#wonbin ff

You drove past the last few storefronts, through rows of homes and wide open fields until you reached the guest house. It looked much like the other houses in the neighborhood—simple and unassuming, save for the bright red roof and the wooden signpost by the gate. You stepped out of your car, looking around and calling out to see if anyone was home but there was no response.

“Is nobody home?” you muttered to yourself. 

The gates were open, so you let yourself in, taking a moment to soak in the surroundings. The house had a traditional Korean setup, with a low table outside, a shed of large clay crocks—probably holding kimchi or fermented soybean paste—an outdoor cooking area, and other signs of daily life scattered around.

You were admiring the garden of flowers when the front door swung open, and a petite elderly woman stepped onto the porch, dressed in a floral blouse and loose pants. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back, her sharp eyes scanning you before she broke into a warm smile.

“You must be the city girl,” she said, hands on her hips. “Took you long enough.”

You blinked at her bluntness but relaxed when you caught the teasing glint in her eyes. You then offered an apologetic smile. “I know, I’m sorry. Something came up, so I had to delay for a day. Is the room still available?”

“Of course! We don’t get many guests here. Haven’t had a single one this year until you.” She waved you inside. “Come. I don’t usually take in long-term guests, but I liked the way you spoke on the phone. You seemed polite.”

Inside, the house was warm and lived-in, wooden beams stretching across the ceiling. Something was cooking in the kitchen, filling the space with a savory aroma that made your mouth water.

“You must be starving. You arrived right on time. Lunch is almost ready,” she called from the kitchen.

“Thank you. I’ll just grab my things from the car,” you said, pointing toward the door.

She nodded. “Ah, right. Let me help you with that.”

“No, it’s alright—”

“Binnie!” she called out before you could finish your protest. “Come out and help our guest with her luggage.”

A moment later, a figure appeared at the doorway. Tall and lanky, with dark soft-looking hair trimmed just above the shoulders framing her delicate features—a straight nose, full lips, and sharp, striking eyes with long lashes that would make anyone jealous.

There was something boyish in the way she moved. Her stride was quick and heavy, her clothes were loose and simple. A plaid button-down over a plain white t-shirt,  and a pair of dark sweatpants. Not exactly the dainty look you might’ve expected from someone with a face like that, but it suited her.

“Binnie,” the elderly woman called again, motioning to the car outside.

She only hummed in response before stepping down from the porch and heading straight for your trunk. You followed after her, popping the trunk open just as she reached it.

“Thank you,” you said. “I can get the heavier ones,” you offered, out of habit more than anything.

Binnie barely spared you a glance before hauling out your largest suitcase like it weighed nothing. “It’s fine,” she muttered.

You blinked. Okay, strong girl.

A small duffel bag dangled from her other hand as she turned back toward the house, moving easily despite the weight. You had to admit, you were a little relieved to know there was another girl your age in the house. When you were researching this town, you’d been told most of the people who lived here were old and middle-aged. You’d expected to spend most of your time with elderly folks—nice as they were, they didn’t quite offer the same kind of connection. But with Binnie here, at least you’d have someone to talk to.

Shutting the trunk, you grabbed the rest of your bags and followed her inside.

The first three days passed uneventfully. You quickly became familiar with the routine in the house: the sounds of cooking from the kitchen, the fluttering of old curtains in the breeze, and the occasional gathering of the elderly ladies just outside the gates of the guest house. You had been expecting peace, but this was something else entirely—a rare kind of mundanity, where time seemed to stretch and slow down. You loved it more than you had anticipated.

Binnie, the granddaughter of the house, was always present in some way but never fully there. She rarely spoke, her gaze slipping past you instead of meeting your eyes, and she was gone for long stretches of the day. You sometimes wondered where she went—maybe she’s out and about around town, maybe she’s at work, maybe she’s somewhere even quieter than here—but it wasn’t a question you felt the need to ask. It didn’t seem like she would answer if you did, anyway.

When you did cross paths, the interactions were brief. A polite nod from her, a quick greeting from you. Occasionally, you’d catch her in the kitchen, stirring something at the stove, or stepping onto the porch with a towel slung over her shoulder, hair damp from a shower. Once, when you mumbled a sleepy “good morning” while rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you thought you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward before she disappeared out the door.

You assumed she was just a little shy. Maybe reserved. That was fine with you. It was oddly nice having another soul around who didn’t expect constant conversation, as opposed to her grandmother who seemed to never run out of anything to talk about.

The guest house owner—Gram, as she liked to be called—was warm and thoughtful, though she saw your lack of movement as odd. She often encouraged you to explore, to go into town, to at least take a walk.

“Most people get restless after a day or two,” she said one morning, watching you sip your tea at the low table outside. “You, though, you act like you’ve been waiting your whole life to sit still.”

You grinned. “Honestly, Gram? I have.”

She clicked her tongue, unconvinced. “Binnie, why don’t you take her into town today? Show her around. The store won’t burn down without you for a day.”

At the mention of her name, Binnie, who had been quietly peeling fruit by the water pump, finally glanced at you. Her expression was unreadable, but her head tilted ever so slightly, as if sizing you up. Then, just as quickly, she shrugged. “Sure.”

It wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic invitation, and you didn’t want to force her into doing anything just because her grandma asked her to. “Thanks, Gram, but I swear, I’m fine. I’m enjoying myself.”

Gram sighed, shaking her head. “If you say so. But if you change your mind, just tell Bin.”

You nodded, and across the table, Binnie met your gaze again, her lips pressing into something like a faint smile before she went back to peeling.

Still, Gram refused to let you be completely idle. Every day, she gave you a small task—flipping sun-dried herbs at noon, covering them before sunset. It wasn’t much, but it made you feel like a part of the household rather than just a passing guest.

Binnie never commented on your meandering presence in the house. Sometimes, she’d walk past you on the way out, sometimes you’d catch sight of her returning in the late afternoon, looking effortlessly graceful yet somehow boyish in the way she moved. 

As the days passed, little things about Binnie started catching your attention—details that didn’t quite match the soft-spoken, delicate image you’d formed of her at first. Her voice, though quiet, had a very low, steady timbre, almost deep. Occasionally, she’d roll her shoulders or rub the back of her neck in a way that felt oddly... rugged. There was something in the way she leaned against doorframes too, hands stuffed in her pockets, with a relaxed posture. And yet, she still looked as graceful as ever, with the wind blowing her dark hair soft against her skin, her features almost too pretty. 

The contrast was interesting, but you didn’t think much of it. So what if she was a little rough around the edges? Plenty of girls had tomboyish sides.

Strong, you thought idly one afternoon, watching her haul in a sack of something from outside. Strong for someone so pretty.

She wasn’t unfriendly, but she wasn’t exactly inviting either. It wasn’t awkward, though. If anything, it suited the peacefulness of the guest house. You weren’t looking for company, and Binnie didn’t seem eager to offer it. But of course, living together would make people grow closer.

One morning, you found yourself at the kitchen table, lazily flipping through a magazine Gram had left lying around. Binnie stood by the sink, rinsing a handful of freshly picked persimmons.

“Do you eat these?” she asked, her voice low and steady as usual.

You looked up. It was the first time she’d spoken to you without it being a response to something you said first. “I like them, but I never really had them fresh like that,” you admitted.

She grabbed a towel and started drying one. “They taste better chilled.”

“Oh?” You watched as she set a few aside and placed the rest in the fridge. “Is there a difference?”

She shrugged, placing one on the table in front of you. “Try it later.”

After that, you noticed other little things.

When you forgot your slippers outside one evening, you found them neatly placed by the door the next morning. The first time you struggled to lift one of Gram’s large water jugs, Binnie walked past, muttered, “You’ll hurt your back,” and hoisted it up with ease before you could protest.

“Thanks,” you said, surprised.

Gradually, your paths started crossing more. If she was already outside when you went to dry the herbs, she’d sit nearby, scrolling through her phone or looking up at the sky seemingly deep in thought while you worked. If you ended up in the kitchen at the same time, she’d slide you a cup of whatever she was drinking without a word.

The conversations stretched a little longer, too. One weekend morning, you found her on the porch, sitting quietly under the sun. Without thinking, you sat beside her, stretching your legs out and basking in the sunshine.

“Gram says you haven’t gone to the beach yet,” she said.

You chuckled lightly. “Yeah. At this point, I think she’s pissed. She’s been trying to get me out of the house since day one and I haven’t moved anywhere farther than the gate.”

Binnie nodded with a smile, eyes still on the road. “She’s not used to people who like sitting still.”

“I did notice that, yes.”

You talked about the weather, the best place to buy snacks in town, how the local stray cats had more attitude than city ones. They weren’t deep conversations, but they were comfortable.

Binnie still wasn’t overly talkative, but she started meeting your eyes more, responding with more than just a nod. And sometimes, when she thought you weren’t paying attention, you’d catch a small, amused smile on her lips.

It wasn’t much, but you were getting used to each other.

On a cool Saturday afternoon, you sat cross-legged at the low wooden table outside, with a basket of vegetables sitting between you and Binnie. Gram had roped the both of you into helping with dinner, which, in her words, “would taste better with young hands working on it.”

You didn’t mind. It gave you something to do.

Binnie, across from you, was peeling potatoes efficiently. You, on the other hand, were going slower, carefully stripping the skin from each one with a small knife.

“Have you always lived here?” you asked. You had been talking about random stuff up until this point.

Binnie didn’t look up from her task. “Mostly.”

“What? Like, since birth?”

“Maybe,” she said, lips twitching.

You gave her a flat look. “That’s not a real answer.”

She considered for a second before finally saying, “I wasn’t born here, but I grew up here. I left a few years ago, but I came back.”

You nodded, filing that away. “Where did you go?”

She flipped a potato in her hand. “Seoul.”

“You lived there?”

“For a bit.”

“You’re very specific,” you said dryly.

She smirked. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Of course. I have to know who I’m living with.”

“Mm.” She switched to peeling carrots. “You’re right. You do have to know who you’re living with. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

You rolled a potato in your hands. “I feel like I just set myself up.”

Binnie shot you an amused glance. “Why’d you come here?”

You shrugged, totally expecting that question to come up. “I wanted a change of pace.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“The specifics are boring,” you said through gritted teeth, unwilling to divulge anything.

She peeled another strip from the carrot. “Fine, then. Why here of all places?”

You shrugged again. This time, you genuinely didn’t have any other answer other than; “It looked pretty in the catalogue.”

She let out a small huff of laughter. “Fair enough.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, just continuing your own work. The sun had started to dip lower in the horizon, and you were realizing once again how perfectly fitting it was that this guest house was called, The Sunset House.

“What do you do all day, anyway?” you asked, breaking the comfortable quiet. “I always see you coming and going, but you never say where you’re headed.”

Binnie hummed. “You never asked. Didn’t think you’d be curious.”

“Oh, I was curious but I wasn’t gonna ask. I was waiting for you to tell me yourself when you’re ready.”

That seemed to amuse her, if the way she snorted was any indication. “It’s nothing special like you’re making it sound like. There’s a convenience store downtown, I work there.”

You nodded. “Work? I didn’t think you were working.” you teased.

She snorted. “I have my own money and I know how to work for my meals.”

“I respect that,” you chimed, nodding in acknowledgment. Binnie simply shrugged and you were both quiet for a while.

Then you said, “Okay, but I have a real question.” Binnie looked up, waiting for you to continue. “What’s your skincare routine?”

She blinked at you, clearly caught off guard. “My what?”

“You have really nice skin,” you said matter-of-factly. “Like, it’s annoyingly flawless. I need to know what you’re using.”

She chuckled. “I just use whatever’s around.”

You frowned. “Liar.”

“It’s the truth,” she said, looking far too entertained.

“No fancy routine? No expensive products?”

“Nope.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, but she just kept peeling, smug as ever. You huffed. “This is so unfair. Your skin is prettier than mine and I have like, a ten-step skincare routine.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

You grabbed a potato and chucked it at her arm. She caught it easily, laughing even as she shook her head. The conversation continued, flowing from one topic to another with no real direction—small questions, half-answers, and the occasional amused remark. It wasn’t deep, but it didn’t need to be.

By the time you finished, the basket of peeled vegetables was full, the sun had disappeared, and you had learned just enough about Binnie to know there was still more to figure out.

It was hard to ignore the nagging thought in your head ever since you arrived in town. While you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that you deserved this break from your turbulent city life, the anxiety that you should be doing something more productive lingered in the back of your mind. 

It was probably because your mind and body were so used to being on high alert all the time, functioning at full capacity every day for the last several years that you start getting anxious when you’re not doing anything and just relaxing. You could feel an odd sense of suspicion, nagging at the back of your mind like, “Shouldn’t you be doing something?”

Watering Gram’s garden plants was enough to push away all these thoughts, though.

As you stood under the gentle heat of the morning sun, you maneuvered the hose expertly, a result of doing the chore every day for the last few weeks. You let out a slow breath, feeling oddly content with the simplicity of it.

“Are you watering the plants or drowning them?”

You startled as Gram’s voice rang out. Turning, you found her watching you with a hand on her hip. “Come here,” she said, beckoning you over to the low wooden table. “I have a better use for those hands.”

You shut off the water and wandered over, only to be greeted with a rice cake shoved into your hand. “Would you like to come to the beach today?” she asked.

“The beach?”

“This woman moved here two months ago, Seola, very lovely. She’s a teacher at the daycare center. She arranged a picnic with the elderly and the children today.” Gram gave you a pointed look as she patted your hand. “You should come. You need to socialize with someone your age before you forget how to hold a conversation.”

Before you could respond, Binnie stepped out onto the porch in her usual shirt-over-tee combo and denim jeans, brushing her hair back with her hand, she slung a bag over her shoulder, acknowledging you with a brief nod before passing by.

“Gram, I’m off,” he said.

“Alright, see you later,” Gram replied. She waved him off before giving you another look. “Bin will be there too, so you don’t have to worry about being around people you don’t know.”

Not that you needed much convincing. You had already planned to explore town today anyway. You finally had enough of the idle days, and you were now ready to see and experience the quaint charm of this small town.

So at noon, just before lunchtime, you drove to the beachside with Gram, the car packed with the food she had heartily prepared all morning.

The beach was lively with old and young voices, laughter, conversation, and the sound of waves rolling against the shore. You helped Gram set up the food, spreading it out on the picnic blankets as she introduced you to the small group already gathered there—a few elderly folks, some parents, and a handful of kids darting around with beach toys and shells. It felt like stepping into a family reunion, where everyone knew each other and shared years of memories you could only imagine.

Gram introduced you as a temporary resident. “She’ll be here for six months,” she explained, smiling as curious eyes turned your way. “Let’s all be nice to her. She’s from the big city.”

“Ah, so that’s why you look so pale,” an older woman teased, squinting at you. “You need some sun on you, dear.”

“She should eat more, too,” another one chimed in, eyeing you like she was already planning to pile food onto your plate.

“You’ll love it here,” one of the older women assured you. “Life moves slow, but there’s always something to do if you know where to look.”

Another joined in with a chuckle. “A bit of gossip now and then, a trip to the market, a walk by the coast… it doesn’t take much to stay busy here!”

They were warm, welcoming, and funny, and their playful remarks had the same lightheartedness as Gram’s. You found yourself smiling more than expected, caught up in their conversation as they asked about your stay. You also met Seola, the new daycare teacher who moved to town just two months ago. She was the same age as you were, and you felt a sense of kinship with her as someone who came from the big city yourself.

At one point, a little boy ran up to you out of nowhere, his face bright with excitement as he held out a shell. “Check this out!”

You knelt down, taking the shell from his hands to admire it. “Wow, this is a pretty one,” you said, humoring his enthusiasm. He beamed, launching into a detailed explanation of why it was superior to all the others. You nodded along, half-listening—until something just past his shoulder caught your eye.

Out by the water, Binnie emerged from the waves, hands pushing through his soaked hair, slicking it back from his face. Droplets clung to his skin, sliding down sharp cheekbones and along the lines of his jaw. You blinked, something about the sight snagging on a thought you couldn’t quite place.

Then he stepped fully onto the shore, reached for the hem of his wet shirt, and pulled it over his head. And your mind went blank.

Time seemed to slow as your eyes registered the defined shoulders, the abs, the arms that clearly belonged to someone used to physical labor. The sunlight played across his skin, highlighting every line and shadow. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was stare.

Binnie wasn’t just “a little masculine”. Binnie wasn’t just oddly strong. Binnie… was a man.

Your breath caught in your throat, and an unexpected heat rose to your cheeks. The little boy in front of you was still talking, but you couldn’t hear a word of it anymore.

How could you have missed this? It was as if every little sign from the past several days were suddenly lining up like pieces of a puzzle. The deeper voice, the way he carried himself, the fact that he had never once actually referred to himself as a girl. 

And then there were also the times Gram had mentioned her grandson—the one you thought you haven’t met yet, you had been living with him all along. He had never corrected you. And you? You had been so sure—so certain you knew exactly who you were living with.

As you stood there, still absorbing the shock, two teenage girls approached you excitedly.

“What’s it like living with Wonbin?” one of them asked, practically bouncing on her toes.

“Who?” The name threw you off entirely.

“Park Wonbin,” the other girl chimed in, as if it were obvious. “You’re staying at Gram’s guest house, right? Isn’t he amazing? He’s like the pride of our town.”

Wonbin. The name sounded foreign to you, yet as you watched him crouch down to help one of the kids collect shells, it suddenly seemed to fit him perfectly. 

“I thought his name was Binnie?” you asked, though the moment the words left your mouth, you realized how foolish they sounded. Binnie wasn’t his name. It was obviously a nickname, something his grandmother must have been affectionately calling him.

The girls giggled, exchanging amused glances. “That’s just what the grandmas call him.”

One of them leaned in, lowering her voice like she was sharing a juicy secret. “He’s kind of famous, you know? We run a fan page for him—it’s almost 100k followers.”

Wonbin. Wonbin. Park Wonbin.

You blinked, still grappling with the idea that the quiet, elusive Binnie was actually Wonbin, the town’s golden boy. Before you could think of what to say, Gram’s voice called out, interrupting the conversation.

“Lunch is ready! Come here and eat!”

The girls scampered off toward the other direction, giggling about something you couldn’t quite catch. You saw them practically shout a greeting at Wonbin before bursting into a fit of giggles and running further away. 

You turned toward the picnic mat, your thoughts still spinning.

“Kids! Binnie!” Gram called again, waving him over. “Come on, let’s eat!”

Wonbin straightened, brushing sand from his hands before jogging up the beach. The sunlight glinted off his skin, drawing your gaze before you could stop yourself. Heat crept up your neck again.

He reached the mat and, without hesitation, plopped down next to you, his damp hair falling casually over his shoulder.

“You’re here too,” he said, smiling at you before grabbing a bottle of water. He seemed completely at ease, oblivious to the turmoil running through your mind. You could only offer a forced smile.

Lunch was a lively affair, the mat spread under the shade of a large tree, bowls and plates of food passed around as conversations overlapped. The elders were particularly chatty, most of their attention—unsurprisingly—focused on Wonbin.

“You know, our Binnie here was top of his class in university,” one of the grandmothers boasted, nudging the woman beside her. “Always so clever.”

“And so hardworking,” another added, her tone exaggerated in a way that felt suspiciously rehearsed. “Had all sorts of offers after graduation. He even worked in Seoul for a bit.”

“Yeah, I did hear he was… golden,” Seola, the teacher, said with an obvious tone of feigned interest. It looked as though this wasn’t the first time she was hearing it. 

You, on the other hand, narrowed your eyes slightly. There was something oddly deliberate about how they were talking about him, as if… as if they were trying to sell him. You caught the way Seola glared at Wonbin as if begging him to make them stop.

Binnie–or, err—Wonbin, sitting beside you, seemed completely unfazed. He took a sip of water, then casually met your gaze. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

You blinked, realizing that you had been staring. “I was just wondering why they’re talking about you like you’re a prized cow.”

Wonbin nearly choked on his drink, turning away with a cough. Beside him, one of the elders clapped her hands together, unaware of your remark. “And! He’s very good with children,” she announced, nodding toward the group of kids playing nearby. “They all adore him.”

Seola chuckled. “That’s rare. Most guys aren’t patient enough with kids.” 

“Exactly!” The older woman beamed. “That’s why any girl would be lucky to have him.”

Your eyes flickered to Wonbin, curious as to how he’d react, but he was busy picking the green onions out of his soup. As if this whole matchmaking attempt had nothing to do with him.

You stifled a laugh. “You seem very popular, Wonbin.”

“Mm,” he hummed in agreement, looking at you. “Are you convinced?”

“What?”

“That I’m a catch.” He tilted his head, the corner of his lips twitching up just slightly.

Your chopsticks hovered over your plate. The way he said it was so casual, but something about his tone made your stomach flutter.  

You masked it with an eye-roll. “I don’t know. You don’t seem all that impressive to me.”

Gram clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she picked up a piece of grilled fish and placed it onto your plate. “Clearly, you need to spend more time with him.”

“Gram?” you questioned, genuinely perplexed by the insinuation in her tone.

The lunch continued in the same direction, the elders throwing more praises, Seola responding with polite interest, and Wonbin humoring them without ever actually engaging. It was almost funny how unfazed he was—until you caught a few of the older women exchanging glances as if they were mentally taking notes on how both you and Seola were responding.

Oh god. They weren’t just selling Wonbin. They were matchmaking him.

You needed some air.

You slipped away from the group, stepping onto the shore where the waves lapped at your feet. The realization of the past hour was still in your mind—not just about the elders’ intentions but also the fact that your whole perception of Wonbin had shattered today, and you didn't know what to do with that yet. 

You needed a minute. Just one minute to figure out how to act normal again. Of course, that was when he appeared beside you. “Escaping?” asked Wonbin, grinning.

You glanced at him, and immediately regretted it—he was still very shirtless and very ‘not-a-girl’. The image of him getting out of the water was still too fresh and unhelpfully vivid. “You too?”

“Sort of.” Wonbin fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets, letting the wind ruffle his damp hair. “Figured you’d need company.”

You didn’t answer right away. The sand was cool and uneven under your feet, and you focused on that instead of the question sitting in your throat. He didn’t fill the silence either, he just walked, patient in that infuriating way he always was.

You opened your mouth twice before anything came out.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally said. “And you have to promise not to make it weirder than it already is.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bad start.”

“Wonbin.”

His steps faltered, surprised for some reason. You paused too, long enough to hear him say, “So you knew my name but kept calling me Binnie like the old ladies?”

You rolled your eyes and continued walking. “That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about.”

Wonbin followed. “Alright. I promise not to make it weird,” he said. Though the corner of his mouth was already twitching, like he suspected this would be worth breaking that promise for.

You dragged in a breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a guy?”

This time, he didn’t just stop walking, his whole body seemed to have short-circuited mid-step. “What?”

“The whole time.” You weren’t looking at him anymore, eyes fixed hard on the waterline. “I thought you were a girl. Maybe a little masculine, rough around the edges, but a girl. I’ve been calling you 'Binnie' this whole time and that’s not even your real name and you just—never said anything.”

Silence. You risked a glance. His expression had gone somewhere past confusion, into something almost stricken. “Wait.” He turned to face you fully now, brows knitted so hard it looked painful. “You thought I was a girl?”

“A very beautiful girl,” you confessed, feeling heat crawl up your neck.

He dragged a hand down his face. A short, disbelieving laugh escaped him, like it had been startled out of his chest. “How? How does that even—”

“Don’t blame me.” You crossed your arms, mostly to have somewhere to put your hands. “You’re the one walking around looking like a fairy every day.”

“For weeks?”

You had no response to that, so you settled for glaring at the ocean instead.

He was quiet for a moment, and you braced yourself for it to be the bad kind of quiet—the kind where he was recalculating every conversation you’d ever had, every time you must have said something humiliating without knowing it. Your stomach dropped at the thought.

But when you dared to look at him again, his shoulders had started shaking. Not with anger. With something closer to helpless, disbelieving laughter, the kind that seemed to catch him off guard as much as it did you.

“Oh my god,” he said, mostly to himself. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not that funny.”

“It is a little funny.” He shook his head, still huffing out small laughs, like he couldn’t quite stop them. “You really just—decided. And ran with it.”

You scoffed. “I’m done talking about this.”

You turned to leave and Wonbin followed. You’d expected him to keep talking about it, but he didn’t. He just continued laughing heartily beside you. 

You walked in silence after that, waves curling cool around your ankles, the voices from the group fading further behind you. Every so often you caught him glancing sideways at you, like he was still turning the whole thing over, still not quite done being stunned by it.

Finally, he exhaled, shaking his head one more time. “Park Wonbin. A girl.”

“I’d say I’m sorry,” you offered, “but—”

“But you’re not.”

“Not even a little.”

He let out a sharp laugh—different from before, less shock now and more something warmer underneath it. You had the distinct feeling this was not something he was going to let go of anytime soon.

The next morning, Wonbin was heading downtown for an errand, and Gram suggested you go with him. “You should get out more,” she said, nudging your arm. “Let Bin show you around. It’ll be good for you.”

You didn’t see a reason to refuse. The town was still unfamiliar, and a trip to the market sounded more productive than another slow morning at the guest house. Plus, you figured you might as well start your car after letting it sit idle for so long.

Which was how you found yourself in the passenger seat, watching as Wonbin adjusted the mirrors before smoothly pulling out onto the road. He drove leisurely, one hand resting on the wheel, his other elbow propped against the window.

By the time you reached the market, the streets were busy. Stalls lined the sidewalks, vendors calling out to passersby, with the scent of fresh produce, grilled food, and sweet treats. Wonbin was greeted warmly at every turn, engaging in small talks with vendors who seemed genuinely happy to see him. He was polite, smiling when an elderly woman at a vegetable stand patted his arm and called him “our handsome Wonbin.”

Then she turned to you. “And who is this?” she asked with a teasing smile. “Have you finally brought a girlfriend home, Binnie?”

Before you could react, Wonbin laughed. “She’s not my girlfriend, but she wished she was.”

“No, I don’t!” you exclaimed.

“No need to be shy, dear,” the vendor said, grinning. “If I were a few decades younger, I’d wish I was his girlfriend too.”

You groaned while Wonbin bit back a laugh, handing over the money before gently steering you away.

“I can’t believe you have fans in every age group,” you scoffed.

“Well, it’s a small town,” he replied, chuckling.

After finishing the errand, Wonbin led you to a small café tucked between two shops. The place had a cozy charm—wooden tables, hanging plants, and an old vinyl player in the corner playing soft jazz.

A man behind the counter beamed when he saw him. “Hey man. How’s it going?”

“Hi, Joon. I’ll have the usual,” he greeted, then turned to you. “You?”

You looked up at the menu hanging overhead, wondering what to order or if you wanted coffee at all.

Joon’s gaze flicked to you. “This must be the pretty guest Gram was talking about.”

You glanced at him, curious. Wonbin waved a hand. “Yeah. She doesn’t get out much. I’m showing her around town.”

“You should come more often. We make the best coffee in town,” Joon said proudly. “Not that there are any other coffee shops around,” he added, chuckling. “What can I get you?”

“Uh, I’ll have what he’s having,” you said, smiling politely at him.

“Coming right up!”

Wonbin led you to a vacant table by the window. “You come here often?” you asked.

“Now and then.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from you, resting his forearm against the table. “The owner, Joon’s mom, used to sneak me free pastries when I was a kid. I feel obligated to keep giving her business.”

Your lips quirked up. “Bribed into loyalty. Classic.”

He just laughed, watching you for a moment before asking, “What do you think of the town so far?”

You thought about it and then shrugged. “It’s charming and peaceful. Everyone seems to know each other. It’s kind of nice.”

He hummed, stirring his drink lazily. “It has its charms.”

“Well, they seem to adore you,” you noted.

He shrugged. “I’m very likeable,” he said smugly, making you laugh.

Minutes later, Joon set two iced drinks on your table before slipping away. You took a sip and raised a brow. “Oh, this is sweet. Vanilla latte?”

Wonbin nodded. “Decaf. You don’t like sweets?”

“I do,” you admitted. “But I didn’t peg you as the type.”

Wonbin took a sip of his own drink. “And what type did you think I was?”

You tilted your head, pretending to analyze him. “Black coffee. No sugar. Maybe a shot of espresso if you’re feeling adventurous.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Do I look like I hate myself?”

You laughed. “No, but,” you shrugged, making him smirk.

“I’ll have you know I like nice things. Why would I suffer through bitter coffee when I could enjoy this?” He lifted his drink in emphasis.

You smirked. “So you have a sweet tooth.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Do you care what I think of you?” you asked back, narrowing your eyes playfully.

Wonbin just took his drink and looked out of the window, ignoring your question entirely. You didn’t press, enjoying the coffee instead and the nice ambience of the cafe.

Before heading home, Wonbin made one last stop at the grocery store. It was bigger than you expected, with stocked shelves and a steady flow of customers.

“You work here?” you asked as you followed him inside.

He nodded. “I own it…” He paused, thinking for a second. “Well, not really. It was my grandpa’s. After he passed, someone had to take over.”

You paused, surprised. “I’m sorry. Is that why you came back?”

Wonbin didn’t answer right away. He picked up a basket, taking his time as he strolled past the produce section. “You could say that,” he said eventually, picking up a pear and examining it. “I came back because Gram would be lonely by herself. She’s old now, someone has to be here and make sure she’s alright.”

You glanced at him, noting how his expression didn’t change, but something about his voice softened.

“She still works at the pear farm,” he added, shaking his head fondly. “She said she’d go crazy if she had nothing to do, so someone has to be around to make sure she doesn’t overdo it.”

Hearing that made you feel like you understood them both a little more. The quiet life they had here, the small routines that kept them moving forward—it all made sense now. You became more curious about them, but you didn’t want to pry, so instead of asking, you just took what he told you and left it at that.

As you trailed behind him, your gaze landed on the skincare aisle. “Alright, spill. Which one is it?”

Wonbin followed your line of sight, then let out a dramatic sigh. “Are you still on this?”

“You’re ridiculously pretty,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s only fair that I find out how.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, then reached out, grabbed a random product, and handed it to you. “Here.”

You examined the label. “This is a body wash.”

“Exactly.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re lying.”

He smirked. “You’ll never know.”

“And if I sneak into your bathroom later?”

He stuck his tongue in his cheek, then smirked before saying, “I guess I'll see you there, then. I take really long showers at night, you see.”

You blinked rapidly, surprised at the sudden turn of the conversation. Clearing your throat, you put the bottle back and turned away. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”

The days that followed were more eventful than the previous ones. You still helped Gram around the guesthouse, still found time to sit outside with her in the afternoons, listening to the occasional stories she decided to share. But now, there was something different about your days—Wonbin.

He wasn’t just around anymore. He was in your space, in your routine, slipping into your life as if he had always been there. Like how he took it upon himself to be your unofficial tour guide, showing up outside the guesthouse just as you were about to head out.

“Where are you going?” he’d ask.

“I’m not sure, but I’m going around town again today,” you’d say, tossing your bag over your shoulder.

His eyes would glint with amusement. “You’ll get lost.”

“No, I won’t.”

But you always did. Turning one too many corners in the winding streets, ending up somewhere you hadn’t planned. And somehow, Wonbin was always there, lounging by a store or leaning against a wall like he’d been waiting for you the whole time.

“You have a terrible sense of direction,” he’d say, grinning.

“Well, you have too much free time,” you’d shoot back, but you never minded when he fell into step beside you.

He took you everywhere. To the best lookout point in town, where the cliffs met the endless blue of the sea. To the hills, where wildflowers bloomed in untamed clusters, swaying lazily under the afternoon sun. To the pear farm, where you met Gram’s friends—hardworking women who took one look at you and started teasing.

“She’s the one staying at the guesthouse?” one of them asked Wonbin, squinting at you. “You’re showing her around, aren’t you?”

“Something like that,” Wonbin replied, glancing your way with a smirk.

“Ah, what a handsome pair,” the woman sighed dramatically. “You look great together. You’d make the most beautiful babies.”

You choked on your own breath while Wonbin just laughed, handing you a pear like nothing happened.

There was also the day he dragged you onto a boat. It wasn’t planned. You had only gone to the dock to look around, but Wonbin had other ideas.

“Ever gone boating?” he asked.

You eyed him warily. “No.”

“Great.” That was your only warning before he pulled you toward a small boat, casually untying it from the dock.

“Wait—what if I get seasick?” you protested.

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“We’ll find out when we get there,” he chuckled, offering a hand to help you board the boat.

You hesitated, but you took his hand anyway. He had never done anything to disappoint you so far, so you trusted him. And despite your initial wariness, you had to admit—it was nice. The air was crisp, the water was calm, the reefs below were beautiful, and the silence between you was comforting.

At one point, Wonbin leaned back against the bow of the boat, stretching his arms before making a pillow of his hands. “You like it here, don’t you?”

You glanced at him. “I do.”

He grinned. “I’d bet fifty bucks you'll never leave.”

You scoffed. “Never leaving is a stretch. Maybe I’d never want to, but I will anyway because I have to.”

Wonbin flashed a mischievous smile as if you had just challenged him. “A hundred, then. You will never want to leave, and you never will. You’ll fall in love with a very eligible and very charming man, get married and have beautiful babies. Then you’ll spend your life with him in this beautiful town.”

You furrowed your brows, then stared at him skeptically like you couldn't believe he just said that. Wonbin’s grin never wavered.

“Looks like you’ve been watching too much TV with the ladies. You’re starting to cook up very unrealistic storylines.”

“What’s so unrealistic about that?”

“The whole thing,” you retorted, scoffing. “Especially the ‘very eligible and very charming man’ part.”

“Okay, so bet,” he challenged. “Since you're so confident that I'm wrong.”

You rolled your eyes. “You're ridiculous.”

“Are you gonna play or not?”

“No,” you replied without missing a beat. “I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Wonbin sighed nonchalantly, leaning back down. “Fine. But I know I’m right.”

You didn't say anything to that. Was he right? About falling in love and getting married? Oh, no, he's wrong about that.

But what about leaving this place? You weren’t sure. You knew you will eventually, but the thought of leaving this wonderful place hasn't crossed your mind yet.

More importantly, you weren't sure when it happened, but somewhere between juicy pears and getting lost in town, between late afternoon coffees and spontaneous boat rides, you had started to enjoy his company. And maybe he had started to enjoy yours, too.

That afternoon, as you and Wonbin strolled back home, he glanced at you and asked, “Are you free tonight?”

You arched a brow. As if he doesn’t already know the answer to that, right? “Why?”

“It’s Joon’s birthday,” he said. “He’s having a small party at the café. Just us and some friends. He invited you too.”

You hesitated. “He did?”

Wonbin smirked. “He mentioned it the other day. Did you forget?”

You did remember Joon casually saying something about it, but you hadn’t thought much of it at the time. A small celebration at the café didn’t sound bad, and truthfully, you weren’t opposed to seeing other people your age, too. Most of the people you’d seen around were old enough to be your grandparents.

“Alright,” you said. “I’ll come.”

“Good. We can go together.”

Later that evening, you followed Wonbin to the café, which was livelier than usual. Warm lights glowed from the ceilings, the scent of coffee still permeating the air though none of it was being served now. All you could see on the table were bottles of soju and beer, spicy and fried food, and a cake sitting at the center.

The small space had been rearranged to fit a gathering, with a handful of tables pushed together. A few people were already there, chatting, laughing, clinking glasses. Most of them seemed around your age, and it didn’t take long to notice that many of them were couples.

“Wonbinnie hyung!” Joon’s voice rang out the moment you stepped inside. He grinned, wiping his hands on a towel before pulling him into a quick hug. Then he turned to you. “And look who actually came. Finally.”

You scoffed. “Happy birthday, Joon. And I do go outside, you know.”

“Only because Wonbin drags you everywhere,” he teased, earning a snicker from Wonbin himself. “Come in. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

You met a few of Wonbin’s friends. You barely remembered their names, but it didn’t take long to notice that most of them had grown up together—and many had ended up marrying each other. Seola was also there, curled up beside a guy, her arm draped lazily over his.

“I’m glad you came,” she said. “Joon said he invited you, but I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show.”

You shrugged. “Figured I should experience the town’s nightlife at least once.”

Seola laughed. “This is about as lively as it gets.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “So, you and Wonbin, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not this again.”

“What? You don’t like him?”

“He’s fine, but he annoys me a lot.”

She laughed. “That’s how you know he likes you.”

Before you could protest, Joon clapped his hands together. “Alright, drinks are on me tonight. Eat, drink, have fun!”

“Happy birthday, Joon!”

The evening unraveled in a blur. There was food, laughter, and lots of conversation. At some point, someone turned on music, and people started to sway along. Wonbin stuck to your side for most of the night, occasionally teasing you, occasionally offering you bites of his cake as if you didn’t have your own. You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until a few guests started nodding off in their seats, the conversations had grown louder, and the laughter became more unrestrained over the clinking of bottles and half-finished drinks.

Joon was already passed out on the table by the time you and Wonbin decided to leave. His friends—still rowdy despite the late hour—bid you both a noisy farewell, slurring words and waving exaggeratedly as they walked you out the café doors.

The night air greeted you like a sigh of relief, cool against your warmed skin. You stretched your arms above your head, exhaling contentedly. “It’s nice out.”

Wonbin hummed in agreement, stuffing his hands into his pockets as the two of you strolled down the quiet village road. “Yeah. I should thank you for coming tonight. Because of you, I wasn’t assigned to take care of Joon. He gets drunk so quickly and I have to clean up after him most of the time.”

You laughed, tilting your head toward him. “You’re welcome? I guess? I thought he could hold his liquor because he kept insisting he could outdrink everyone.”

“Well, he’s also the best liar among all of my friends too, so…” he replied, making you chuckle. The alcohol had settled pleasantly in your system, making it easy to laugh at whatever nonsense he spewed.

“You held your liquor pretty well,” he remarked, side-eyeing you with a smirk.

You grinned. “I have a high tolerance.”

“Almost as high as mine.”

“Almost?” You scoffed. “I was drinking at your pace all night, and I’m still standing. Do you see me stumbling into ditches or tripping over my own feet?”

Wonbin smirked, challenging. “Well, not yet.”

You gasped, feigning offence. Eager to prove him wrong, you stepped ahead, turning to walk backward easily. Arms spread wide, you gave him a smug grin. “Look at that. Not tripping.”

That made him laugh and shake his head fondly as he beckoned you back to his side. “Alright, fine. You can walk.”

“I’m not even drunk at all,” you said, falling into step beside him.

“Yeah? How’s your balance?” he asked, just before his shoulder knocked into yours.

You stumbled a step but caught yourself with a huff. Fine—if that was how he wanted to play it. You leaned into your next stride and nudged him back, harder than necessary. He barely swayed, the smug smile on his lips not budging either, and came back with a shoulder nudge that nearly sent you sideways for real this time.

“Oh, it’s like that?” You planted both hands against his side and shoved with everything you had.

He didn’t move an inch. Of course he didn’t—all that broad-shouldered, easy strength probably came standard with the whole town-golden-boy package, unfairly. 

You were still bracing to shove him again when he moved first, closing whatever distance was left and catching you by the shoulders instead, pulling you flush against him.

The sudden closeness sent a jolt through you—not from surprise, but from the solid warmth of him, the faint smell of his skin, close enough that you could feel him breathing.

And you didn’t pull away.

Maybe it was the alcohol making you more uninhibited, or maybe you simply wanted this too. You weren’t sure, but you didn’t want to think about it too much.

Neither of you spoke,as you both continued walking. His hands remained firm on your shoulders, like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. And you basked in the warmth of it, not even noticing that you were gradually leaning closer against him.

But then a sharp bark split through the silence, making you both flinch and pause. Your heart was picking up pace, already expecting what you were about to find as soon as you glance over your shoulder.

And there it was. A dog, standing behind a fence nearby, watching you both with bloodshot eyes, still growling slightly. You held your breath, staring back at it. Then it barked once more, and you squealed.

“Run,” said Wonbin, but you were already bolting.

The two of you raced through the empty streets, feet pounding against the road, breathless laughter echoing into the night. He nearly overtook you, but you darted ahead at the last second, reaching the guesthouse gate just before he did.

Panting, you turned to gloat—only to freeze when you realized how close he had stopped. Face-to-face, no, face-to-chest with Wonbin, who was also catching his breath. You stood there, chest rising and falling, staring at each other in the dim glow of the streetlamp. 

He looked ethereal under the yellow light, his hair slightly tousled from the wind, his lips parted as he exhaled. There was something almost dreamlike about the way he gazed at you, his eyes dark and unreadable, as if he were seeing something in you he hadn’t before.

The cool night air did nothing to ease the heat creeping up your skin. You were still drunk, or maybe just lightheaded from the run, but it was hard to focus on anything except how close he was—how easily he could reach for you if he wanted to.

“You’re staring,” he murmured.

Maybe you were. But you were also a little drunk. And he was very, very handsome.

So you said it. “You’re so handsome.”

This wasn’t the first time you’d told him that, but this time, he didn’t laugh like he usually did. Instead, he stared at you with a soft expression on his face. Then, slowly, his eyes dipped lower, stopping on your lips. You did the same, your eyes landing on his plump lips, so pretty, so inviting.

For the first time, the thought crossed your mind.

What would it feel like to kiss him?

Would he be slow about it, teasing? Would he pull you in lazily, like it wasn’t anything special? Or would it be something else—something that would leave you breathless and light-headed?

“We should get inside,” he said, eyes still fixed on your lips.

You nodded. But neither of you moved. He didn’t touch you, but you felt it anyway—the intensity of his gaze, the way he stared at your lips.

Would he kiss you if you leaned in first? The thought was dangerous. But you couldn’t help it, not when he looked at you like that, like he was thinking the same thing.

Wonbin exhaled deeply, like he had just come to a decision. He took a slow step toward you to close the distance and your entire body awoke with anticipation. Just as he was about to reach for your face, the gate rattled loudly.

Both of you jumped as it swung open, revealing a very awake, very confused Gram. “What are you two doing standing there?” she asked, peering at you both suspiciously.

Wonbin, ever the smooth talker, recovered first. “We were just about to go inside, Gram.”

Gram squinted at him before clicking her tongue. “If you’re gonna flirt with our guest, at least do it inside where it’s warm.”

Your face heated instantly. “We weren’t—”

“Mm-hmm,” she cut you off, unimpressed. “Come on in, it’s late.”

She turned, leaving the gate open for you to follow. You swallowed, glancing back at Wonbin who was watching you with a knowing glint in his eyes. Then, with a slight smirk, he gestured toward the door.

“After you,” he murmured.

You weren’t entirely sure what had just happened between you. But you had a feeling it wasn’t nothing.

You had barely finished setting down Gram’s breakfast tray when she sighed and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “I swear, I feel fine,” she insisted, but the slight rasp in her voice and the warm touch of her skin told a different story.

“Gram, you have a fever.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “A slight fever never kills anyone.”

“Should I take you to a clinic?” you asked, but she shook her head.

“No need. I just need some rest,” she said, patting your hand. At that moment, Gram’s friends arrived with hearty chatter and warm smiles.

“How are you feeling?” one of them asked, squinting at Gram sprawled on the couch.

“I’m fine, but I’m worried about Binnie. He’s at the farm handling the inventory today, but it’s too much for one person,” Gram said, sighing almost too dramatically.

“Oh no, the poor boy,” said another who turned to you with a suspicious grin on her lips. “You should go help him.”

Another grandma agreed. “Oh, my. Yes, dear. You should.”

You hesitated. “I don’t wanna leave Gram alone—”

“She won’t be alone. We’re here,” said another, already nudging you out of the way.

“Go on, dear. Fret not.  We’ll take care of her. We’ll make her soup.”

“She’ll be fine. You think we don’t know how to take care of one of our own?”

You hesitated, looking back at Gram, but she only chuckled weakly. “Go on. You’ll be more useful there than fussing over me.”

So you went. Wonbin looked genuinely surprised when you arrived at the farm. He was sitting on a crate with a clipboard in one hand and a pen on the other. He took one look at you and cocked his head.

“Hi. What are you doing here? How’s Gram?”

“She’s fine, her friends came over. She sent me here to help,” you said, brushing past him. “Said you had too much to do alone.”

Wonbin snorted. “Did she now?” He leaned back, arms crossed. “Was it her or the other women?”

You frowned. “Um, all of them? Why does it matter?”

He smirked. “You’ve been tricked.”

“Tricked?”

“They’ve been trying to marry me off for years. This is exactly the kind of thing they’d do. Trick a poor, unsuspecting woman into spending time alone with me."

“Excuse me?” You blinked, thrown off. “And you just… let them?”

“They mean well. Just desperate to see me settled. Been at it for about four years now. And there’s not much I can do.” He shrugged, tapping the pen against the clipboard. “Besides, it doesn’t happen often. There aren’t that many women around my age who are still single. So when someone new shows up, they start getting ideas. Poor Seola kept getting baited on her first week here.”

That sent a rush of heat up your neck. You looked away, pretending to inspect the baskets of pears stacked nearby. “Well, sorry to disappoint them, but I’m only here to help.”

“Right,” he said, his voice laced with something teasing. “Strictly business.”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “Strictly business.”

“You’re not here thinking about how you almost kissed me a few nights ago.”

“Excuse me?” you gasped, indignant. You pointed a finger at him. “You almost kissed—” then pointed the finger at your chest— “me. Get your facts straight!”

Wonbin chuckled but didn’t push it further. Instead, he handed you a clipboard and gestured toward the stacks of wooden crates. “If you insist on helping, you can double-check these counts while I finish up the rest.”

You huffed but took the clipboard anyway, moving toward the crates while he returned to his own work. The quiet stretched between you—not uncomfortable, but filled with a hyper-awareness that had been there for days now, ever since that one drunken moment outside the guest house.

You focused on counting and scribbling notes, but every so often, you caught glimpses of Wonbin moving nearby. He worked with efficiency, sleeves rolled up, hands deftly sorting through the inventory. The sunlight filtering through the trees left patterns over his skin, making him look almost too picturesque for a man just organizing pears.

At one point, you were so absorbed in pretending not to be aware of him that you lost your footing, nearly stumbling over a crate. Wonbin glanced up from where he was standing, just as you had steadied yourself.

“Careful,” he said, smirking. “Wouldn’t want Gram’s ‘strictly business’ helper to break something.”

You shot him a glare. “I tripped over a crate. Nothing to break here.”

He smirked. “Still, I’d be devastated if you got hurt on my watch. What would the old ladies say? Probably accuse me of mistreating my future wife.”

You groaned. “Can you not bringing that up?”

“Why? Does it bother you?”

Yes. Maybe. A little. You weren’t sure. But instead of answering, you tossed a pear at him. He caught it effortlessly, turning it over in his hand.

“You’re very defensive,” he mused, biting into the pear.

“I am. And I'm not ashamed of it,” you shot back, before returning to your clipboard.

The work continued. He teased you every  now and then and you’d retort but mostly tried to drown him out. By the time you finished your part of the task, you felt the kind of exhaustion that wasn’t just physical.

Wonbin stretched, rolling out his shoulders. “I think that’s good for today.”

“Great,” you said, setting down your clipboard. “Then I’ll—”

Before you could finish, rain started falling. It was so sudden that you both stood there for a second, blinking up at the sky as the cool droplets hit your skin. Soon, you realized it wasn’t stopping, and Wonbin nudged your arm.

“Run to the warehouse,” he said, pointing to the warehouse which looked so far away. “Go,” he repeated, and you started running.

You reached it in no time, but not without getting soaked. Inside, the space was dry, the scent of cardboard boxes and ripened pears filling the air. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking off the water clinging to your skin. Wonbin leaned against the doorway, watching the rain with furrowed brows.

He glanced at you a few moments later. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, rubbing your arms. “The weather was so nice today. I didn’t think it would rain.”

“Well, the weather likes to be unpredictable sometimes,” he said, gaze drifting over you before he reached for something on a nearby shelf—a folded blanket. He tossed it over your shoulders without a word.

You blinked. “Where did that come from?”

“Emergency stash,” he said simply. “Most of the workers here are old women. They prepare for anything and everything.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, pulling it tighter around yourself.

Wonbin just hummed, still watching the rain. And for a while, neither of you spoke. The world outside was misty and gray, but in here, it was warm and quiet. The warehouse was fairly large, but the space between you felt small. And it may be because the place was packed with endless crates of pears and shelves of pear products.

You weren’t sure how long you stood like that before he turned toward you fully, head tilting slightly as he studied you.

“You really don’t mind being here, do you?” he mused.

You frowned. “Well, I didn’t but if I had known it would rain, I wouldn’t have come up here at all.”

He chuckled. “No, I meant in this town. At the guesthouse. Helping out on some pear farm.”

You thought about it, about the slow mornings, the sense of peace you’d been trying to chase, the way you’d felt so much more at ease these days.

“I don’t mind,” you admitted, leaning back against the wall. “It’s… nice. No deadlines to chase. No stuck-up superiors breathing down my neck. No endless stack of workload to bury my face in.” You sighed in relief, smiling absentmindedly. “It’s really nice.”

“What happened?” he asked, joining you in your corner. “Back in the city?”

“It’s nothing,” you shrugged. “I’m just taking a break from corporate life.”

“I see,” he replied, unconvinced but knew better than press for answers you weren’t ready to share.

The rain was coming down harder now, drumming against the roof of the warehouse and soaking the ground outside. You could hear the soft trickle of water running off the edges of the roof, pooling into the dirt. The crates of pears sat forgotten outside, and you wondered if they’d be fine, though seeing Wonbin not worrying about it made you assume they would be.

You noticed how Wonbin shivered slightly, damp clothes clinging to his skin. “Cold?” you asked.

He shook his head, but you could tell he was lying. You scooted closer to him and draped the blanket over his shoulder, too. It was then that you realized that it was a small blanket, just enough to wrap around you but too small for the two of you.

Wonbin chuckled. “Thanks, but I don’t think this is helping.”

“Right?” you replied, chuckling.

He shifted slightly, lifting one arm and draping it over your shoulder. You hesitated at first, but you let him pull you closer, letting the warmth of his body seep into yours. He rubbed your arm with his hand, squeezing gently in an attempt to fight the cold against your skin. It worked, though not well enough.

“How long do you think this rain will last?” you asked, slowly leaning against his chest.

Wonbin hummed, and you felt his chest vibrate. “Not too long, I think. An hour at most. Maybe half.”

“My car is just down the hill. I should have driven it all the way up here,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

“You didn’t know this would happen,” he said, rubbing your shoulder. “Did you see my truck down there? I didn’t drive up, too.”

You chuckled, pulling away to look at him. You were gonna say something, but the way he was looking at you made you hold your breath.

His gaze was steady, searching, as if something was fascinating about your face. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He just looked, and something about it sent a slow, burning heat in your chest. Your gaze drifted lower. His lips were slightly parted, and you knew—just as you had known that night outside the guesthouse—that this was going to happen.

You weren’t sure who moved first. One moment, there was space between you; the next, Wonbin was leaning in, and your fingers had curled against the fabric of his shirt. His lips met yours. A slow, quick peck. Barely a kiss at all—just a taste. But then you exhaled, and he was kissing you again, properly this time.

Soft and lingering like he was savoring the moment, like he had thought about it and now that it was happening, he didn’t want to rush. His lips were warm, even with the cold outside. You responded without thinking, tilting your head, pressing closer. Your fingers tightened in his shirt. He hummed against your lips, low and pleased, his other hand finding the small of your back and pressing you closer. The blanket slipped from your shoulders, but you barely noticed.

Wonbin angled his head, his hand sliding up to your jaw, thumb stroking just under your ear. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing you into parting for him. A quiet sound escaped you, something between a sigh and a gasp, and that was all it took for him to press you back against wall, his body flush against yours.

The heat between you burned hotter than the cold rain. His hands roamed, brushing over the curve of your hips, slipping under the hem of your shirt to find the warmth of your skin. You gasped against his mouth at the sensation, fingers tightening in his shirt.

He took that as encouragement. His lips left yours only to trail lower, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You shivered—not from the cold, but from the way he touched you. Your own hands moved, pushing beneath his damp shirt, palms pressing against his stomach. He let out a quiet, surprised laugh before he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier.

The rain outside blurred into nothing. It was just him. His lips, his hands, the heat of him against you. But then, he stopped, pulling away just enough to look at you. His fingers flexed against your waist, as if holding himself back. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, exhaling sharply as he asked, “Is this okay?”

The words sent a jolt through you, cutting through the haze of heat and desire clouding your thoughts. Your pulse pounded in your ears, and for the first time since kissing him, you could hear the rain again—the steady downpour, the distant rumble of thunder.

Reality came crashing in, making you pull back slightly with a shaky breath. Your hands gripping his shirt loosened. His gaze searched yours, unreadable but patient. He was waiting.

“I…” You swallowed, looking away. “We shouldn’t.”

There was a second of silence, Wonbin’s hand leaving your waist and reaching up to tuck stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then he planted a soft kiss on your forehead and said, “Okay.”

You weren’t sure if the cold you felt now was from the rain or from something else entirely. But it was gone as soon as he pulled you into a hug.

“But we can do this, right?”

You chuckled lightly, closing your eyes and basking in his warmth. “Yeah,” you replied, wrapping your arms around him too. “Yeah, we can.”

You tossed and turned all night, replaying every moment at the warehouse. The way his lips felt against yours, the way he touched you with veneration, the addicting heat that had consumed you. All of it.

It was just the heat of the moment, you told yourself. Just a fleeting lapse of judgment, nothing more. But the longer you lay there, the more you realized you were lying.

You wanted it. You liked it. And you liked Wonbin.

It wasn’t just your imagination. You didn’t imagine the way your heart raced when he kissed you. You didn’t imagine the sparks of pleasure dancing on your skin when he touched you. You didn’t imagine the way you melted in his arms when he held you close until the rain stopped.

You were still trying to come to terms with it when you heard faint voices outside. Curious, you pushed yourself up and peered through the window.

Outside, it was the early hours of dawn. In the dim dawn light, Wonbin stood with Gram by the shed, lifting the lids off large clay crocks. Even though you couldn’t hear them, it wasn’t hard to guess what they were doing—Gram was transferring kimchi into a large container, with Wonbin helping her.

As if sensing your gaze, he suddenly glanced up and caught you watching. You froze when his gaze met yours. But Wonbin just smiled and raised a hand in a lazy wave, which you returned sheepishly.

Then he sent kisses your way, gestured that it was still too early, and mouthed that you should go back to sleep. Clearly, he had no idea you hadn’t slept a wink yet.

You huffed but nodded anyway, and just as you pulled back from the window, you heard Gram say something. Wonbin turned to her, his head tilting in mock innocence, and you could imagine her scolding him for slacking off. Smiling to yourself, you shut your window and crawled back into bed.

As expected, you woke up late the next morning. It was almost noon, but it was the weekend, so you knew Wonbin and Gram would be home all day. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Gram told you over lunch that he had gone to the city to visit his parents. You only nodded in response, pretending it didn’t affect you. But as the day stretched on, you found yourself missing him.

Which was stupid.

He was just a guy—a good-looking guy, yes, but that didn’t mean anything. Good-looking guys had a way of making you think you liked them when you really didn’t. Besides, liking Wonbin wasn’t part of the plan. You had come here for peace and quiet—to breathe and to heal, not to get swept up in whatever this was.

So you spent the day distracting yourself—helping Gram in the kitchen, reading in the shade, taking a walk along the shore. Anything to push thoughts of him away. The more you did, the more you convinced yourself that you didn’t like him that much.

You weren’t that attached to him. You didn’t care that he wasn’t around, didn’t notice the way the day felt quieter without him. You weren’t thinking about the way he always leaned too close when he talked or how he made even the dullest moments entertaining.

Would he be back today? Tomorrow? Would he have texted you if you had exchanged numbers?

Stop it. This wasn’t you. You didn’t get flustered over a guy. You didn’t sit around waiting like some lovesick idiot. You were better than this.

You were fine. Your thoughts kept circling back to him, but you were fine. You just needed to reset. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, you’d be back to normal.

So you sat outside on the porch after dinner, telling yourself you weren’t waiting for him. You were just enjoying the evening air after a hearty meal. You weren’t glancing at the road every few minutes. You weren’t hoping he’d arrive before you ran out of reasons to stay outside.

Then, as if answering an unspoken wish, Wonbin’s pickup came rolling into view, kicking up dust along the quiet road. The second you saw it, the day seemed brighter, and your heart felt lighter, warmer.

Oh. 

So this was it. This was what it felt like to really like someone.

Wonbin parked his truck and hopped out, already smiling from ear to ear as he walked over to where you were sitting on the porch. “Waiting for me?” he asked, opening his arms as if he was waiting for you to jump into them.

You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. “No. I’m just getting some air.”

Wonbin raised his brows. “You could’ve just lied and said you were. You’re hurting my feelings here.”

“I— what?”

He sighed, pouting. “I’m hurt because you’d been on my mind all day, and I couldn’t wait to come home and see you again.”

You blinked, suddenly feeling too warm despite the cool night air. The way he said it so smoothly, so easily, like it was just a simple fact, left you scrambling for a response. But nothing came.

Neither of you spoke.

Instead, you just stood there, staring at each other in the warm porch light. He didn’t even try to laugh it off or take it back so your heart thudded a little harder, unsure what to make of this.

Then, the front door creaked open, and Gram stepped out. “Binnie, you’re back so soon,” she greeted, eyeing him up and down. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“I did,” he answered, stepping back slightly. “I picked up something to eat on my way here.”

Gram huffed. “You should get some rest, then. You must be tired. Why didn’t you just spend the night at your parents’ house? Driving back and forth like that—” She gave him a knowing look, voice lilting with mischief. “It almost seems like you were excited to come home for some reason.”

You caught the implication immediately. Wonbin did too, if the way he smirked was any indication.

“You’re right, Gram,” he said without missing a beat. Then, with a glance at you, he added, “Actually, I was wondering if I could take the reason out for a stroll.”

Gram barely spared him a glance as she waved a hand dismissively. “Do whatever you want.” She turned back toward the house, muttering, “Took you long enough.”

And just like that, she was gone. You, however, were still standing there, completely dumbfounded.

You turned to Wonbin, who was watching you with an all-too-pleased expression. He tilted his head toward the road.

“So? You coming?”

You walked in silence for the first few minutes. You were expecting Wonbin to start the conversation because, obviously, he should be the one making conversation. He should be the one to say something—he was the one who’d all but admitted the long drive home had something to do with you. So you waited, arms crossed, refusing to be the one who cracked first. 

 “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” he finally asked, leaning down slightly to peek at your face.

You turned away. “No. What would I even say to you?”

Wonbin straightened up, huffing. “I practically spelled it out for you, and you have nothing to say?”

You stopped in your tracks, exhaling sharply as you ran a hand over your nape. “Okay, what the hell is this? How about communicating clearly and more openly like grown adults  instead of whatever this is?”

Wonbin turned fully to face you. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was light when he said, “I like you.”

For a second, your mind went completely blank. You opened your mouth, then closed it, then let out a breath. “Are you sure?”

His brows furrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

“I mean—” You gestured vaguely. “It’s not just because of yesterday? Maybe it’s a momentary lapse of judgment. We kissed, and there was…” You hesitated to say it. “...a moment, and now you think you like me because of it.”

Wonbin tilted his head, then asked, “Are you drunk?”

“No.” You shot him a look. “Wonbin, I’m serious.”

He chuckled, but when he spoke again, he was serious. “No, it’s not just because of yesterday. I don’t pull something like that on just anyone. I’ve liked you for a while now.”

“Why?”

He grimaced, like he couldn’t believe you had to ask. “What do you mean why? Because I do. You’re pretty and nice. You’re smart. You’re good with kids, good with elders.” His voice was steady, without hesitation. “I’m not in love with you or anything. Not yet, at least. I just think you’re… amazing. And honestly, I wasn’t planning to act on it.”

You frowned. “Then why are you?”

“Because,” he said, watching you closely, “I think you like me too.”

Your pulse quickened. “No, I don’t,” you lied, shamelessly.

Wonbin’s grin was menacingly confident. “Yes, you do.”

You rolled your eyes and walked ahead, heading straight for the beach. He followed closely behind, undeterred. “Come on, I’m being honest here.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about that?” you asked, not even glancing back.

“Nothing. Just—” He caught up to you and slipped his hand into yours. “At least tell me you heard what I said.”

“I did.”

“So? What do you think?”

You sighed, pulling your hand back. “I haven’t thought about it yet.”

And truly, you hadn’t. Sure, you liked him too—fine, you’d admit that much, at least to yourself. But what were you supposed to do, throw yourself at him on a public beach? Announce it like some kind of press release? You didn’t even have a witty comeback ready, which was somehow the most alarming part of all this. You’d think of something. Eventually. Probably. 

That didn’t seem to discourage him, though. If anything, his smile turned triumphant. “So you’re gonna think about it?”

“Even if I do, there’s no guarantee that—”

“It’s alright,” he cut you off, grinning. “I know I can change your mind.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re making me want to reject you just to spite you.”

Wonbin laughed, his head tipping back as he did. “You can try, but you wouldn’t want to.”

That made you laugh, too, though you weren’t sure if it was because it was funny or because he was right. Either way, it didn’t matter. You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “You’re really confident, huh?”

Wonbin shrugged. “It’s not confidence. I just know I’m right.”

You scoffed, lightly kicking sand at him. He dodged with a laugh, but you caught the way he was still looking at you—like he already knew what you’d decide.

You weren't sure exactly when Wonbin decided to start his little mission, but once he did, it became impossible to ignore. Maybe it was when he started showing up more often, always finding some excuse to be around. Maybe it was when he stopped waiting to be asked—fixing the latch on your door, carrying things before you could, slipping you an extra slice of fruit without a word.

Or maybe it was the evening on the porch.

You’d been sitting there after a long day, legs stretched out, watching the sky bleed from gold to deep blue, when Wonbin appeared with two cups of tea. He handed you one without a word and sat close enough that your shoulders brushed.

You took a sip, the warmth spreading through you. “Did you make this?”

“I did,” he said, propping himself on his hands. “Gram told me you liked this kind.”

That was the moment you stopped being able to write it all off as him just being naturally charming.

Because if his actions weren’t loud enough, he made sure everyone else knew, too. Not with grand gestures—Wonbin was smoother than that. He simply let people assume what they wanted, and confirmed it with a smile.

“You’re a good kid, Wonbin,” a man at the market told him one day. “I should introduce you to my niece. She’s a lovely girl—smart, well-mannered—”

“Ah, that won’t be necessary,” he said, glancing at you. “I already have someone I like.”

The man’s gaze flickered between you both before he let out a knowing laugh. “Oh, I see. You two make a nice couple.”

Before you could open your mouth to correct him, Wonbin sighed dramatically. “I know, right? But she’s making me work for it.”

The man laughed heartily. “Well, keep at it then. You’ll soften her heart eventually.”

You fled to the next stall before he could make it worse, and it followed you there anyway—a different vendor, the same knowing eyebrow, the same questions, Wonbin sighing about how hard you were making him suffer like it was a genuine hardship and not something he clearly enjoyed. 

Even the aunties got in on it. They doted on him the way they always did—so handsome, so polite—before circling, as always, to their nieces and granddaughters. 

“You’re not seeing anyone, right, Binnie?” 

“No, but I’m trying,” Wonbin replied, nodding in your direction.

The auntie’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, dear, you should consider it. He’s a catch.”

Wonbin turned to you, smirking like that was supposed to impress you. “Hear that? I’m a catch.”

You rolled your eyes and walked off, pretending not to hear the rest of their conversation.

At the café, the barista raised an eyebrow when Wonbin ordered your drink before you could even say it.

“He’s already ordering for you,” Joon mused, sliding the cup across the counter. “Boyfriend privileges?”

Wonbin took the cup and handed it to you without missing a beat. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

You swatted his arm. “Oh my god, stop telling people that.”

“What? It’s true.” He glanced back at Joon. “She is making me work for it.”

Joon laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got a shot.”

“I know.” He flashed his friend a grin before steering you toward a table.

But despite all his teasing, despite how easy he made it seem, you could tell he meant it. The way he always lingered close, the way he took things from your hands without asking so you wouldn’t have to carry them, the way he looked at you—warm, steady, and reassuring, eyes twinkling with all the affection he’s so willing to give.

Before you know it, three months had passed and the town’s founding anniversary festival came. The celebration took place at the townhall by the beach, with tables stretched across the clearing. The scent of grilled fish and food blended with the salty breeze, and children ran barefoot across the sand, shrieking as they chased each other. It was the kind of gathering that felt timeless, a tradition that was part of the town itself.

You watched from the shade of a large tree, with a cup of warm tea in your hands. The scene before you was lively, familiar now, yet something inside you was restless.

Wonbin was at the center of it all.

You weren’t sure when you lost track of him, but now, across the clearing, you spotted him with a group of aunties fussing over him. One of them reached up to pinch his cheek, scolding him for not eating enough, and he only laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder and promising to come by for dinner next week. Not far from them, a group of kids tugged at his sleeves, demanding that he join their game. He let them drag him off with a grin, playfully ruffling a boy’s hair as they ran.

He was so at home here. And a strange feeling twisted in your chest as you took it all in—the way people naturally gravitated toward him, the way he moved through the crowd like he belonged, because he did. He had a place here, something his, something permanent.

And you… you were just passing through. A guest in their steady everyday life.

A strong breeze rustled the trees overhead, and you exhaled, as if trying to shake the thoughts away. It shouldn’t matter. You knew from the start that this was temporary, that eventually, you’d have to leave. Which was why the idea of starting something with him felt so selfish.

Across the clearing, Wonbin’s gaze caught yours and the smile that tore across his lips made your heart melt. You smiled back as he chased the kids away and started jogging toward you.

“Why do you look like that?” he asked as soon as he sat next to you.

You blinked. “Like what?”

He carefully grabbed the cup from your hand and took a sip. “Like you’re about to cry.”

You huffed, smiling sheepishly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wonbin crouched beside you, resting his forearms on his knees, watching you carefully. “You’re thinking too hard about something,” he said. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” You looked away, but he reached out, gently tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You’re a bad liar.”

You sighed. “It’s just… it’s really nice here,” you admitted, gesturing toward the gathering. “You’re really part of this town, aren’t you?”

Wonbin tilted his head. “Of course. I grew up here.”

“Exactly.” You let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “You belong here, Wonbin. This is your home. And I’m just a guest.”

He studied you for a second, then said, “Is that what this is about?”

You shook your head, but it was unconvincing, even to yourself. Wonbin exhaled, then reached up, lightly flicking your forehead. 

You winced. “Ow—what was that for?”

“For the stupid thoughts.” He rested his chin on his hand. “You think just because I’ve lived here longer, that means I belong here more than you?”

“You do, though,” you muttered.

“Maybe.” His gaze softened. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Because wasn’t that the problem? No matter how much you loved this town, it wasn’t yours. And if you started something with him, would it really be fair, knowing you’d have to leave eventually?

Wonbin must have sensed your hesitation because his lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You’re thinking too much.”

“I can’t help it,” you chuckled.

“It’s okay.” He reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Just don’t talk yourself out of liking me.”

Shaking your head with a grin, you said, “I’ll try.”

“Good,” he replied, still holding your hand, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin.

You were staring at each other when someone called your name. “Wrap it up, love birds! Come help us with the lanterns,” one of the women called, waving you over to where a group of ladies sat beneath a pavilion.

Wonbin rose to his feet, patting his knees as he said, “Go on, then.” 

But before you could pull away, he leaned in to press a quick peck to your cheek. Your skin burned as a chorus of delighted gasps and giggles erupted from the women.

“Oh my,” someone cooed.

You turned to glare at Wonbin but he was already walking away with a satisfied grin. “I’ll see you later,” he said casually like he hadn’t just done that in broad daylight, in front of an entire audience.

You inhaled sharply, willing your face to cool before reluctantly stepping toward the pavilion. It didn’t help that all eyes were on you, their grins making it painfully clear that you were about to be teased the moment you step under that shade.

“Oh, look at her,” one of them started, nudging another. “Her face is all red.”

“About time, don’t you think?” another woman drawled, folding the paper carefully over the frame. “They’ve been at it for weeks now. It’s a wonder why they’re not dating yet.”

“You’re not?” asked one, turning to you with curious eyes.

You blinked, chuckling awkwardly as you sat down. “No. We’re not.” 

You glanced around at the lanterns in progress, carefully folded and held together with thin wooden frames. “So how does this work?” you asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.

“Ah, you’ve never done this before?” one of them asked, already making space in front of you. “Here. let me show you.”

“Flying lanterns are part of the festival. Every year, we make these, light them up at night and send them out to sea,” another explained, demonstrating how to fasten the frame together. “Most people make wishes on them before letting them go.”

You nodded, watching her hands. “That’s nice.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Some people write their wishes down, but most just send them off and let fate handle the rest.”

The conversation wandered after that. The women shared stories about past festivals, about childhood memories, about their work, their families. Some had left the town for a time but eventually returned. Others had never left at all and found both their purpose and their love in this small town.

“Isn’t it funny how life works?” one of them mused. “Some of us spend years wanting to leave, only to realize later that there’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”

A few nodded in agreement, their expressions wistful. You listened quietly, fingers tracing the smooth paper of your lantern. 

You never thought about staying, not once. This town had been an escape, a peaceful pause in your fast-paced life. But somehow, it kept drawing you in. You used to feel like a visitor passing through, but then there were mornings spent sipping tea with Gram, evenings watching the fishermen return with their catch, and nights when laughter—yours and Wonbin’s—echoed through the town. Eventually, it got to a point where when you looked up, the sky was no longer unfamiliar. The people here weren’t strangers anymore.

And Wonbin…

“You know,” another woman started, glancing at you with a knowing smile, “there’s a popular myth about these lanterns.”

That got your attention. “A myth?”

“It’s probably just that, a myth with no truth to it,” she said lightly, her hands expertly tying a knot, “but it’s been passed down longer than anyone can remember."

"They say that you can make wishes when you send out a lantern, but if you send one with your lover, it’s a wish to stay together forever.”

You smiled, finding it unsurprisingly typical but cute nonetheless. “That’s… romantic.”

“That’s why couples always do it together,” another woman added, grinning. “It’s tradition.”

The first woman turned to you again. “Has Wonbin asked you to send one with him yet?”

You blinked, caught off-guard by the question. Then again, you should have expected the conversation to take this turn. Before you could answer, another woman let out a laugh. “Of course he has! He wouldn’t miss the chance.”

You pressed your lips together, knowing there was no way out of this. If you admitted that Wonbin hadn’t asked, they’d tease him mercilessly. If you denied everything outright, they wouldn’t believe you. So instead, you focused on your lantern, pretending to be engrossed in aligning the edges.

The women continued chatting around you, discussing the upcoming lantern release, while your thoughts drifted.

Wonbin hadn’t asked you to send one with him. Would he?

And if he did… would you say yes?

You waited for him to ask. Maybe it was foolish, but as the day stretched into the night and festivalgoers started making their way to the beach with lanterns in hand, you kept expecting Wonbin to turn to you and say something. An invitation, even a playful one—anything that would suggest he wanted to go together.

But he never did. And somehow, you still ended up going with him. Not that you were expecting to go with someone else.

There was a mini talent show by the beach, with townsfolk participating by singing or dancing. Wonbin had simply taken your hand and led you away from the main stage, settling on a low stone wall far from the noise of the crowd. From where you sat, the music was still within reach but the space around you was quiet.

He left to get food and returned not too long after, making you raise an eyebrow. “That was quick.”

Wonbin handed you a skewer with a smirk. “Don’t ask, just eat.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you still took the food. You talked over the hearty food. He complained about how long the lines were, you accused him of cutting them. He neither confirmed nor denied it, only smiled in that way that said maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.

At some point, his gaze drifted to the lantern resting beside you.

“Did you make that?”

You hummed, nodding. “Where’s yours?”

He stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. “I don’t need one.”

You glanced at him. “Why not?” You instinctively pushed the lanter away from him. “You are not taking mine.” 

He frowned. “Are you saying you don’t want to send one together?”

You stared at him, heat creeping up your cheeks. “WHAT?  Why would— Why—W–What are you talking about?”

Wonbin smirked teasingly. “So you already know the myth?”

You blinked but didn’t say anything. He turned his head toward you. “You’re not gonna make me go light one alone, will you?”

You scoffed, feeling annoyed now. “Is this how you’re gonna ask me to light one with you? Surely you can do better.”

“Asking is for people who don’t get what they want.”

You let out an incredulous laugh and rolled your eyes. “Have fun lighting one by yourself then.”

He hummed, seemingly satisfied. For a moment, the conversation paused, the music from a young girl singing a ballad echoed through the cool night air. The warm glow of festival lights flickered over Wonbin’s features as he watched you eat quietly, eyes fixed on the show.

Then, in a quieter voice, he said, “What would you wish for?”

That made you glance at him, looking away just as quickly when you saw the fond look in his eyes. You cleared your throat. “I don’t know. Peace, maybe.”

Wonbin chuckled. “Like world peace? That’s so generic.”

“No. Peace in my own life,” you corrected, scoffing.

He hummed. “That’s not what most people wish for.”

“Yeah? What do most people wish for?”

He leaned back on his hands again, gazing toward the dark sea. “Love, money… fame?” He smirked. “A kiss under the fireworks.”

You chuckled. “That last one sounds oddly specific.”

“Does it?” His tone was light, but his eyes flickered back to you, holding yours for a second too long.

You looked away first, exhaling. “I think peace is a good wish.”

Wonbin didn’t reply right away. “Is that why you left the city?” he asked eventually.

There it was, the question about your life and choices. Somehow, it didn’t feel as jarring as the previous times he tried to bring it up. Maybe because you wanted to tell him this time.

You pressed your lips together before answering, putting the paper plate of food on the ledge beside you. “I got fired for exposing a senior executive who sexually harassed one of my coworkers,” you began. 

“Long story short, the company protected him and I got fired. I sued for wrongful termination but my own lawyer told me to back down, saying the fight wasn’t worth it. They were too big and I was too small.”

Wonbin’s expression hardened slightly. “So you gave up?”

“I didn’t at first,” you murmured, chuckling. You were able to laugh about it now. There were days when you couldn’t even swallow anything because of how stressful it was. “But they made sure no one else would hire me. They spread rumors about me. That I leak information to rival companies. None of it was true, but in my field, something like leaking information is a big deal. It was enough to ruin me.”

Wonbin didn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenched. “That’s bullshit.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It was. But I had no choice so I took the settlement and left. I just… I wanted to be somewhere far away. I needed a temporary escape.”

“Temporary?” he echoed.

You glanced at him, only to find him still watching you intently.

You hesitated, fingers curling around the wooden frame of the lantern. You thought about the town, about the people who had unknowingly made space for you in their world. About Wonbin who had secured a place for himself in your heart. And about you who had slowly started to belong here.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I think I’m starting to change my mind.”

Wonbin didn’t speak and just watched you, his gaze steady in the lantern-lit dark. Then he leaned in, slowly. You weren’t sure if you moved too, only that suddenly he was too close, his eyes flickering to your lips. His fingers brushed over yours on the cool concrete, squeezing as he continued leaning closer.

And just when your lips were about to meet, a loud boom echoed the air, and the sky erupted into colors.

You were startled, glancing at the sky as fireworks exploded in bursts of gold and red, reflecting in your eyes. Beside you, Wonbin chuckled. “You wished for a kiss under the fireworks, didn’t you?”

You burst out laughing. “No, you did.”

He grinned, jumping down the ledge and nodding toward the crowd gathering by the beach. “Let’s go. They’re starting.”

You scrambled to grab your lantern and get down the wall. But Wonbin was already lifting you by the waist and setting you carefully on your feet. Then with your fingers intertwined, he led you down the sandy path to the beach where people were starting to light their lanterns.

And for the first time since arriving in this town, staying sounded like a really good idea.

The drive up to the pear farm was quiet, but not in a way that felt empty or awkward. Wonbin’s hand was warm against yours, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the back of your palm as he steered with his other hand.

Earlier at the beach, when the lanterns started floating into the sky, he had leaned down to whisper, “The view is better from up the hill.” 

And before you could even respond, he was already tugging you toward his truck, grinning like he knew you wouldn’t say no. And you didn’t.

Now, sitting on the rooftop of the warehouse, you could see what he meant. From here, the town stretched below, the coastline shimmering with lanterns drifting over the sea like golden fireflies. It was breathtaking.

For a while, neither of you spoke. It was much quieter than the festival down below. Up here, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. Wonbin sat close, one arm over your shoulder as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and soothing. You turned your head, wanting to say something, only to find that he was already watching you.

He smiled. “I really, really, like you. You have no idea.”

“Well,” you breathed, smiling back at him. “I really, really, like you too.”

He smirked. “I knew it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Boy, bye,” you muttered, moving to stand up but he stopped you.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, looking nowhere near sorry at all. “Don’t go.”

His fingers brushed over your cheek, light at first, as if waiting for you to stop him—but you didn’t. Instead, you nuzzled into the warmth of his hand. The slight furrow of his brows and the affection in his eyes stirred something inside you, igniting some kind of courage that made you reach for his cheek and lean forward to press a soft kiss on his lips.

A quick one. Fleeting but it left a tingling sensation on your lips, itching for more. Something flickered in Wonbin’s eyes before his lips crashed into yours in a slow, searching kiss. It wasn’t hurried or desperate, just deep, lingering, like neither of you wanted to let go. So you didn’t let go.

Wonbin kissed you like he had all the time in the world. His lips moved over yours in a way that made your breath hitch, slow and thorough, like he was memorizing you, savoring the shape of your mouth, the way you sighed against his lips.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, clinging onto him as warmth spread through you. He made a quiet sound when you pulled him closer, one hand slipping down to your waist, the other threading through your hair to tip your head back. The angle deepened the kiss and sent a shiver through you when his tongue pushed into your mouth.

You caught your breath when he pulled back slightly, eyes searching yours, his thumb tracing your jaw. Then, just as easily, his lips were back on yours, softer this time but just as insistent.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, only that at some point, you found yourself stepping down from the rooftop, hand in hand with him. The warehouse door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing the dim interior where weeks ago, something had almost happened between you. This time though, you weren’t stopping.

Wonbin glanced at you with an inquiring look in his eyes, as if asking for a confirmation to continue. But you had already made up your mind. You reached for him, and he caught you in his arms with a breathless laugh. Then his lips were on yours again.

His hands slid down your back, pressing you flush against him. The warmth of his body, and the firmness of his touch was intoxicating. His lips trailed along your jaw, down the line of your throat, lingering at the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“We can still stop if you’re not sure about this,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing.

Your fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, already half undone from when you’d tugged at it earlier. “Stopping is the last thing in my mind right now.”

That was all the permission he needed.

His lips were on you again, hungrier this time, as if something had snapped inside him. The restraint he had so carefully held onto unraveled with every touch, every kiss. Your back met the cool surface of a stack of crates, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the way his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, the way he pressed into you like he couldn’t get close enough.

His hands slid higher, slipping beneath the tight band of your bra. The heat of his palm cupped your breast, sending a new wave of warmth through you. His lips left yours to trail lower, nipping at the hollow of your throat before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. Your back arched into him before you even realized, his hands tightening at your waist in response.

“Wonbin,” you breathed before you could stop it.

He hummed in response, the sound deep and approving. His fingers brushed along your ribs, teasing the hem of your dress upward, giving you plenty of time to stop him—but you didn’t. Instead, you tugged at his shirt and yanked it from his shoulders.

You could barely see him in the dim light, but you could still make out the smooth lines of his skin, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, his smooth long hair slightly disheveled from your hands running through it.

Without a word, he lifted you off your feet and kissed you again. Your legs wrapped around his torso, arms around his neck as he walked further into the warehouse and set you down an empty worktable. 

The cold surface of the worktable sent a shiver through you, but Wonbin’s hands were warm as they slid along your thighs, pushing them apart just enough to step between them. His gaze darkened as he took you in, his fingers trailing on the bare skin beneath your dress before he pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured, almost absentmindedly, like he was too distracted by you to realize he’d said it aloud. 

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another slow, lingering kiss as his hands worked the clasp of your bra. The second it slipped from your shoulders, he palmed your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples in circles. A whimper escaped you, your back arching into him.

He lowered his head, lips parting just before he wrapped them around your nipple, sucking slowly and deeply. The warmth of his mouth sent a sharp jolt of heat through your nerves, pooling low in your stomach. 

“Wonbin,” you gasped, thighs tightening around his waist as he switched to the other, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before closing his lips around it and sucking again. He groaned, like he was savoring the taste of you, like he couldn’t get enough.

His hands slid down your back, gripping your hips, pressing you firmly against him and there was no mistaking the hard press of his erection through his jeans. The realization sent another wave of heat through you, and you bucked against him without thinking.

He grunted and pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, half-lidded eyes directed at you. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he murmured, voice rough.

You kissed him, messy and eager, before smirking against his lips. “Well, wouldn’t you love it if I did?”

“Oh, fuck you,” he breathed before laying you down the table with urgency.

Your skin prickled with anticipation as you watched him unbuckle his belt. His fingers worked quickly, shoving his jeans and boxers down just enough, freeing himself from the restraints of his clothes.

Your lips parted at the sight of him—hard, flushed, and already leaking at the tip. You felt yourself clench at nothing as he leaned over you again, hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against the damp fabric between your legs. The friction made you whimper, your thighs trembling around him.

“So sensitive,” he groaned, rolling his hips against yours, dragging himself along your clothed sex. “So soaked too.”

“Please do something about it,” you whispered, tilting your head back as his mouth found your throat, sucking at the supple skin, leaving behind a delightful sting that you knew you’d still see tomorrow.

His hands slipped into the waistband of your underwear, hooking his fingers in the fabric and dragging them down in one swift motion. The cool air against your bare skin made you shiver, but Wonbin was quick to settle between your legs again, his fingers tracing teasingly up your inner thigh.

He paused, gaze flicking up to yours, searching. You knew what he was asking. pulling him down, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. “I need you,” you whispered in his ear.

Wonbin groaned into your mouth, pressing you deeper into the table as his hands roamed your skin. His fingers trailed lower, brushing against your inner thigh before sliding between your legs. A sharp gasp left you at the first stroke of his fingers. You didn’t bother pretending to be shy, not when he was rubbing delightfully against your clit, not when your hips bucked into his touch on instinct.

Then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he pulled back. You were just about ready to protest but your voice disappeared the second he dropped to his knees.

His hands gripped your thighs, dragging you closer to the edge of the table. He looked up at you, eyes dark with something ravenous.

“Oh—” before you could form a word, his mouth was on you.

The first swipe of his tongue sent a full-body shudder through you. “Wonbin—” His name broke off into a gasp as he sucked your clit.

He hummed, satisfied, as he settled between your thighs like he belonged there, his fingers digging into your hips to keep you still—though that did little to stop the way your legs trembled around him. Then, without warning, he buried his tongue inside you, licking deep, slow, dragging obscene noises from your lips.

Your hands flew to his hair, clutching and pulling when the pleasure became too much, only for him to groan in approval, his grip tightening on you. The sounds—his mouth, your gasps, the heat—filled the empty warehouse, making your tummy coil tighter and tighter with every movement of his tongue.

“Wonbin,” you whimpered, thighs squeezing around his head. “I’m—”

“I know.” His voice was hoarse, breathless, and he didn’t stop—if anything, he doubled down, sucking harder, fingers replacing his tongue, thrusting deep, curling just right until the knot in your stomach came undone.

Your body arched off the table, waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you breathless, dazed, trembling beneath him.

Wonbin kissed his way back up your body. He lingered at your boobs, then at you collarbone and your neck, his breath warm as he whispered against your skin, “You’re beautiful like this.”

You barely had the voice to respond, still trembling from the way he’d unraveled you so effortlessly. But when his lips met yours again, you tasted yourself on his tongue, and something about that sent a fresh wave of pleasure through you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. His forehead rested against yours, his lips brushing yours with every breath. 

“Please tell me you want this,” he whispered, his voice low and unsteady. Not because he didn’t know it, but because he needed to hear it.

You cupped his jaw, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I want you, Wonbin.”

His hand slid down your thigh, lifting it higher against his waist as he positioned himself with you, moving slowly. His lips found yours again, swallowing your gasp as he pushed himself in, filling you inch by inch, stretching you in the most delightful way.

He groaned softly into your mouth, his fingers intertwining with yours beside your head as he pushed deeper, until there was no space left between you. He didn’t move right away, just held you, let you feel him, let you adjust to the feeling of him buried inside you.

“You okay?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You nodded, breath shaky, overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you—like you were something to be cherished, something to be loved.

Then he started to move slowly, deeply, like he was practicing the clench, like he never wanted to forget the way you felt around him. He kissed you between every thrust, your lips, your cheek, your jaw, anywhere he could reach—his hands never leaving yours.

“You’re trembling.”

You were. From his hands, his mouth, his manhood and the intoxicating euphoria that clouded your head and left you gasping, arching into him, chasing every movement, every moment.

And when he finally whispered your name like a prayer, you knew you were completely, utterly lost in him.

Neither of you said much on the ride home, still giddy about what had just happened but too shy to talk about it. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other holding yours, as he hummed quietly with the music from the stereo. The cool night air slipped in through the open window, carrying the faint echoes of the festival, but here, in the car, it was just the two of you.

The guest house was dark when you arrived, Gram still out enjoying the festival somewhere. You half expected Wonbin to go back to his room, but you knew he’d follow you inside yours.

“Wanna shower together?” he asked, hugging you from behind and kissing the side of your head.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “I think I’ll go by myself.”

“Oh, come on. Just say yes,” he whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Please?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Fine.” He was quick to tug you down the hall and into the bathroom. 

In the bathroom, steam floated in the air as warm water cascaded over your shoulders. Wonbin stood behind you, arms wrapped loosely around your waist. He reached for the soap, lathering it between his palms before smoothing it over your shoulders, down your arms, his touch more soothing than teasing. 

His fingers traced along your spine, his lips brushing over the back of your neck before he whispered, “Don’t get turned on. We’re just taking a bath.”

You smacked his chest, laughing as you took the soap from his hand. “Turn around.”

Like an obedient puppy, he did as he was told and you lathered the soap against his back. For a long moment, you just stood there, quietly helping each other wash up.

As you were running your fingers into his hair, Wonbin said, “You keep touching me like that, and we’re never getting out of here.”

You scoffed. “Take your mind out of the gutter.”

He grabbed your wrists gently, making you pause. “Okay, I hope you know that’s too much to ask when you’re standing here naked with me.”

“Oh my god, you’re the insatiable type, aren’t you?” you asked, shaking your head as you wriggled your hands free from his grip.

Wonbin only grinned. “Baby, every man with a working penis is insatiable.”

You scoffed, flicking water at him. “That’s so insightful. Thanks,” you said with a deadpan expression.

He smirked. “I like to think I’m a man of wisdom.”

“You’re a menace. That’s what you are.”

“Yeah? And yet, here you are. Naked again. With me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Obviously, I have bad judgment.”

“Mm. Bad judgment is agreeing to shower with me and expecting nothing to happen.” He reached for your waist, pulling you close and peppering your face with kisses.

You shoved him under the water, laughing as you said, “Cut it out.”

He slicked his hair back, letting the water rinse the soap away. “I always knew you liked me too much,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before tugging you back under the spray.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away when he reached for the loofah, running it down your arm with care. For all his teasing, he took his time with you, washing your skin with gentle strokes, like he enjoyed the act itself, not just the excuse to touch you.

At some point, his fingers found yours under the water, linking them together. You looked up to find him watching you. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. The silence, the warmth, the feeling of standing here with him in the warm light of the bathroom, it was enough.

Steam was still in the air as you stood side by side in front of the bathroom mirror, you wrapped in a towel and him shirtless with gray sweatpants. You reached for your moisturizer while Wonbin lazily brushed his teeth, watching you through the mirror.

“I saw a house for sale near the pear farm the other day,” you said casually, dabbing the product on your skin.

Wonbin hummed, dipping his head down the sink to rinse his mouth. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “It’s nice. Small, but cozy. Has a garden.”

“I know that one. Nice house. The owners moved abroad with their daughter.” He wiped his mouth with a towel.

“Do you know how much they’re selling it for?”

He capped his toothbrush and turned to face you fully. “Should be affordable. Real estate isn’t too expensive around here. Why? You interested?”

“Maybe,” you replied, shrugging.

He made a thoughtful sound, turning back to the mirror. “I won’t move in with you unless you marry me first.”

You snorted. “Don’t we technically live together already?”

“This is a guest house. That’s different,” he countered. “Buying a house is serious. I like you a lot, but I won’t spend money on a house unless we’re official official.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to him. “I have my own money, you know. I’ll buy the house myself.”

“Fine, fine.” He held up both hands in mock surrender, though the smirk didn’t budge. “I admire a strong, independent woman. Still not moving in unless you marry me, though.”

“I didn’t say I was gonna live there with you,” you said, packing your skincare products back into your pouch.

He considered this, tilting his head like he was negotiating down. “Okay. Engaged, then. Minimum.”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“A key, at least?” He was already reaching for the towel again, still toweling off his hands, still wearing that same grin, like the bit hadn’t caught up with him yet. “If you’re living in that house, I should get a key.”

He turned back to the sink, humming to himself, pleased with his own logic—

—and froze. The bathroom went quiet except for the steady trickle of water against porcelain. Slowly, he turned back to you, his brows knitting in realization, the smirk still hanging there a second too long before it finally dropped.

“Wait a minute…”

You didn’t say anything, just shrugged. His eyes widened, and he straightened, covering his mouth in mock shock. “You’re staying?”

“I’m considering it.” You walked out of the bathroom, and as expected, Wonbin was right behind you. “There’s a few things I can do if I settle down here. I could open a shop or something. Take up teaching or do marketing consults for the pear farm. I don’t see why not.”

You turned to find him still staring at you, hand over his mouth like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. You stopped walking.

“Seriously?” you deadpanned, hands on your waist.

He ignored you, blinking a few times before asking again, “You’re staying?”

You chuckled. “Yeah. I’m—”

Before you could say anything else, Wonbin pulled you into a tight hug. He let out a breathy laugh against your hair, one hand sliding up to the nape of your neck.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him too. You hadn’t expected it to be such a simple decision, in the end. You thought of the shell that little boy had once pressed into your hands, insisting it was the best one he’d found. You thought of Gram’s tea, made just the way you liked it before you’d even known there was a way you liked it. You thought of the vendors who’d talked you into stalls you didn't need to enter, of aunties who called you dear before they knew your name, of a hundred small kindnesses you’d mistaken, at first, for the ordinary politeness of strangers. 

Maybe you’d known for a while. Maybe you’d been staying long before you admitted it to yourself. Maybe your doubts were just the shadows of a past self trying to resist the peace you had found here.

You hugged him a little tighter, pressing your face into his shoulder. Wonbin pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips lifting into a mischievous smile.

“Let’s get married before you change your mind.”

You scoffed, patting his chest. “Slow down there, Romeo.” 

And just like that, you were walking into a new phase in your life. Something slower, more mundane but steadier, and uneventful in the best way. It might have seemed too soon to say, but deep down, you knew you’d never regret choosing this life.

Choosing Wonbin.

you don't know when it started—when your life began to snap like a thread pulled too hard. you don't know when you became this version of yourself, this hollow, distant stranger you hardly recognize. a monster, maybe. everyone who once mattered is gone, slipping through your fingers like sand, and deep down, you know why. you've always known why.

your friend, the one you swore you couldn't live without. your mother, who once held you with hands so warm you thought nothing could ever break you. the only friend you had since university, the one who stayed until you finally found a simple job you loved. and now, even that's gone.

you used to love flowers. you used to believe they were delicate, beautiful, a reflection of life itself—just like your mother always said. but now, you can't stand them. you can't stand the sight of them, the scent, the idea of them. you don't love being a florist anymore. you don't love yourself anymore.

and you don't know who to blame. the world? fate? yourself? or is it park wonbin? either way, you're still here. still ruined. and you have no idea how to get back up.

━━━

it wasn't always like this. once, your life had color, warmth. you were raised with so much love that even in rooms filled with fear, you could chase it away. you grew up believing life was full of beauty. hardships came and went, but you carried love and gentleness like armor, believing that even in chaos, there was something worth holding onto.

to love is to hurt. but to love is also to turn hurt into strength.

that included the man who once walked into the flower shop you're working at, shifting everything in your world without even knowing it.

he had long, dirty blonde hair, slightly messy but effortlessly cool. a gray beanie pulled low over his forehead, black leather jacket clung on his broad shoulders. his presence was quiet, but something about him demanded attention. and dangling from his left shoulder is a camera.

he paused at the entrance for just a moment. his gaze found you, lingering for a second longer than necessary—like he recognized you. like you were someone familiar in a life he couldn't remember. but then, just as quickly, he smirked and walked forward, stepping past the threshold and toward the counter where you stood.

you barely spared him a glance at first, just a fleeting look before offering the same warm smile you gave to every customer. effortless and soft. the kind of smile that made people think you had never known sadness.

"what can i get you today, sir?" your voice was light, and delicate.

his attention flicked back to you as you spoke, and the smirk returned. he studied you for a while, but you held his gaze without faltering.

"ten red roses. no need to wrap them fancy," he said.

you nodded, mouthing a small "okay" before stepping out from behind the counter. the small trapdoor creaked as you pushed through, the hem of your long white skirt swaying gently around your ankles. you tucked your baby blue cardigan closer around your frame as you walked toward the section where the red roses sat in neat rows.

going back behind the counter, you carefully wrapped the roses in brown paper, folding the edges neatly before tying a piece of rustic yarn around the stems. your fingers moved with care, securing the bundle before slipping it into a simple paper bag. as you handed it to the man in front of you, he extended his card, his fingers brushing yours briefly before you swiped it through the teller.

flashing a bright smile, you returned the card. "thank you, sir. come again!"

he looked at you for a moment before his lips curled into a subtle smile. "i will," he said before turning toward the door. the small bell above the entrance chimed as he stepped out into the daylight.

and true to his words, he did come back for the next few weeks every day. sometimes, he bought a full bouquet—other times, just a single stem of a white rose. he never stayed too long, just enough for small exchanges, brief moments where his presence made itself into your routine. over time, the space between your conversations shortened, and soon, park wonbin wasn't just a regular customer. he became something else entirely.

even after your shifts, you found yourselves spending time together. grabbing quick meals at nearby food stalls, wandering the empty fields at night, sharing laughter in places you had never thought to exist in before. wonbin was an indie photographer, as he told you one evening while leaning lazily against the shop's entrance. the first time he stepped into your store, he had only been looking for props—a handful of roses for a shoot he had planned.

he had shown you the final product days later, flipping his camera screen toward you. a woman in a long, wet red dress, her drenched hair clinging to her skin, lying across a stark white platform. her back arched dramatically, head and foot dangling off the edges, while the red rose wonbin had purchased rested between her fingers. the rest of the roses were scattered across the white floor, stark against the sterile background.

it fascinated you. his work had a distinct contrast—a clash between purity and chaos. his photographs weren't just beautiful; they carried raw intensity, an imperfect kind of allure that you found impossible to look away from.

one evening, as you sat together outside the flower shop, the cool night air wrapping around your skin, wonbin turned to you with an almost thoughtful expression.

"you know, you have a really pretty name," he said, breaking the quiet.

you glanced at him, brows slightly knitted. "i think it's awkward."

wonbin shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "no, it's not." he paused for a second, then murmured it softly, as if testing the weight of it on his tongue. "sori."

the way he said it made your stomach flip, warmth creeping up your neck.

"heo sori," he repeated, his gaze lingering on you. "it suits you. so delicate."

you ducked your head, unable to fight the foolish grin spreading across your face. your feet swung gently off the edge of the bench, the fabric of your long skirt swaying with the movement.

"really?" you murmured, voice quieter than before. "thank you. i never really thought of that."

"it suits you because you have a beautiful sori too," he added, eyes still fixed on you. "your parents must have really loved each other."

you let out a lighthearted chuckle at his remark, shaking your head. "they really did."

"you’re lucky," wonbin said, leaning back against the shop wall, his gaze drifting toward the night sky. "and honestly, it shows. you look like… a flower that's been nurtured with love."

it wasn't arrogance that made you accept his words so easily. you had always known—deep down, you had been raised in warmth, surrounded by love that shaped you into the person you were. and the people around you saw it too.

at some point, the line between you and wonbin blurred. what started as friendly interactions turned into something far deeper. his compliments became softer, his gestures more intentional. he would brush stray strands of hair from your face, rest his head against your shoulder, squeeze your hand absentmindedly when he spoke. and you let yourself sink into it before the two of you finally stopped pretending. you became his, and he became yours.

wonbin was the first man to ever make your heart race like this. the first man you had ever liked so badly that it almost hurt.

you ignored the glaring differences between the two of you—the things that, in hindsight, had already set you up for ruin. you wanted a quiet, gentle, predictable life. wonbin lived for the moment, unbound, chasing inspiration wherever it led him. you were soft, and he was rough around the edges.

but you thought love was enough. you willed yourself to hold onto him despite the contrast, convincing yourself that love could smooth over the jagged parts. you traced your fingers over the roughness of his hands, knowing they were made for something different from your own. he did the same, taking your delicate hands in his, despite how fragile they felt in his grip.

neither of you fit together like a puzzle piece. your differences didn't blend in beautifully—rather, you clashed, burned, collided. because the truth was, you and wonbin weren’t like a flower and a sunlight, but rather a fire and gasoline.

it all started two weeks after you and wonbin became official. at first, everything was perfect. his attention, his warmth, the way he always found a way to make you feel like the center of his world. but it didn't take long before the cracks started showing. he was still sweet, still the man you fell for, but his priorities were clear. and sometimes, you weren't one of them.

wonbin had a habit of leaving you waiting. always caught up in something, always running late, always with an excuse that somehow made sense but still hurt. you kept telling yourself it was normal. he had a career. he had a passion. you weren't supposed to be the reason he stopped doing what he loved. but at some point, it stopped feeling like an unfortunate side effect and started feeling like neglect.

like tonight. he promised to pick you up at seven for dinner. you stood by the old shed where he told you to wait, the glow of the streetlight casting long shadows around you. the air smelled like damp pavement, the distant scent of grilled meat from a street vendor nearby. you shifted your weight from one foot to another, hands gripping the strap of your bag, your phone growing heavier in your hand with every passing minute.

at first, you thought maybe he was just running late. he usually was. but when you finally glanced at your screen, it was nearly eight. almost an hour.

you bit your lip and tried calling him. the ringing stretched out painfully long before the other end picked up.

"sori? why are you calling?" wonbin's voice was distant and distracted, like he hadn't even thought about you until this very moment.

your fingers clenched around your phone. "wonbin, i've been waiting here for almost an hour already."

there was a pause. you could hear faint voices in the background, the clicking of a camera shutter, someone calling his name. he sighed heavily, and you could picture him rubbing his temple, eyes squeezed shut in frustration.

"shit… i lost track of time. i'm still in the middle of a shoot, baby. i'm sorry."

you sighed disappointedly. you closed your eyes, pressing your free hand to your temple. "what now?"

"just...just go back home, or grab dinner with your friend, uh… irina?"

you swallowed hard, your patience thinning by every second. "it's karina, wonbin."

"right, karina," he said quickly. "i'll make it up to you next time, okay?" another voice called for him in the background, and his words became rushed. "i gotta go, sori. i'll see you."

and then he hung up. no goodbye. no real apology. you stared at your screen, the call ending like a slap to the face.

this wasn't the first time, but something about tonight made it feel worse. before, he'd at least show up late, wind whipping through his hair as he pulled up on his motorcycle with a sheepish smile. or he'd call first to let you know he couldn't make it. but this time, you waited for nothing. and worse? he didn't even seem to remember.

the lump in your throat grew, but you swallowed it down. crying here wouldn't change anything. so you did what you always did—you found a way to justify it. he's busy. he's not doing this on purpose. it's not like you're his only priority.

but still, something about it made your chest ache in a way that was hard to ignore. instead of calling karina, because you knew exactly what she'd say, how she'd scold you for putting up with this. you went home.

after two hours of pacing around your apartment, forcing yourself to watch a show that you never really paid attention to, your phone rang. it's wonbin.

he said he was back at his apartment. that's all. no extra words, no real concern. no asking if how have you been after he just ditched you.

you messaged him you'd stop by since you were "on your way home from dinner with karina anyway." a complete lie.

and when you arrived, he greeted you with a tired smile, his hair slightly disheveled, hoodie hanging loosely around his torso. he pulled you in for a hug, but you stood stiff, arms locked at your sides. he leaned back slightly, his brows furrowing.

"something wrong, hm?" he squeezed your arms, his voice was gentle, his eyes so pretty it almost made you forget why you were angry.

you inhaled sharply. "something wrong? wonbin, do you—" you stopped, pressing your lips together before shaking your head. "do you even know how long i waited? and how you just handled the situation?"

his hands fell from your arms as he sighed, rubbing his face. "sori, lost track of time. i was in the middle of a shoot."

"you always lose track of time," you shot back, your throat tightening. "every time we make plans."

wonbin exhaled, arms spreading slightly in frustration. "it's just for today. i still pick you up most of the time, don't i?"

you let out a bitter laugh. "right. because your photos are more important than me."

his jaw tensed. "it's not like that. i love what i do, sori. i wish you could understand that—"

"but what about me?" your voice cracked slightly, your hands clenching at your sides. "i understand you. but do you even try to understand me? do you even love me the way you love your work? do you even respect me?"

the words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. wonbin's expression flickered into something between guilt and frustration.

"i do respect your time and effort," he said, but there was no sincerity behind it. he just wanted the argument to end.

"then show me." you spoke.

his silence said enough. wonbin ran a hand through his hair, huffing before turning away. "god you're making a big fuss over everything," he muttered, disappearing into his bedroom without another word.

and that was it. no apology again. no attempt to fix things. just him brushing you off like this wasn't worth discussing.

your chest felt hollow as you stood there, staring at his closed door. you didn't waste another second, so you grabbed your things and left, your footsteps echoing in dim stairs. the air outside was colder than before, the city streets eerily empty as you walked home, ten long minutes with nothing but your own thoughts.

you had expected warmth, an apology, maybe even him making you ramen in his small kitchen to make it up to you. instead, you got this.

the next morning came with the usual silence that always followed your fights with wonbin. no good morning texts. no missed calls. no unread messages waiting for you when you woke up. just a blank, empty screen that only made the weight in your chest heavier.

you lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, willing yourself not to check your phone. it wasn't like you hadn't done this before—waiting for him to come around, waiting for him to care enough to fix things. but this time, you felt exhausted.

by evening, the familiar beep of your apartment door unlocking echoed through the quiet space. you barely flinched. you knew who it was even before you heard the soft thud of sneakers against your wooden floors. aside from karina, who was working at the bar tonight, wonbin was the only person who had your passcode.

a deep sigh filled the room, barely audible over the noise of the tv in the background. "baby..." wonbin's voice was careful as he made his way toward the couch. you remained curled up, your back to him, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through posts you weren't really reading. "still mad at me?" he spoke again.

you could feel his presence hovering behind you, the warmth of his body just within reach. but you didn't budge. didn't acknowledge him. your fingers lazily swiped up on your screen.

wonbin shifted, then leaned down,gently pulling the phone from your hands. the sudden emptiness made your fingers curl slightly, like they were still expecting to hold something. you exhaled through your nose, rolling onto your back just enough to throw him an unimpressed glance.

"hey," he murmured, sitting down beside you. his eyes searched yours, head tilting slightly as if trying to read your mood. "come on. talk to me."

a bitter chuckle left your lips as you sat up, rubbing your temples. "talk to you?" your voice was quiet but laced with irritation. "you shut me out last night, wonbin. and now i'm the one who's supposed to talk to you?"

your words landed harder than expected, because for once, wonbin actually looked taken aback. his shoulders tensed, brows knitting together. "what's with the sudden tone?" he scoffed, his voice still calm but sharp. "what happened to you?"

of course. it always had to be about you, didn't it? as if you were the one overreacting. as if you were the one making things difficult. you sighed, shaking your head as you stood up, walking past him toward your bed. the exhaustion was clinging into your bones, weighing you down more than it ever had before.

"i can't deal with this right now," you muttered. climbing onto the bed, pulling a pillow close, letting it absorb the frustration you weren't willing to show directly on him.

a moment of silence stilled between you two. then, the bed dipped as wonbin sat on the edge, his hand finding your hip. his touch was light, and hesitant, as if he was testing the waters before pushing any further.

"come on," he coaxed. "let's go out."

there it was again. that voice. that infuriatingly gentle, disarming tone he always used whenever he wanted to smooth things over without actually fixing anything. it was a routine by now—he'd show up, speak in that voice, and you'd melt, as if all the nights spent waiting, all the times he brushed you aside, meant nothing. because he knew, didn't he? he knew exactly what he was doing. knew that all it took was a couple of well-placed words, a lingering touch, and you'd fold. just like you always did.

you clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to give in so easily this time. but it didn't take long. three pleases. that was all it took. and then you were rolling onto your back, exhaling through your nose as you looked up at him, lips pressed into a thin line. his eyes were locked onto yours, hopeful.

"alright," you murmured as you sat up, hands clasped together in your lap, fingers fidgeting as you avoided his gaze.

━━━

that evening with wonbin went exactly like you expected. both of you walked out of your apartment, the cool evening air gently brushing against your skin as you made your way down the quiet block. the streetlights flickering by the sidewalk. you stopped by a small convenience store on the corner as you stepped inside to grab some ice cream. vanilla for you, chocolate for him, and after paying, you stepped back out into the night. the air was peaceful, leaving a lightness between the two of you. the weight of the problems you both had yet to talk about seemed to vanish, buried under the moment.

"hey, you know, i think black hair would suit you more," you said, breaking the silence as you licked the smooth vanilla ice cream, glancing at him.

wonbin turned his head toward you, "really? some of my models and co-photographers tell me that blonde suits me more," he replied casually, the chocolate ice cream in his hand now slightly melting as he bites the cone. he didn't seem offended or taken aback, just genuinely curious.

you pursed your lips, tapping the side of your ice cream cone thoughtfully. "your models?" you asked, trying to sound casual but wondering if you had just thrown something odd into the conversation. "well, it's just my opinion," you added, shrugging lightly, as if it didn't matter much at all.

wonbin nodded, not pressing the issue. his gaze returned to the quiet street ahead of you both. and after a minute of walking, he spoke again, the soft sound of his voice breaking through the quiet.

"i'll walk you home now. i have to be home too in a minute," he said, giving you a small smile as he slowed his pace to match yours.

you nodded in response. the walk back was comfortable, neither of you rushing, just enjoying each other's company as the streets grew quieter. when you reached your apartment, you shared one last hug and kiss before parting ways. for a moment, everything felt right again, as if the tension from the yesterday had been resolved completely without actually fixing it.

for the next weeks, there were no arguments, no silences stretching too long. everything seemed to fall back into place, and you thought, maybe, nothing would go wrong. maybe things would stay like this, just the two of you, content and untroubled.

but that all changed in one specific day. you were sitting at your vanity, freshly washed hair still damp and tangled from the shower. the soft, wet strands clung to your skin as you picked up the blow dryer, the whirring sound filling the room as you began drying your hair carefully.

then, the phone rang. your hands freezing mid-motion as you saw his name on the screen—wonbin.

you smiled a little, wiping your hands dry on a towel before answering the phone. "hello? bin? you're early today," you said, holding the phone to your ear while you flipped your hair to the side, trying to keep it from getting wet.

"good morning, sori," his voice came through, groggy from sleep but still audible, making you smile even more. "yeah, i managed to wake up early today. i know you'll be getting ready for work soon, so i wanted to call first."

"really? you never really wake up early just to call me before work," you teased lightly, pressing the phone against your shoulder as you picked up the blow dryer.

you could hear wonbin laugh softly on the other end, the sound of his chuckle making you grin. "happy birthday, lovely," he said, his voice somehow even more tender than before.

you thought for a moment, the words barely processing as you glanced across the room at the calendar. july 15th- your birthday. you hadn't even realized until now. it wasn't until you heard him say it that it truly clicked in your mind.

"thank you, bin," you said, a wide smile stretching across your face. you could almost feel his smile through the phone.

"i'll pick you up in an hour. get ready, we'll go out," wonbin added.

your smile faltered for just a second, only because you couldn't shake the feeling that something could go wrong. you had been let down before. sometimes he'd leave you waiting, sometimes he'd cancel at the last minute after you'd already gotten ready. but today, something about the way he said it made you believe he meant it.

you hesitated, but not for long. "mhm," you hummed in response, nodding as if he could see you. "but i need to be at the flower shop this morning." you added.

wonbin's voice softened, coaxing you gently. "take the day off, sori. it's your birthday. i'll pick you up, and we'll spend the day together."

you could never say no to him, and you knew it. that was always the hardest part. "okay," you said, letting out a small exhale. "i'll ask my co-worker if she can cover for me."

"good," he said, sounding pleased. "i'll be ready. you should be too."

your coworker, as always, was more than understanding, agreeing to cover your shift for the day and even wishing you a happy birthday. you smiled to yourself as you hung up the phone.

you took your time getting ready, applying just the right amount of makeup, and letting your long hair fall naturally, though you braided it to keep it from getting too messy. you slipped into your favorite baby blue sundress, the fabric light against your skin. after checking the time, you realized it was almost time to go, so you sat and waited.

your phone then buzzed, interrupting your thoughts. it was a message from wonbin: "i'm here, let's go?"

you smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. for once, he was actually on time, and that was enough to make you smile. bare minimum. you grabbed your bag from the rack by the door and hurried down the stairs. as you stepped out, you saw him standing there by his motorcycle, his black helmet in hand, looking just as neat and put together as always.

"so pretty," he said, a soft smile on his face as he reached forward to give you a gentle peck on your cheek. he even wore that gray hoodie you once said looked good on him,

your smile widened, the simple gesture making your heart race in your chest. "flattery," you teased, "where are we going anyway?"

"wherever you want," he said, his voice full of warmth, as if he truly didn't mind, as if this day was for you.

you raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving "let's just go anywhere, then eat afterward."

━━━

you both went to the amusement park, just minutes ride away from the city. it was your idea, and he agreed without hesitation

the weather was perfect—clear skies, cool breeze brushing past your cheeks as you both wandered through the crowd. you held onto his arm as you moved from ride to ride, your fingers gripping him a little tighter after each attraction. on the ferris wheel, you leaned against him, the wind blowing through your hair as you snapped selfies and candids.

you both nearly lost your lungs at the drop tower, screaming into the open air, legs trembling when you stumbled off. and then he pulled you toward the booth where you both tried the shooting game—plastic rifles and rubber bullets. wonbin didn’t even try hard. he just aimed, casually pulling the trigger like it was second nature. bullseye. every time. you clapped and jumped enthusiastically while he exchanged his tickets for two plushies—a pink bear for you, and a cat for himself. he carried them under one arm all the way to the restaurant nearby.

you were still grinning when you both sat down for lunch. "i had so much fun, bin. thank you," you said, eyes on him as he took a bite of the food you ordered together.

he smiled, chewing and swallowing before speaking. "of course. it's your day today. i only wanted to make you happy." he said it like breathing. as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. like making you happy was something built into his system.

you stared at him for a few seconds—completely quiet, cheeks flushed, heart stupidly full. so smitten. so deeply in love, it made your chest hurt. you chuckled under your breath and looked away, stabbing your food with your chopsticks.

a few minutes passed in peace. you sipped your drink. he checked his camera roll, reviewing photos from earlier. everything felt so easy—until his phone rang.

you watched him pick it up without hesitation. "hello? bora?" he said.

your ears twitched at the name. you couldn’t hear the girl on the other end, but you watched his expression closely. he smiled, eyes lit up in a way you hadn't seen since you two sat on the ferris wheel.

"really? well, it's okay. i'm in a lunch today anyways, and i think i'll be late as well. i'll just catch up later," he said, still not looking at you. then he hung up and placed his phone down like nothing happened, grabbing his chopsticks again.

you blinked. your appetite slipped. you forced yourself to stay still, fingers tightening around your cup. why didn't he say he was on a date? why just 'lunch'? and what did he mean he'll be late 'as well'?

your thoughts spiraled. your stomach twisted. you wanted to speak, but part of you wanted to see if he'd notice the shift in your mood first. and of course, he didn't.

"bora?" you finally asked, trying to sound casual, spinning your chopsticks in your noodles.

"mhm, my model," he replied, smiling. "she'll be modelling for the photo i'm submitting for the annual exhibition in the city."

you nodded slowly, eyes on your food. then you sighed, a little sharper than intended. "she must be really pretty then... to be picked for a big event like that," you said, forcing a smile, but your voice had dropped—flat, dull, slightly sarcastic.

wonbin paused, finally picking up the change in your tone, but he just brushed it off. "yeah, she is," he replied without a hesitation.

and that was it. your appetite vanished completely. your heart, previously full, now felt tight and heavy. you set your chopsticks down on the edge of your plate. the room felt smaller now, more suffocating. he always did this. always made you feel like you were overthinking—when really, you were just feeling too much.

"you finished?" wonbin asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

you hummed a dull response and stood up, flashing him a weak smirk—more muscle memory than sincerity. you didn't wait. you turned around and walked out of the restaurant, letting the door swing behind you.

he rushed to settle the bill, stuffing cash into the little black folder before chasing after you. he caught up quickly, grabbing your arm gently but firm.

"hey, what's going on?" he asked, his voice not angry, just tired.

you turned to him, eyes weary. "nothing's wrong, wonbin," you mumbled.

he let go of your arm, exhaling hard. he ran a hand through his hair, his expression slowly changing.

"sori, don't throw a tantrum here right now, could you?" he muttered, voice edged with irritation. "come on. i'l send you home."

you stared at him, stunned by how quickly his mood shifted. you opened your mouth to argue—but what was the point? he was already walking toward the motorcycle.

the ride home was silent. cold wind hitting your face. you clutched the paper bag with the plushies tightly against your chest, blinking away the sting behind your eyes.

it was only 2 pm when he dropped you off in front of your apartment building. no words. just a quiet nod. then he rode off without even waiting for you to say goodbye.

you stood there for a moment, the bag dangled from your fingers, the weight of the stuffed toys suddenly feeling too heavy. you watched his motorcycle disappear down the road.

you looked down at your hand. and then—you felt bad.

the date wasn't supposed to end this way. you replayed it all in your head. the laughter, the pictures, the rides. you felt like you ruined it. if i hadn't acted like that… if i just kept smiling… maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so cold. maybe we’d still be walking around the park right now.

but no matter how hard you try, you always manage to press that invisible switch in him. the one that turns off everything sweet. the one that makes him say things like "don't throw a tantrum." the one that makes you feel too much—and him, not enough.

then, you heard the rustling of plastic a few steps away. behind the corner, karina appeared. her brows immediately furrowing, pace quickening as soon as she spotted you standing there alone with a paper bag in hand, looking like all the color had been drained from your day.

"sori? you okay?" she asked, voice gentle as her hands settled on your shoulders. "where are you going?"

"where did i went, you mean," you replied tiredly, slumping slightly into her touch. "and no, i don't feel okay."

karina didn't need more than that. she'd seen this version of you too many times—shoulders drooped, voice dimmed, hurt tucked just behind your eyes. she didn't ask for context. just the details. "come on. let's go. i know a place."

she nudged you gently as you both headed down the street. the grill eatery she led you to was a little cramped, but buzzing with life. normally packed with groups drinking at night, but this time of day with the sun still high made it quieter. a few tables filled with people casually eating lunch.

karina didn't even hesitate as she ordered a bottle of soju.

"the sun hasn't even set yet," you chuckled, watching her crack it open as the server lit the grill between you.

"any time of the day is perfect if you're miserable enough," she smiled, pouring into your glass.

you let out a breath. not quite a laugh, but close. karina started grilling pork slices, her focus split between you and the sizzling meat.

"so, tell me about it." she spoke

you sighed, your eyes on the raw meat slowly changing color in the heat. "wonbin..." you muttered.

"of course," karina said dryly, rolling her eyes. you let out a small laugh, but your lips trembled.

"it was going well," you began. "like... actually well. he picked me up, wore the hoodie i liked. laughed at my stupid jokes. we screamed together on the drop tower. i took photos of him smiling..."

you paused, lifting the shot glass she poured earlier and downing it in one go.

"and then... some woman called. bora."

karina's hand froze for half a second above the grill, tension rising in her jaw, but she said nothing—just listened.

"he told her he was 'at lunch.' that he might be late too. like it wasn't a date. like i wasn't right there in front of him. and he smiled when he said her name. it was so annoying."

you sniffled lightly, wiping your cheek before anything could fall. the grill popped in front of you.

"i asked if she was pretty. and he just said 'yeah, she is.' so casually. like it didn't even cross his mind how that might make me feel."

karina's expression twisted, irritation flickering through her gaze. she slammed the tongs a little harder on the table. "what a prick."

you cracked a bitter laugh, but your voice wavered halfway through. "then i got upset, and he said i was throwing a tantrum. like i was just some clingy girl being dramatic in public."

the words sat heavy in the air between you.

"and i felt bad," you added quietly. "i still feel bad. like i ruined it. like maybe i should've just smiled through it because what if i was overreacting?"

karina leaned in, her arms resting on the table, eyes locked on yours.

"sori," she spoke, "you didn't ruin anything. you reacted like a human being. he's the one who's emotionally numb."

you looked down at your lap, fingers fumbling with your napkin. "he always does this," you mumbled. "and i always let him. he loves his job... and i'm ruining it for him."

karina didn't reply right away. she just stared at you, that familiar mixture of frustration and helplessness brewing in her chest. she'd heard this before—too many times. and every time, she told you the same thing: that you weren't overreacting. that he was in the wrong. but no matter how many times she said it, you were already too deep in the comfort of the pain to believe it.

karina just hoped that someday you'd finally snap. before the hurt grew into something even worse.

"come on," she said after a beat, her voice softening again. "let's just enjoy this. i'll call some of my friends from the bar."

"the ones from last time?" you asked, a small smile beginning to tug at the corner of your lips.

"mhm, you knew them. do you want them to come?"

"of course. they're pretty chill."

karina reached over and wrapped a grilled piece of pork in lettuce, adding garlic and sauce before lifting it toward you. "happy birthday, pretty," she said with a grin.

you smiled back, opening your mouth to take the bite. the warm flavor hit your tongue, grounding you a little more. for a second, the heaviness eased off your chest.

the rest of karina's friends arrived shortly after, greeting you with warmth that effortlessly lifted the mood. the earlier tension with wonbin began to dissolve, buried under the laughter and clinking of glasses. by the time the clock hit 7 pm, you were already buzzed. almost wasted while karina and the others, seasoned bar employees, were still going strong.

"i'll send you home, sori," karina said as she stood up, walking over to your side and patting your back. her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, but she still held herself together.

you shook your head, your hand clumsily waving her off. "no–no... i'm fine."

karina let out a sigh and glanced at one of her friends—eunseok. "can i borrow your car?"

eunseok shook his head. he hadn't touched alcohol since arriving, sticking to soda while joining in on the fun. he was the only one there who was completely sober.

"you've still had drinks, karina. i can take her home," eunseok offered, rising from his seat as you swayed. karina instinctively reached out to steady you, her hands gripping your shoulders to keep you from slumping onto the table.

"okay, but please... keep her safe. i'll damn you if anything happens," she warned with a hiss.

eunseok only chuckled, unfazed. "don't worry."

he gently slipped your arms over his shoulders, supporting you while keeping a respectful distance as he nodded at karina. "i'll be back right away."

outside, he helped you into the backseat of his car, sending a quick message to karina before driving toward your apartment.

the car ride was quiet. you and eunseok weren't exactly close, but he wasn't a stranger either. before you knew wonbin, you had already known him as you frequently visited karina in her workplace that lead you to meeting everyone from there, exchanging few small nods and talks occasionally.

"i haven't properly greeted you yet," he said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. "happy birthday, sori."

you weren't completely drunk, just floating in that fuzzy limbo, so you understood him clearly. "thank you," you murmured with a small smile. and that was the end of the conversation.

once parked, he helped you to the front door of your apartment building. "will you be okay here? or should i take you upstairs? just give me your permission."

your head lolled a little, but you managed to shake it. "no... i'll be okay."

he hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, but didn't insist further. "alright. be careful, then."

you nodded as he handed you over to the wall for support. he lingered by the glass door, watching you ascend until you disappeared from view. only then did he turn around to head back to his car.

but just as he turned the corner, he bumped into wonbin.

they exchanged a long, narrow glance before eunseok moved on, slipping into his car without a word. wonbin stood still, his eyes following the departing vehicle before he walked toward your building.

you had collapsed onto your bed the moment you got home, still wearing your sandals, when the sound of the door beeping open made you sit up groggily. you rubbed your temple and looked toward the source—wonbin.

your state was disheveled, to say the least. the braid in your hair were undone, strands sticking to the sides of your face. the strap of your sundress dangled loosely off one shoulder, and your eyes, heavy-lidded and tired—barely lifted as he walked towards you.

"what are you doing here?" you mumbled, rubbing your temple as you slowly stood up, your head still spinning.

he stood still by the wall, arms crossed. "did you drink?" his eyes narrowed, tone sharp.

you scoffed, still calm but slightly defensive. "what's it to you?"

"i'm your boyfriend, sori. that makes it my business too." he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was tension there—growing.

realizing he had a point, you just shook your head with a faint sigh. "it was karina's treat. and it's my birthday too, remember?" your voice was tinged with disappointment.

"i'm aware," he said, scoffing under his breath. "but you could've just told me."

that stopped you in your tracks. your eyes met his, dulled by alcohol but suddenly clear enough to process hurt.

"told you?" you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping you. "wonbin... you never—" you caught yourself, words cutting mid-sentence.

you wanted to yell. to ask him why you always felt like a stranger to the parts of him you couldn't reach. why he knew everyone in your life, but you knew no one in his. why he demanded your life but gave you nothing back. why it always felt like you were in a one-sided story.

but the words never made it out. you bit your lip, gaze falling to the floor, chest aching from the weight of everything left unsaid. "i... i'm sorry."

"i never what?" he asked, his voice low, but the challenge in it made your heart race in tension.

you stepped closer, reaching for him. your hands gently touched his shoulders, trying to hold onto the pieces before they fell apart.

"i'm sorry, bin," you whispered, your voice barely holding together.

he looked at you—at your trembling lips, your pleading eyes before peeling your hands away from him.

"and you didn't even call me?" his voice cracked as frustration spilled over. "you asked that eunseok guy to drive you home?!"

"i didn't ask him—" you whined in defense.

"sure you didn't," he snapped, cutting you off. "what, was it because he's got a nice car? a stable job? huh? you didn't want to deal with my motorcycle and my mess of a life?"

each word hit harder than the last, and you felt something crumble inside. his accusations weren't just painful—they were unfair.

"what are you even saying, wonbin?" your voice broke as the first tear slid down your cheek. "it's not like that."

you reached out to hug him, to calm him, but he stood stiff and cold. but then—you smelled something that made you slowly shift on your foot backwards. a scent that didn't belong to him.

the crying stopped, your hands dropped from him slowly, and you stepped back fully, eyes narrowing as the reality clicked in. it wasn't his cologne. it was something sweet.

"wonbin..." you said quietly, trying to keep your voice from trembling. "whose perfume is that?"

he looked confused at first. then he lifted his shirt slightly and sniffed. his eyes fell shut.

"sori... you're drunk."

"park wonbin," you said firmly, louder now. "don't. don't brush it off again like you always do."

your fingers trembled as you pointed at him. "whose. perfume. is. that?"

the lavender perfume clung to him. strong, unfamiliar, and foreign. something you hate, something you wouldn't wear.

wonbin didn't answer right away. his eyes flicked to the side, jaw clenched tight like he was trying to calculate the least damaging version of the truth. but the silence between you screamed louder than anything.

"i asked you a question," you said, voice cracking, more stable than before but your trembling hands and unsteady knees gave you up.

he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "it's no one."

"don't lie to me."

"it's not like that," he replied, quieter now, but hesitant. "i ran into someone. she hugged me, that's all."

"someone?" the word felt like it knocked the air out of your chest. "who? and why would she hug you, wonbin?"

he didn't answer. his eyes glistened—almost teary, almost like he wanted to say something but couldn't.

"i see," you said faintly, stepping back, trying to put space between you and the ache in your chest. "so i'm the problem for getting a ride home when you're out smelling like someone else's lavender perfume?"

"it's not like that," he repeated, more agitated now. "you're twisting it."

"am i?" your voice sharpened. "then explain it to me, wonbin. for once. just once. because all i've done is give and give and give myself to you while you keep every part of your life locked away from me."

"you're being so dramatic," he muttered under his breath.

"of course!" you sarcastically laughed. "i always am, am i?"

that made him freeze. he didn't say anything, just looking away as he listened.

"you knew it was my birthday. you knew i felt off when that model called you—and you said nothing. you dropped me off in front of my building like we were nothing. no message. no call. just silence. and now you show up angry at me for getting a ride from a friend while you reek of someone else's perfume?" you were shaking again, eyes shimmering, but the tears didn’t fall. not yet. "we fight all the time, wonbin. we don't understand each other anymore..."

you sobbed. sniffling, brushing your nose with your knuckles before proceeding,

"so tell me... do you still even want to be with me?"

he looked stunned. not because the question was unexpected, but because, maybe, he didn't know the answer.

"you're making it so hard, sori," he whispered, turning his back on you. he rubbed his forehead, fingers slipping into his hair like he could pull the tension out.

"is it only me, then?" you asked, voice fragile as a glass breaking. you sat down on the edge of the bed, slumping as the pressure in your chest pressed down more. "do you still even have the patience to be with me?"

"i don't know." the words left his mouth coldly. blank and emotionless.

you let out a quiet, shaky breath. that was all you needed to hear. "then leave, wonbin," you firmly stated. "come back only if you do."

you stared down at the floor, refusing to look at him. not because you didn't want to see him go, but because if you did, you knew you'd break.

━━━

for two weeks, it felt like you and wonbin had broken up without a word. he hadn't called, messaged, or updated anything on social media. it was like he vanished, and every day you felt like you were crumbling. at work, your energy was so drained that even the plants you touched seemed to wither. your co-worker noticed first, offering gentle concern. karina, predictably, was furious when you told her what happened.

you were tired of waiting. tired of the silence. so one evening, after your shift, you decided to visit him hoping that time had cooled things down enough to talk again.

his building hadn’t changed. still looked like it was falling apart, no security pin at the entrance, the staircase was dim, the bulbs flickering like they were clinging to life. cemented steps, unpainted and rough. you remembered how scared you were the first time you came here. now it just felt sad.

at his door, you knocked. no answer. you tried again, calling out softly, "wonbin? it's me..."

still nothing.

you hesitated before pulling out the spare key he gave you. when the door creaked open, a wave of stale alcohol hit you. the living room was a mess—empty bottles scattered, clothes thrown across the floor. and no sign of him.

you cleaned up a little before deciding to check his studio, thinking maybe he was there, trying to focus on work. the walk was short, but your stomach churned with something strange.

you reached the small building, pushed through the glass door, and stepped into the hallway. his was the second room. you raised a hand to knock but your instinct stopped you. instead, you quietly twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

dim light spilled out, revealing the sofa and the white photography panels.

and there he was—wonbin. slumped on the couch, visibly drunk.

but what made your hands tremble wasn't him.

it was the woman.

clinging to him, straddled on his lap, long hair falling over one shoulder, red lipstick smudged, dressed like she just stepped out of a fashion shoot.

your entire body locked up. your brows furrowed sharply in disbelief, lips parting with a soundless gasp as tears instantly welled up in your eyes. your throat closed up and burned, your jaw trembling as if it couldn't decide whether to drop or grit shut. you blinked once, twice, hoping the sight would change, but it didn't. your knees buckled slightly, forcing you to brace yourself against the doorframe.

you stumbled back, shoulder hitting the metal frame with a soft thud. the noise made her look up.

she didn't recognize you. her expression shifted briefly before she offered a small, awkward smile. "oh- hi, sorry for the awkward sight." she casually said with a chuckle that threw you off, sliding off him like it was no big deal.

wonbin didn't move at first. he sat forward, leaning on his knees like he didn't even notice your presence.

you stood frozen, breathing shallowly. your face crumbled further—eyebrows now drawn together in pain, mouth trembling as you tried to hold back the sob threatening to slip. you didn't know where to look—at her, at him, or at the floor that seemed like it might open up and swallow you whole. you could feel every blood vessel in your face pulsing, heat crawling up your neck, but your skin was cold.

the woman glanced at him, then back at you. "uh... bin? you've got a guest. i think it's one of your models?"

and that's when he finally turned around. when his eyes landed on you, on your stunned, broken expression, it's like he instantly woke up from his dazed state.

"sori..." he rushed over the sofa the moment he saw you, reaching out but you were already turning away, storming out of the studio on instinct. you didn't think. you just ran down the steps, past the flickering hallway lights, into the street. you didn't look back. you didn't care if he followed.

your long skirt caught your ankle, almost sending you tumbling, but then, his hand caught your waist.

you jolted, instantly flinching and shoving him away with force.

"wonbin..." you muttered, barely getting his name out as your chest rose and fell erratically, your whole body shaking. the ache in your chest was unbearable, like your ribs were folding inward.

"sori, what are you doing here?" he asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration, as if you were the one who barged into something wrong.

that was it. that line snapped something inside you. your blank expression cracked, lips curling into a trembling scoff before a bitter, sarcastic laugh broke free from your throat—choked and ugly. "to see you, wonbin. to talk to you. to fix things with you. something you couldn’t even bother to do!" your voice cracked, convulsing with fury and grief. "who is she...?"

his face shifted, expression softening like it was supposed to matter now. he reached for your hand, but you quickly stepped back, avoiding him like he burned.

"who—" your voice raised slightly. "who is she?"

"you got it wrong, bab—"

"don't." you shook your head, voice raw. "don't fucking call me that."

his mouth fell slightly open, tears starting to well up in his eyes now. but when yours met his, everything crumbled. it was game over.

you stumbled back and leaned against the nearest post, sliding to the ground, your head bowing down as sobs shook through you. you curled in on yourself, arms over your knees, gasping between cries.

"wonbin... how could you—" your voice cracked again, throat closing up.

he stood in front of you, motionless, his expression hurting.

"how could you just disappear..." your voice hitched, "and cheat on me behind my back..."

and just saying it—just hearing yourself say it out loud made it feel real. too real that you broke again, completely this time, sobbing harder as the weight of everything collapsed on your chest like bricks.

you don't know how long you sat there crying, but your lungs burned, and your throat felt like it had been scraped raw. wonbin stood just a few feet away, but he still didn't move. didn't kneel. didn't say anything like the coward he was. just stood there. watching, like he didn't know what to do with you. like he never knew.

that silence—it made something twist violently inside you. a final crack in the dam holding everything in.

"what happened to us?" you wiped your tears with the back of your hand and slowly looked up at him, eyes swollen, voice shaking. "you never really cared about me, did you?"

he blinked, startled. "what are you talking about? of course i did—"

"no, wonbin," you cut him off, voice firm now, all the shaking replaced by a quiet rage. "you loved me, maybe. in the way you could. but i was never part of your plans. i was never part of your future. i don't think i ever even made it to your present."

he looked like he wanted to interrupt, but you didn't let him.

"you made me feel like i was always chasing you. like i was some afterthought you occasionally remembered. i waited, and waited—for texts, for calls, for some sign that i mattered. you knew how much i was hurting, and you ignored it every time."

you stood now, trying to steady your breath, even as your voice shook again. "i came last, in everything. behind your art, your friends, your work, your silence. i loved you so much i lost pieces of myself trying to believe i mattered to you. trying to believe i can smooth off your jagged edges."

wonbin looked down at the ground. his fists clenched.

"i can't do it anymore," you said, softly. "i can't keep forcing myself into your carefree life. i can't keep begging for a love that doesn't see me. i want to break up."

he looked up sharply. "no. no, wait, sori—"

"i mean it." you didn't let your voice falter. "we're not good for each other, and you know that. we're just too infatuated of the good times to admit it, but during times like these, it's on plain sight."

he stepped back like you slapped him, jaw tightening. "so that's it?"

you stared at him, blinking back the last of your tears. "yeah. that's it."

"fine," he snapped, voice low and sharp like glass. "let's end this."

he didn't wait for your response, but you didn't care because there's no more to talk about.

he turned around and walked back toward the building without another word. no glance. no pause. just his back getting smaller and smaller until the door swallowed him whole.

you stood alone in the middle of the street, your tears drying cold on your skin. the silence wrapped around you again, not from neglect this time—but from the absence of something that was never really yours to begin with, and you don't know what your life will be now that wonbin had already left traces of him in you.

you should've known better. hell, you did know better. you saw this trainwreck miles away, but still let your foolish hunger, desperation, maybe even love, if you squinted hard enough—take the wheel and speed toward it anyway. but what could you say? you were just someone aching.

still, you dragged yourself out of bed, brushed your teeth in silence, skipped breakfast out of habit, and went off to work without faking a sick day this time.

the restaurant was already buzzing when you got there—utensils clinking, children laughing loudly, old men arguing over the best side dishes, and the kitchen staff yelling like it was a war zone instead of lunchtime on a tuesday.

despite the loudness that busied both in the room and inside your head, you had your usual polite smile, moving through tables like a seasoned employee. your eyes were tired, but your hands didn't tremble.

then, like a sunbeam cutting through a cloudy day, a familiar face stepped through the door.

"eunseok!" you called, the corners of your lips lifting instinctively.

he looked up and flashed a smile that always made your stomach flutter for reasons you don't know. he took a seat near the counter politely, arms draped casually over the backrest.

"lunch here, i assume?" you said, already reaching for your notepad.

"yeah," he replied, slipping off his jacket. "you make the best grilled porks."

you snorted. "i'm not the cook here. i just serve."

"you serve the best grilled porks," he repeated.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed. "grilled pork it is, then. anything else?"

eunseok leaned back, tapping his chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "just water for drinks."

you raised a brow. "for a bar worker, you sure are healthy."

"gotta balance the beer with hydration," he said with a wink.

you shook your head, chuckling as you scribbled his order. you turned to the kitchen, pinning the slip onto the rack.

minutes passed in a whirl of trays and orders, and when things slowed down in customers, you returned to his table, slipping into the seat across from him. you rested your chin on your palm, the tray tucked under your arm.

"you work at a bar and still eat out like this?" you teased.

eunseok shrugged, sawing into the pork a spoon. "got sick of the bar food."

"there's like, five restaurants right outside your bar."

he glanced up through his lashes, chewing. "yeah, but none of them have a server like, what's her name again? heo sori?"

you let out a small chuckle, brushing your nose with the back of your fingers. "you're so stupid."

"and yet, you laugh," he pointed out smugly, licking sauce off his thumb.

he then put his utensils down, elbows now resting on the table. he clasped his fingers and leaned in, looking at you with soft eyes.

"there. you look so beautiful when you smile like that."

it hit you like a sudden breeze. you sat up straighter, your expression folding into a shy pout. you cleared your throat and diverted your gaze to the tray in your arms.

"well, how can i not? i've got my own personal jester," you quipped, hoping he'd follow along with the banter.

instead, he grinned. "mhm, if being your personal jester gets you to smile like that more often, then i'll be the whole circus."

your felt your shoulders slightly cold. "song eunseok," you hissed, trying to play it cool. "what was that? karina's corrupting you."

"she might be," he said, tapping his temple like he was checking for bugs. "she also corrupted me into asking you out after your shift. you free later?"

you pretended to think, though your heart had already done three somersaults. "you're not smooth," you muttered, grinning. "and yes, i'm free."

he looked victorious, subtly flashing a smirk before biting into another piece of pork.

as much as you wanted to stay in that moment, to sit and banter until your face hurt from smiling, the chime of the door bell and the sight of new customers filing in called you back. you stood up, straightened your apron, and gave him a a glance. "enjoy your pork, circus boy."

"only if you bring me dessert later,"

you snorted and turned away before he could see the giddy little smirk on your lips.

───────────────────

you're guilty.

not in the dramatic, courtroom sort of way—but in the quiet, everyday pang of it. the kind that's not loud enough to break you, but persistent enough to make you feel like you're carrying something heavy under your skin.

you're already starting to like eunseok. and everyone around you knows it. even you know it. that's what makes it worse.

because every morning, you find yourself drawn to his sunshine. his lighthearted jokes, his warm eyes, the way his presence makes the world seem a little less heavy and a little more bearable. he doesn't ask you to be anything, doesn't demand explanations for the shadows under your eyes. he just sits there, listen to you if you wanted to speak, and makes you smile when you least expect to.

but some evenings, you still let wonbin onto your doorstep.

he never texts before arriving. he just shows up dead of the night. sometimes he knocks. sometimes he waits quietly until the hallway light flickers and you open the door like you knew he was already there. he never stays until morning. but he always stays long enough. long enough to remind you why you're guilty.

because you let him in, even though you already know you shouldn't. because you crave familiarity as much as you crave change. because in some twisted way, you feel like you owe it to the version of yourself that once thought wonbin was everything.

and yet, come morning, you allow yourself to be warmed into eunseok, his comforting energy, his brightness that rinses you clean only to get your hands dirty again when the sun goes down.

it's chaos. you're chaos. and somehow, eunseok makes the storm quieter, while wonbin keeps the thunder alive.

but you still wonder, still think about him—wonbin. what becomes of him once he leaves your place at 4 am? what does he look like when the sun touches his face, and you're not there to see it? does he walk home like nothing happened? does he sit alone in his room wondering if he means anything anymore, just like you do?

you wonder if he still thinks of you in the morning. every morning, he'd wake up before you. he'd sit up slowly, the springs of your mattress groaning under the shift of weight. for a moment, he'd just look at you blankly, almost pity. then, tenderly, he'd brush away the stray strands of hair clinging to your forehead, tucking them behind your ear—your bare, earringless ear he always liked about you. his thumb brushes on your cheek, tracing the soft swell of it before he pulled away with a sigh.

then he'd quietly gather his clothes from the floor, wrinkled shirt, belt hanging loose through one hand. he'd fix the pillows you kicked around in your sleep, tug the comforter up to your shoulders. and then, he'd leave. no goodbye. just the quiet click of your door shutting behind him.

────────────────────

it was supposed to be chill. karina dragged you there for "some drinks and light gossip," and eunseok was already behind the counter, flipping a shaker, experimenting new mixes.

then, from behind, an effortlessly elegant woman walked in. her heels clicked across the tiled floor like punctuation marks. she wore a white velvet bodycon dress that hugged her curves perfectly, hair slicked into a low bun, not a strand out of place. even her smile had grace.

she gave the staffs a small, polite nod at the counter before settling toward one of the two-seaters in the middle of the bar.

you, karina, and most of the staff instinctively looked at each other like meerkats. except for eunseok, who was too busy with the shaker flip, or, didnt just care.

karina leaned close, her brows rising. "customer, be right back." she said under her breath, nudging you with her hip while you busied yourself with the empty glass in front of you, hyperaware of the woman's presence for some reason.

"martini, please. two glasses. just a foie gras crostini and a smoked salmon canapé for the other," the woman said with a poised tone as she folded her hands neatly on the table. karina nodded, pen gliding over her notepad, eyes flicking up briefly.

"oh—and i'd like to settle the bill in advance." she reached into her purse, pulling a matte black card between fingers. "name it under lee ara."

karina gave a short nod, taking the card wordlessly, the gold-embossed letters catching a flicker of light as she turned away.

you barely glanced at the woman before your attention returned to eunseok, who was now sliding a drink toward you—a glass filled with a soft pink slush, the rim beaded with condensation.

"here, taste it. new menu." he said.

you raised a brow, tilting your head as you examined the drink. "i'm not going to die if i drink this, right?"

"well, only if your body can't handle something too good."

you let out a sneer and brought the hurricane glass to your lips. the chilled mixture touched your tongue—fruity, slightly tart, with just the right amount of bitterness.

"this is really good!" you said, nodding with genuine surprise, eyes returning to the drink.

"then it's officially on the menu," eunseok smiled, wiping down the counter. but, it's not long before his smile fades, because behind you, the low creak of the door reached his ears, followed by firm steps on the tile. eunseok's posture stiffened as he looked past you, eyes narrowing.

leather jacket, black jeans, a camera slung across the chest, the familiar half-up hairstyle, and he was heading straight for the table with the woman from earlier.

eunseok's jaw locked. he didn't say a word, only refocused on you with sharp intent. he needed to keep you looking at him.

"heo sori," he said suddenly, his tone dropping deep. it caught you off guard. you looked up, confused.

"what?" your brow furrowed slightly at the use of your full name.

"do you want something to eat?" he asked, quickly.

you blinked. "no, i'm okay. are... you?"

he paused, catching himself. his expression softened, his shoulders losing some tension. "yeah, i'm okay," he finally said, and awkwardly lifted a hand to pat your head—something he'd done countless times before, but this time it felt awkward.

you gave him a curious look. "what was that about? you're acting weird."

eunseok's gaze remained fixed on you, though the strain was evident. you could already see it in the corners of his eyes like he was trying not to look at something behind you.

"weird? me?" he exhaled, short and unconvincing. "i... had a drink earlier. just a bit."

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. something wasn't adding up. you shifted slightly in your seat, feeling the instinct to turn and glance around the room.

but before you could, eunseok leaned forward suddenly, hands reaching over the counter to hold your shoulders firmly—not rough, but just enough to stop you. your eyes widened as his grip loosened the second he saw your reaction.

"sorry, i— i was just going to ask you something," he said quickly.

"eunseok, you startled me," you said, releasing a breath, a half-smile on your lips. "was it really that important? you shook the life out of me."

"it is," he replied, more quietly this time, a sincerity in his tone that made you pause. "can i ask you at the back?" he asked. "it's... a bit personal. and there are people around."

you hesitated, reading his eyes. but you didn't press him as you ust nodded.

as you stood, eunseok rounded the bar with an unusual urgency, subtly guiding your position so your back remained turned to the center of the room. he didn't want you to see. but behind you, wonbin had already noticed everything. his eyes didn't leave you—not once. not when eunseok touched your shoulders, not when he leaned too close. ara was speaking, but her voice had blurred into the background for him.

"wonbin," she said, voice firmer now. "wonbin?"

he blinked, finally pulling his eyes from the scene and turning back to her. "huh?"

"were you even listening to me?" ara asked, her tone tinged with irritation.

"sorry," he said flatly as if he didn't mean it. "what were you saying?"

ara deadpanned at him. "nevermind, i forgot."

wonbin didn’t press her. he only gave a small nod, eyes eyes shifting to the camera sitting on the table in front of him. his fingers adjusted the lens absentmindedly, like it mattered more than anything she could've said.

meanwhile, you and eunseok reached the staff room door. the one that led to the quiet, dim alley behind the bar. his hand was still wrapped around your shoulders, as though he couldn’t let go even after passing out of wonbin’s view.

then karina brushed by, tray in hand carrying ara's orders. "make way," she said flatly.

eunseok stepped back immediately, letting his hand fall from your shoulder. the space between you opened just enough for karina to squeeze past, the tray hovered above your head. but before your eyes could follow her down the hall, eunseok caught your hands in his again hurriedly and dragged you toward the rear door that creaked open into the bar’s narrow alleyway.

back inside, karina made her way toward ara’s table, her focus more on balancing than anything else. her gaze flicked briefly at the man seated across the table—nonchalant, half-slouched, camera before him. karina almost missed him entirely.

she then did a double take after realizing. karina’s spine stiffened, and for a second, she almost got swayed, but she composed herself quickly, lowering the tray onto the table carefully.

"your… order, ma’am," her voice came out distracted, not tearing her eyes away from wonbin as she gently placed each item—crostini, smoked salmon, the martini.

her eyes narrowed at him, sharp and unbothered to hide it. judging, and unimpressed. wonbin saw but didn’t acknowledge her. his head remained slightly bowed.

"thank you," the woman said softly, smiling politely. karina gave a shallow bow and turned, her footsteps brisk as she walked away, but even then, she kept her look, throwing silent daggers at wonbin.

outside, in the cramped alley behind the bar, the cool air brushed your skin. the dim of the bar faded into a muffled hum behind the metal door. eunseok stood close, hands still encasing yours.

it was followed by silence, before you looked down. "eunseok…"

his eyes followed yours, and when he realized he hadn’t let go, he released your hands like they burned him. "sorry," he chuckled awkwardly. voice low as he cleared his throat. his hands slipping into the pockets of his black trousers.

you then shifted on your feet. "so… what were you going to tell me?"

his eyes flicked up to yours, momentarily confused. "tell you?" he echoed, like the question had pulled him out of someplace else.

"yeah, you said it was important?"

"ah—yeah, that. i..." eunseok stuttered, his gaze dropping as he sighed and swallowed hard.

"yeah?" you tilted your head, eyes trying to meet his. "come on, are you shy?" you teased gently, hoping to nudge him into ease.

"no, no," he replied with a small smile.

he paused, trying to piece together another half-truth to distract you. he didn"t want to admit that he brought you out here just to avoid wonbin and his date inside. that wasn’t the truth he wanted to tell.

"do you… want to walk? eat something?" he asked instead."

you blinked. "song sunseok," your tone shifted to much firmer now. "quit cutting around the bushes. you already asked me that earlier."

he exhaled again, heavier this time. the tension in his shoulders sagged into something more resigned.

"alright," he said quietly. another pause. then, "i like you."

it wasn’t the truth you were expecting, but it was still the truth.

his head lifted to meet your eyes, and this time, emotion welled there, honest and raw—something you’d only seen in glimpses before whenever he sometimes looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. but this time, he let the gaze stay.

you blinked, but didn't flinch. you didn’t deny it or laugh it off, didn’t accuse him of being drunk. because deep down, you’d already known. you’d just been waiting for him to say it.

a small chuckle escaped your lips as you looked down. his brows drew together, worry settling across his face. "what? why are you laughing?" he asked.

"nothing," you said, lifting your gaze with a smile. "it’s just… i kind of already felt it."

"right. i must be terribly obvious, then." he chuckled.

"very much so."

then, his face shifted again back to serious. "you... don’t have to answer, or say anything."

your expression fell in turn. you stared past him, eyes fixed on the brick wall behind his shoulder in thought. the truth was, even if he gave you permission not to respond, you still wouldn't know what to say.

eunseok makes you happy. he’s kind, patient, perfect. the kind of man you’d always told yourself you wanted. but how could you declare anything, make anything feel real when you were still letting wonbin through your door at night?

you and eunseok didn’t go back to the bar after that.

instead, he took you for a walk, where the two of you talked about everything else. how he’d liked you ever since karina first introduced you to the bar a year ago. how he’d always meant to ask you out, but never did—too sheepish, until wonbin came along and beat him to it seven months ago. and when you and wonbin broke up, he told you he knew it was finally his turn to be the man he believed you deserved.

later that night, he drove you home. you ended up texting karina that you’d already gone back, since you hadn’t told her anything before slipping out of the bar.

────────────────────

you were tending to your plants by the window when a knock echoed from your front door. you looked across the room. you already knew who it was—only one person ever knocked at this hour.

you opened the door, and as expected, wonbin stood there. but what's unexpected is this time, he didn't greet you messily. no sudden kiss, no bodies crashing through the hallway. no clothes pulled off in hurried hands. no smell of alcohol in the air. he was sober, and calm. he didn’t touch you.

"i’m... not here to cause any trouble," he said quietly.

you nodded, a bit confused, but stepped aside to let him in. he walked in like a civilized guest. hung his camera beside the door, removed his shoes neatly and placed them on the rack. not how he used to enter.

"have you eaten?" he asked.

you blinked, unsure how to respond. "have you?"

"no." he shook his head.

without a word, you walked to the kitchen, pulling out two cups of instant noodles. you poured hot water into each, set them down on the table. one for you, one across for him.

you sat down, still not saying anything, just waiting. wonbin sat too, pulling the chair back quietly. he tapped the chopsticks against the lid to straighten them, then peeled off the plastic.

"you came here to eat?" you asked, still stirring your noodles. "you’re not drunk. are you not here to lay me down again—"

"heo sori." he cut you off gently, not harshly. "i just... came here to see you."

you looked up. "we’re long gone, wonbin."

"then why did you let me in?"

your hand stilled mid-stir. then you stared at him blankly. "no reason," you replied.

but the truth was—you didn’t know either. you asked yourself the same question he asked. you didn’t know why you let him in. maybe part of you was still waiting to understand it too.

then, wonbin suddenly pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping away at something. you looked up from your noodles without lifting your head. after a few seconds, he leaned forward and held the phone out to you.

"what’s that?" you asked flatly.

"your number,"

you let out a low, indifferent scoff, but still, you took the phone and typed it in. "so... you deleted my number." you muttered, not looking at him.

"you changed it." he responded right away.

realizing that made you clear your throat. you handed the phone back, your fingers brushing his for a moment before silence followed again.

you both finished your noodles wordlessly, the only sound being the quiet clink of chopsticks against plastic and slurping. when you pushed yours aside, wonbin stood without a word, scooping up your cup and his. he walked to the trash can and tossed them in neatly. you remained seated, not batting an eye.

"will talking about us physically kill you?" you asked. "why are you doing this?"

wonbin paused, then turned slowly. he walked back and sat in the chair across from you again. "i just…" his voice dropped. "i just miss you."

you let out a small, sarcastic smile, not even bothering to lift your eyes this time. "you miss me when you’re drunk."

"not tonight."

"then why are you here?" you snapped. your eyes finally lifted to meet his.

"because i miss you."

you scoffed, the sound was bitter and humorless. an ugly, broken laugh escaped your lips as you stood abruptly. the chair scraped behind you. you walked into the living room, stopping in the middle like you didn’t know where to go next. your arms fell limp to your sides.

"if you’re here to lie-" your voice cracked, barely holding steady, "please just… let it go."

wonbin’s steps behind you were slow. he reached out gently, his fingertips brushing the back of your hand before he held it, not too tightly—just enough to hold you. then he stepped around to face you. he didn’t say anything right away. his brows were slightly drawn, his gaze soft on yours. there was no arrogance this time, no passive aggressiveness. his eyes looked like they were trying to apologize for things he couldn’t say.

"i can’t let it go," he said softly. "can you? or is it because you’re already dating eunseok?"

the mention of eunseok caught you off guard. your brows furrowed, and your fists tightened against his hands. "don’t bring eunseok into this,"

"no. answer me," he said, a notch firmer.

"you answer me!" you fired back, voice rising. "why are you even here?!"

"why not?" he said, tone still calm despite you getting worked up. you opened your mouth, tried to spit something back, but nothing came out.

"because you’re dating that guy? huh?" his hands moved to your shoulders, holding you there, grounding you.

"i don’t fucking know!" you cried, your voice finally cracking as your hands flew up and slapped his away. you turned your back as your breath trembled out of you.

you felt his careful footsteps approaching from behind again. wonbin stopped just close enough for his breath to ghost against your hair as he spoke, voice low and breathy.

"why him?" wonbin spoke. "will he do this for you?"

before you could react, you felt the soft brush of his fingertips against your neck. they swept upward with care. his palms gathered your hair, gently pushing the strands aside and laying them across your shoulder like he had done so many times before.

his voice came again, coaxing, as his hands hovered above your skin. "will he visit you? sit down and eat with you?" the warmth of his hands grazed your bare neck, trailing with down to your collarbone before his fingers slipped beneath the edge of your shirt collar.

still, you didn't stop him. not with your body. but your words "he doesn't hurt me." you swallowed the rising lump in your throat. "he won't visit me because... he doesn't invade my peace."

behind you, wonbin stilled. you couldn't see his face, but you can hear the quiet grind of his teeth. the tense exhales. still, his hands didn’t get rough, wrapping around your waist with gentleness that contradicted the jealousy boiling inside him. he pulled you closer, chest to back, chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

"but... will he love you like i do?" his voice broke subtly on the last word.

do.

the word echoed in your head. you closed your eyes, struggling to keep the walls up. "he doesn't hurt me," you repeated.

wonbin leaned closer, his lips brushing the curve of your ear now. "do you like him?" he whispered, his tone slightly taunting.

you hesitated. before giving an unsure answer "he's... a nice man."

it was the only truth you could utter. but even then, you knew you might not like him. that you might have just liked the way how eunseok was so opposite to the man behind you, how he made you happy and made things easier to forget. and how you wish that you're wrong.

wonbin exhaled heavily against your shoulder. he didn't speak again. instead, his hands slid away from your waist, and he gently turned you to face him.

his eyes met yours for only a second before he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away. but you didn't. his lips pressed yours, soft and moist, the kind of kiss that felt like a memory coming back to life. he didn't taste like alcohol this time. no bitterness. just him.

you closed your eyes and let the him be tender. you let the kiss speak for the both of you. his hands cupped your cheeks, calloused thumbs brushing gently beneath your eyes. then, still not breaking the kiss, he guided you down to the couch, seating you as he knelt one knee beside you, his body hovering but not pressing.

a sense of comfort began to grow in you. his touch felt genuine this time. it wasn't rushed or clouded by alcohol or regret. it was just him. calm, and present. there was no musky smell of whiskey, no slurred words or needy hands. he came to you sober, and that alone made your heart soften.

his touch felt solid and real. and for the first time in a long while, you believed he might actually be choosing to be here. not out of confusion or drunkenness, but with full awareness—because he wanted to.

that's what brought you comfort, not the kiss or how he held your thighs, but the intention behind. the honesty in what he did.

────────────────────

you could swear it—wonbin was beginning to fade back into your life. and the scariest part was you didn't know whether you liked it or not. no one else knew. not a soul. just the two of you, and the walls of your room that had witnessed everything in silence. not even karina. not the friend who knew your every scar and secret knew about this abomination.

after that night, you had already braced yourself for his absence. you expected to wake up alone like always, to feel the emptiness beside you before the sun had even touched your window. it was a pattern. he'd always slip out of your apartment before dawn.

but this time, he didn't. what greeted your eyes wasn't the usual blinding beam of sunlight cutting through your curtains but him. wonbin, asleep, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours. his arm was draped over your torso. his face looked calm and pure.

you didn't move at first. instead, you lay still, your gaze lingering on him. studying the subtle curve of his lashes, the way the early light softened his features. you couldn't help but wonder why is he still here? why hadn't he left again?

slowly, almost on instinct, you reached up and brushed a few stray strands of hair from his forehead. his black hair, no longer bleached blonde. you had once told him that black suited him better, that it made his eyes look softer. maybe he remembered.

his eyes fluttered open at your touch, groggy and unfocused at first, then settling on your face. the morning light poured in through the window, turning his dark brown irises a honeyed shade, pupils slowly dilating as he blinked up at you.

"sori..." he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.

you hummed softly, fingers still tangled gently in his hair. "hm?"

he didn't close his eyes again, instead, he leaned subtly into your touch. "you're an angel," he whispered. "you've always been."

you didn't know what to say, didn't know what's going on in his mind.

because in his eyes, you were something pure. something light. yet he tainted you every time he came close. every word like that, every moment like this just left more questionst. you wanted to ask him what he meant, what he wanted, why he kept leaving and coming back like this. but the answers felt just out of reach, and you didn't know if he'd ever give them to you.

so instead, you sat up slowly, lifting the blanket with you to cover your chest. you didn't turn to look at him as you reached for the shirt on the floor, pulling it over your head. your undergarments followed. "gonna make breakfast," you mumbled, voice neutral as you stood up.

you found yourself seated once again across from wonbin at your small dining table, the same way you did last night. the scent of warm butter and syrup floated in the air as a plate of soft pancakes sat in front of you. wonbin sat quietly across from you, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a slight crease between his brows as he chewed on a bite of pancake. it should’ve been peaceful. but the air between you was still heavy.

"i don’t see you anymore at the flower shop," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

you glanced up, the words catching you off guard. you hesitated, unsure what to make of it. was he still passing by? looking for you?

"i found a job at a nearby restaurant," you answered. "just a walk away from here." he gave a small nod, and popped another bite of pancake into his mouth.

and then, you asked what had been clawing at your chest for months. "how’s your... career?" your voice was quiet. "you and..." you paused, swallowing the lump forming in your throat, "...you and that girl from the studio?"

wonbin’s fork slowed, then stopped completely. he blinked, the expression on his face softening into something apologetic. he carefully set the fork down beside the plate and looked at you, brows furrowed.

"can we talk about that?" he asked gently.

you mirrored his movement, setting your fork down, folding your hands in your lap. you gave a small nod.

"i know you think what you saw that night was enough. and maybe it is." he paused, his voice fragile. "there’s really no explanation for that. no excuse."

your gaze stayed on him firm. you didn’t want comfort, you wanted the truth.

he drew in a slow breath, lowering his eyes to the table. "we fought. and i thought i’d already lost you. i didn’t know how to fix it. so i started drinking… a lot. every day, every night. even though i couldn’t afford to fall apart. the exhibit was opening in just a few weeks, and i had to keep working."

he ran a hand through his hair, looking visibly exhausted by the memory.

"she was my model. i knew what she was doing that night, but i didn’t stop her. i let myself spiral. i was… influenced. but i swear, sori—" his voice cracked slightly, "—i never meant to betray you. i never wanted to cheat. not behind your back. not like that."

his voice faded into silence. you stared at your lap, fingers slowly knotting and unknotting in your hands. there were a hundred thoughts in your head, and yet none of them would form the right words. his confession didn’t erase what happened. it didn’t soothe the sting of what you saw that night. but something in the way he looked at you now, clear-eyed, sober, still, felt different.

your eyes lifted to his again, and for a moment, all you could say was— "i don’t know what to feel."

wonbin just nodded, his expression understanding. he didn't push nor begged for you to believe or forgive him. you could see he was giving you space to breathe and process.

you held back tears. "i was there to try and make up with you..." you whispered. then, more firmly. "wonbin, how could you explain the lavender perfume i smelled on your shirt before weeks prior? can you answer me?"

your eyebrows furrowed as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. the hurt, the confusion—it all bubbled up again. but wonbin didn't flinch. his answer came almost immediately.

"it was for you," he said. "it was your birthday. i wanted to surprise you. i bought you a floral perfume as a gift. i sprayed some on me, thinking you'd smell it first—then i'd hand you the actual bottle and tell you it was yours."

he exhaled slowly, regret pouring out in the way his shoulders slouched. "but when i came to surprise you, i saw eunseok in front of your building. he was leaving, and you were drunk when i got in here. he brought you home. i didn't take it well... i lost it. and we fought."

you looked down, even more guilt blooming in. the misunderstanding had been ugly and festered in the silence between you both.

"why didn't you just tell me?" you asked.

he looked at you again, eyes raw. "because you were drunk, and i was mad. seeing another guy take you home—it got to me. so i didn't explain. i lied about the perfume. i wanted you to hurt too." he let out a short, bitter laugh. "i was a fool, sori."

you stared at him. slightly offended by how selfish he got.

"we are..." you spoke, eyes lowered to the cooling pancakes on your plate. "will we ever be okay again?" the question slipped from your mouth.

wonbin looked at you. his lips parted slightly, twitching to a smile as he held back his own tears. "i want to," he said quietly. "i miss you."

"i miss you too... but i need to think," you breathed out.

"is it because of—" he started, but you cut in before his sentence could bloom into assumption.

"it’s not about eunseok," you clarified. "it’s about us. you and me."

there was a pause. then he nodded in understanding. he didn’t press, didn’t object, didn’t throw his pride into the mix like he used to. he simply accepted your words, and respected your space.

this version of wonbin, still emotional, still vulnerable, but no longer impulsive, was something new and refreshing. you’d been so used to his outbursts, chaos, to heat-of-the-moment choices but now he seems genuinely trying.

still, everything remained tangled. you looked around the apartment. sunlight dappling your plants, the air thick with the scent of syrup and leaves—and realized you weren’t ready to fully accept him back yet.

────────────────────

wonbin left your apartment after breakfast with a proper goodbye. you sat in silence for a while, staring blankly at the empty seat across from you. a part of you debated calling in sick, but you forced yourself to go to work anyway.

after your shift, you stood by the door of the bar but didn’t go in. the thought of seeing eunseok especially after last night had your stomach twisting. you couldn’t face him yet, not while your thoughts were still tangled from the morning. so instead, you pulled out your phone and sent a message to the one person who’d always been your lighthouse.

"let’s have lunch. usual spot."

karina hadn’t responded to your message from last night, but you hoped this one would reach her.

now, seated at your familiar two-seater table, you fiddled with the edge of the menu, nerves knotting in your chest. you’d already rehearsed the truth in your head a dozen times, turning the words over and over until they felt safe. you didn’t know how she’d react. but you couldn’t keep hiding it from her anymore.

"sori!" karina’s voice called from behind, snapping you from your thoughts. you turned, giving a half-hearted wave as she approached.

she dropped into the seat across from you, her purse landing with a soft thud on the table. her hair was a little messy, her face bare and tired. the moment she sat down, she leaned her cheek against her palm.

"you okay? you look hungover," you teased, raising a brow.

"yeah... drank last night. blacked out," she muttered groggily.

"so that’s why you never replied," you chuckled, lifting a hand to flag down the waiter. "i kind of left the bar without saying anything."

"i know. you ghosted me. i’m losing you to eunseok," she huffed playfully, eyes fluttering shut as she rested her head on the table.

her words made your smile fade. you looked away, guilt creeping in. the waiter came by to take your orders, giving you a moment to regroup before you turned your attention back to her.

"rina?"

she responded with a hum, eyes still closed.

"i... i have something to tell you."

that was enough to make her lift her head. she sat up slightly, her gaze sharpening. "what?"

"i know you’re gonna scold me, but... can you cut me a little slack?"

her eyes narrowed. "what did you do?"

"ah—don’t raise your voice. this is exactly why i’m scared of you," you said with a pout, though the worry was clear on your face.

karina blinked, her expression softening at your seriousness. she sighed and reached over, tapping your hand. "alright, alright. i’m calm. tell me."

you took a deep breath, your fingers curling into your palms.

"wonbin’s been... seeing me secretly for the past two weeks." your voice was quiet and embarrassed. you kept your eyes on the table. "and... we talked. really talked."

silence stretched between you again. you dared to glance up and met karina’s eyes, soft with something between pity and restrained judgment.

"so that’s why you’ve been acting weird," she said, surprisingly calm.

"yeah. i’m sorry. i didn’t tell you because i didn’t want you to feel like all those months you spent helping me through the breakup were for nothing."

karina exhaled and placed her hand over your clenched fist. "i’m more upset that you thought that. i get it, ri. i really do."

relief washed over you, even if only for a second. "and since you’re still here, not crying or freaking out, i’m guessing he didn’t punch you or show up just to mess with your head?"

you shook your head. "cant agree with the latter, but he didn’t punch me." you let out a lighthearted smirk. "we actually talked about what happened... the night we broke up."

karina didn’t seem shocked, almost like she’d expected this all along. she sighed again, long and heavy. "i don’t know if i can support you if you decide to go back to him. i’m just being honest. i don’t know if he’s someone you can trust."

you frowned. "what do you mean?"

she hesitated, lips parting like she wanted to say more but stopped herself. "just... keep your guard up, okay? please. and what about eunseok?"

the mention of his name made your chest tighten. no matter how hard you tried to avoid him, you knew you couldn’t keep running away.

"i’ll talk to him," you nodded. "i’ll try."

karina looked at you, her brows pinched as she tried to read deeper into your expression. there was no judgment in her eyes, just concern. the kind that comes from someone who’s picked up your pieces before and is terrified of watching them fall apart again.

you fiddled with the corner of your napkin, eyes darting to the half-full glass of water in front of you. "i know it sounds stupid… seeing him again. after everything."

"it doesn’t sound stupid," karina gently spoke. "it just sounds like you’re trying to understand something that maybe doesn’t have a clear answer yet."

you nodded slowly.

"and i get it," she added. "closure isn’t always clean. sometimes it’s messy and drawn-out and confusing." her hand squeezed yours lightly. "just don’t lose yourself in the process, ri. please."

you gave her a small smile. "i won’t. i promise."

────────────────────

you met with eunseok later that evening.

after your lunch with karina, you went back to your apartment, trying to get some rest—but mostly, to collect your thoughts. the guilt was growing heavier the more you avoided facing it. when the sun finally dipped low enough, you made your way to the bar.

he greeted you like he always did, warm and welcoming. his eyes lighting up the second he saw you. he was wiping down a glass, but the sight of you made him pause mid-motion.

"thought i wasn't gonna see you today," he said, voice bright and relieved.

you returned the smile, though yours carried a weight. "how could i not show up?" you replied softly, moving to your usual seat at the bar. you slid onto the stool, your fingers curling lightly around the edge of the counter.

"what drink for tonight?" he asked, already turning to grab a tumbler.

"no-" you said quickly, stopping him with your voice alone. "i’m… not here to drink."

he paused, his hand hovering in mid-air for a second before slowly setting the glass back down. His brows furrowed with a touch of concern.

"sure…?" he said cautiously, tilting his head, trying to read you. then, with a sigh, he circled around the bar and took the empty stool beside you, giving you his full attention. "what’s going on?"

"it’s about… wonbin," you said.

at the mention of the name, his brows pulled together, and the light in his eyes dimmed into something more protective. "why? is that jerk bothering you?" he asked, already leaning in as though ready to act.

you quickly shook your head and reached out, your fingers brushing against his forearm in reassurance. "no, it’s not like that. we just... met. we talked."

that was half the truth. you didn’t add how it had become routine, how you'd been in his arms just this morning, or how your thoughts kept drifting between both of them in a loop. how you’d let wonbin hold you each night, only to wake in the comfort of eunseok’s steady warmth each morning.

eunseok’s shoulders relaxed slightly, his gaze softening as he watched your hand rest on his arm. "what did he say?"

"we talked about the breakup." so you told him every detail you could manage, repeating the same words from wonbin. when you finished, silence settled between you. eunseok’s eyes darkened—not angry, but disappointed. disappointed in someone else, for your sake.

"do you want him back?" he asked, hesitant.

"i—no. no, eunseok. i don’t know." you looked down, words spilling in a rush. "i didn’t mean to confuse anything between us. i’m sorry if i did. i’m just... lost."

he stopped you, his hand gently pressing on your shoulder. "hey, take it easy. you don’t owe me an answer right now."

you nodded slowly, and he gave your arm a soft squeeze. "but promise me something?" he added, more serious now. "don’t rush into anything. you don’t need to. i know what he did to you. and i don’t want to see that happen again."

his words reminded you of karina’s earlier ones. both of them so protective, so sure that this would only end one way if you weren’t careful.

"i get that you might think i’m just being protective or whatever," he continued, his voice lower now. "but if you’re asking me... i don’t want you going back to him."

you blinked at him, trying to read past his words. something felt off—but maybe they really just didn’t trust wonbin.

"i’m sorry,” you said againl. "you didn’t deserve to be put in this weird place.”

he smiled then—tired, but genuine. "i’ll take that as you like the way i treat you.”

you let out a soft chuckle through your nose. "yeah, i do."

"well," he said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "i’m not planning on changing that anytime soon."

────────────────────

even after eunseok went back behind the counter, you stayed.

you talked to him more about random things—music, the weather, the annoying regular who never tips. karina joined in from time to time, and so did the other staff you’d somehow grown comfortable with. you told yourself it was just a few more minutes, just a drink to pass the night. but really, you were just stalling.

eventually, you stood up, stretched your arms out, and checked the time. late, but not too late. you thought about going home, but your feet didn’t move.

wonbin had always been the one showing up. uninvited but never unwelcome. maybe tonight it should be you. maybe, you could show up for him. no reason, just to see him.

with that thought, you turned and began walking, refusing eunseok's persistent offer to drive you home. the streets dim beneath warm amber steetlights. when you neared his neighborhood, your steps slowed, anticipation bubbling in your chest.

but the moment you turned onto his street, you froze, stopping dead in your tracks. you immediately stepped back, heart quickening, pressing yourself against the cold brick wall of the building beside you as you peeked around the corner.

there, under the soft glow of the streetlamp just outside wonbin’s apartment building, stood him, and a familiar woman.

your eyes narrowed, brain recalling your memories until one snapped into place. you remembered her now. she was the woman karina served last night at the bar.

her long neat hair cascaded over one shoulder, and wrapped around her shoulders was wonbin's leather jacket. the one he used to wrap around you on cold nights.

she was smiling, eyes locked on him as he said something that made her smile. wonbin’s expression was soft in return. like acknowledgement. but something about it twisted in your stomach. not because it was a stranger’s look, but because you recognized it too well.

they weren’t touching. but the space between them was small. you leaned back against the wall, the breath leaving your lungs as if you’d been hit. your thoughts spiraled again. what he told you this morning, his voice, his words, the look in his eyes. were they just some kind of sick lies?

your fingers twitched at your sides as you stared down at the concrete in disappointment. you didn’t need to hear what they were saying. you believe you had seen enough. you had come here to see him. maybe even to talk, to ask. but now, your hope—ash.

so you turned away and really made your way back home.