing over the device so he can see. “It’s good enough to be used as evidence, right?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says, a frown that looks more solemn than he recently had taking over his face. “It is.”

“Let me take a look,” Doyoung says, grabbing your phone from Jaehyun’s hand and taking it over to his computer.

You and Jaehyun sit down on his couch, your brother running his hands over his hair. He groans, agitation in his every movement.

“You okay?” you ask, and he nods, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“They’re going to jail, Y/N. I promise.”

Two weeks later, you wait outside the attorney’s office for Jaehyun with two cups of steaming coffee. He’d insisted you go to school rather than attend the first meeting with your lawyer, who had also been your mom and dad’s lawyer in any time of crisis. After bringing the evidence you’d collected to the police, they’d agreed that it was necessary to further investigate, and within a week had charged your aunt and uncle with first degree murder, and were looking into Choi Youngchul and the driver who’d crashed into your parents.

You haven’t seen Sungjoo and Seoyeon since before you left for Jeju, what feels like an eternity ago, and now you’re dreading seeing them in a courthouse. Despite how poorly they’ve treated you the past two years and what they did to your parents, there is a part of you that remembers them as your family.

You shake that thought off as you see Jaehyun push through the heavy door of the office lobby, walking towards you and taking his coffee with a grateful smile.

“Thanks.”

You shrug. “No problem. What’d he say?”

“Pretty confident that we’ll win,” Jaehyun says, starting to walk back towards your apartment. He had emailed Harvard about the case and they enrolled him in online courses for the semester since he wouldn’t be able to leave Korea. “We have evidence, sympathy, and if worst comes to worse, more money than them.”

You snicker, rolling your eyes. “Yeah right, like you’d ever bribe a judge. I know your morals, Jae.”

Your brother looks over, smiling. “Yours too.”

“Hmm,” you nod. “So when’s the trial?”

“Not for a while,” Jaehyun says. “There has to be the bail hearing, and then they’ll be held in custody until the charges are confirmed. Then the trial will start.”

You hum again. “I wonder if they’ll plead innocent.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “If they’re smart they’ll plead guilty and hope for a sentence where they’ll get out before they die. But I doubt it.”

“Good.” you say, sighing. “I hope they regret it, at least.”

“They will,” Jaehyun says in a self-assured tone. “By the way, have you talked to Yukhei recently?”

You bite your lip. “No, not since I came to Seoul two weeks ago.”

Jaehyun looks over at you, a knowing yet disappointed look on his face. “I figured. He texted me to ask if you’re doing well.”

“...He did?”

Your brother rolls his eyes. “You really frustrate me sometimes. I don’t understand why you push the kid away, especially now. You’re pretty much guaranteed a way out of that dumb marriage.”

You sigh. He’s right, considering what he’s just found out from your lawyer.

“I’ll call him later.” you state, trying to promise yourself more than Jaehyun. Your brother gives you a skeptical side-eye, but doesn’t say anything about it.

“Anyway, I was thinking in terms of the company…”

“See? You’re being very vague right now too.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, tugging on your hair as you watch the television intently, shifting nervously around the couch. “Why is he so dumb? Get it together, Sihyun!”

“...What did Sooji say to you?”

“I don’t like guys that seem strange. And I don’t get crushes. I’m talking about you and me. It doesn’t matter what Sooji said. Go.”

“Let’s go talk in my room-”

“Ah, right! This was your building… Let go.”

You bite down hard on your lip as the door shuts behind Taehee and she starts crying, the ending music playing.

“No!” you whine. “How am I supposed to wait another week for the next episode?”

“I can’t believe you’re watching dramas at a time like this,” Jaehyun calls from the kitchen. “When are you gonna call Yukhei? You told me you would.”

Well, normally you’re not big into dramas, but the stress of imagining what you should say to Yukhei pushed you into procrastinating doing that by binging six episodes of Tempted after coming home.

“...I will.” you call back, voice weak.

“Do it now,” Jaehyun moves into the walkway leading to the kitchen, holding your phone between two fingers. “You have no excuse, since you just said that’s the last episode of that series until next week.”

“Fine,” you grumble, pushing yourself off the couch and towards your brother. “Give me my phone.”

Jaehyun smirks, which makes you immediately nervous. “Sorry. I lied. You won’t need it.”

You frown, narrowing your eyes. “What the hell does that mean? Jaehyun, seriously, give me my phone-”

Bzzz.

You and your brother look over to the screen where anyone outside the building who wants to come to your apartment has to buzz in for approval.

And there stands Wong Yukhei, the mediocre camera picking up a blurry image of him. But no matter how blurry it might get, you would always recognize him.

“Yah,” you snap, turning to your brother, who tries to snake away. “Did you organize this?”

“You were being dramatic,” Jaehyun raises a brow.

“This is messed up,” you sigh. “I haven’t even planned what to say to him.”

“You’ve known each other for almost ten years and you have to plan what to say to him?” your brother says exasperatedly. “Just let him in, Y/N.”

You sigh again, walking over to the buzzer and pressing OK without pressing the call button first. On the screen, Yukhei lights up with a tiny smile, and then disappears as he walks into the building.

Not even five minutes later, Jaehyun has evacuated to his room and there is a knock on the door.

You stop in front of the mirror by the door before you open it, brushing your hair back from your face and blending out some creases in your makeup with your finger. You’re unsure of why, but this meeting has you far more anxious than you’ve ever really been when it comes to Yukhei. Maybe it’s because you left in such a rush a couple weeks ago.

You steel yourself, and open the door, and are quickly enveloped in a tight, warm embrace, familiar arms wrapping themselves around your sides and a familiar chin pressing into your shoulder.

You’re too nervous to say anything, so you wait until Yukhei has had his fill of holding you before stepping just slightly away and looking up at him, taking in his expression.

He looks at you with a resolution you don’t often see on him. His brows are set, his big eyes folded across so they aren’t as wide, his lips slightly parted, but something about his gaze is final- for a moment, it scares you, because final could go in many directions. But then he speaks, and all the worry you’ve built up for weeks dissipates like the steam from a kettle of tea.

“Let’s be together.” Yukhei tells you. It’s not a question, it’s his most honest statement to you. “Wherever we go, whatever happens- let’s be together.”