Working as an accountant was fun at first until you reached your company's peak season where your workloads increased suddenly and your toxic boss still refused to do his job properly and ended up you were the one who worked it. A very annoying coworker because she never listened to you when you explained about the work and you ended up being the one who finished her job. You just wanted to have a week off away from every responsibility you had. So you decided to plan an escape, a sweet escape for you.

You decided to wait for the hotel driver inside a coffee shop and as you entered the shop, you made a u-turn right away. The general manager of your company was there, sitting inside the shop while sipping a glass of espresso.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" You tried to hide your face and moved to the coffee shop next door. You wanted to escape your reality but seeing someone from your work gave you enough stress already.

An hour later, you got a message from the hotel driver that announced he had already arrived at the airport and on his way to the gate. You dragged your big ass luggage to the spot and your general manager was already there. His sunglasses were up on his hair and you couldn't lie that he looked good with a casual outfit—well he looked good with his work attire too but you hate him to the guts inside the office.

The hotel car was approaching and the car stopped right in front of your general manager, you had no choice but to walk there.

"Oh? Mr. Yoon?" You act surprised seeing him there. He looked at you with no expression before gave you a simple smile.

"Vacation, sir?" You asked, attempting to make small talk.

"Yes." He answered quickly.

The driver came out from the car and walked towards you. He asked your name to confirm your identity and then he moved in front of Mr. Yoon—The General Manager or your colleagues loved to call him the nepo baby.

"Mr. Yoon Jeonghan?" Your head snapped to his direction, eyes widening. Why did the driver ask his name? Why did the driver also take his luggage? Why Mr. Yoon opened the back seat and sat there? You stood still, refusing to get inside the car.

"What are you doing? Get in!" Mr. Yoon ordered and you opened the passenger door.

"You can sit in the back, miss." The driver said politely and you shook your head.

"I'm fine sitting in the front." You would rather sit in the front than sit beside Mr. Yoon. You heard him sigh like he felt annoyed.

"Having a vacation sir and miss?" The sweet driver asked.

"Yes, it's been so long since I took a paid leave." You answered politely.

"The two of you know each other?" You didn't answer right away, waiting for Mr. Yoon's answer.

"Sort of." Mr. Yoon answered and you gave the driver a forced smile.

The ride to the hotel was full of chit chat between you and the driver. Mr. Yoon slept the whole time, he didn't bother to join the conversation.

What a jerk, you thought.

The hotel was more like a resort, it was a grand hotel. You spent a quarter of your monthly salary to book six nights in this hotel. You thanked the driver when he helped you with your luggage but Mr. Yoon thanked him and gave him a tip. The bell boy helped bring your luggage inside and the hotel lobby was exquisite.

"Good afternoon Mr. and Mrs., checked in?" The sweet receptionist greeted you.

"Yes!" You happily answer.

"Under whose name miss?"

"Oh, sorry. We're under a different name." You corrected the receptionist to avoid any further misunderstanding.

"Oh no, I'm really sorry." She bowed and you told her that it was fine.

"After you, Mr. Yoon." You gave him a smile and let him check in first. The other receptionist who was done checking in another customer helped you.

You really hate the way you acted and talked around Mr. Yoon. Three hours into your sweet escape, you already walked on egg shells because Mr. Yoon. Your room was on the seventeen floor and your room view is straight to the ocean.

Waiting for the elevator with Mr. Yoon was awkward. You didn't dare to make any sound or breath too loud.

The elevator door opens and you tap your key room so the elevator will go to the seventeen floor. Seeing Mr. Yoon didn't tap him, you assumed that his room was on the same floor as yours.

"You should act like you didn't know me."

"Sorry?"

"We're outside the office, you should act that we didn't know each other at all. So, you should stop acting like I'm your manager and all." As he said that, you dropped the act. The fake smile that you've been putting on since you met him was gone instantly.

If he told you that you shouldn't act like you knew him then his wish was granted immediately. Approved with no question.

When the elevator door opened, you walked out first. You didn't even think about his presence inside the elevator. You followed the sign for room number 1710 and it turns out Mr. Yoon's room number was right next to you, 1709.

You tapped your room card and got inside your room. You squealed when you realized your junior suite was bigger than you expected but you ain't complaining. The bathroom was big, it had a bath tub and shower. The toilet was in a different area so it will stay dry, just what you like. You are basically skipping your way to the balcony. You slid the balcony door and took a deep inhale. The fresh mixed salty air you inhaled through your nose down to your throat and you almost choked when Mr. Yoon was standing on the balcony looking straight at you.

"Hope you won't make too much noise, neighbor." He scoffed at you.

"Oh, don't worry, neighbor. I will make sure you hear everything I do." You walked away after replying to his nasty comment.

Yoon Jeonghan was your office nepo baby. His grandfather was the founder of the construction company that you work in, his father was working as a CEO at your current company. His first day successfully caused a scene because everyone thought the General Manager was someone in their fifties. And turns out the new GM was a handsome looking man in his thirties.

But he was a jerk and he always complained about office spending which is your division job to manage the cash flow. Your office spending was normal, but he always commented about little things like office recreation events or snacks at the pantry.

Stingy nepo baby.

"Hello," You greeted the waiting staff in front of the hotel restaurant.

"Evening, miss. May I see your voucher for tonight's buffet?" You gave the waiting staff your voucher and someone behind you coughed. You turned around and Mr. Yoon gave you a very annoying smug smile. 

"Enjoy your dinner miss." You thanked the waiting staff and entered the restaurant.

As you walked in your eyes scanned the whole variety of buffet the restaurant offers. Of course, you went straight to the seafood buffet first. Crab legs, shrimp, lobster, oyster—as you considered what to get, Mr. Yoon stood beside you, he looked at you like he was judging you. So, you gave him the same attitude. He was so annoying–both inside the office and outside the office. 

Mind you, he was the one who suggested that you act like you didn’t know him at all, but how could you do it when he was literally everywhere around you?

"Excuse me." You walked past the man.

You took a seat at a table by the window, eating a delicious buffet with a great view. It gave you a satisfying feeling, after all it was a sweet escape indeed. After days of working late in the office, eating cup noodles or convenience stores, you finally eat something that you deserved except the stingy nepo baby decided to sit on the table right next to yours.

Comparing his plate and yours, you got a sudden embarrassment because you took a lot of things, like a lot. Well, this was not an opportunity that occurs often. You shrugged at the sight and continued devouring all kinds of mouthwatering sea creatures that had been served on your plate. 

You made your way to the Italian dish after finishing with your seafood plate. Your mouth watery when you saw what they had with the Italian menu. A slice of margherita pizza, a plate of fettucine carbonara, some cold slices and cheese. 

"You should tone it down or you will get digestion." Mr. Yoon mumbled when he was near you.

"Thank you for your concern." You nod your head just a little before going back to your seat.

It's almost nine when you are done with your desert. Mr. Yoon on the next table had already finished his food but he sat still at his table. You could barely move because you were feeling too full. You let out a satisfied sigh before forcing yourself to get up from your seat. You thanked the staff and decided to take a walk along the beach to digest your meal.

It was too windy for your liking but when will you get a chance to enjoy the night by the beach? There were couples who were sitting and giggling, some took photos together, some just enjoyed the night. You unlocked your phone and opened your camera. You took a photo of the beach and took a selfie—you were clearly aware that you were bad at taking photos so all of your selfie ended up inside the deleted album.

"Want me to take your picture?" Mr. Yoon stood in front of you, offering to take your photo.

You hesitated at first but you wanted to make memories, so you handed him your phone. You were posing awkwardly that made him judge you with his eyes. This stingy nepo baby started to get into your nerves. It felt like everything you did was wrong in his eyes or maybe you should just poked his eyes and said oops, sorry.

"I don't know what to do." You said honestly. He didn't make any comments after that, he just took your pictures– you didn’t even know if he took them correctly or not. He kept clicked the button–shuttering it like he didn’t 

"Thank you, sir." You thanked him as he handed your phone.

"Do you want me to take your picture?" You offered, he nodded but he didn't give you his phone. So, you took his picture with your phone. He was natural in front of the camera, he was posing in front of the camera like it was his job. The poses were simple but the picture came out beautiful—perks of being photogenic.

The night ended with you walking back to your room with Mr. Yoon in silence. You didn't make small talk with him and neither did he. You turned to face him when you arrived at the front of your door.

"Good night, sir." You bowed but when he called your name, you stop pushing your door midway.

"Don't call me sir, I'm not your boss right now." You smiled at him.

"Well, good night, Jeonghan."

You woke up in the morning feeling refreshed. No alarm sounds, no rush because you woke up late, no worries about what to wear for the day. You slid your balcony door, the sunlight greeted you with her warmth.

"Good morning." Jeonghan greeted you, newspaper in his hand, a glass of coffee on the table.

"Morning." You greeted back while brushing your hair with your empty hand, trying to make yourself look decent.

"Seems like you had a good sleep."

"I am and I believe you had a good one too." He scoffed like he didn't believe what you just said.

"Why did you scoff? Bad night?"

"Why did you ask like you care?"

Sassy nepo baby.

"I'm just asking—I shouldn't have asked first hand." You get inside your room getting ready for breakfast.

This afternoon you wanted to go read your long forgotten novel that you bought a year ago by the beach. Sunnies up your nose, your bikini that you bought two years ago finally you put it on, an oversized shirt that you bought last week for this special occasion you used as a cover. You made your way out when you met Jeonghan again.

"To the beach?" He asked.

"Yes, and didn't you tell me to act like I didn't know you?" 

"Yes, and?" He crooked his head to the side.

"Please stop talking with me. People might think you are obsessed with me."

"As if."

You put your belongings on top of the deck chair. You laid out your towel and took off your shirt. You lie down on top of the deck with a novel in your hand. Jeonghan laid himself on the deck chair beside you and you paid him no attention.

Everything was going well until your phone rang. Your boss was calling and you groaned. You put your phone on silent but he was calling you again.

"I think you should answer that call." Jeonghan chirped in.

"It's a work call—it's only the second day fuck." You cursed, still refused to answer the call.

"Well, you are on leave and answering that call is not your obligation."

"I know, it's just—ugh." You answered the call and you were back on your professional mode.

"I already reported it to you last Friday before my leave. I already sent it to your email."

"Hello? Hello? My signal is gone—" you ended the call.

"He told me to send the report again while I already sent it last friday to his email. He didn't even bother to check his email first." You grumbled to Jeonghan.

"Well, you shouldn't have answered in the first place."

"I'm putting it on DND."

"You should have put it on since the very first time you set foot here." He put his sunnies back again.

That night you were going to eat out, you found a cute restaurant not too far from the beach and you were thinking about going to the bar near the restaurant.

"Is it okay if you sit with another person? Because our table is full at the moment." The waitress asked.

"Yeah, sure!" The waitress ushered you to the table and of course, you were seated with Jeonghan.

"Please wait for the menu." The waitress excused herself and you took a seat in front of him.

"What are you doing after this?" No hello, no small talk, just straight to the point.

"Why?" You asked.

"Drink with me. There's this bar not too far from here."

"Why should I?"

"I'll pay."

"No, why should I drink with you?" You were being annoying and you knew it—that was your intention all along.

"I feel lonely and I don't like to drink alone." A grin spread across your face when he admitted it.

"Fine, because Mr. Yoon asked me to and you will pay." You winked at him and he rolled his eyes.

The bar was quite packed despite it being a weekday. Most locals were the ones who came, some still wore their work attire, some just sat there to wind down. You and Jeonghan were sitting beside each other at the bar, you ordered a negroni and Jeonghan ordered a whiskey, neat.

"Why do people in the office call me stingy?" The question successfully made you laugh—snorted even.

"Are you seriously asking me about that?" You tried to hold your laughter when Jeonghan looked at you with all seriousness on his face.

"Well, every time we had town hall—your reaction when we talked about office recreation always showed disapprovement."

"I'm not?"

"Oh, you so are and it's not only about office recreation, it's also about snacks in the pantry." His face showed how hurt he was, he even drank his remaining whiskey in one shot.

"Hey, can I get another one?" He asked the bartender.

"Do you want another one?" He asked you, his tone was softer now.

"Martini, thank you." You thanked the bartender who winked at you.

"I just don't like the snacks in the pantry. Like, you guys can do better for the snacks. Buy something more expensive." He seems frustrated that made you laugh even more.

Maybe it was the vibes that made him look more– humanly. He was too cold in the office, too stoic. He rarely smiled. He never joined the unofficial company dinner. But tonight he was different, he didn't wear his fancy ass shirt and suits. He wore an oversized tee with jeans and sandals. His hair wasn't slicked back, he let his hair loose.

"Why are you laughing so much? Are you drunk already?" He crooked his head to the side with a little smirk spread on his face.

"Please, it's only the beginning and you should try to laugh more." He did a fake laugh that failed miserably and it made you laugh even more. He realized how dumb it was, he laughed too.

A real one.

"You know, you should laugh more or smile more, bet people in the office will hate you less." You teased him.

"Nah, I'm afraid they will like me too much if I’m being too friendly." The corner of his lips making a little curve, he was smiling and it made you drink your martini a little bit too fast then it should because your heart suddenly raced. 

Must be the alcohol work, you thought. 

Maybe the alcohol started to take over a little part of your brain because you thought that he looked handsome and real. For the record, you always thought that Jeonghan was handsome but tonight it was different. You just discovered a new side about him that probably people in the office will never discover at all. He was attractive tonight. He was real. He’s just a human, like you. 

That's the alcohol talking when you keep thinking about his attractiveness after your fourth glass of cocktails. He started to laugh even more than before, he was on his fifth glass of whiskey. You caught him staring at your lips for a second when you were talking, it made you stop mid sentences. He didn’t even look away when you caught him staring at your lips. 

"Did you just—never mind." 

"What? Stare at your lips?" You parted your lips but nothing came out from your mouth. He leaned in and it made you nervous.

"Mr. Yoon?" You murmured.

"Jeonghan, call me by my name." His eyes never leave yours when he says it firmly.

"Jeonghan?"

"Can I kiss you?" He asked softly. There was no pressure in his tone, so you didn't answer him. You just grabbed his by the collar and pulled him into a kiss. He froze for a second before taking control. He grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you to deepen the kiss. It was fast, messy, raw, and hot.

Who would have thought the stingy nepo baby boss in your office was good at kissing? He was damn good. He was just kissing you and you were sent straight to cloud nine. 

The kiss ended because you needed a proper air to breath, you were panting and he was too. Your lips swelled and his too. Your eyes were full of desire and he was more. He paid for the drink and called a taxi for the two of you. In the back seat? He basically was devouring you like a cave man. He didn't even look when he paid the taxi driver, it was probably more than he should, but boy did he care about money when your lips were more important than everything at that moment?

The silence while waiting for the elevator was too thick and when the elevator door opened, the two of you got in. Two seconds after the door closed, Jeonghan was back kissing you. He pressed you against the elevator wall, his hand was stroking your waist before he dragged his hands to trace your figure. He was making you dizzy and eager for more because the wetness down there can compete with the beach out there.

The elevator door opened and the two of you broke away and acted like nothing happened. As you walk to your room, you can feel Jeonghan's eyes on your back the whole time, like he was stripping you with his eyes. You stood in front of your door for a moment before giving him a wry smile, you wanted to invite him to your room but it was too fast and you were not a really one time person.

But this was a sweet escape, what happened here, stayed in here right?

Jeonghan stood in front of his door, hands in his pocket, eyes on you.

"Jeonghan, do you want to come in?" A smirk grew across his face, like he was waiting for the invite the whole time. As he took steps and stood in front of you, you put your hands on his chest, rubbed your thumbs slowly and sensually on his broad chest.

"What happened here, stay here, right?" You tiptoed and whispered in his ear. 

"Right." Before he grabbed the side of your face and kissed you fool. 

Jeonghan snatched the key card from you because you kept failing to open the damn door. As the door opened, Jeonghan pushed you inside and kissed you again. His hands were everywhere for a moment before he rested it on your ass and gave it a squish that made you moan. Your hands were greedy to take off his clothes, you wanted to feel him bare. You wanted to taste him, bare and raw. 

"Patient, baby." He whispered before trailing kisses down from your mouth to your jaw.

"Wrong person, Han." You said between moans.

"Well, I should teach you how to be patient."

Your body was sore all over, it's been so long since you had sex. You broke up two years ago and you have not had sex properly like last night with Jeonghan. For two years, it was always you, your fingers, and your little toy.

Jeonghan was still asleep, he was hovering you until you couldn't even move. Your throat needed water because it was too dry after everything happened last night. You wriggled your way out but Jeonghan tightened his hugs around you.

"Jeonghan, let me go." You said softly.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"I really need to drink."

"Can you do it real quick? I need a morning cuddle."

You ran to get water and drank almost a bottle. You were wearing an oversized Jeonghan’s tee from last night. As you drink, Jeonghan never leaves his eyes on you. So when you crawled back to bed, he caught you instantly. You were trapped between him and you didn't complain a bit. Because what to complain when you loved being under him? Well, you loved to be on top of him too—you discovered that last night.

"You said you wanted a morning cuddle—what's with this position?" You teased him.

"I changed my mind."

You missed the breakfast buffet when you finished doing the deed with Jeonghan. You decided to have brunch in a cafe and strolled around the city. Your itinerary for the day started a little bit late– not a little, it started almost three hours late and you had one guest that followed you.

"After brunch and strolling around, what's next?" Jeonghan asked after he sipped his iced latte.

"I'm going to swim, play by the beach and catch the sunset."

"Dinner?"

"Hotel's buffet."

"Good idea."

Surprisingly, talking with Jeonghan while sober was fun. He talked a lot about his private life, something you will never discover if you were talking with him inside the office. He was the oldest and he had one younger sister. He graduated from the top university in the country and his master's abroad. Actually he wasn't supposed to work in his father's company, he should be working under his mother's family company but his father told him to work on the construction company instead as general manager.

"What about your real dream? If you had the freedom to choose your work, what would that be?" You asked out of curiosity.

He inhaled sharply and thought about your question for a moment. 

"I wanted to be a doctor. That's been my dream since I was a kid. I applied for pre-med when I was a senior in high school, and was accepted." He was smiling but it was a forced one.

"I didn't even dare to talk about it with my parents." He continued.

"Enough about me, what about you?"

"Me?" You pointed at yourself.

"I used to dream of being a chef, a pastry chef." You chuckled at yourself, the dream that you buried deep when you realized that it was unrealistically for you and your family.

"You look like someone who can't bake." He teased you.

"And you don't look like someone who is a general manager of one of the biggest construction companies in the country." He chuckled at your return.

"But do you still bake?"

"I do but not that often and I baked something easy."

"I love brownies."

"What's that mean?" You asked him, playing fool.

"Nothing, I just said it." You chuckled at his response.

Strolling around the city with Jeonghan was fun. The two of you rented a motorbike and of course you were the one who drove it. You took a lot of his photos and he did the same. Everything was fun and that night, you slept in your own room, on your own.

By the fourth day, you didn't meet Jeonghan at all. You knocked on his door, you called his name by the balcony, no answer. So, you thought he was going somewhere and you were not going to email him, with your work mail just to ask his whereabouts.

You spent your fourth day in the resort because you signed up for their full day activity. You joined a morning yoga class and surfed lesson, lunch in the hotel, snorkeling, and the highlight was spa. The spa took around three hours to finish. By the end of your spa session, it was dinner time. You met Jeonghan in a hotel restaurant but something about him changed.

The smile in his eyes was gone.

The playful side of him, gone.

"Hey," You greeted him and he only gave you a thin smile.

"Are you okay?" You took a seat in front of him naturally.

"Yeah, I have something important to do today." He answered but you're not going to ask further.

"I'm done with my dinner, I'm going back to my room first." He excused himself, leaving you high and dry.

That night someone knocked on your room door and rang your room bell. You dragged yourself out from your bed and took a look at the peephole, Jeonghan was out there. You unlocked the door and Jeonghan hugged you immediately. His breath was heavy, like someone just chased after him. His hands trembled a little.

"Are you okay?" You asked and he shook his head.

You ushered him inside and he took a seat on the couch. You gave him a glass of water but he refused to drink it, he pulled you into his lap, wrapped his arms around your waist tightly and you let him.

"Bad dream?" You gently asked while gently stroking his head gently. 

"Yeah." He murmured on your shoulder.

You didn't want to prey on him, so you just hugged him tighter and you whispered to him that everything will be fine. 

Sleeping next to Jeonghan was comforting. He didn’t let go of you when he tried to sleep. You kept playing with his hair, brushing his hair with your fingers until he eventually fell asleep.

You woke up in the morning feeling empty and cold, no sign of Jeonghan at all. You rushed to the balcony and called his name but no answer. You went out and the housekeeping was unlocking Jeonghan's door.

"Sorry, did the man from this room already check out?" You asked.

"Yes, he checked out early this morning." The housekeeping answered and your heart dropped.

He left you without saying goodbye.

It was Monday morning all over again but you woke up earlier than your alarm. Feeling giddy to go to work. You brushed your hair while humming, preparing your work bag and pulling out a food container from the fridge. It was a brownie you made on Sunday night. 

You made enough for the people in your floor and enough for Jeonghan. Well, technically you made it for Jeonghan. He was on your mind all the time you made the brownies. Smiles spread across your face on the way to the office and when you clocked in. You decided to keep the brownie in the pantry fridge for people to eat it after lunch as dessert. Greeting your coworker who came one by one and asked you about your holiday until your eyes caught Jeonghan.

He was wearing all black formal clothes, very typical of him. Hair slicked back. He didn't smile, just gave a nod to everyone who greeted him. You wanted to come up to him, asking him about his weekend and the reason he left without telling you but you just can't bring yourself to do it. His eyes caught yours for a mere second but he turned his head immediately, like he was avoiding you then he entered his room and closed the window.

"Good morning." Soonyoung, one of the best architecture in your office, greeted you.

"Morning," You greeted back.

"Hows your vacation? Was it good?"

"It was! I love the beach there and the hotel you recommended was chef kiss." Soonyoung was giving you a list of hotels when you told him you were going to spend your week off there.

"Glad you love the hotel—anyway, got plans for lunch?"

"No, I don't have any plans for lunch, why?"

"There's this new cutlet restaurant—"

"Just asked her to eat with you, Soonyoung." Seungkwan cut Soonyoung mid sentences.

"Ah, okay. Let's go." You agreed.

"Okay, see you at lunch." He dragged Seungkwan on his way to his desk.

It was almost ten when you decided to make yourself a cup of coffee and when you entered the pantry, Jeonghan was there standing leaning against the coffee table while waiting for his coffee to be ready from the coffee machine. He noticed you but he didn't say anything, the only thing he did was give you a simple nod. He acted like he didn't know you at all, like you never existed in his life. Like he forgot last week, he was praising you all night long, calling you all names you can't even remember while saying how good you taste.

"Sir," You called him before he walked away from the pantry with his coffee.

"Yes?"

"I baked brownies, do you want some?" His eyes wavered before giving you a thin smile.

"I'll pass, thank you." He left and he was back to Mr. Yoon. He was no longer the Yoon Jeonghan that you knew last week. He’s back to Mr. Yoon.

"Oh? Morning, sir!" Soonyoung greeted Mr. Yoon.

"Did you bake brownies?" Soonyoung asked enthusiastically towards you and Jeonghan stopped at his track.

"Yes, do you want some? I thought about sharing it with others after lunch but I think right now is perfect. Brownie and a cup of coffee to kick the day." You offered the brownie to Soonyoung and he took one piece happily. 

He took a bite and moaned immediately, showing how good the brownie was.

"Can I take another piece? Like Seungkwan share?" You laughed at Soonyoung and you noticed Mr. Yoon was still in the pantry.

"Mr. Yoon, you should try her brownie. It is so good." Soonyoung showed him the second piece of brownie he just ate.

"Ah, thank you." Mr. Yoon finally left the pantry, leaving you and Soonyoung in the pantry.

"I never knew that you baked." Soonyoung was already on his third.

"I baked occasionally.” You chuckled at the sight of Soonyoung ate the brownies like it was his last meal on earth

“And just for your information, I don't eat anyone else's share. The first one was mine, the second one was Seungkwan, and this last piece was Mr. Yoon." You chuckled at Soonyoung.

"I will bake it specially for you next time."

"Really? It will be my pleasure to accept it."

Soonyoung helped you to announce to your colleagues that you baked brownie and it was in the pantry. People started to come into the pantry and thanked you in person. Some even messaged you privately in slack saying how good your brownie was. By lunch time, your food container was left with two pieces of brownie. You were thinking about giving it to Soonyoung and ate the other one. You turned around and met with Mr. Yoon. He was holding his coffee cup, probably going for his second cup of the day. You didn't even acknowledge his presence, just walked past him when he called your name.

"Is there any brownie left?" He asked softly, made you stop at your track.

"Yeah, there's one left. Here." You opened the food container and let him take the last piece.

"Thank you."

"No worries, sir." You left him there. Your steps felt heavy when you left him, but you remembered; what happened there, stayed there. So you and him were back to normal again, you worked in finance and he was your general manager.

Friday rolled too fast and you can't even enjoy your Friday night. It was almost eight in the evening and you were still at your desk. Spread sheets were blasting it lights on your monitor as you sighed probably for the twentieth time for the last hour. Dinner? don't think about it, your work was more important than anything at the moment—that was what you thought while you gaslight yourself. You couldn't help but groan when your stomach grumbled again.

You might have punched your monitor any minute now, so you decided to microwave instant oatmeal. The lights on Mr. Yoon's office was still on, he probably had over time like you or he just forgot to turn off his lights. As you waited for your instant oatmeal finished, you heard footsteps that walked towards the pantry. Your heart raced a little because deep down you were afraid that someone bad came after you but it was Mr. Yoon. His top shirt button was already undone, hair was messier, and he was looking more tired.

"Working late?" He asked and he still held his empty coffee cup—if that cup can scream, it probably screamed by the fourth refill.

"Yes, working on a report." You said half truthfully. You were working on a report? That was true, but it wasn't your report. It was your boss and he needed it by Monday morning before the monthly meeting started.

"Sir, I don't think you should refill your coffee again." He looked at you for a moment before he let out a low chuckle.

"What makes you think I'm refilling my coffee?" He crossed his arms after putting down the mug on the sink.

"Well, you seem addicted to coffee and it's almost eight."

"I'm not addicted, I just need the caffeine kick to do my endless work."

"Well, ain't that basically the same?" The microwave beeped, you turned your attention to the microwave. You took a kitchen towel to take out your instant oatmeal.

"Instant oatmeal as your dinner?" He asked, which sounds more like he was mocking your dinner.

"Yes, because this is my girl dinner and I need to get back to my desk and finish up. Have a good night, sir." You excused yourself and went back to your desk.

As you sat on your desk, you stole glances from time to time at Mr. Yoon's office and the lights were off at his office, which means he already finished his work. Your head started to hurt after hours of looking at the variety of numbers on your spreadsheet and as you wrapped your boss reports, you found Mr. Yoon's office lights on for a moment before it was dark again.

You shrugged it off and tidied up your belongings. You ran to the toilet quickly and when you were back to your desk, Mr. Yoon was there—sitting in your desk chair while looking at photos that you stuck on your partition.

"Sir?" You called him.

"Are you done?" He asked as he got up from your seat.

"Yes?" You were confused because of what he meant by that.

"Let's go then." You looked at him because you didn't catch what he meant—no, you caught what he meant, but it was confusing for you. He acted like he didn't know you for a whole week and he waited for you?

"I'm sorry?"

"Apology accepted." He took your bag and walked right away.

"Sir? Mr. Yoon?" You called him as you ran to catch up with him.

"Why are you calling me that again?" He asked.

"With all due respect, what do you mean by that, sir?"

"It's way past work hour, you should call me by my name." The elevator door opened and as you stepped in, you looked at him in disbelief.

"No, I'm not going to call you by your name, sir. And please, give me my bag." You tried to snatch your bag but Jeonghan hugged your bag tightly. You looked him dead in the eye and demanded your bag back but he didn't let go of your bag.

The elevator door was open on the ground floor and you stepped out from the elevator.

"Give me back my bag, please. I'm too tired to argue." You begged at Jeonghan.

Jeonghan noticed how tired you are, he just wanted to cheer you up but he probably took it too far. He held himself for a whole week and acted like the two of you didn't share a meaningful night—at least it was a meaningful night for him. He still remembers how you tasted from last week, he seems like he can't get you out of his mind.

"Sorry." He apologized as he handed your bag.

"Good night, sir." You bowed and left him there.

"Y/N!" He chased after you and stood in front of you, stopping you from walking away.

"Just let me take you home." You didn't argue and agreed to him. After all, you were tired after all the work you had done and having someone drive you right to your apartment without the need to spend money to pay him was enough reason to let him drive you.

You followed him to the basement, to his assigned parking spot. His car is neither fancy or flashy but by the brand of the car, you knew his car costs a fortune.

"I'm sorry, I left without telling you." He apologized as soon as his car door locked. 

"You had your reason and it was fine. Remember? What happened there, stayed there. So, you don't need to worry about anything, sir." He stopped at the red light and he turned at you.

"Stop calling me, sir." His tone was firm.

"What should I call you then? You are my boss's boss after all."

"Y/N," He called your name softly.

"Sir, can you just drive or you can drop me off at the next subway station." You dismissed him.

"We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. Remember—"

"I know but I just can't forget it. I can't forget you even if I want to." You didn't respond to it. You chose to stay quiet the entire time unless he asked you the directions.

"You can drop me off there." You told Jeonghan.

"No, it's late." He refused.

"It's not that far, I can walk by myself."

"And I won't let you walk all by yourself, at least let me walk you."

"Sir, I appreciate your concern but I'm fine." Jeonghan parked his car on the side of the road.

"I don't want something bad to happen with my subordinate, so let me walk you home and I don't take no as an answer." You sighed and gave up. You got out of his car and he walked with you.

"Let me carry that." He snitched the bag from your hand and held it.

"I was visiting my best friend's grave on Thursday, that's why we didn't meet at all." You didn't want to react to it nor ask him anything, so you just listened to whatever he said.

"She died ten years ago because of cancer and she was my first love." Hearing the words first love, you can't help but steal a glance at him. His face showed how hurt he was, like it happened just yesterday.

"That night, I had a bad dream and it always happened every time I visited her. I'm really thankful you were there and welcomed me with open arms and no question."

"That morning when I woke up with you in my arms, all curled up and being comfortable in my arms, made my heart ache because I haven't finished it completely with the ghost of my past. So, I left you that morning. I'm sorry." He continued.

You wanted to scream, hit him and cursed him but you can't bring yourself to do it. You were hurting that morning, you were hurting all week because he acted like the two of you never shared beautiful memories. You were the one who said it, what happened there, stayed there. But you can't. You can't help but remember every sweet memory you made with him. You can't bring yourself to hate him, to forget him.

"It took me years to realize that I'm in love with her, but you only need three days to drown me in your life and I can't let go of you."

It's been a month since the night Jeonghan confessed what he feels towards you and it's been a month since you avoided him at all costs in the office but you can't avoid him today because it was your quarterly town hall. You were sitting at the assigned table for the finance division, you tried to take the further seat but your boss told you to sit beside him which made you face him from the opposite table.

Your eyes met his, he didn't look away and for a moment, you locked your eyes with him before you turned your gaze to the speaker on the front.

It was your division's turn to present about cash flow from last quarter and budget for the next quarter. You were helping your boss in the front to present some of the materials that you handled. As you were presenting, you can’t help but notice how Jeonghan's eyes were on you for the entire time.

It was lunch time and everyone started to scatter their way out after finishing their lunch, wanting to wind down after three hours of listening to other presentations non stop. You did the same, you wanted to go to the cafe in your office building lobby. The elevator was packed and you were separated from Seungkwan and Soonyoung.

"Where are you going?" Jeonghan suddenly appeared on your right.

"We're going to the cafe in the lobby, sir." You answered, trying to sound professional.

"Are you going to join tonight's dinner?" He asked.

As much as you hate company dinners after town hall, you need to show up for your team. At least someone beside your boss needs to show up and you won't let your subordinate that was younger than you become the target of those bastards when they were drunk.

"Yes, sir." You answered and let him enter the elevator first.

People started to swarm in and you were getting pushed to the back corner with Jeonghan facing you. You were so close to him, you could smell his cologne. You didn't dare to look up because you knew he was looking down at you.

Your heart raced for being this close with him and you cursed yourself for being nervous when you were close to him. You can't keep lying to yourself that you didn’t have any feelings for him.

As the elevator door opened in the lobby, you rushed your way out, leaving Jeonghan behind. You found Seungkwan and Soonyoung in front of the cafe, you ran to their side.

"Mr. Yoon is behind you." Seungkwan whispered.

"Going for a coffee, sir?" Seungkwan gave Jeonghan a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, three of you too?"

"Yes, sir. We need a caffeine boost." Soonyoung chirped in.

"Well, it's my treat then."

Sitting with Seungkwan and Soonyoung was always fun because you found it amusing, the two of them always had something to bicker or beefing towards each other but with Jeonghan at the same table, those two kept their mouths shut and sat still on their best behavior.

"Well, are you going to join tonight's dinner?" Jeonghan asked, trying to lessen the awkwardness.

"I'm not, sir. I already have plans with my family, it's my sister birthday." Seungkwan lied through his teeth. Both you and Soonyoung knew this man would spend his Friday night in a court—either it's a badminton court or volleyball court.

"I'm going to pass tonight’s company dinner, sir." Soonyoung said honestly.

"So, you are all alone?" Jeonghan asked you.

"Me? I'm not alone. Mr. Park will join tonight's dinner." You said.

"He means that you will be alone without us, you fool." Seungkwan said to you and gave an apologetic smile to Jeonghan.

"You can call me if you want me to pick you up or if you are too drunk." Soonyoung offered.

Before you could respond to Soonyoung, Jeonghan opened his mouth first.

"No worries, I'll be there too. I'm going to make sure your friend here will be safe and sound." Jeonghan smiled at you.

"Thank you, sir." Seungkwan bowed dramatically to Jeonghan, earning a chuckle from Jeonghan.

All the predictions that you made this afternoon were right. After the town hall ended, almost everyone moved to a restaurant not too far from your office that has been booked by HR. People started to get too loud by the second round of alcohol order. You were still sitting at your table with your boss who started to say nonsense things. You sat with people from another division that looked as uncomfortable as you, especially Jihoon from legal.

"I think we can run on their third order." Jihoon whispered to you.

"I can't agree no more." You said as you drank your second beer of the night.

The only alcohol you drank that night was beer, your boss gave you soju and other alcoholic drinks but you refused to drink it. You threw all the excuses you could think of until he gave up and drank it on his own. This was the reason you chose to be the one who joined the company dinner, you can refuse them but the younger one won't be able to do it.

"You should drink more—one shot." Your boss still tried his luck and slid a glass of soju to you.

"I can't, I have morning yoga class. I have told you numerous times." You slid the glass back to his side.

"One glass, only this one shot and I won't ask you to drink anything else tonight." He slid it back to you. 

He kept pushing you to drink it, Jihoon looked at you with concern. You sighed and as your hand reached the glass–defeated, someone else took the glass and drank it right away.

Of course, it was Jeonghan.

"Oh my! Mr. Yoon!" Your boss stood immediately and raised his glass.

"No need to be so formal with me. Please, please, sit comfortably." Jeonghan said, acting cheerfully.

Jeonghan pulled the empty chair beside you and sat on it. You tried to distract yourself from him whose face was already red because of alcohol. You made a conversation with Jihoon who seems didn't give a shit with whatever nonsense you spout. Jeonghan gave you a signal to get out of there while he was talking with your boss. You got the signal immediately and started to act uneasy for a minute. You took your bag and excused yourself to the bathroom.

You were waiting for Jihoon at the front but someone you didn't want to meet the most was the one who came out from the restaurant.

"Let me take you home." He said softly as he stood in front of you.

"No need, sir." You refused politely.

"Then you should take me home." Jeonghan murmured before he walked closer to you and rested his head on your shoulder.

Your heart was racing and you hated yourself for that. You called the waiting taxi and helped Jeonghan to get inside. You asked him for his address but he didn't say a thing, he only snuggled into you more and slept on your shoulder. You had no choice but to bring him to your home.

Jeonghan was sleeping soundly on the way to your home while you were busy with your own thoughts. You reached your apartment in no time, as you paid the taxi driver, you dragged Jeonghan out. Dragging him to your house was so hard. The man might look skinny but he was surely heavy for you.

You tossed him on your couch. You didn't even bother to adjust his position to be more comfortable. You took a shower and when you finished, the man was already up from his sleep. He was looking outside from your balcony and he turned around when he saw your reflection from the window.

"Can we talk?" He asked softly.

Jeonghan's eyes were hazy, his shoulders dropped.

"Sir, with all due respect, please go to your home if you are already feeling sober." You said it firmly. Both your hands were clutching the side of your pants, to ease the uneasy feeling you felt.

“You are my home.” He said, sound defeated.

You wanted to run to him.

You wanted to hug him.

You wanted him.

"Please, give me a chance." He dropped to his knees. He was begging for you.

"Sir, please get out of my house if you are sober enough."

"Please." He begged.

"Han," You called him softly.

"I can't be with someone who is not done with his past." You continued, trying to hold back the tears.

"I'm done with my past. I am done. You are the only one I want. You are the only one I could think of."

"You are the only one I need."

All the walls you built, shattered at that moment.

"Han," You walked towards him.

"Get up.” You continued

He looked up to you, his eyes were watery. You gave him a tender smile and helped him to get back on his feet.

"You are still and always be my sweet escape, Han." You held both of his hands.

Jeonghan didn't say anything, he pulled you into a hug. A tight and loving hug that both of you needed after all the drama that happened for the past month. 

"I love you." He whispered.

You didn't say it back but maybe one day, you were going to say it back.

Jeonghan wasn't lying when he said that he will be courting you, properly. You told him to keep it low when the two of you were in the office— he did keep it low in the office but only people who had zero sense were the one who didn't notice that he was in love. He was greeting everyone cheerfully in the morning and he was less angry than usual. His work outfit was getting more colorful— usually, he only wore a basic boring color but he started to wear brighter colors. People started to notice the difference in him and they all agreed that Jeonghan was in love.

He was in fact in love with you but people in the office didn't know—yet, that he was in love with you.

"I believe we should thanked the woman that successfully make Mr. Yoon less scary." Seungkwan said.

"Right." Soonyoung agreed with Seungkwan while you were acting like a fool.

"Oh, right. Are you busy this Friday?" Soonyoung asked you.

"Me? I don't have any plans yet for this Friday." You said while looking at Soonyoung and Seungkwan.

"Do you want to eat dinner with me?" Soonyoung asked you with confidence in his eyes.

"With you? Only the two of us?" You asked again to make sure you didn't misheard it.

"Yes. I've been wanting to ask you out but I'm too cowardly to ask you out."

You looked at Seungkwan who pressed both his lips tightly, he was trying so hard not to smile. You only realized it, Seungkwan knew it all along.

"Sorry, are you asking me out?" You asked again to make sure and Jeonghan walked past behind you right at that time.

"Yes, I'm asking you out." Soonyoung didn't hesitate a bit when you asked him about it. He wasn't going to waste the opportunity anymore.

Jeonghan pulled a chair behind you, he was sitting there, acting like he was eating his lunch—he was eavesdropping.

"Huh?" You turned into a fool because of Soonyoung's sudden confession.

"I like you a lot since a year ago? I keep talking about you to Seungkwan but I never had the courage to ask you out,"

"No pressure tho!" Soonyoung continued.

You glanced at Seungkwan who was looking at you, eyes full of hope. Like he was telling you to accept it. You loved Soonyoung but it was a platonic one, he's a good friend but you never saw him more than it.

"Soonyoung, I'm sorry. I can't." You apologized. You saw how his hopeful face fell.

"I'm with someone right now and I haven't had the chance to talk about it with you. Sorry." You glanced at Seungkwan who was looking at you all surprised. Soonyoung on the other hand tried to hide his disappointment with a smile.

"No, no need to say sorry. It's fine! Really!" Soonyoung assured you but you can see clearly in his eyes that he was hurting.

"It took me too long to have the courage, so it's just natural for you to be with someone else. Well, I'm going to smoke first, see you later!" Soonyoung grabbed his tray and made his way out of the canteen.

"Who?" Seungkwan asked.

"Someone I met while I'm on vacation." You explained shortly.

"Well, I'm happy for you but I thought you knew that Soonyoung liked you." You shook your head because everyone in the office knew how Soonyoung was. He's a kind and bubbly person. You thought what he did to you, he did it to everyone else.

On the other hand, Jeonghan who was sitting behind you can't hide the smile that spread across his face. When he first heard Soonyoung confessing, his heart was racing because he was too nervous to hear your answer but when he heard you rejected him, relief washed over him.

"I didn't know Soonyoung like me, for real. I always saw him as my good friend, just like you." You explained to Seungkwan. 

Jeonghan told you to meet him at the convenience store after work. He wanted to have dinner with you and you knew that he wanted to talk about Soonyoung confession.

"Did you wait long?" Jeonghan asked as you entered his car.

"No, I just got here." You put your bag in the back seat.

"So, I accidentally heard Soonyoung's confession." You glanced at Jeonghan who looked nervous.

"Why are you nervous? You know that I turned him down."

"I know but at that moment my heart dropped to my stomach. I was this close to scream and told everyone in the canteen that you are mine." He gestured dramatically how close he was to doing it.

"Maybe you should? There is no prohibition for dating colleagues in company regulation." You joked but Jeonghan seemed to take it seriously.

"Han, I'm joking."

"I know, baby. I know you are joking." He smiled at you. He placed his hands on your thigh, he circled your thighs with his thumbs to assure you but your folds acted differently.

Jeonghan seemed to notice how you suddenly tensed up. He squished your thigh and dragged it higher. It was a bad idea to wear a skirt.

"Han," You called his name softly, breathy that sounded like a moan.

You and your hormones.

"Yes, baby?" He slowly dragged his hands to your upper thigh.

"Can we focus on the road?" You gulped hard when you felt how close his hands were with you folds, wet folds.

"Of course, baby." He said it like it meant nothing but the smirk on his face said otherwise.

"What should we eat tonight? Do you want me to cook or should we do delivery?" He asked as he opened his apartment door.

"Can we talk about it later? I think I want to eat you first." You pushed the man to the wall and he seemed to enjoy it.

"Baby, I think we should eat first." He said it dramatically but his hands were busy helping you to unbuckle his belt.

"Oh really?" You stopped mid way before your knees hit the floor.

"Well, if you say so." You got up but Jeonghan stopped you.

"No, on your knees." You gulped hard when Jeonghan ordered you to be on your knees. His voice was low and his eyes darkened.

"Be a good girl and finish what you start."

"Han," You called him, he was resting his head on top of your chest.

"Hm?" He hummed.

"I'm hungry for real." He grabbed his phone and opened a food delivery app.

"Pizza?" He asked.

"Sounds good."

He ordered it right away.

"My friend from college is getting married this Saturday, do you want to be my plus one?"

"If I became your plus one, what would I get in return?"

"You got me, isn't that enough?" He grinned.

"No, I don't think so." You pushed him playfully but he didn't budge at all.

"Oh? You asked me to stop earlier. Saying enough—" You covered his mouth with your hands, embarrassment washed over you.

"Okay, what should I wear?"

"You'll look amazing wearing whatever but if you want to color coded with me, you can wear black."

"Well, I have an excuse to shop then, do you want to come with me?" The question came out from your mouth unexpectedly. You always thought shopping with a man was too domestic, especially your relationship with Jeonghan was still undefined. He hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend yet—well, a woman in her late twenties deserved closure.

"Of course, Friday night after work?"

"Yes." You kissed the top of his head.

You went to the office with Jeonghan in the morning and you asked him to drop you off at the nearest bus stop because you didn't want people to see you come together.

"Just come with me, tell them that we met on the way." Jeonghan refused to drop you off.

"How? I used public transport everyday."

"Well, let's say I saw you when I'm at the red light? Anyway I'm not dropping you off at the bus stop today."

So you got off with Jeonghan in the basement together. You smiled at people that you met along the way with Jeonghan on your side. While waiting for the elevator, you met with Seungkwan. He was giving you side eyes the entire ride until you reached your desk.

"Cut your shit and be honest with me, is it him?" He asked in a low voice, almost like a whisper.

"Yes." You answered and he gasped.

"Fuc—how?" Seungkwan pulled you to the pantry when he noticed people around you started to take interest in your conversation, he threw smiles and greetings here and there.

"How?" He asked again when the two of you were finally alone in the pantry.

"We met at the airport, it turns out we booked the same hotel, our rooms were next to each other. We talked a lot and we just fell for each other, I guess?" You said in a whisper because someone just entered the pantry to make their morning coffee.

"So, that's why you rejected Soonyoung?"

You inhaled sharply before shaking your head.

"No, yes—well for the record, I always see him platonically. I never saw him as more than a friend, a good friend. All this year we became friends, I never got the signal from Soonyoung. His action towards me and his action towards you—towards everyone else is the same. So, I never knew that he liked me." You explained to Seungkwan.

Seungkwan didn't say anything else for a moment. He was busy with his own thoughts until Jeonghan came in with his new insulated coffee cup that you bought for him. Seungkwan smiled at him awkwardly and glanced at you.

"Oh, Han." You called him softly and motioned him to come to you. Seungkwan nudged you when he realized Jeonghan was coming towards you. He was panicking internally because he didn't know that you were with Jeonghan while he kept matchmaking you with Soonyoung.

"Morning, Seungkwan." Jeonghan greeted him and Seungkwan bowed instantly.

"Good morning, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't know about it." Jeonghan glanced at you, who was holding your laughter.

"Seungkwan, there's nothing to be sorry about." Jeonghan glanced at his wrist and the clock hadn't hit nine, technically they were not in work hours yet.

"It's not even nine— you can call me by my name and I think we should have a drink after work sometime." Jeonghan patted Seungkwan's shoulder.

"Yes, sir—just call me whenever."

You can't help but laugh at Seungkwan and the man was side-eyeing you. Jeonghan winked at you before he excused himself to make himself a cup of coffee to kick the day. Seungkwan left you and Jeonghan in the pantry all alone.

"Do you want one?" Jeonghan offered you his freshly brewed coffee.

"No, thank you."

Jeonghan was smiling from ear to ear, he wanted to kiss you so badly but he held himself because he didn't want to get called by HR in the morning because he kissed his subordinate first thing in the morning in the office pantry.

"You do realize that you look beautiful?" You rolled your eyes and pushed him lightly.

"You should shut your mouth and go back to your office, Mr. Yoon." You winked before you left him by himself inside the pantry.

Jeonghan was following you like a puppy, from one store to another, trying from one dress to another dress that seemed endless until you found the perfect one, but Jeonghan didn't complain a bit. He was holding your bag and helped you choose when you can't decide which one was better.

"What do you think?" You twirled around to show off the dress.

"I'm not going to lie but this really fits the vibe of the wedding and it matches perfectly with mine." He was smiling from ear to ear. He loved the dress so much, it curved your body perfectly and the dress just fit right for you.

"Well, I'm going to take this one then." You winked before disappearing behind the door. When you finished changing your clothes, Jeonghan was waiting for you near the cashier area.

"Thank you for waiting." You linked your arms with his.

"It's nothing—You should shop with my sister and you will realize that your shopping time is considered fast." He pinched your nose in a playful way.

"Let me buy this one for you." He said as he stopped you from taking your wallet out of your bag.

"No, this is my dress." You refused.

"I know but you are going to be my plus one, so it's on me." He insisted and gave his card to the staff behind the counter who was looking back to back at you and Jeonghan.

"No, no, no—we're not even together. How can I let you pay for mine?" The words slipped easily from your mouth and the atmosphere shifted.

The staff almost tapped the Jeonghan card on the machine but stopped midway after hearing you. Jeonghan looked at you, his eyes clearly showed something you can't explain properly. He looked hurt but confused at the same time.

"Please, proceed to pay it. Thank you." Jeonghan said politely to the staff and you were regretting the words.

"Han," You called him and he was smiling at you.

A forced one.

"I don't know what we are." You said as you stepped out from the store.

"I thought we were being clear with our relationship?"

"But we never make it clear. We acted like a couple but you never asked me to be your girlfriend." You said, sounded too demanding. 

Jeonghan looked at you for a moment, like he was confused before laughing. He thought that the two of you had already passed the confession stage, where your relationship just started naturally without someone confessing or anything. 

"I thought we were past the confessing stage and our stances in this relationship are clear as daylight but," He reached his back pocket, pulling a black velvet box from the back pocket.

"No, don't." You stopped him.

"Baby, I'm not going to ask you to marry me—yet." He chuckled.

"This necklace should be given to you tomorrow, before we're going to the wedding but who cares if my baby wants to know we are?" He opened the box and a simple diamond necklace was inside.

"Baby, do you want to be my girlfriend? be my everything?"

You hid your face with your hands, feeling embarrassed with yourself. You thought Jeonghan would be mad at you but he didn't. Jeonghan never thought that it's a big deal from the start. He thought the two of you were already in an exclusive relationship without announcing it, but he was wrong for that.

"Well, I guess I have no choice but to say yes."

"Well you don't have any other choice, you are stuck with me. Forever." He pulled you closer by holding your waist.

"Isn't forever too soon?" You winked at him.

"There is nothing too soon when you are with me. I'll make sure you are stuck with me forever."

you like to think you're a strong person, of mind and of being. but your resolve to being kind crumbles as soon as gojo opens his big fat mouth.

you see why people like him. he can be funny. he's good at lots of things (arts not included) and sometimes, only sometimes, does he have something valuable to say. but mostly, you find gojo satoru to be a nuisance.

working on your projects is made incredibly difficult when 6 feet of pure frustration is bitching right next to you. "this clay," he'd complain, "it's gotta be broken. it's not working."

you try to ignore him, you really do. him and his inane excuses, and empty commentary. and for the most part, he disregards you right back. he looks through you, sometimes. sometimes. that is, until the teacher pulls him aside a few weeks before the end of the school year and he comes back more stone-faced and scared than you've ever seen him. he's quiet for longer than you've known possible and you're surprised to find that you kind of miss hearing his voice.

he doesn't really say much, and class lets out, and you go on with your life like normal. but there's an itch in the back of your mind, and it sounds like his name over and over and you can't quite get it out of your head. not until the next day, when you see him again- 2nd period sculpture class, 9 o'clock in the morning.

and this time, he looks right at you.

"you're really good at this whole sculpture thing." he's making a statement, not asking a question. you blink and realise that this is the very first time he's spoken to you, directly. he was complimenting you in a way- on what? does this mean he's seen you? all this time you presumed he stared straight through, blue eyes burning holes through your skull. maybe, just maybe, he's been looking at you the whole time. you're not sure how to reply so you just nod, "i guess."

"i," he says the next words like he's choking on glass and you see his adam's apple bob (his skin is so pale; translucent. you think it'd be cold to the touch,) "need help."

you almost feel bad. he looks like a cat that just got soaked in water. pitiful. playing dumb, though you know exactly what he means, you tilt your head innocently. "help with what?"

he grimaces. you bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile from spreading like wildfire.

"this class."

"oh? what about it?"

he dramatically slumps against the desk, knocking over the boy in front of him's water bottle. he doesn't bother picking it up. "sculpting. art. everything."

"i thought you were good at everything, though."

that might've been too far, because he looks at you again. he really, really looks. and you think he sees you. because he smiles, "my reputation precedes me. i'm so famous, aren't i?"

"i guess you are," you concede, allowing an edge of amusement to lighten your tone. he is still looking at you. he does not break eye contact. it makes your stomach churn with something sickeningly alive, something abhorrently beautiful.

"then it should be your honour to help me out or something, yeah?"

it should be. it will be. you could let it be.

"i'm pretty busy. sorry."

he blinks at you. you turn away. why did you say no? you didn't want to. but then again, you'd prefer to be away from him and his life- lavish, elegant, mansions and stars and cameras and glamour- you have homework to do.

you think that, after this, gojo satoru will leave you be.

he does not.

in fact, you think it gets worse.

if he wasn't talking to you much at all before, it's all he does now. he sits in your seat before class starts, getting there before you, waiting for you. chats your ears off, too, when you try to get work done. and he always ends up bringing up that proposal again- to help tutor him in sculpture, or give him pointers, or whatever, you try to tune him out.

you wonder why he only asks you. there's plenty of much more talented, much more friendly students in your class. ones that'd say yes. but he only asks you. you think he knew it was only a matter of time before you gave in. that was what he was banking on, probably. all it took was two weeks worth of asking, talking non-stop, and basically borderline begging. and you folded.

..which, is how you find yourself in the art room, after-hours, sitting next to gojo satoru and a pottery wheel as he helplessly squishes the miserable and miserly beginnings of yet another deformed clay pot.

"you can do it," you encourage rather dryly. he shoots you a look. "great acting."

"sorry. i'm trying my best here."

his hands are covered in wet clay, so when he wipes his brow he uses his forearm. the crewneck he wears is pulled up and pale, pale skin glows a wintery shade. you tear your eyes away. "and i am too! but it isn't working!"

you frown. he really is bad at this- ignoring all your direct pointers and advice. you've told him what he needs to fix; be gentle, go slowly, be patient, patient, patient. all that has gone in one ear and out the other.

you really dread what you're about to do. but you want to help him save his grade in this class, because gojo satoru was not gojo satoru without his 4.0 gpa. so, bracing yourself, feeling a tight, tight knot in your stomach, you ghost your hands over his on the wheel and hold on, shadowing them. a guide.

his skin is cold, you were right. big hands, bigger than yours, they feel good and frigid beneath your touch; like they were made for you, sculpted to your touch. you feel his breathing stall before he starts rambling again.

his words move fast, but not faster than his heartbeat, which you feel in his wrist. you'd be dizzy with the proximity if you weren't so focused on making something. it's almost magic, how 2 pairs of hands come together to make something- a small pot, spinning on the wheel.

it's a little lopsided and wonky looking but it's far, far better than anything gojo's accomplished. he goes quiet. "wow," he says, so so hushed you almost don't catch it. you know he's not talking about the pot.

"i told you that you could do it."

his hands break away from the wheel, leaving the clay formation and pulling your hands away, too. they're in his, still, and covered in a think muddy-coloured sludge of slip. but he holds them.

"you have something on your face," you exhale after a beat of silence. because he does; a dash of clay, marking the expanse of skin on his cheek. just below his lip. he smiles and a dimple creases his pretty, pretty face.

"yeah? why don't you get it for me?"

you blink. "my hands are filthy. i'd make it worse."

"do you think i care?"

you're surprised your hands are steady, a sculptor's hands, as you wipe away the drying residue of slip. it crumbles and flakes off his cheek, but your thumb brushes his lip and you feel him freeze before grinning wider and pulling away. you miss his cold. you feel a bit too hot all over, now.

"it's all over your face now," you inform him, snapping your gaze away to hide your embarrassment. he doesn't look away. he looks at you, he looks at you, he looks at you. like he likes you, a little bit.

"we can deal with that after the lesson, yeah?"

you expect him to sound different than he does, when he says this. you expect his voice to be full of ego and confidence, like usual. boisterous, louder than life. but he's quieter. almost like he's shy. you turn back, and you see the way he watches you. like you're precious, like you're fleeting and rare and the most beautiful, beautiful piece of art he's ever seen.

"okay," you say, "okay. sure."

his grin is worth a million dollars and his boyish confidence returns after the lapse of shyness; "awesome!"

promptly after, he moves to go back to the clay pot. in his excitement, he squishes it into a lump again.

"awesome," you sign, resigned. but you can't find it in yourself to be mad. you like him too much for that.

it was to the point where you just threw him out of the room and did the laundry all by yourself, grumbling as you do so (complaining about how annoying kaiser is right in front of him).

well, today was probably your lucky day because there wasn't too much clothes to wash, which means not a lot of clothes to hand out in the drying rack.

as you finished putting the last piece of clothing in, you sigh happily, stretching as you stand up. you take the basket out and placed it next to the staircase and you sat down on the couch.

you then hear kaiser running down the stairs frantically, and when you see him, he looks distressed.

"did you just put my hoodie in the wash?!" kaiser asks, and you look at him, confused.

"yeah."

"love, my phone was in there!' kaiser exclaims, almost dropping down to the floor when he hears your answer.

you didn't react however, only looking at him blankly. "ah, is that so? sorry about that."

"what do you mean 'sorry about that.'?!" kaiser says a bit too loudly as he stands in front of you, blocking your view from the television. "did you not check whether my phone was in it?!"

"no, why would i? you give me your clothes, i wash them, simple," you said, pushing him away. "i shouldn't have to check whether there's still stuff inside your clothes and wash them. at least help me with something." you give him a sarcastic smile and continued your show.

kaiser sighs, seeing you annoyed at him, already forgetting about his phone. "are you mad?"

"no."

you are. it's clearly shown on your face.

"okay, look, i'm sorry for not helping you with the laundry. i promise i'll help you in the future, mkay?" kaiser says, kneeling in front of you, giving you the puppy eyes. the damn puppy eyes that always seem to work for you. "i promise, love."

you sigh. "are you sure? the last time you made a promise you didn't keep it and end up making me disappointed again."

"aha... did i? i don't remember that..." kaiser mumbles sheepishly, suddenly not wanting to look at you and finding the plain white wall by his side more interesting.

"remember the grocery shopping?" you asked, raising your eyebrow at him.

"okay, okay! i'm sorry about that too, okay? i'll, uh, give you a pinky swear!" kaiser says, sticking his pinky finger out at you. "pinky swears are never allowed to be broken, so if i do break this promise right now, you're allowed to, uh, do whatever you want to me,"

"uhuh, and i'm supposed to believe that?" you asked, leaning your back against the couch.

"i promise! pinky swears should never be broken, trust me. now come on," kaiser nudges your hand with his pinky and you sigh, sticking your own pinky finger out. he smiles and links your pinkies together. "i pinky swear to help you with laundry and grocery shopping."

you hum as kaiser lets go of your pinky. "you better keep your promise or else you're sleeping on the couch for a week."

kaiser looks nervous as soon as you say that. "yes, i understand."

he did in fact forget his promise the next week, and instead of kaiser sleeping on the couch, he negotiated and did your chores for a week.

but kaiser's shenanigans don't stop there. as soon as you have your back to him again, he inches forward to wrap his arms around you, binding you so tightly that you can't even squirm in his hold.

"kaiser, let go," you giggle, your body swaying left to right thanks to his playful maneuvers.

"stop getting ready," he mumbles, now burying his face in the space where your shoulder meets your neck. "don't go. don't leave me."

"i have to," you whine, finally breaking free of his hold and attempting to resume your skincare routine sans pimple patches. kaiser, who doesn’t know what it means to give up, still latches onto you like a leech, this time snaking his arm around your waist so as not to disturb you getting ready.

"where are you even going so early?" he pouts.

you catch his eyes in the mirror. "i literally told you last night."

"i forgot."

"you weren't listening."

"maybe that too."

"typical."

"nah, i'm just joking. you're seeing your mom."

"why do i even put up with you..." you ask yourself, holding back a sigh.

"because you love me. anyway, can i come? i wanna see your mom. she loves me too."

"no, that's exactly why you can't. i'm not gonna spend my saturday morning having breakfast with my mom only to listen to her she gush about you."

"aw, you're scared she loves me more than you?"

"no way, she's my mom," you say immediately, but then you pause, and ponder the possibility for a moment that she does, actually, like kaiser more than you.

kaiser raises his brow with that knowing look on his face. "you sure about that?"

"stop making me doubt my own mother."

"it's okay, if she doesn't love you as much, i can make up for it."

"no, you can't."

"of course i can. the whole world isn’t enough to hold my love for you, darling,” he says, his tone slightly more serious this time. then, he rests his chin on your shoulder, tightening his grip around your waist ever so slightly. “when are you gonna be back?”

“i’ll be back for lunch.” you can’t help but soften when he does, and kaiser breathes in deep, catching the scent of lavender soap on your skin before placing an innocent kiss against your collarbone. “i won’t be too long, mihya, i promise.”

“…fine. i’ll be waiting for you.”

“i know.”

“don’t take too long,” he adds, as if you haven’t already assured him you wouldn’t.

“my teacher.” you pry it off his hands, “my grade.”

you stick your tongue out at him, stuffing your shirt back into the bag, “my conscience.”

“but you’ll be gone for too long,” he sighs dramatically.

“it’s literally just two days.” you deadpan.

“like i said,” he pouts, “too long.”

you sigh, moving to sit down on the bed, “i’ll bring you a souvenir.”

a smile tugs at your lips when he perks up. you reach out to run your hand through his hair.

sae leans into your touch, “i’d rather have you stay than have a stupid souvenir.”

you hum, “wanna know a secret?”

he nods, curiosity swimming in his eyes. a small smile blooms on his lips.

“i kinda really don’t wanna go.” you mumble.

“just stay, then.” he tugs you closer to him.

you sigh, slumping against him. “i can’t. it’s worth a chunk of my grade.”

sae frowns, flicking your forehead, “just say you had a family emergency.”

“i said that last time.” you click your tongue. “i don’t think my teacher would believe that again.”

an amused laugh leaves his lips. “say you’re sick, then.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you tease, “besides i may or may not have already told my teacher i’d go.”

sae sits up, a look of disbelief on his face, “you what?”

“i already said i’d go,” you sheepishly smile at him.

sae flops back onto the bed, brows furrowed and pouting, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“you would’ve insisted you were sick to stop me from going,” you lean over him. “like you were doing a while ago.”

he looks away from you, flushing. “i don’t know what you mean.”

you smile, poking his nose, “i’m sure you don’t.”

he bites back a smile when you press a quick peck on his cheek.

“but if you were feeling sick, i know you’d go take some medicine instead of exaggerating just to get me to stay.”

he pouts. your smile widens. he tugs you down towards him, “you suck.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” you laugh.

you lay on his chest for a while, sae’s arms snug around you. he rests his cheek on top of your head.

“do you really have to go?”

“‘m afraid so,” you sigh, nuzzling into him. “i promise i’ll text you whenever i can.”

“you better,” he smiles, “you also have to call me.”

“i promise i will.” you laugh.

you squeak when he squeezes you, laughter leaving his lips.

“sae.” you mumble.

“yeah?”

you lift yourself off his chest, looking at him. “i have to finish packing.”

he groans, “finish later. you should nap with me instead.”

you playfully stick your tongue out at him. “you and i both know if i take a nap with you i’m never going to finish packing.”

he shrugs, sighing, “it was worth a shot.”

you sit up, brows raising in surprise when sae sits up after you.

“just because i’m not gonna nap doesn’t mean you can’t,” you tilt your head to the side.

sae stretches his arms up, yawning, “if i help you pack, you’ll take a nap with me sooner.”

he gingerly cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss. he hums against your lips.

“besides,” he pulls away, smiling, “if i help you pack, you’ll have to bring me back a souvenir as a reward.”

you laugh, “if you say so.”

sae’s not much help with packing. he just unceremoniously stuffs your remaining clothes into the duffel bag, scoffing when you tell him he’s doing it wrong.

(still, you bring him back a souvenir when you come home from your trip. as a way to both thank him for helping you pack, and as an apology because you’ll have to go on another trip soon.)

you frown when he lets out a deep sigh, “it was worse than i would’ve liked.”

“i couldn’t get coffee because there was this huge line at this café i like, so i barely had any energy to do anything,” a fond smile tugs at your lips when you picture the pout on his lips.

your brows knit in confusion. “i thought your manager got your coffee?”

a dry laugh leaves sae’s lips, “here’s where my morning gets worse. he was busy because i had an interview.”

your face scrunches up, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “yikes.”

“yikes.” sae echoes back, laughing. “i think you can imagine how that went.”

“yeah,” you sleepily laugh, “i feel bad for the poor people who had to interview you.”

“hey!” a drowsy smile tugs at your lips when you hear the mock offense in his voice.

you yawn, “so your interview just ended?”

he hums, “i came back to the hotel as soon as i could.”

“really?” your eyes start to droop.

“yeah,” you can hear his smile, “i wanted to hear your voice.”

your face flushes. you reach out to grab sae’s pillow and hold it close to your chest, hiding your face in it.

“shut up,” you mutter. your eyes flutter closed, a yawn slips past your lips.

he laughs, “how was your morning?”

sae frowns when you don’t reply.

your eyes snap open when he calls out your name. “yeah?”

there’s a pause. you frown in sleepy confusion, “sae?”

“i woke you up again, didn’t i?” his voice comes out soft, almost as if he feels guilty for having woken you up again.

(again, because he’s not used to not being in your timezone. again, because the fact that you’re miles away and not a train ride away always slips his mind.)

you sheepishly laugh, “you did.”

your heart swells with fondness when you picture his face flushing in embarrassment.

“sorry,” he awkwardly coughs.

“it’s fine.” you whisper, a teasing smile lifting the corners of your lips, “i wanted to hear your voice, too.”

you bury your face into sae’s pillow, laughing when sae mutters a soft and very bashful, ‘shut up.’

a yawn slips past your lips and you nuzzle into sae’s pillow, a small smile on your face when you note his lingering scent.

“you should go to sleep.”

you let out a confused hum, tilting your head to the side.

a huff of amused laughter leaves sae’s lips, “you should go back to sleep.”

“i don’t wanna leave you alone, though.” you pout.

“and i don’t wanna keep you up any longer,” he hums.

you frown, yawning. “i can stay up a little longer.”

“i’d rather you didn’t,” he sounds reluctant. like he doesn’t want you to leave. (you really wish he was next to you right now.)

“i miss you.” your voice is laced with longing, sae’s pillow scrunched up against your frame as you clutch it tighter to you in a poor attempt to pretend it’s actually sae.

“i miss you too.” sae’s voice is barely above a whisper. you wonder if he’s also holding on to a pillow, pretending it’s you.

“i wish you’d come home now.” you mumble, eyes drooping as sleep tightens its grip around you.

you can feel sae’s smile through the phone, “me too.”

there’s a small pause before sae speaks again. “seriously, though, go sleep.”

you frown, “are you kicking me out already?”

“i don’t want to,” he laughs, “but i’d hate for you to not get enough sleep because of me.”

“you’ll miss me, though,” you pout. (he doesn’t say it, but you’re right. he will miss you. even if he knows you’ll call him as soon as you wake up.)

“go sleep,” he insists, “i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you try to stifle yawn, “can you stay until i fall asleep?”

your eyes flutter closed, a content smile on your lips when you hear him hum.

“i can even stay until you wake up again.” he teases.

“would you really?” your voice is laced with sleep.

you don’t see it, but there’s a big grin on sae’s face. “yeah.”

so he does.

(and he doesn’t mention it, but he’ll stay with you for as long as you let him.)

His train of thought is incredibly interesting. It goes on and on, endlessly producing new ideas which entertain him. His thoughts are too much, and his vision worsens as he forgets where he's at. His thoughts are his priority, he sees his thoughts. Today is no different, because Meguru Bachira entertains himself with images which don't represent his environment. His internal ramblings come to a halt—as well as his scooter, and his whole body.

His scooter is on the pavement, and—wait—he's on the pavement as well? The sting from his new scratches on his cheek is what fully grounds him, as he removes his headphones and becomes aware of what happened. Meguru had fallen. He hears a groan, as well as some curses.

In front of him is a person whom he does not know, laying on the ground with their bag. He quickly stands up and offers them a hand, helping them be on their feet.

The person is you. The boy in front of you sincerely apologizes. You take a look, and damn, he is very cute.

"You okay? Didn't see you there, my bad" he smiles, his hand rubs the back of his neck. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

Without even introducing himself, he grabs your hand and pulls it towards him. With his hand holding yours, it makes it easy for him to slowly twist your arm, his eyes scan it. He's searching for possible injuries.

He does the same to your other arm, then he lets it go. One of his hands makes it way to your cheek, making sure you don't have any scratches on your face. Which, according to him, is very pretty.

"Examination complete! Don't think you've anything to worry about, cutie" he winks.

You notice his scratches, and your hand reaches for his face. You trace his scratches, your eyes expressing worry. "Your face—give me a second."

Opening your bag, you pull out a small water bottle. You pour some water onto your hand, and gently guiding it towards Meguru's face. The water hits his skin, and your fingers caress it, slowly moving the water around. His eyes widen as he realizes what you're doing. You're cleaning his wounds. He's the one who made you fall, and you are the one pampering him. He wonders what he did to deserve such kindness.

"It's not much, but they're cleaner now. You need to disinfect them, though. I'm Yn Ln" you offer him a sheepish smile.

"Thank you, Dr Ln. You have saved my life" he chuckles, his playful self is back to normal. "Name's Meguru Bachira. I must say, Doc, I'm afraid your medicine isn't enough for my wounds."

"And what does the patient need in order to be cured?"

"Hmm, have you ever heard of healing kisses?"

"We just met, Bachira" you laugh. "Plus, I don't kiss on the first date."

A smirk plasters itself on his face. "This is a date?"

You stand there dumbfounded, trying to think of possible excuses for what you said. He notices, and laughs. Picking up his fallen scooter, he signals for you to get in with him.

"If you want it to be one, then it's a date. Let's go for a ride, Doc."

"Promise we won't fall?"

"No guarantees!"

"Bachira!"

"....Alright. Promise."

Your parents, on the other hand, were in the midst of a power struggle in the succession rights of the billion-dollar conglomerate founded by your grandfather. According to what he’s heard, you were up against your cousin, who already had a wife and a newborn earlier this year. Apparently your elders seemed to favor those that are family-oriented and so in order for you to become a more preferable candidate to take over the business, you needed a husband.

And so, your deplorable circumstances seemed to be the perfect opportunity to reintroduce him to you. His ma told him that he had once met you before when he just started college, though he can’t recall a single thing about you.

His parents knew yours well enough to brief him on a little bit about you prior to this meeting. You’re also a well-known socialite in a few circles and it wasn’t hard to find your social media account, which helped confirm a bunch of assumptions he made.

Your Instagram feed is everything he expects it to be. Neat, tidy, and calculated. You have quotes in your captions from all sorts of novels to show that you’re well read. You regularly tag the people you meet in your professional and casual outings to show that you’re well-connected. And of course, you liked to post the places you’ve been and the things you own to subtly showcase your wealth.

It feels like it might just be another round of same person, different face, though the only thing that intrigues him is that you’re far prettier in person than in the pictures. He spots you immediately, sitting in the corner by the wide window. There’s an arrogance in the way you’re sitting straight, elbows on the table and your lifted gaze directed aimlessly out the window.

You’re resting your chin in the palm of your hand, a rose-gold watch adorning your wrist, nails freshly manicured, and your make-up flawless—exactly the kind of woman Kaiser can’t stand.

But he takes a deep breath. The least he could do was ‘play nice’ as he was told and keep his unfavorable first impression of you from clouding his judgement, even though he doesn’t actually plan on taking this meeting as seriously as his parents would have liked him to.

“You’re late,” you say as soon as he approaches. You don’t even look at him, keeping your eyes on the skyline.

Well, Kaiser dislikes you already.

He fakes a chuckle, pulling the chair out from across you. “Sorry about that.”

“Let’s just cut to the chase,” you direct your icy gaze at him, though it doesn’t make him flinch. “I’m only here to fulfill my obligations to my parents and I suspect you are too. I’ll likely be the most difficult person you’ll ever meet on these next five dates, so let’s just agree to enjoy dinner, not speak, and get these meetings over and done with. Alright?”

Based on the tone of your voice alone, Kaiser can tell you’re someone who’s used to authority, someone used to being in charge and calling the shots. And if it’s one thing Kaiser loves to do, it’s to challenge authority. Your proposition was in his best interest as well, but Kaiser couldn’t help but be curious about what would happen if he pulled your strings.

“That’s a tall order right off the bat, darling.”

“Do not address me by anything other than my name.”

Kaiser leans forward, crossing his arms over the table. “I’ll do what I want, dar-ling.”

As if to disrupt the tension beginning to build between you two, a cheerful waiter immediately comes over to take your orders. The two of you exchange less than friendly glares as the waiter explained the contents of the chef’s recommendation tonight. Much to your annoyance, Kaiser also orders the chef’s recommendation and the exact same beverage as you.

“Don’t get all self-important, princess,” Kaiser continues as soon as the waiter takes his leave, “I’m wasting my precious time to come meet you too. Don’t you think I also have a say on how I want to spend it?”

“And how would you like to spend it, Michael Kaiser? With idle chatter so you can somehow charm your way into my pants?”

“Oh, ideally,” he says in earnest. “But that means I’d have to be attracted to you in the first place.”

Your nostrils flare at the insult but you recover quickly, another witty response already locked and loaded. “Good then. If you’re not attracted to me, marriage should be completely off the table and this date should be the first and last, yes?”

“Not exactly,” Kaiser says, to which you frown. “I want you to tell me things about yourself that your little get-up can’t,” he adds, vaguely gesturing to your appearance.

“What, you’re going to take this arranged marriage thing seriously? You’re looking to settle down?”

Kaiser shrugs. “Not yet. But who knows? Maybe you’ll change my mind.”

Clearly, you weren’t prepared for this. You part your rose-painted lips as if to say something, then purse them as if to change your mind. He can practically see the thoughts doing laps in your mind, and with the way you glance at him, then out the window before letting out a resigned huff of a sigh, Kaiser can’t help but think you’re kind of cute. There’s an obvious front you’re putting up and you’re somehow piquing his interest the more you talk.

“No snarky response this time? Aw, you’re not living up to your reputation, princess.”

In a show of giving up, you finally drop your poised act, shoulder slumping as you throw your weight back against the chair.

“What do you want, Kaiser?” you say, arms crossed your chest.

“As I said, to get to know you better.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. See, these arranged marriage meetings suck on their own, so there’s no reason to make it worse. If we have to eat at this shitty restaurant, with this shitty music, amongst all these shitty fake people, we might as well keep each other company.”

It takes Kaiser a moment to realize that you’re biting your cheek and looking out the window in an attempt to stifle your laugh. He’s fixated on what is probably a rare expression on you.

He leans over the table for a better look, cocking his head to the side. “What’s that? Did I make you laugh?”

“No,” you say almost too quickly, doing the most to keep emotion from showing on your face. You’re terrible at it though. “I just thought you chose this tacky restaurant. I hate this palce.”

“Well, there you go. The first thing we have in common: I hate this place too.” Then, after a moment or two, he adds, “actually, my old man must’ve made the reservation. It’s his favorite place, said he met my ma here.”

“No way… this was where my parents had their first date too…”

“Ah.”

The weird silence that came with finding out that he had something so strangely specific in common with you is, thankfully, disrupted again by that same waiter from before. He sets down your meals and beverages with a toothy grin, wishing you both a fine evening as he spun on his heel and left.

You’re the one to start the conversation up again, with Kaiser noting your voice lacked that tension he sensed in the beginning.

“How many times have you been on these kinds of dates?” you ask, gesturing with your fork.

“Eight. You?”

“Oh, wow. Only four but no one’s ever made it to that second date before. I think some terrible rumor about me is going around because my parents are having a tough time finding a willing sacrificial bachelor,” you joke.

“I’m the opposite. Everyone wants to tie the knot with me after meeting me but they bail when I tell them I’m infertile.”

You choke at that.

“I’m kidding…” Kaiser quickly says. The couple eating at the next table gives him a pointed glance of sympathy and he suddenly feels the urgent need to clarify his case. “That was a joke, I’m not infertile. I was kidding… Really, I’m not infertile, alright—”

“Okay! You don’t have to keep repeating it!” you hush.

A spring gushes forth in his heart when he notices you’re giggling, this time making no effort to turn your face away and hide it from him. It’s a sound he much prefers over the acoustic covers the restaurant speakers have been playing on loop and it makes him want to think of ways to hear it again.

“I wouldn’t mind infertility, I think,” you continue, completely missing the dumbstruck smile on Kaiser’s face as you poke around your food and casually take what he made as a joke into something to consider. “Kids seem like a huge responsibility. I’d never be a good mom.”

“Really? You look like you’d be great with kids.”

“No, I’d be a terribly strict mom. I wouldn’t let them eat sweets before bed, I wouldn’t let them play until they finish their homework, and I’d probably get mad all the time too.”

Kaiser waves his hand dismissively. “Sounds like normal parenting to me. I’d be the kind of dad that’ll sneak in the sweets after lights out, I’d help them cram their homework in the morning, and I’d rarely ever get mad.”

“You seem like the kind of dad that’d rarely get mad but would completely blow a fuse when you do get angry.”

“Yes, exactly like how my old man is,” he cracks a smile. “See? Wouldn’t we make a good pair?”

Kaiser can tell from just your face that you had no idea where he was steering this conversation and when the realization dawned on you, the sight of your flushed cheeks made him beam. So this is what you look like when you’re caught off-guard. It’s an expression no camera could ever capture, something that can never be feigned. You turn your attention back to your food before taking a long sip of your drink, hoping the time it took to empty the glass would make him forget how embarrassed you looked all of a sudden.

Unfortunately for you, Kaiser had already decided this isn’t something he’ll let go of easily.

“By the way, let me be the first.”

You look up at him, skepticism shining in your eyes. “First what?”

“The first to take you out on that second date.”

the second date.

To say you were nervous was an understatement.

It’s the first time someone your parents chose wanted to see you again after the first meeting, so the novelty of it all made you rethink your outfit a few times, exchange your bag for another, and go back and forth checking the mirror. Keeping up appearances was like second nature in your family, so you doubly made sure that you looked exactly the part you were meant to play since the day you were born.

The only reason the tension in your muscles begin to relax is because you remind yourself that it’s just Kaiser you’re seeing.

Yes, Michael ‘world-renowned professional soccer athlete’ Kaiser.

You met him once at a family friend’s New Year’s party a few years ago, though it seemed he hardly remembered you. You, on the other hand, had been left with a very strong first impression that made you all the more wary about meeting him again all these years later.

Kaiser was notorious amongst your circle as an arrogant, self-absorbed, elusive man who allegedly knew how to win girls over to get one thing and one thing only. A very common stereotype tacked onto good-looking figures of the public eye, such as celebrities and athletes. You knew he might be much different compared to what everyone was saying but after meeting him again, you couldn’t help but feel that his mannerisms and way of speech kind of lent to this image he had created for himself.

He was more a smooth-talker than you were prepared for too. Though the one thing that really caught you by surprise that evening was the fact that he wanted to see you again.

Whether it was a genuine wish or just an opportunity to toy with you, mother and father were delighted to hear that you’d be going on a second date. It was unprecedented throughout their laborious efforts to find you a husband, and so you went to see Kaiser again so as not to let them down.

Well, you’d be lying if you said that was the only reason you went.

This time, you chose the venue: a grill-your-own barbecue restaurant, a place not as fancy as that extravagant establishment you met him at two weeks ago but certainly a place worth visiting.

You climbed out of the cab just as Kaiser parked his car, and upon seeing you, he waited at the entrance.

“You’re late,” he says, mocking you from that first meeting.

“We arrived at the same time.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised you actually showed up.”

“So you weren’t serious about it? Fine, I can just head back home—”

“Not so fast now, angel.” Kaiser gently pulls you by the arm before you can completely turn on your heel, his fingers lingering on your skin long enough for you to notice before he lets go. “Do you get mad over every little thing?”

“Yeah,” you scoff, pushing past him as you enter the restaurant.

“I didn’t think you ate at places like this,” Kaiser says after you expertly recited your usual order at the counter. Since he said he’ll have whatever you’ll have, you had free reign over which cuts of meat and side dishes to order. You didn’t even need to read the menu to know what you wanted.

“Then stop making assumptions about me.”

“Don’t you have, like, a private chef or something to grill your meat for you?”

You roll your eyes, pouring some iced tea from the pitcher into two plastic cups. “We do, but I like doing it myself from time to time.”

Kaiser nods to himself, “I see. Miss Independent.”

Silence ensues for a moment. Though the crowd here is rowdier than at the fancy restaurant, you still find that the background noise doesn’t do enough to fill the increasingly awkward air between you two and for some reason, you find the despeate need to say something.

“Well… How was your week?”

You only realized how unnatural and lame of a conversation-starter that was until you said it. Even Kaiser’s brows knitted together, the hand holding his cup frozen in mid-air.

“Sorry, what?”

“I don’t know,” you begin to ramble, speaking a little too fast when you’re trying to disguise how humiliating that was. “This is the first time anyone’s wanted to go out again on a second date, okay? I don’t know what I’m supposed to talk about.”

Kaiser snorts at that, “wait, you were being serious? No one’s ever asked you on a second date?”

“You don’t have to sound so incredulous. Why would I lie about that?”

“Oh, angel, the world is full of people who lie. But anyway, you’ve got the looks, money, and status—what else could a man want?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to comfort you or just make sense of something he sincerely can’t comprehend. The latter seems more convincing to you at this point. Even though you brought it up in lightheartedness, what you said was no joke or exaggeration; no man has ever wanted to see you again after the first date. You didn’t want to care about it, didn’t want to be bothered by something you didn’t truly expect in the first place, but being rejected like that still stung.

Father is convinced all men lack spines while mother pins the blame on the prestige of your family, saying that your social standing is too intimidating, too high up. You knew they were just trying to be kind without actually saying don’t worry, the one for you is out there somewhere! but with the few times that it’s happened, you can’t help but wonder if the fault lies with you. Maybe you’re just not desirable, or wife-material, or lovable.

The raw meat arrives in time for this conversation to end, much to your relief. You didn’t want to unravel such a subject in front of someone like Kaiser and a deep-dive into your insecurities certainly isn’t what you want to discuss over dinner.

Kaiser grabs a tong from the side of the table and immediately gets to work, the sizzling sound of the meat on the hot grill and the smoke rising from it filling the air. You reach out to retrieve a tong for yourself only to have Kaiser smack your hand away.

“No, I’ll cook.”

“What, why? I can cook too.”

“Let me cook,” he insists, adorning the surface area of the grill with slices of beef, chicken, and vegetables.

“You don’t even know how I like them done!”

“Then you can tell me.”

You frown for a moment, clearly annoyed that he’s grilling the meat with one hand and still blocking the utensils from you with his other. “You’re so stubborn.”

“So are you,” Kaiser chuckles. “But that’s good, we’re here to learn new things about each other, right?”

Up until this point, you were fully convinced that Kaiser was just seeing you to kill time or something like that. Surely he had other, more preferable ways of spending his nights rather than meet with a girl his parents set him up with. He already established early on that he wasn't attracted to you, so why was he going out of his way to—

"Medium-well or well-done?"

"I can do it myself," you mumble, making one last attempt.

"I said, medium-well or well-done?" he repeats.

"...Medium-well."

"I knew it."

"Sure you did."

"I did! That was what I guessed in my head!"

You hum, watching as Kaiser carefully transfers the meat from the grill to your plate. He lines up the slices of cooked meat neatly on your plate before filling up the sides with the vegetables he grilled as well, including carrot strips and garlic.

He’s surprisingly meticulous at this, double-checking each slice of meat to make sure it's not overcooked, keeping the juices from spilling onto the table, and pouring just enough dipping sauce into your bowl.

“Would you say you’re a tidy person?” you wonder out loud. Habits like these typically carry over to other aspects in life.

“Probably.”

“Do you clean your room and do the laundry and stuff?”

“Nah, we’ve got a maid for that.”

“Oh, right.”

“But my ma is kind of a clean freak. I used to help her vacuum around the house and wash the dishes as a kid. I did dumb shit like try to vacuum the cat’s tail and broke a few mugs by dropping them in the sink, but it’s made me pick up a good habit or two.”

The anecdote prompts the corners of your lips to twitch. Kaiser just gave you a brief glance into his childhood with so much candidness that it surprisingly made you more curious about who he was in the past; as a boy, a teenager, and all the versions of him that led up to the man who sat before you now.

When you shift your gaze to the table again, you frown at the sight of his empty plate. Foregoing the tongs and just making use of your chopsticks, you reach into the grill to pick up some slices of meat yourself. Before Kaiser can protest, you serve him the meat he's been so busy cooking for you.

"You should be eating too, stupid," you mumble.

The gesture stuns him for a moment before he takes this as a prime opportunity for more teasing, that sultriness dripping from his voice again.

"Mm, want to feed me one yourself, princess?" he says, leaving his mouth wide open. You search the table for a second before stuffing a piece of lettuce in his face.

"Oh right, I didn't get to answer before, but my week's been good actually. What about yours?"

Oh, you didn't think he was actually listening when you asked.

"My week's been g—" you stop short only to recall the dreary meetings, cranky clients, and half-assed reports you have to correct and potentially rewrite by the end of next week, all of which reminds you that it hasn’t been a good week. You correct yourself, “it was alright.”

"You hesitated," he points out.

"I mean, it was fine. Not terrible, not particularly good either."

"Any reason why?"

"Just the usual shitty stuff that comes with being a capitalist slave."

Kaiser chuckles, flipping another slice of meat all the while. "You, the daughter of an international conglomerate, being a capitalist slave?"

"We're the most dedicated slaves of all," you say dramatically. It makes him laugh and you have to remind yourself to keep talking so you don’t get caught staring. "People think my work is cut out for me because I'm part of this family, but in reality, they work me like a dog."

"Sounds rough. Do you like it though?"

"Well, I'm good at it."

"That's not what I asked, darling." Kaiser lifts his gaze from the grill to really look at you, the first time he's done so tonight. "I'm pretty amazing at soccer, but I also fucking love it. Can you say that about your work?"

Ignoring the way he so easily talked big about himself, you pondered his question for a moment. Truth be told, it left you stumped. It was one of those open-ended questions that could leave you thinking for days, weeks, or even months. Have you ever honestly asked yourself if you liked your work, much less loved it before? Did you genuinely enjoy what you've been doing? Or have you tricked yourself into thinking you do simply because you've got a knack for it? 

Actually, you've never even thought about doing anything else because you've lived your entire life with the understanding that you'll one day have to carry on the family business. There never seemed to be any space for what you wanted and what made you happy. But was that an issue? You do want to help your family and carry on a legacy that’s so precious to them. Should anything be wrong about that?

"Dar-ling?"

Kaiser snaps his fingers in front of you, effectively pulling you out of your reverie. You didn't even realize you'd slipped into such a daze until Kaiser repeatedly called your name.

He tilts his head to the side, a softened smile on his lips, "you don't have to think about it so seriously. Sorry if I overstepped."

There it is. That somehow kind and patient look on his face. It doesn’t surface often but when it does, it makes your insides go all tender. His apology tops it off all nicely as well, which makes you feel obligated to apologize as well. "Oh no, you didn't... overstep... I just completely zoned out, sorry."

"It's fine, by the way, I'll get to choose the place for our next date, right?"

Your eyes narrow in on him. "You want to see me again?"

"Of course."

"...I'm starting to think you're actually considering an arranged marriage."

"Don't flatter yourself, princess. I'm just killing time."

As you thought.

But the tone in which he said it didn’t sit right with you. You didn't know Kaiser well enough to confidently tell when he's lying or not, but you're somehow certain that what he just said isn't the truth at all. There's no way he'd make these softened expressions and speak to you so earnestly if he was just killing time. There’s no truth in that. And you don't know what to do with this information. Was it too conceited to think he might actually be interested in you? Was it pathetic that the thought makes you kind of giddy? 

You try to downplay your expectations, overwrite any thought that might disappoint you down the line.

"Fine. Where are we going next?"

"It's a surprise. I'll come pick you up."

the third date.

“You know,  you don’t actually have to go on five dates with me. I can make up some excuse so you don’t have to waste your time,” you say as soon as you climb into his car.

You’re wearing something fancy again, your shoulders exposed, a different tiny bag in your grip, your nails a lighter color, and your make-up as flawless as the last time he saw you at the barbecue restaurant. 

He hasn't told you where he's taking you and upon seeing how much effort you seemingly put into that get-up, he feels like he's going to get an earful when he does arrive at the destination. You haven't noticed his casual wear yet, perhaps because it's dark out, so Kaiser launches into a made-up explanation to distract you as he drives out of your apartment lobby.

"No, I've come up with a brilliant plan to keep my parents from arranging these things again."

"It sounds terrible already." 

"Listen, I'm going to go out on these five dates with you, I'm going to tell them we hit it off and that I think it might work out, they're going to be happy and I'm going to act like I'm so in love, and at the end, I'm going to say you dumped me—"

"What?!"

"—I'll go through this long period of devastation and they'd feel too sorry for me to make me meet anyone else."

"Wait, you can't tell them I dumped you. They're going to tell my parents and my parents will interrogate me over why I dumped someone who could stand going on three dates with me!"

"You know, you make it sound like men have to endure spending time with you. What'd you do to scare 'em off like that?"

"I didn't do anything..." you say, your voice trailing off. 

Kaiser notices a shift in the air and glances over to see a split-second of that dejected expression on your face. It's the same one you wore the last time you mentioned this and Kaiser is convinced the subject is more sensitive than he thought. You sink into your seat, face turned to the side so that you're looking out at the window. 

"Where are we going anyway?"

Kaiser hums, eager to change the topic as well. "Somewhere you'd never expect."

"Well, as long as it's not a McDonald's drive-thru or something,” you jest.

Kaiser bites his tongue to keep from bursting into laughter because when he actually does pull up to the nearest McDonald's drive-thru, as he planned to from the very beginning, you're already fisting his shirt in an attempt to throttle him.

"You jerk! Don't you know how long it took me to get ready?! If I'd known we were going here I wouldn't have gone through the goddamn trouble! I put this stupid dress on for nothing!"

"Nah, you can think of it as dressing up for me, princess," he says, playing with fire by sensually wrapping his hand around your wrist.

You let go of him immediately to escape his cheap advance. “Gross. You’re so infuriating, Kaiser, I swear to god—”

Good evening, welcome to McDonald's, can I take your order?

Kaiser promptly rolls down his window, completely ignoring your protests as he leans towards the speaker outside. "Yeah, I'll get a big mac."

Would you like a meal with that?

"Yep, upsized please."

Kaiser then turns to you with a pointed expression, silently asking you what you want to have. Your only response is to pout and frown in his passenger seat and Kaiser has to actively stop thinking about how adorable you look. Your silent protest ends when the lady on the opposite end of the speaker adds, is there anything else you'd like?

"A double cheeseburger," you say through gritted teeth. Just as kaiser is about to repeat your order, you add, in the smallest voice possible, "and 6-piece nuggets."

Kaiser chuckles, turning back to the speaker. "Yeah, also a double cheeseburger and 6-piece nuggets. Make them both meals."

Would you like those to be upsized as well?

Kaiser turns to find you vigorously shaking your head. "Yep, upsize them all, thanks."

"Ugh," you sigh.

Thank you, please proceed to the next window to make your payment.

Parked in the back of the McDonald's parking lot, with the engine off and the sunroof open to let the cool autumn air in, Kaiser watches curiously as you enjoy your nuggets. You’d both just finished your burgers and the only sound he hears now is your munching, as well as the brief hums that leave your throat. He knows you’ll never admit it in front of him, but you look pretty happy with your nuggets.

When you meet his eyes and notice him staring, you jut your chin out at him. “What?”

“I want one.”

“No.”

“Just one.”

“If you wanted nuggets, then you should’ve gotten your own.”

“Tch, you’re stingy.”

“Yeah, I'm a whole lot of things you won’t like, Kaiser.”

Kaiser reaches into the paper bag for the french fries. He pops a few into his mouth then, as if testing the waters, offers you one. He suppresses the smirk threatening to play on his lips when you eat it from his fingers. It’s like you didn’t even notice he’s feeding you. He eats one more fry himself, then gives you another.

"Yeah? What else then?"

"I'm impatient. Greedy. Sometimes possessive. Judgmental. I don't take criticism well, I bottle things up, explode at the worst possible timing, and I burn my bridges."

Kaiser nods. It sounds like a list you’re familiar with, as if counting off your worst qualities was a favorite pastime of yours. "Wanna know my worst qualities?"

"Ooh, I didn't know you're self-aware."

"I'm an egoist. Rash. Selfish, consumed by self-righteousness. I hate admitting I need help, I can be manipulative to get the things I want, and I get unforgivably frustrated when there are things I can't have."

There's not a hint of mockery in his tone and the quiet that follows is one born out of a shared understanding that you've just confessed the ugliest parts of yourselves. It hits differently in the privacy of his car, with the stars out, and a half-moon hiding behind a haze of clouds.

Kaiser's head falls against the leather seat as he turns his body to face you. "What about your best qualities? Tell me that."

"My best?"

"Yeah."

The doubt that fills your avoiding eyes tugs at his heartstrings. Why did you just laugh like it's a silly thing to ask? Why do you seem so hesitant, so reluctant? Why was it far easier for you to list off all the worst things you are compared to this?

"I can go first," he says, perhaps in an attempt to boost your confidence. He’s perfectly aware he can be a bit full of himself sometimes but he’s not stupid enough to know there’s also a way of talking good about yourself without sounding like a narcissist. "I'm dedicated. Attentive. Committed. I fulfill my promises, I don't give up on my dreams. I'm something of an optimist."

You don't make fun of him for it at all. In fact, you're nodding like it makes sense, like these actually are qualities present in him even though you've hardly seen evidence of it. 

"And you?" he says, reaching out to poke your nose.

You take a deep breath like a new student nervously introducing themselves to the class on the very first day of school. This is something that's taking a lot of effort from you, he can tell that much.

"I'm... uh, I'm... I guess I'm... hard-working?"

"Yeah, that's a good start."

"I'm compassionate, I think. A dutiful daughter. I'm... wise...? I don't know, this is too hard for me, Kaiser."

"You're a lot more than that, you know."

It takes longer than he expects for you to reply, and when you do, there's a distinct chill in your voice.

"You can save the pep talk, Kaiser," you say, faking a smile. "Sometimes, things aren't as cut and dried as they seem."

He knows what you're trying to say. There’s a resigned look in your eyes and a hint of indignation in your low voice. You don't want to talk about this anymore. Even Kaiser knows when not to cross the line.

So, he smacks a hand to his chest and dramatically throws his head back in a showy attempt to evade the topic altogether. Kaiser is a master of misdirection and he’ll make sure to breeze through this bump in the road with you. He won’t let this shift in mood mark this night.

"I'm so hurt!" he cries, "you're trampling all over my efforts to create an intimate moment with the prettiest girl I've ever seen!"

The deadpan expression on your face is priceless. "...You're overdoing it, Kaiser."

"Am I, mademoiselle?" he tries to take your hand, but you pull it away with a laugh before he can kiss the back of it.

"Wait, do you speak French?"

"Non, why? Does it look like I do?"

"It sounds like you do."

"Ah," he says, nodding to himself like a lightbulb lit up in his head. "You think French accents are sexy, don't you?"

You consider it for a moment. "Actually, I don't know. I've never thought about it."

"Good answer. If you had said yes, I'd be rushing off to learn how to speak with a french accent."

Your eyes twinkle in the dim lighting of the McDonald's parking lot streetlamp and Kaiser really needs to fight the urge to kiss you.

You sigh, tearing your gaze away from him. "You're such a sweet talker, you know that?"

"Is it finally working on you?"

"No."

"Damn, guess I gotta keep trying."

“Do you want a McFlurry, by the way?”

“You’re still hungry?” Kaiser asks.

“I have a separate stomach for dessert. If you don’t want any, I can go get my own—”

“Nah, it’s fine, I'll get it for you. Just wait here like a good girl.”

“I'm not a child.”

"Oreo, strawberry shortcake, blueberry?"

"Oreo, please and thank you."

Kaiser responds with a satisfied hum. “You’re cute when you’re polite. I’ll be back soon, don’t miss me too much!”

He can't even suppress his smile any longer, and you watch, with reddened cheeks and fumbling thumbs, as Kaiser makes his way inside the fast-food chain with an obvious skip in his step.

the fourth date.

After twenty agonizing minutes of arguing about who's going to pay the bill for your fourth date, you sit beside Kaiser with seething rage as you watch him triumphantly hand his card to the waitress. The card is swiped, his pin punched in, and the waitress leaves with a kind smile on her face, wishing you two a lovely night.

"Here, you can have this," Kaiser says, sliding the bill holder to you, which now contains a few pieces of mint candies in place of the bill. You noticed Kaiser also managed to swipe the receipt before you could even take a peek.

"Send me your account number. I'll transfer my share."

"Darling, you don't even know how much it even is."

"I can check the menu."

"Doesn't include tax and service charge."

"10 percent for tax because it's an upscale restaurant and an 11-percent service charge. I'm not an idiot."

Kaiser keeps silent for a moment. "Can you please just let me pay for your dinner?"

"No! I'm going to feel indebted—"

Kaiser holds his index finger up to stop you. The only reason you shut up is because his phone is ringing and you recognized the caller ID before he picked up.

"Hey, ma!"

If it was anyone else, you would have carried on with your argument, fighting to the death to pay him back. But because it's his mother, you'll resist, even if for a few moments.

"Yeah, we just finished," he says, glancing at you before pulling the receiver away slightly to tell you ma says hi.

"Tell her I said hi back!"

Kaiser makes a face at the innocent, demure tone you adopt, worlds removed from the aggression you spoke with just a moment ago.

"She says hi too, yeah."

You take one of the mints, ripping the wrapper open before popping the candy into your mouth.

"I'm just dropping her off at home, so it's fine. It's on the way anyway."

Kaiser taps you on the shoulder, pointing at the candy, then at himself. Do you want one? you mouth, to which he nods.

"So, laundry detergent, lemons..."

You unwrap the candy and hand it to him, but Kaiser shakes his head then points to his mouth instead. The sly man wanted you to feed him.

"No way!" you whisper.

"Chips? You sure, ma? Dad likes the salt and vinegar ones though?"

Kaiser takes matters into his own hands when he encircles your wrist, trying to guide your hand to feed him the candy. You resist with all your might but Kaiser, who’s obviously holding back his strength, keeps tugging you playfully.

"Ooh, okay, yep. Got it. Love you, ma. See you."

His casual expression of affection for his mother momentarily distracts you, and after hanging up the call, Kaiser takes it as a perfect opportunity to dive and retrieve the candy for himself.

From your fingers.

With his lips.

You freeze in shock for one second too long, which gives him the chance to kiss your fingers, his moist lips on the very verge of suckling your skin before taking the candy by his teeth. Goosebumps ride up on your spine as a result of it and you smack his arm.

“Kaiser!” you shriek, cheeks ablaze and your face red up to your ears.

Kaiser bursts out laughing at how bashful you look. He slips his phone back into his pocket and rises to his feet.

"C'mon, princess. I'll take you home. Oh, and do you mind if we stop by a grocery store on the way, though? Ma needs me to pick up a few things."

Your eyes instantly light up at that. This was your chance! Surely Kaiser couldn't do anything if you paid for his groceries to make up for dinner. After all, it’s only fair. 

The closest supermarket to your apartment happens to be a mega supermarket, a huge grocery store that operates 24-hours and probably stretches the length of an olympic-sized pool.

Kaiser enters without even glancing at the rows of trolleys or stacks of baskets.

"Do you have to get a lot of things?" you ask, barely keeping up with his long strides.

"Yeah, a handful."

"Don't you need a basket?"

"Nah, it's not that much. I can carry it."

After fifteen minutes and repeatedly turning down your offer to go fetch a basket, you watch him with an unimpressed look on your face as Kaiser attempts to balance a 1-liter bottle of laundry detergent in his elbow, a plastic bag of lemons in between his fingers, four bags of chips in his arms, two cartons of milk in his other hand, and a small pack of batteries on top of that.

He’s perfectly aware that you’re just watching him struggle without a basket, but he doesn’t say anything out of his pride.

One of the bags of chips then falls to the floor.

You sigh tiredly at this circus, bending over to reach for the bag, when Kaiser stops you.

"No, no, I got this," he claims.

When he lowers himself to the ground, the bag of lemons slips through his fingers, falling to the ground as well. The batteries then follow.

"For the love of god, just let me help you."

With the way his shoulders slump at the realization he won’t be able to pick things up from the ground, Kaiser almost looks like a lost puppy.

"...Fine," he relents.

For some stupid reason, Kaiser was stubbornly committed to not using a basket even for the rest of your trek through the supermarket. Employees approached the two of you more than once to offer the assistance of a basket, to which kaiser turned down both. Now, you're both walking around the huge place carrying all your things in your arms, and picking up more stuff than what Kaiser's mother asked for.

You realized you needed a new toothbrush. Kaiser just remembered he ran out of shampoo. You're planning to bake tomorrow, so you need some yeast. Kaiser forgot his mother asked him to get eggs too. 

You wandered through the maze of supermarket aisles together, picking up things here and there like couples do. You can’t help but admit that you do quite enjoy the domesticity of it all.

At the cash register, you're hit with the reminder that you accompanied Kaiser here in the first place so you could pay for everything. You and Kaiser load all  your things onto the conveyor belt and wait patiently as the cashier scans the barcodes.

"Would you like to pay together?" she asks.

Kaiser steps forward, effectively blocking you. "Yep, all together."

You knew he would do this. If it was a battle of speed, you were likely going to lose against him as well. Luckily, after your last defeat at the restaurant, you have a contingency plan.

“Oh, Kaiser! I just remember!” you search through the piles of things on the belt before picking up a yoghurt drink. “Could you get the blueberry flavor of this drink?”

Then comes a strategy you’ve employed more than enough times. You’d be lying if you said you’ve never used your looks to get someone to do something for you. You look up at Kaiser with big eyes, blinking slowly as your gentle plea leaves your lips. “Please?” you say, briefly touching his arm in a way you never have before. He looks at you before glancing at the yoghurt drink, and for the briefest moment, you think it won’t work.

It does though.

“Just one or two?” he asks, taking the drink from you.

"Just one is fine."

Kaiser takes off immediately, luckily already out of earshot when the cashier turns to you with a slightly apologetic look in her eyes.

“Oh, ma’am, I’m afraid we don’t have that drink in that flavor.”

"I know," you smile cunningly. "I just needed to get him out of here because I'd like to pay for everything, please."

The cashier looks surprised for a moment before breaking into a smile. "You two make a very cute couple."

"Is that so?" you laugh. "All he does is get on my nerves though."

"That's all love really is sometimes, isn't it?" the cashier says, scanning the last of your items. "It really shows in the way he looks at you, by the way."

The cashier doesn’t notice how that takes you by surprise as she bags all your items. The words sound like something straight out of a script for a romantic film, not something that could ever be applicable to your life. You don’t know how to respond except to smile, so much bashfulness contained in the apples of your cheeks.

"Here's your total! Cash or card?"

"Card please."

Kaiser takes his sweet time and returns empty-handed, as you expect. “Darling, I couldn’t find the blueberry one. I looked everywhere but all they had was…” his voice trails off as when he notices the bagged groceries and the paid receipt already stapled on the outside of one of the bags. “Did you pay for everything?!”

You’d have reveled in Kaiser’s excessive reaction, even taking pleasure at the victory you secured in paying your share tonight, while he went off on a rant about how it made no sense that you paid for the groceries when they consisted of things he picked up for his mother. But Kaiser’s ramble entered one ear and out the other as you both made your way back to his car, because all you can think of were the words of the cashier.

They continued to echo in your head until you fell back on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

It shows in the way he looks at you. Did Kaiser look at you with love?

the fifth date (and the proposal).

Your nerves return to eating your insides as you make sense of the finality that comes with tonight being the fifth date, meaning it is the last of the arrangement courtesy of your parents and Kaiser’s.

Your parents have tried to pry in on the matter but you evaded the subject altogether. Partly out of sheer embarrassment and partly out of fear. Because what’s going to happen after, you didn’t know. You’ve been operating under the guise of the impression that the two of you were just fulfilling your obligations as filial children to your parents. You convinced yourself this was nothing more than just helping them out with a chore, like picking up their groceries or making them breakfast.

It should be nothing more than another task you can finally cross off your list… So why has there been a looming sense of dread haunting you since this morning? Why did you keep staring at the clock, waiting for 7 p.m. to arrive, and find yourself hoping the night will never come to an end?

Kaiser insisted he’ll plan this last date but he hasn’t told you about where he’s taking you, which you made sure he’d do so you can dress appropriately. But you’ve been so fidgety and on edge because Kaiser hasn’t texted you at all today. Not even his usual good morning <3 or the occasional good luck with your meeting, darling!

You hated to admit that you’re waiting on him. You pace your room for a moment, distracting yourself with some work emails and going through documents that need signing, until your phone finally lights up with a notification you’ve been looking forward to.

Except it’s only disappointment that fills your chest when you read his words.

Practice is running late today, don’t think I can make it for the date tonight :(

That’s okay, we can resched…

You’re crestfallen. You throw your phone across your bed before dropping your weight as well. But you don’t get the time to reprimand yourself for such a pathetic reaction when your device lights up again. You move in reflex to check it.

I still want to see you though :(

Kaiser is always more honest than you could ever hope to be. You bite your lip, feeling your heart begin to race as you ponder the connotations of what you’re about to suggest. Oh, to hell with it.

You can come over, if you want. I’m staying up anyway to do a bit of work…

Kaiser replies to you immediately.

:O are you trying to seduce me?

You stare at his message long enough for your idle screen to lock, and in its reflection, you see the dumb smile spread across your face. You rollover onto your stomach to get a grip.

Never mind. Forget I asked.

I’ll head over as soon as I’m finished ;)

Rush-hour traffic had long subsided by the time Kaiser finally made his way to your place. He was initially frustrated that training was going to ruin his dinner plans—he was this close to ditching practice altogether and just brace whatever sanctions the coach would give him—but now that you’ve offered him to come over, he can’t help but think it’s a blessing in disguise.

After parking his car down the street, Kaiser walks into the lobby to find that the security guard recognizes him. The guard gave him access to the 42nd floor, which was one level below the penthouse but also consisted of one apartment unit; yours.

He waits patiently for you to open the door and all he feels are the jitters. It’s been a really long time since he was last this nervous. Seeing you late into the night actually kind of makes him feel like a rebellious teenager again and he wipes the sweat from his palms on the back of his trousers.

His hair is still slightly damp from the shower he took after practice, but he doesn’t even care at this point. He’s just so excited to see you that he feels almost dizzy. He knows he just saw you last week after the whole ordeal at the supermarket and yet, he wants to keep seeing you.

Tonight marks the last date of the arrangement, but Kaiser is confident he doesn’t want it to end here. It can’t. He won’t let it.

When you finally open the door, your scent brushing past him like a spring breeze, Kaiser immediately breaks into a smile. Of course, you look casual today, so uncharacteristically laid-back and relaxed.

“Missed me, darling?”

You click your tongue before letting him in. “Wipe that smug look off your face, Kaiser.”

Kaiser hums, carefully stepping inside as he inspects your home. Every corner of this space is filled with you and he wants to take in as much as he can to learn more about you. He whistles impressively at the grandiose unit; sparkling floor-to-ceiling glass windows on every side, sleek furniture all in tones of aquamarine and beige, a massive flatscreen TV that curves to accommodate your wide sofa, and a brand new playstation 5 sitting atop the console table under it.

“Eh? You game?” he says, pointing at the console.

“Sometimes,” you shrug. “It’s usually for when my friends come over.”

Kaiser raises a brow, turning to you. “Guy friends?”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Kaiser purses his lips like he didn’t even recognize the implication of this question. You pay it no mind though, “it’s just girls. We mostly play horror games though.”

“Oh… okay, I didn’t see that coming.”

“Do you want to play?”

“Nope.”

You find his all-too-quick response humorous, laughing a little before turning on your heel to head towards the kitchen. It’s an open-floor space so you’re not going very far. Kaiser makes himself comfortable on the sofa, surprised that the velvet feels really soft under his palms.

“Do you want snacks? Water? Juice? Tea?”

“What kind of juice d’you have?”

“Orange, uh… cranberry, and mango, I think.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Well, I like cranberry these days but—”

“Okay, cranberry it is then.”

Your head peeks out from behind the door of the fridge. “Why do you always have what I have?”

“Beacuse I always want what you want.”

From where he sat on the sofa, Kaiser notices a familiar blue and red device peeking out from the drawer of the console table.

“Is that a Nintendo Switch?”

“Yep,” you call from the kitchen.

“Sweet, let’s play Mario Kart.”

Kaiser gets up to turn on the console and find the controllers. When you approach, carefully making your way over with a tray filled with snacks and a pitcher of cranberry juice, Kaiser rushes over to help you.

“And here I thought you’d try to Netflix and chill,” you say, dropping your weight onto the fluffy carpet.

“You almost sound disappointed, angel.”

“Think what you want Kaiser, but don’t cry if I kick your ass at Mario Kart.”

“Ah, shall we make a bet then?” he taunts, reclaiming his spot on the sofa. He’s sitting close enough to you for his leg to brush against your arm and because you’re sitting on the floor, all it takes is a reach for him to ruffle your hair. “The loser has to grant the winner a wish.”

“That’s so childish.”

“So?”

“You’d wish for something dumb. Like for me to start calling you darling or something.”

“That’s not a bad idea. But hey, that means you think I have a chance of winning.”

“Yeah, right. You can’t win against me.”

“Then bet on it,” he says, leaning forward.

You don’t back away from his advance until Kaiser is leaning right into your face. “...Fine.”

“‘Atta girl.”

He falls back against the sofa as you reach for the TV remote on the coffee table, though in the process of looking for the device, you happen to glance at Kaiser’s phone, which coincidentally lights up at the same time. You don’t really pay much attention to who the notification was from, but something else does catch your eye.

“Your friends call you Mihya?” you ask, still staring at his phone until the screen goes black again.

“Ooh, so you’re the type to snoop around my stuff.”

“I wasn’t snooping…! It happened to light up while I was looking at it!”

He chuckles, subconsciously reaching out to smooth down the back of your head in some attempt of calming you down. “I’m just playing with you, princess. The passcode is 0-0-0-0.”

“I didn’t ask for your passcode. And don’t you think that’s a pretty weak one?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide.” Kaiser takes the remote from you to switch on the TV. “Oh, check out the latest photo in my gallery, by the way. My coach took it earlier.”

You don’t even know why you’re doing as told but you do feel hesitant about unlocking his phone, scared about what you might accidentally find. But upon unlocking it, you find there’s nothing remotely personalized about his device. He’s using the default wallpaper, the default theme, and only has a bunch of health apps downloaded.

You open up the photo gallery only to immediately lift your gaze to look at Kaiser severely unimpressed.

“Kaiser. Why do you have so many shirtless photos of yourself?”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t look. You did. For a second. Before averting your gaze. But that second was enough to burn the image of his glistening skin, likely from post-workout, the toned muscles of his arms and abdomen, and the striking vines and rose tattoo that spiraled up his arm and bloomed on his neck. It was an unexpected eyeful and you needed to clench your jaw to pretend you weren’t at all affected by it.

Kaiser’s eyes, on the other hand, search the ceiling in an attempt to deflect. You thought he might’ve owned up to the photos and brushed it off as nothing but his sheepish reaction makes you think he completely forgot those photos were there. And that you’d see them when he asked you to open up the gallery.

“Right,” he says, not knowing how to deflect.

“Is it for your personal interest…? Do you, I don’t know, send them out to anyone…?”

“No, no! It’s just… force of habit?”

He has a habit of taking photos with his shirt off?

“Right…”

“You can look at them… if you want,” Kaiser says, trying his best to muster up that confidence that usually comes so naturally to him. He doesn’t even know why the prospect of you seeing him like that makes him a little shy, but after finally noticing the way you’re tensing up makes him a little bolder.

“Kaiser, you are sorely mistaken if you think I’d be interested in seeing you shirtless and—”

“Oh,” Kaiser spots a window to tease you. “So photos aren’t enough? You want the real thing…” he purrs, slowly lifting up the hem of his shirt.

“Kaiser,” you jump to your feet with one hand grabbing for one of the cushions on the sofa. “I swear to god, I’m going to kick you out of here.”

Kaiser dodges your first hit with the pillow and seeing that he evaded your strike seemed to spur you on more. You swing again and Kaiser crawls backwards on the sofa, reaching for his own weapon of choice; a cushion slightly bigger than yours.

"No, not my face!" he cries.

You chase after him, climbing onto the sofa and advancing on your knees as you try to strike again. Kaiser shields himself and continues to back away until his spine hits the armrest at the end.

“Got nowhere to run now, huh?” you taunt, raising the cushion over your head. It doesn’t look like you’re teasing with the ambition burning in your eyes and out of genuine concern that you might actually whack him into unconsciousness, Kaiser goes for a weakness he’s certain you have.

He tickles the space between your waist and your hips, his fingers tenderly digging into your skin. You squirm immediately, a high-pitched yelp echoing in the room as you fall forward right on top of him.

Kaiser is prepared for this though. He catches you immediately, sturdy arms holding you tight before he flips you over. Now he hovers above you while your back is pressed to the sofa.

“That was a foul!” you complain.

“There were no rules, darling.”

“Still,” you pout.

While you proces the compromising position you’ve ended up in, you find yourself unable to move. Not because you couldn’t, but because you wouldn’t. You didn’t want to. This is the closest you’ve ever been to Kaiser and you felt him everywhere. He has your arms pinned to the sides of your hand, gentle grips on your wrists. One of his knees presses in between your thighs. His warm breath fans your cheek with every chuckle that causes his shoulders to rise. With his hair falling to you, such a serene shade of blue coloring the tips of blonde, you get a better view of that tattoo on his neck. You want to touch it. You’re fighting every urge to touch it.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you say instead, hoping that the more you talk, the more you’ll be distracted from your intrusive thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Can I call you Mihya too?”

He looks taken aback by such an out-of-the-blue question. “Depends, only my close friends call me that.”

“I can be your close friend.”

He cocks his head to the side, an amused grin gracing his lips. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, we went to a McDonald’s drive-thru together after all, and did some grocery shopping. I think that constitutes close-friendliness.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“Mihya.”

Any thought Kaiser had at that moment turns into dust because all he can think is the sheer sweetness that comes with you calling him by his childhood nickname. It rings so familiar in your voice. You handle his name so gently and cautiously, like a kid carrying a wounded bird back into the house. It’s a name he doesn’t go by anymore, a name he won’t share with anyone, but hearing it from your lips stuns him into complete silence. It sounds like the call of a lover. It feels a lot like coming home.

Kaiser lets go of you, leaning back to sit on his heels.

“Mih-ya. Mihya~” you tease, sitting up in front of him.

“Don’t say it for no reason,” he says quietly.

“I like saying it though. It’s cute, isn’t it, Mihya?”

The look in Kaiser’s eyes changes and you don’t need to think long to know that it’s a look of desire. He locks his gaze on yours before glancing at your lips, your heart thumping in your chest so loudly he might be able to hear it.

“I’m going to kiss you if you keep doing that,” he says, again in a low voice like he’s mustering all the self-control that he can.

“You’ll have to marry me first.”

That calm, borderline teasing, response immediately snaps Kaiser out of his lustful trance. Common sense returns to him in an instant and he takes your words in earnest.

“Okay. I will.”

For some reason, his response now leaves you speechless. Your pupils shake as you try to mend the situation you didn’t intentionally mean to create. “W-what, wait, I was joking—”

Were you, though? Kaiser thinks. He knows how mockery sounds coming from you and it certainly wasn’t that.

“I wasn’t joking though,” he interjects. “Wasn’t that what these five dates were for? I don’t want this to end, I want to keep seeing you.”

He reaches for your head but you pull away, backing up to climb over the sofa’s armrest to stand on your feet. The skyline outlines your silhouette from where Kaiser is looking at you, your back to the large window.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say.

“I do. I want this. I want you.”

“You hardly know me.”

“I know enough to want to know you more.”

You back up when Kaiser also rises to his feet. “Kaiser, this isn’t funny.”

“I swear, I’m not trying to be or anything. I want to marry you. I was going to tell you by the end of the night.”

“You said you weren’t even attracted to me! That you were just killing time with me!”

“I was lying,” he reasons. “I didn’t know what to make of these feelings so I lied.”

“So are you lying about wanting to marry me then?”

“No,” he says firmly.

You hold his gaze for a moment that feels too long before shaking your head and walking away from him briskly. “We’d be terrible together.”

“No, we’d just be us.”

“We’d fight all the time.”

Kaiser follows you, “and I’d apologize.”

“No,” you turn around to find him right on your tail. You take one step back. “I’d be the cause of why we’d fight all the time.”

“And I’d still apologize,” he insists, ready to take all responsibility.

“...I’m everything you hate in a person.”

“You’re everything I want.” Kaiser makes a gentle grab for your arm before you can turn away again, this time holding you in place by the dainty skin of your palm. “Look, I mean what I’m saying. If you’re telling me I shouldn’t want you, I won’t listen. But if you’re telling me you don’t want me, I’ll back off. I’ll do anything you say.”

“Kaiser…”

“Tell me.”

Kaiser squeezes your palm ever so slightly, but you know that the moment you turn around to face him is the moment you’ll give in. You’re not ready to accept the fact that your heart already longs for him. It’s too much, because as soon as you acknowledge that you reciprocate, then you also acknowledge that this is real.

“Please?” 

It's his plea that gets to you, the broken down sound of his voice, the slightly weakened utterance that sounds so vulnerable at this time of night.

You turn to him and melt in an instant. “...I do want you, I want you so bad but I’d be the worst to you, Kaiser. The absolute worst.”

“You won’t.”

“I’ll bottle everything up and you’ll never ask for my help. We’d be so bad for each other.”

“Anything you lack, I’ll make up for. Anything I’m missing, you’ll fill.”

His arguments are winning you over. You can feel your bones softening by the second and all you want to do is collapse in his arms. But you steel yourself and try again, even if all you can muster is a weak excuse.

“...I’d be horrible with the kids though.”

Kaiser nods, a fond smile spreading across his face as he recalls that first meeting with you. “You won’t let them have sweets before bed?”

You nod, “and you’ll sneak them in after lights out.”

“And you won’t let them play until they finish their homework?”

“Because they know you’d help cram it the next morning,” you complain.

“And you’d get mad all the time?”

“You’d get so fed up with me.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, darling. We’ll work through it together. We’ll make each other better.”

Kaiser tests the waters and draws closer to you. When you don’t take a step back, he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb slowly grazing your skin. You lean into his touch a little and it makes his heart skip.

You let out a deep breath, your shoulders rising and falling in the process. “Oh no,” you mutter, brows knitted together. When you look into his eyes again, Kaiser knows what you’re going to say before you even say it. “I think I’m in love with you, Mihya.”

Kaiser can’t hold himself back anymore. He roughly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. “Didn’t I tell you I’d kiss you if you keep doing that?” he whispers.

you’re speechless. malfunctioning as you register what he’s saying. the sheer casualness of it all is alarming and you have to snap yourself back into your physical environment before your mind loses to a universe of questions and doubts.

out of all people who have asked you to date, nagi was definitely the most unique. was he okay in the head? did he come for a check up? did he get one of rin’s kicks to the head? or was he just straight up delusional?

“uhh, why?” you ask, cursing yourself a little for how disgusted you sounded.

fortunately for you, your ungracious tone didn’t phase him, not one bit. “isn’t that what two people do when they like each other?”

yeah, romantically. you don’t even think nagi likes you beyond simply platonic, whereas you have to try and shove your feelings for him down your throat every morning before walking in to the training grounds for blue lock’s official team.

you find yourself agreeing regardless, still a little overwhelmed by everything that was going on. 

the soccer player then has the audacity to give you two thumbs up in approval, a dumb smile plastering on that expression of his. this confuses you even more.

“okay cool, so what should we do now that we’re a couple?” he asks.

you glance away, unable to look him in the eye for too long without getting flustered. the various weights and foam rollers still scattered on the floor catches your attention, reminding you of your previous task before nagi came to stir up a storm. “well, i have to put these away amongst various things. you can sit on the couch if you want to pass time?”

“do you need any help?” he questions, already bobbing down to be eye-level with you, ignoring the second half of your statement.

“no it’s fine, thank you though.”

“are you sure?”

“yeah! i don’t want to bother you.”

“well if you do this all by yourself, it’ll take longer, and you take longer, it means i have to wait longer to spend time with you.”

when you turn around to say something, the words die on your throat when you realise just how close he’d come to you during the time you had your back towards him. a flash of hurt crosses his typically emotionless eyes when you instinctively recoil from him, his innocent stare dimishing just a little. 

“you know how much i hate waiting. it’s such a pain, so let me help out and you’ll get done faster, right?” his hands are already reaching for some of the foam rollers before you can stop him. with an affectionate sigh, you take it from him, placing it back in its original spot.

“fine,” you say with a smile. “if you insist then would you mind putting the ice packs in the fridge? isagi’s ankle was messing up earlier and chigiri came in for his knee again.”

the white-haired hums before obeying, his footsteps that shuffled along the floor telling you know that he is carrying out his duties that you’ve assigned for him. the way his tracksuit makes a noise every time he walks is distracting, but you can’t help but think how much nagi reminds you of a penguin. the adorableness of it all might just kill you.

if only the internet and ‘#nagi seishiro’ tags knew just how much of a teddy bear that 6’3, legendary prodigy, nagi seishiro was, and how you had to massage him almost everyday after training sessions otherwise he’d come to practise the next day with the resolve of a five year old.

being a junior physiotherapist for the blue lock team, you only took care of a few blue lock athletes as your clients since the team was divided between you and a senior physio. nagi wasn’t one of your assigned athletes, however when you first came to the job, he would come during almost closing times (when you had no one booked) and ask for a massage, even if he had his own physiotherapist to request that of. however, nagi seemed to always have some sore muscle because his demands for a massage became a daily recurrence.

you just hope whatever is wrong with him gets sorted out soon. 

sure athletes are meant to work hard and use their bodies in the field but physio massages were to assist with injuries by minimising the risk of them, fixing the alignment, or help extend any limited range of movement. 

whatever. now’s not the time to think too hard about it because you’re about to go on a date with nagi seishiro. 

after cleaning up your space so you could prepare to take care of more athletes tomorrow, nagi is sauntering over to you once more. this time, he drapes himself all over you, causing you to stumble a little from how heavy he is. you pray to whoever’s listening that he can’t feel or hear the way your heart races in your chest, threatening to climb up your throat and jump into his hands. 

“tired, nagi?” you question, words muffled against his shoulder as you bring your hands to soothingly pat his back. 

“yeah,” whines the white-haired. the smile that creeps onto your face is one full of adoration for the man slung over you. “let me take you out.”

“where to?”

“a night market? it’ll be fun.” 

“sure.” 

at your confirmation, he separates from you with an excited glimmer in his eyes, 

after grabbing your bags and setting out, you’re violently flooded by dozens of paparazzi and interviewers who are click their cameras in hopes of catching blue lock’s soccer player who has taken the world by storm. it’s a little overwhelming, but when nagi covers you from the reporters with his arm which had his tracksuit jacket draped over it, you’re thankful for his thoughtfulness, especially when you’re relying on his grip around your waist to pull you in the right direction.

the crowd is shouting a flurry of things, nothing that you can make out amongst the mess of your mind, your heart, and your ears.

it’s not until you decipher someone shouting something about dating rumours with a japanese pop singer, that you piece together his intentions; a loud wakeup call to the reality of your ‘situation’ with nagi. 

the possibility that nagi was using this ‘relationship’ for media coverage and acknowledgement was very likely, especially with his recent growth in popularity and social media following- it would be understandable if he wanted to prolong his moment in the spotlight by entering beneficial relationships. 

except typically, celebrities would do it with other celebrities.

so what’s the appeal behind using you? 

a funny feeling brews in your gut, one that clawed at your chest with a series of disappointment, anxiety, and dismay. it was unbelievable that someone as hot, both literally and figuratively, as nagi would be interested in you; a junior physiotherapist fresh out of university, but you had hoped. his abruptness today and the whole ‘we should date’ ordeal was to dispel the media from his back, not bred from any genuine feelings.

if this was the only chance you got to stand beside nagi and have him hold you like this, so protectively against him, then you were going to take it until fate deemed it over and pulled you away from him itself.

you were young and simply put, nagi could provide the companionship you were looking for.

fortunately, the press left him alone at the parking lot where security guards were standing, two in the booth and one purchased near the gate. you give them a shy greeting and they return it with a bow.

“sorry about that,” nagi mutters, not looking at you even when you turn your head to stare up at him. “i wasn’t expecting paparazzi to be right outside, they’re such a pain.”

“it’s okay, if anything i owe you a thank you for covering me from them,” you huff, stuffing your hands into your pockets, mind still a little frazzled over the memory of how protective nagi was over you. “stuff like this happens when you’re famous, mr soccer hotshot.”

he rubs his neck, looking to the side as his next words tumble out of his mouth: “does that impress you?”

“why wouldn’t it?” 

you try not to think too hard about the blush that manifests on his face, pinning it on the colder weather and frostbite rather than your words. 

“so… where’s this night market? i didn’t know tokyo had many night markets.”

“just in shibuya.”

“won’t it be busy?”

“yeah,” he shrugs before adding as an afterthought: “does that bother you?”

“no not at all, i just thought you hated big crowds and busy places.”

“‘s won’t be so bad with you there.”

for someone who prefers to keep quiet majority of the time, nagi sure does have a silver tongue. this is probably the third time in the past half an hour that he’s made your stomach flip, and you can’t help but question his intentions. if he was trying to make you actually fall for him to make your relationship look more legitimate then he’d be disappointed to know that you already had, way before he approached you today. 

he agrees to drive the way since one: it was easier and two: you could avoid the paparazzi that way. 

upon arrival, you’re glad to see that there aren’t too many people in the crowd. since it was a weekday, students would be participating in extra curriculars and businessmen would be only just finishing work. the majority of the people here were older with a few couples here and there.

“oh, they have lemon tea,” nagi mutters, grabbing your hand before unceremoniously dragging you to the stand. his excitement was endearing, especially when all 6’3 of him approaches the lemon tea stand, needing to bend down in order to be seen by the elderly stand owner. a flash of surprise crosses the maker’s face as he makes eye contact with the white-haired.

“two lemon teas please,” requests the soccer player, using his hands to gesture ‘two’ as he fishes out the appropriate amount of money.

“hey, you’re that soccer player, nagi! you scored an awesome goal the other day. mind if i get a picture?” the owner’s gruff voice requests, a cheery smile making its way onto his face.

“oh. sure.”

you take the picture for them, counting down ‘3, 2, 1’ as nagi gives the camera a peace sign and the owner has a wide, bright smile on his face; so bright that you couldn’t help grinning as well. “i’m putting this on my store front. now you want two lemon teas?”

“coming right up!” 

“did you just buy me a lemon tea without asking?” you question, a smile appearing on your features as you glance up at your companion.

he meets your eyes, “yeah, ‘s there something wrong with that?” 

“no, not at all. i wouldn’t mind some lemon tea right now. i’ll pay you back.”

“don’t worry about that,” nagi cuts you off before you can even reach for your wallet. “everything’s on me.”

“but-”

“-it’s on me.”

the stand owner is handing over two iced cups of lemon before you can continue bickering and nagi hands one over to you with a wordless expression and you’re compelled to take it, though reluctantly.

“are you two a couple?” the owner asks.

nagi nods, “yeah, we are.”

“ah! no wonder. you two look amazing together, you bagged a real gem,” he says to nagi, pointing at you. you laugh it off, flattered.

“i know i did. thanks for the tea, sir.”

“thank you!” you call out to the owner before being dragged away by nagi again, careful not to spill your drink from how much vigour was in his steps. for his one stride, you had to take two. 

after going from store to store and blindly following nagi who led the way with his stomach, you’re eventually brought to a less busy, picnic-like area where there were various benches for you to sit on. it was away from the busyness of the main street, but still had lanterns hung around the premise, combating the darkness of the early sunset during colder months.

you take a seat beside him whilst he sets down the variety of food he bought from the merchants, not trying to think too much about the way nagi presses himself closely against you. 

“oh, one of my games had a character drop an hour ago,” he absentmindedly comments, opening his phone for the first time since being with you. you catch a glimpse of his dim phone screen, seeing the notification banner from the game he was referring to.

“that’s cool,” you mutter, unsure of what else to say as you take a bite into the red bean taiyaki.

“yeah, he’s a cracked character. been wanting him forever.”

“are you gonna pull? i wanna see him.”

“really?” 

when you give him the nod of affirmation, nagi opens the game whilst you continue eating, gentle anticipation hanging in the air as well as a comfortable silence. it doesn’t take long before he’s purchasing special event tokens, going to the special character screen and pressing the ‘draw x10’ option. you peer over his shoulder, trying to resist the urge to rest your chin on it.

you’re snapped out of your reverie when nagi emits a small gasp. “no way.”  

“what?” you ask, watching the way his screen lights up in gold which signalled a successful draw. he looks up at you, eyes wide and mouth partially parted. “did you get him?”

“yeah, on the first go,” he says in wonder, a dazed look in his eyes. “that’s never happened before.”

“no way! you’re so lucky!”

nagi’s face erupts into a small smile, and you’re caught off guard all of a sudden when his hands snake around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his lap. the new proximity and abruptness of it all causes your mind to stop for a second, shutting off as nagi peers up at you with stars in his eyes. you want to hide, but his grip around you is too tight, pulling you in to him.

this feels criminal. 

“nah, i just think you’re my lucky charm.”

a quiet squeak of ‘is that so?’ is all you can reply with before looking away, trying to distract your rampant thoughts, hoping that the cool breeze will calm the heat creeping up to your face. “so,” you begin, trying to recover yourself from embarrassment. “can i see your characters? all of them?”

“all of them?” nagi repeats and you miss the small look of bliss on his expression.

“yeah.”

“i showed them to you the other week.”

“okay, well show me this new character then.”

“as you wish.” 

he talks you through the characters and their tutorials, showing you their special combos and ultimate moves, all whilst you have to feed him the variety of foods he bought whilst dragging you around like a dog and its owner. as he munches on the takoyaki, kebabs, and sweet potato, you realise just how bottomless nagi’s stomach was and the way he hums in satisfaction after each bite was very adorable.

the night fades into a nice memory of laughter, emptied food boxes, and easy conversation. somehow nagi has manoeuvred himself so that his head was now in your lap, snowy hair spread so invitingly as you resist the urge to run your hands through it, wanting to respect any boundaries of his. 

every so often you have to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. 

reality hits you once more the following morning when you check social media just to see ‘#nagi seishiro’ trending all over again, all talking about the paparazzi photos that were taken yesterday. taking a glimpse for yourself, you hate the way your gut sinks, especially as articles with the title ‘nagi seishiro with a new lover?’ shine in your face.

it only solidifies your speculations about this (fake?) relationship, and despite coming to accept it, growing resentment poisons your system, rendering you incapable and bitter as you let your breakfast grow cold. 

at least nagi correctly covered you with his jacket, your face is completely obstructed, only your body is revealed. you thank your lucky stars that you decided to not wear your ‘blue lock’ staff clothes that morning and just opted for your own athletic wear, that way your identity could be hidden at least just a little.

a message from reo captures your attention and you click on it immediately. 

reo: is that you with nagi? 

you: yeah! 

reo: about fucking time. got sick of you two never doing anything. 

you: haha 😐thanks reo 😐

reo: did he take you to the night market last night?

you: yeah! it was fun :)

reo: that’s good, nagi’s been waiting forever.

reo: don’t break his heart 

you scoff at the irony of reo’s last text, typing something noncommittal before throwing your phone else where. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the whole team practically knows about you and nagi when you return to work the following monday and the second you enter the building, you’re swarmed by the friendly faces of bachira, isagi, and chigiri, who are seemingly holding a tired nagi hostage. quite an amusing sight. three people, who are roughly a head shorter than the white-haired, restraining a lethargic 6’3 athlete with their bodies. 

“are you really dating nagi?” isagi begins before you could even fit in a ‘hello’.

“uh… yeah?” you sound unsure; because you are. a fake relationship is still a relationship, it’s just that one party is more infatuated with the other.

“damn. i didn’t think it was real,” mutters chigiri. “are you sure? he’s not like… paying you to do this, right? you like like him?”

“yes?” you exclaim, a little overwhelmed. “i’m not getting any monetary returns even though i wish i did.” nagi narrows his eyes at you, you poke out your tongue. “please, no more questions, it’s way too early for this.”

“you don’t know how long we’ve been waiting for nagi to ask you out, y/n. even we placed money on him,” reveals isagi but before you could say anything in response, bachira cuts in, practically skipping up to the white-haired.

“finally grew some balls and asked, good job bro!” bachira sings, patting nagi on the back with a violet slap before disappearing.

“see you at practice, nagi!” 

the three athletes disappear and you finally exhale after holding in a breath for what felt like ages. what an animated way to start the day.

you hold your breath again when nagi approaches to stop in front of you, a singular coffee cup in his hand; one that he holds out to you.

“good morning, nagi,” you greet.

“hey, i got you coffee.” instinctively, you take the cup from him, immediately warmed up by the heat emanating from it. “i hope it’s still warm. i’ve been waiting for you for a while.”

“you were waiting for me?” 

“yeah. wanted to see you before going to training. makes my day less of a bother.”

you smile into your cup, trying to hide the effect that nagi has on you. you were so stupid for him it was insane.

“i’m sorry for making you wait, the trains were a little delayed this morning,” you confess, “but thank you. you’re very thoughtful, nagi.”

his face contorts into an ugly expression, a display of his feelings that are quickly quelled by the feeling of your cold hand grabbing his warm ones. “you take public transport to work?”

“i don’t want to pay for parking and everything. it’s not all bad, i get lovely views and a wake up call every morning.” 

the white-haired athlete makes a face of contemplation briefly. “let me pick you up from now on.”

“no, it’s fine. i don’t want to be more of a hassle. i know how much you hate waking up to even just come to work so-”

“-i want to.”

your heart flutters at his insistence and all you can mutter out is a feeble ‘ok’ before slipping your hand out of his. you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to get used to the way nagi seishiro so effortlessly warms your insides; to the point that it becomes an unrecognisable pool of putty. 

after a moment, you regain your senses. “you should be going off to practise. don’t make ego mad before the day even starts.”

he groans, “won’t you come and watch? i’ll feel a little better if you’re there.”

“i have my own work to get to but i don’t have many checkups today so if i can, i will.”

“i suppose that’s good enough,” mutters nagi before pulling you in for a loose hug, arms wounding around your waist, breathing you in before stepping back, as if rejuvenated by your touch and presence alone. 

“work hard, nagi.”

you go your separate ways, him to the field and you to your office where various coworkers resided.

after a morning of answering emails, going to meetings and consulting the results from various body screenings, you finally have a chunk of time around 11:45 am to go and watch practice. as soon as you entered the training grounds, you’re a little stunned and impressed to see that they were all doing shooting drills, landing them perfectly with no effort, the harsh sound of shoe slapping against leather ringing throughout the area.

nagi notices you almost immediately, his eyes lighting up a little when you shoot him a small wave before wandering into the bleachers, taking a seat in a second row. 

you continue watching, straightening up in your seat whenever it’s nagi’s turn, waiting to watch the genius at work. the results are no less than impressive every time but you have to pretend like you weren’t at all marvelling at him whenever he turns around and looks at you expectantly.

15 minutes later, ego calls for an hour lunch break, allowing the players to break off to do whatever their heart desires. the first thing nagi does is walk over to where you sit in the stands, leaning over the first row of chairs to reach you.

“why hello there, soccer sensation,” you greet and he gives you a lazy smile.

“hi.”

“you going to go for lunch?”

“yeah. have you had something to eat yet or do you wanna grab a bite together?”

“i brought cup noodles but i don’t mind. don’t you want to go with your friends?” 

“you’re better.”

“please shut up, that’s so cringe,” you murmur with an undeniable grin, one that causes his gaze to soften as well. “let’s get lunch together then.”

“let me get dressed,” the athlete says, about to run off when you abruptly stop him, causing him to turn around suddenly, his hair whipping around with his actions. “what’s up?”

beckoning him over, he returns to where he stood before and you take out a hair tie, one that you store in your pockets all the time just in case. “does your hair not bother you when you practise?” you silently ask for permission, hand merely hovering near his head until you realise that he was okay with the contact. “it’s getting all in your face, even i was annoyed when watching you.” 

gently, you run your hands through his hair and despite the sweat on his forehead, it’s still soft and fluffy. goodness you could play with it forever.

then, you gather nagi’s front bangs, bringing them together to resemble a unicorn horn, tying it with your hairband. when you part from your work, you’re pleasantly surprised that it holds but you suppress a giggle because of how ridiculous he looks, paired with that dazed look in his eyes, you never thought you’d see nagi like this.

when you reach to tug your hairband out of his hair, he waves you off, taking the updo out himself.

“can i keep the hairband?” he pleads and you quirk an eyebrow.

“it’s just a hairband,” you say.

“so you won’t miss it right?”

“no, i won’t-”

“-okay, epic,” he mumbles before putting the hair tie around his wrist and a part of you swells with pride at the sight; a feeling that you try to shove down with little success. “can i get changed now?”

“yes, go.”

whilst you watch the white-haired disappear from your vision, you can’t help but wonder how you got yourself into this situation with such a weirdo. still, you adore said weirdo and this was no one’s fault but your own.

nagi wears the hair tie for the remainder of the day.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

roughly two months or so pass by and the days become a blur, especially since training is becoming more rigorous for the team due to the preparations for their spring soccer season. your schedule is piled day by day with athletes coming for their regular checkups and consultations, leaving you drained as soon as the work day is over.

nagi, your loving ‘partner’ notices this because he always likes to stick around after hours and bother you for a massage. he always insists that you do it because it’s like an immediate ‘full heal’ but you just think that he’s too lazy to book a professional masseuse and that you’re the next best thing.

whatever. at least he’s cute.

“i hardly see you nowadays,” he mutters, voice muffled by the leather bed of your workspace. 

you gather a little more lotion on your hands, spreading it along his calves before pressing your thumbs into his muscles, trying to identify where any tight spots might be. “i’m sorry, i don’t have much time nowadays. appointments with you guys go all the way til six, and i don’t get home until 6:30. then i’m practically out like a light.”

he hums in torment and in consideration, tensing his shoulders a little as a natural response to the pain in his legs. “well, tomorrow’s a saturday. can i take you out?”

“i don’t know, some athletes may sporadically come and bother me to get a massage so i’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“be serious.”

“i am free tomorrow.”

“sick. keep it that way.”

“even if athletes bother me for a much-needed massage in order to perform at their best?”

he huffs something in response before flopping his face back down on the leather bed, the (seemingly invincible) knots in his calves taking too much of your attention for you to think too hard about tomorrow’s date with nagi. 

he’s still wearing your hair tie around his wrist. 

true to his word, nagi picks you up the next day at 3pm for your date since he insisted that was the earliest he would be ready by (meaning, it’s the earliest he can wake up). when you meet him, you’re a little stunned by the amount of disguises he’s wearing. sunglasses, beanie, and a face mask, you’re not sure whether he’s going to attract more attention or blend in.

also, when you’re 6’3 it’s hard to avoid eyes.

“hey, i’m supposed to meet someone called nagi, he’s got white hair, grey eyes, 190 cm, have you seen him?” you ask as soon as you approach the soccer player. he sighs through his mask when you erupt into a fit of laughter. “i’m just kidding.”

nagi brings down his mask to sit below his chin. “your boyfriend is right here,” he corrects, voice demanding and authoritative, sending shivers down your spine. 

“so he is,” you mumble, stepping closer to engulf him in a hug. he wraps his arms around you in return and you contentedly sigh when he pulls you into the comfortable, expensive material of his hoodie. “what’s with the disguise?”

“i don’t want anyone to ruin our day out so i’m wearing this.”

“ever so thoughtful aren’t you?” 

when you take a step back, nagi’s careful to not let you stray too far which is indicated through the protective arm he keeps around your shoulders. 

“should we get going?”

“yeah.”

the white-haired laces your hands with his, his grip gentle yet committed to keeping you near him as you stroll down the warming streets of tokyo.

“it’s finally spring,” nagi comments offhandedly, causing you shift your gaze towards him. you’re surprised that he was initiating conversation, majority of the time it was you doing the rambling and him partaking in the listening. “the cold weather was getting bothersome. hated going to practise all freezing, makes warmup so hard.”

“i like the cold weather,” you say. “it’s easier to dress for winter than it is for summer.”

“that is true.”

“do you like spring?”

“yeah, ‘s my favourite season.”

you didn’t think someone like nagi would bother too much with having a favourite season. “why’s that?”

“it’s a good season for napping and staying inside. i like that i don’t have to do much nor think about much.” 

such a nagi response. you admire how stubborn he sticks to his ideals and general philosophy, it’s a comforting quality and aspect to have. 

“plus it’s your birthday season,” you add. 

he looks at you with a gentle smile before repeating: “it’s my birthday season.”  

nagi takes you to a park where the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, its petals decorating the scenery and ground, creating a dainty, lovely carpet of pink and beauty. however, the main attraction of the date isn’t the scenery of the park but rather, the lake where several pedal boats float on the water; some occupied, some vacant.

the soccer player shows the attendant his purchased tickets, getting them scanned before you’re led to get on one of the boats. 

“so… are you liking the date?” nagi asks when you’re out far enough from the dock so that no one can hear you. here, he takes off his mask, tucking it into his pocket.

“i am, i’ve been wanting to ride one of these boats for a long time but i’ve just never found the time,” you confess. “i’m glad that it’s with you. thanks, nagi.” 

he looks away, an obvious pink tint appearing on his cheeks as he rubs his neck in embarrassment. “it’s okay, i s’pose.”

“you’re so cute,” you say whilst raising one hand to drag through his hair.

“stop,” he whines but not brushing you off or pulling away, instead, he leans into your touch.

a few minutes of silence pass by before nagi speaks up again, retreating back into his personal space as he fishes for something in his hoodie pocket. he pulls out a long velvet box, handing it over for you to take which you do with a little hesitation.

“i wanted to give you something to mark two months,” he tells you and you feel your heart drop.

“wait what? two months? i didn’t know we were celebrating that!” (because you spend too much time fretting over the day he’d tell you that he wants to break up, not needing this fake relationship anymore.) “i didn’t get you anything, i feel terrible now-”

“-it’s not a big deal, i just wanted to give you something.”

“nagi i can’t accept this, this is too good-”

“-i insist.”

“but i don’t have anything for you-”

in the blink of an eye his hands are clasped tightly around yours, his face incredibly close to yours that you’re stupefied into silence. “i. insist.”

you stare at him for another three seconds before relenting, opening the velvet box with the utmost care in fear that you might drop it in the water; a horrifying thought. 

a gasp of delight slips out of your mouth when you see an emerald necklace beaming brightly in your face. it’s in the shape of a pendant, encrusted around a halo plate with gold surrounding it, and from the looks of it, it couldn’t have been cheap.

looking back up at him to express the disbelief you feel, you’re silenced by the gentle look in his eyes, one that shines with adoration and devotion.

“it’s beautiful,” you whisper, unable to talk much louder in fear that it’ll cause the emerald to shatter in your hand. “you shouldn’t have.”

“i wanted to because i really like you. stop worrying.”

you exhale deeply, a little flustered and caught off guard by how candid he was. this feels suspiciously real.

“where did you learn to be so romantic?” you quiz, using humour to narrow how awkward you felt. 

“shoujos,” he answers shamelessly.

“ah.” makes sense as to why he makes you feel like you’re in one. “can you help me put the necklace on?”

the white-haired shines with glee, features brightening for a second. “y-yeah, of course.”

“thank you.” 

when he grasps the jewellery in his hold you turn around to expose the back of your neck to him, practically holding your breath when you feel his warm fingers brush against your skin, his touch barely there yet still prominent enough to blaze trials of fire where he caresses. 

“how do i look?” you ask, turning back around.

“beautiful,” he says, no louder than a whisper.

eventually the boat ride comes to an end and you return back to the dock. a lingering feeling of bliss and giddiness resonates in your chest, evident in the undeniable grin plastered on your face whilst you walk through the park; this time with a pretty gemstone adorning your neck. 

“nagi, look!” you exclaim, gesturing over to a company-branded photo booth that had set itself up in the middle of the park. there were various people lining up for one and judging by the pleased squeals from groups of students, it would be a nice memory to keep for today. “should we take one?”

“sure,” he shrugs, letting you drag him to hop in the queue which was going much faster than you anticipated. 

when it’s your turn, there’s hardly any time to discuss poses when the cameraman clicks the countdown button so unexpectedly. you reflexively hug nagi whilst smiling and he just gives a simple peace sign. he then stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you to place his head atop yours. finally, he bends down to kiss your cheek, rendering you completely mentally inable as you default a pose, not entirely too sure which one whilst you wait for the countdown and the camera flash. 

“you guys are so cute!” the photographer exclaims, handing your photobooth strips already. even then you hadn’t regained your senses, relying on nagi to guide you with his hand on the small of your back. 

glancing down at the photo strip, you’re stunned into speechlessness at the last photo. you can still remember the feeling of his lips on your cheek, specks of his warmth lingering on your skin whilst you continue trying to register what just happened.

you might explode or something. 

“cute,” nagi mumbles whilst putting the photo strip into his wallet, pulling you in by the waist to stand closer to him, whispering in your ear. “i still have one place i want to take you.” 

“do you?” you squeak, earning you a nod as he leads you through the park, coming to a stop when you enter a somewhat secluded section that had a sign labelled ‘private picnic rooms’ with various price ranges according to the number of people.

once again, he claims to have a reservation and you’re led by an attendant towards a specific area that had a table scattered with plates of snacks and various decorations. the vibe of the room was incredible with tatami mats, a floor to ceiling glass window that outlook the cherry blossoms, and if you tried hard enough, you could hear a stream running. 

“you… really outdid yourself,” you murmur, wandering over to one side of the table, expecting him to sit on the other. instead, he takes the spot right beside you.

you’re not too sure if this layout is how the establishment intended it to be but it is now.

“so you like it?” 

“i do. i love everything you’ve done today, you’re too good for me.”

“not true,” he grumbles, too quiet for you to address it further but loud enough for you to hear.

your relationship doesn’t make any sense to you. why is nagi trying so hard to impress you when this relationship was just for beneficial gain? what does he get from booking a pedal boat ride, buying you a (clearly expensive) emerald necklace, then taking you to have a private picnic? 

picking up a piece of halved mochi with the provided fork, you give the first bite to nagi who is more than happy to oblige, chewing on it with a satisfied expression. 

he’s so cute, you could pinch him.

your eyes then flit over to the decorations on the table, reaching over to the branch of cherry blossoms in a vase before you could think, ripping off one of the sticks with the bloomed flower and putting it in nagi’s hair and behind his ears. his adorableness just tripled.

“aww you look really cute with pink!”

“ya think so?” 

“yeah! you’re so pretty nagi,” you reach over to fiddle with the flower, not registering how close you’d gotten to him until you feel his breath fan across your face.

then you comprehend it, frozen in place for a second as you study nagi’s beauty from an angle you hadn’t before. how his snowy hair fanned perfectly over his forehead, the way the light bounced in the reflection of his eyes, and the imperfections that littered across his skin all contributed towards making the pretty being that was nagi seishiro. 

he leans in. you freak out, instinctively turning your head.

your breath gets caught in your throat when you feel nagi’s lips brush against the corners of your mouth, lingering there for a moment before parting and the look of hurt that flashes across his face hurts your soul. 

did you do the right thing? you thought you did- you know nagi isn’t into you the way you are into him. this relationship was made for media attraction, for him to gain more seconds of fame, so why does he keep acting like you two are real? why does he keep protecting your identity from the internet, why did he wear a disguise when meeting you when he would have wanted to boast that he was taken, why does he want to kiss you?

why does he look so hurt when he didn’t?

this was all so confusing.

tension lingers in the air for the rest of the date. you try to compensate for it by being a little more affectionate, giving in to your desires of openly loving him for the day. nagi’s satisfied.

you don’t notice how the cherry blossom fell from his ear.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you won’t find answers to your questions for a long time. in fact, the amount of questions you had quadrupled one night when you had spent the day at nagi’s apartment after work one day to watch a tv show that was on his ‘to-watch’ list.

“stay the night?” asks nagi, resting his head on your shoulder to give you his best puppy-dog eyes. you will yourself to not look at him by keeping your gaze firm on the television screen. 

“oh this episode sounds good. maybe we can watch this then i’ll get going,” you mutter whilst fiddling with the remote, dutifully ignoring his pleads and the way he tugs at you; something that does not resonate well with him. 

“oi. don’t ignore me.”

with a rough exhale, you finally turn towards him. “i can’t.”

“why not? we don’t have work tomorrow.” 

“i know but i just feel bad to bother you and take up your space.”

“you’re not botherin’ me. there’s so much space here, it feels empty without you.”

“nagi-”

“-won’t you call me seishiro? or something more romantic?”

the relationship shifts with his very words and you feel the genuine desperation that bleeds from nagi through his tone. when you look him in the eye, part of you shines with hope that maybe your relationship was real and not bred for media benefit.

in this moment of weakness, you let the top of your walls crumble.

“okay, seishiro.”

he beams. a smile so pure that you shatter like glass in his hands. “yay.”

you then find yourself underneath him as he lays his entire body weight over you, pressing you into the comfortable cushions of his couch as his hands delicately run up and down your waist. paralysed with confusion at the amount of love he pours into his touch, you keep forgetting that the higher you climb, the harder the inevitable fall will be. 

“stay the night, please?”

how could you say no when he was asking so nicely? “okay, seishiro.”

“yay.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“hey seishiro, are you ready?” you ask, fiddling with your rings as you round the corner of your living room where your oversized boyfriend is lounging across the couch whilst you got ready (boyfriend still feels weird to say even if he has zero problems with addressing himself by that title).

“yeah. let’s go-” he grumbles, cutting himself off when he glances over at you, eyes widening. “-whoa.”

heat rushes to your cheeks whilst nagi continues to shamelessly marvel at you, slowly standing up to cross the distance between you, his hands naturally hovering to hold your hips when he’s close enough. his gaze lingers even longer on the emerald necklace that sits between your collarbones. “like what you see?”

he stays silent for a second, leaving you to anticipate his answer. “we don’t have to go to isagi’s,” he mumbles. “how do we feel about staying in?” 

“don’t. your best friend is hosting this party, can’t you at least show up for him?” 

the white-haired sulks. “but you look so good. why should i celebrate that shortie instead of you?”

you push his face away, jokingly fed up with your boyfriend’s lazy attitude. “isagi is also my friend and i want to celebrate with him, just for an hour or two and then we can leave. deal?” 

“fine.”

twenty minutes later, you arrive at isagi’s place where a good amount of his closest friends had gathered, showing up far earlier than you and nagi did. 

truthfully, you were looking forward to isagi’s party since he was not throwing a massive rave where everyone was invited- those always ended up to be more unfortunate than fun in your opinion, and that wouldn’t exactly cater to his shy and sensible character. tonight was a gathering for his friends to hangout and celebrate. some you recognise from the team, some of them must be from high school or elsewhere.

bachira’s cheery face is the first one you see upon arrival, his smile wide as he practically bounces off the walls in excitement and you already begin to wonder just how many desserts and sweets he’s had upon arrival. 

“hey it’s the couple of the century!” he exclaims with a wink. nagi keens at bachira’s compliment, all proud and boastful as his hand creeps up to hold your hip protectively. “lookin’ good as always!” 

“yo, where’s isagi?” the white haired questions.

“around, i’ll take you to him c’mon!” 

the two soccer players are off before you can even count to three, nagi and bachira disappearing into the crowd as the hyperactive boy drags your 190 cm of a boyfriend through the crowd. well, at least he took the gift you both bought with him, but now you feel a little alone and very awkward.

walking around the hallways of isagi’s, you feel a little out of place since most of them seemed to be high school friends. it’s not until you reached the kitchen that you sigh in relief, met with the familiar, friendly faces of chigiri and reo who see you first.

“hey!” the red-haired calls out, waving at you as you walk over to them. “it’s good to see you, y/n, how are you?”

“hey chigiri, hey reo, i’m good! i just arrived but this seems like a cool gathering. isagi’s really outdone himself,” you greet.

“yeah he did. good way to unwind before the soccer season gets too crazy,” reo chips in. “nice outfit by the way, you served!”

“oh shut up, you look amazing yourself. you too chigiri.” 

“so… where’s nagi?” the purple-haired asks, checking his phone to see if he had received any texts from his best friend. “didn’t he come with you?”

“yeah but bachira dragged him to go talk to isagi as soon as i arrived. you know how he is.”

after a few more minutes of talking with the two, you finally pause the conversation out of concern about nagi’s whereabouts might be. you thought he’d come and find you after a while but guess you’ll search for him first. 

informing the pair first before breaking away, you wander into the rooms where bachira pulled nagi into, blindly hoping that they’ll be in there. to your chagrin, there were only a few unfamiliar faces spread along the couches, discussing something with a drink in their hand. you ignore the sight of otoya and one of isagi’s friends sitting too close for comfort.

when you walk into the next room, you stop in your tracks at the sight in front of you: nagi leaning against the wall with a stranger who clearly has no distinction of personal space, their hand resting on his chest. your heart plunges the bottom of your stomach as distraught settles within you because of the scene unfolding in front of you, chest churning with a distant ache that you can’t put your finger on.

then he looks over at you.

the instinct to turn around and run overpowers any rational judgement, especially when a flurry of emotions begin to well up inside you, causing you to sink further and further in an ocean of doubt and fear. 

you had no right to be jealous, not over nagi because you’re just his ‘pseudo-partner’, he’s not really yours and it’s moment like these that truly humble you into remembering. you’re just his ‘pseudo-partner’, you’re just his ‘pseudo-partner’, you’re just his-

“-where are you going?” comes an indifferent voice from behind you. all anxiety floods out of you like a broken dam. a warm, large hand tugs on your wrist and even if he had not spoke, you’d know from touch alone that it was nagi behind you. the multitude of times that he’s spent holding you, intertwining his hand with yours, and cherishing you has forced you to brand him into your memory. 

you are his. even if it is not mutual, you would be his until he stomps the fire out.

“i-i thought i was interrupting something,” you stammer, looking into at nagi’s doe eyes.

“you didn’t. actually, you made it better by coming,” he says before wrapping his arms around your torso. “that person wouldn’t leave me alone, such a pain. tried to say i was taken too, so glad you came.”

you return the hug, trusting his words. “glad i came too.”

nagi pulls you out of the water.

“can we leave yet? i don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“just a little longer. i haven’t even seen isagi yet. plus, we should dance.”

he gives you a quick look up and down before nodding in agreement. you smack his shoulder.

you manage to locate isagi rather quickly. he was near the food bar where refreshments and various desserts and snacks laid so after greeting him, wishing him ‘happy birthday’, and chatting with him for approximately five minutes before nagi started getting bitchy, you’re pulled into the dance floor by the white-haired. he said that they were playing a good song when you asked why he was being so impatient.

with a laugh, you give in.

nagi doesn’t really know how to dance but you can’t help but be a little entertained, deciding to end his awkwardness when you grab his hands and lead him through some moves, singing along to the song with each other. it ends with your arms around his neck and his around your waist (again) when a slower song plays. 

hiding your face in his chest, you breathe in the subtle aroma of his cologne that you urged him to put on earlier. when he gently prompts you to look up at him with a hand gently pulling on your hair, your breath gets caught in your throat at the close proximity as nagi stares at your lips, glancing up to meet your eyes again before leaning in.

this time you don’t feel as cruel, bracing yourself for the first sip of water after crossing the desert, for the final puzzle piece clicking into place, for the feeling of his lips slotting against yours; for the feeling of completion. 

instantly you relax at the sensation, melting into his embrace as you hold onto him a little tighter, wanting more. you want to take as much of him as he’ll allow and even then, you’ll cherish every last part.

you want him the same way the ocean longs for the moon.

parting from him makes you feel empty. the lidded look he gives you is full of temptation and… love?

snapping out of your reverie, you step away from him, using his dazed state to create some distance between the two of you as you come to your senses. senses that scream at you for possibly ruining… this. 

you hate that you keep running away from him, leaving him in the dust of the mess that are your feelings. it’s immature, irrational, and downright childish, really it is, but how else can you stop the way you’re about to burst at the seams? how can you stop yourself from devoting yourself fully to nagi seishiro if you don’t forcefully screw the lid over your emotions?

for the second time tonight, the white-haired chases after you because there was never another option. he despises being away from you and despises it even more when it’s him you’re running away from, wanting nothing more than to be by your side at all times.

for the second time tonight, he grabs your wrist but now, he leads you through isagi’s house, weaving through a series of well-kept and simply decorated rooms to finally arrive at a balcony. one that was untouched by the party goers.

“why do you keep doing this?” he asks, pleading for an answer as desperation laces his voice and eyes. “why do you keep running away?”

you’re stunned. he’s hurt by your carelessness and the way you constantly recoil from him as if he was electric, his powerful figure slouching, all his quiet confidence and stubbornness seeping out of him, running to pool at your feet. 

“am i doing something wrong? i thought you liked me.”

“i-i’m confused,” you stammer stupidly. 

he grows even more perplexed. “you’re confused? i’m even more confused! one second i think you like me then the next, you’re trying to avoid me. why do you keep doing this? i really really like you, y/n. but it doesn’t feel like you like me at all sometimes.”

“no!” you blurt out. “it’s not like that! i do like you, a lot, in fact i might even… love you? it’s just…”

as you try to recap the timeline of your relationship in the past few months, you find yourself at a loss for words as you truly realise the multitude of your stupidity. you might slap yourself in the face.

this entire time, nagi has liked you- genuinely liked you for who you are yet you’ve been denying the love he has been trying to share with you since you internalised it all to be a sham. that someone like nagi seishiro couldn’t want you in the same way you wanted him. you’ve been hurting him this entire time and you don’t know how to begin explaining why.

well… no other option than with one word at a time.

you go to grab both his hands, inhaling. “i didn’t think we got together based on genuine feelings.”

he recoils, eyebrows and nose scrunching. 

“i thought you were using me to- i don’t know, trend on the internet by teasing everyone with some sort of secret relationship which sounds so stupid, i know, but i just couldn’t believe that you would want me for me,” you ramble, only stopping to breathe. “these few months have been amazing but i lowkey thought you were going to break up with me and say something like ‘surprise! i’ve never liked you’ before leaving me. i don’t deserve someone like you and-” 

“what?”

you shut up.

“you thought you don’t deserve me? that’s the biggest lie i’ve ever heard. you’re perfect. i was the one that got lucky.”

“lucky? you? really?”

“yeah,” he breathes. “you’re like a gift sent by fate.”

that renders you speechless for a little. there’s more to say, you know there is because of the pregnant silence that lingers around the two of you for a little but maybe that’s for another time. 

are you dreaming? this feels surreal. maybe you’ll start floating too. 

“also, why would i want to trend for any other reason but soccer?”

“i don’t know! you asked me out really abruptly- i’ve never been asked out like that before! talk about confusing. and the paparazzi was waiting for us after too like, what was i supposed to think!”

“i see.”

“yeah.”

more silence.

“so… you love me?” nagi asks and you groan, removing your hands from his to cover your face from embarrassment. 

“i guess i do,” you grumble.

“hey, don’t hide from me,” the white-haired says before grabbing your wrists to lower them from your face. “i love you too.”

“really?”

“yeah.”

“that’s cool.”

“it is.”

you do both of you a favour by kissing him fervently. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“sei, shouldn’t you be getting ready for the match or whatever it is you athletes do?” you ask when nagi’s mop of white hair peaks up from behind the door to your physio office.

he steps out from behind the doorframe, crossing the distance to get to you. he’s sporting his blue lock tracksuit with his hands dug into his pocket and you’re a little envious of how comfortable he looks. “i was until i realised you weren’t there. i was waiting for you to show up.”

“well i don’t really have to be there early. i just get there around 20 or so minutes earlier.”

“i see.”

“why, did you want me there or something?” you ask with a cheeky eyebrow raise, poking him in his sides causing him to recoil a little from your touch.

“why else would i walk all this way?”

“a stunning 50 metres- i’m so sorry for your perilous journey,” you comment, placing a kiss on his cheek before walking away from him to set up your box of medical supplies including kinesio tapes, bandages, and cold spray. he slumps down on the waiting couch near the entrance.

your role as blue lock’s official therapist meant that you had to be on standby for the team at all time during official matches. even though you aren’t their nurse, you still bring first aid things like ice packs to minimise the amount of time spent travelling between offices, especially if that distance is not needed. 

after scanning the box for the last time and mentally ticking your checklist of materials required to bring, you pat your leg in satisfaction before standing up. “i can go to the field now. there’s probably tape changes that i need to do.”

nagi lazily grins, searching for your hand to help pull himself up. “yay.”

“you need to be warming up while we’re at it.”

“aw. okay.”

the walk back to the field is painless enough with nagi holding onto your hand for dear life whilst carrying your box of supplies for you. for someone who is about to compete in less than an hour, he is surprisingly calm, hardly different from his passive, pacifistic self. should you be nervous on his behalf?

stepping in to the field, you’re overwhelmed by the enormousness of blue lock’s home stadium, the lights shining down on you so brightly that you need a moment to recollect yourself. to think that all these empty seats will be filled with various people scares you mindless; even vacant it was still overwhelming.

“y/n!” isagi’s voice breaks you out of your reverie and he jogs over to you with that friendly smile of his. “what’s up?”

“hey isagi, sei dragged me out of my office,” you grumble before turning around to the white-haired who places your supplies on the ground, instructing him to: “go continue warming up.”

he grumbles something incoherent, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead before running off, leaving you a little flustered as the dark-haired player waits patiently to talk to you.

“so what’s up?”

“i just needed my ankle to be retaped, is that okay?”

“that is my job so come over,” you say, beckoning isagi to one of the benches nearby where you decide to station yourself for the time being. 

whilst you’re unrolling the adhesive, he awkwardly sits there with his shoe and sock off, exposing his joint where he already you tape it for him. 

“do you want pink or blue tape?” you ask, holding up the two options.

“pink.”

the background noises of athletes shouting and kicking soccer balls fill the silence whilst you cut up the length needed to tape isagi’s ankle.

“how are you and nagi?” he asks.

“we’re good,” you respond, mentally reminding yourself to give isagi a present in exchange for his birthday being the sole reason why your relationship strengthened. “both been busy cause of the season but it’s fine.” 

“that’s okay, you’re making it work!” he reassures, “well, nagi is really happy.”

“is he now?” you ask, looking intently at your hands as they worked around isagi’s ankle, hiding your giddy expression from the soccer player. the effect nagi has on you will never disappear.

“yeah! always talks about you to us.”

“does he?”

“of course, why wouldn’t he? swears you’re the best thing to have happened to him in a long time or whatever.”

your heart warms uncontrollably. nagi seishiro was going to be your downfall. 

finishing up on isagi’s ankle, he tests it out quickly before thanking you and running off again to blend in with his teammates again. ‘don’t work too hard!’ you yell out after him.

after retaping chigiri’s knee, commanding karasu to do his recommended exercises, and other various checkups, the boys are ushered back into the stadium so the audience could begin filing in. before nagi went in, he runs over to you, bundling you in his arms despite the various exclaims of ‘hurry up!’ yelled at your white-haired partner.

“gotta go,” he says breathily.

“wait, shouldn’t you take this off?” you ask, gesturing to your hair tie which sat snugly at his wrist. 

“do i have to?”

“you can always rewear it after the match sei, it’s not a big deal.” 

“fine. i’ll see you soon then.”

you give him a smile of reassurance, hugging him back. “go. i’ll be watching, my superstar.”

his eyes shine. “cheer for me, won’t you?”

“of course i will. i’m your lucky charm,” you tease but he takes your statement quite literally, grinning at what you say which only illuminates the cheery look on his face.

“can my lucky charm give me a kiss?”

cupping his face, you quickly place a peck on his nose before lightly pushing him away. you know the kiss is not good enough to satiate his hunger but perhaps that’s just what you want from him, to try hard for a better reward. and in this case, by trying harder, he would bring home the trophy.

“go line up!” you command. 

nagi grumbles something before stepping away, “i’ll score for you.” 

he dashes towards the stadium entrance, leaving you in a lovesick daze as you watch him retreat. someone clears their throat behind you and you remember where you are, sitting down to preserve some professionalism. 

sitting in the medics corner was scary, especially as you watch every seat getting gradually filled with an onslaught of different people, but all you need to do for the 90 minutes is watch and be attentive to the game and the health of the players. an easy job for the amount of pay you get.

when the teams walks out into the field, everyone in the stands erupt into a roar, waving their various flags and colours. despite the chaos, nagi looks over at you and you blow him a kiss, unsure of whether or not he could actually see you. 

as everything settles down, the match finally begins, starting off with a bang. from time to time you talk with the two other blue lock medics and spend the other moments admiring your boyfriend in his athletic glory.

it’s not until almost halftime that something disastrous happens. when itoshi rin collides face-first into another player, toppling over on the field on top of each other, the crowd erupts into a series of gasps and concerned noises. as the referee’s whistle is called, you three official blue lock staff scramble to the middle of the field where a crowd was gathering around the two, trying to help their soccer players but stepping out of the way when you approach.

“where are you?” one medic begins asking.

“the stadium. we’re in the middle of a match,” comes rin’s gruff tone.

“you are?”

“itoshi rin.”

“how many fingers am i holding up?”

“four.”

“what hurts?”

“my fucking face,” rin snarkily replies, trying to stand up but not making it past his knees as he stumbles a little, holding on to his nose. “shit.”

taking his hand away, there are droplets of red coating his skin and you snake yourself under his arm in order to assist with helping him to the medic’s area, another nurse doing the same. hopefully it’s not serious and he won’t need be to sent to hospital, only benched by ego. which, he was. 

in your panic, you don’t register any of the commotion happening within the players themselves whereas nagi, on the other hand, hears it all clearly. how a player on the team he was playing against says something like ‘look at that cutie. reckon i could cuff ‘em?’ where his friend replies with a ‘yeah dude. seems like a babe to be honest, workin’ as a nurse and shit’, geturing to you.

nagi has never felt such an overwhelming urge to punch someone, to jump the two players and tear them apart with the fury he feels accumulating in his insides.

the whistle to notify that the game was continuing disrupts nagi’s train of thought. he goes back into position but not without snaring at the opposition. 

blue lock seems to be doing fine without their number one player for the remainder of the game; in fact, nagi is practically dominating the whole field as he shoots, earning goals left and right for blue lock. he’s moving with unmatched determination; a blazing kind that you’ve never seen from him despite having seen countless of his games. you wonder what happened to him since rin got injured, where did the calm, unbothered nagi go? why are you kind of scared of your boyfriend right now?

maybe your good luck kiss worked in giving him the boost you predicted.

however, you never could have predicted the huge turnaround that your life would take when nagi’s jealousy gets too ahead of itself. when his urge to show the world whose you are outspeaks his rationality, too caught up in the torments of untamed jealousy. he’s never felt this way before; a carnal desire so inherent that it makes him feel bare.

only you could do this to him.

and only you could fix the ugly monster inside him

when blue lock scores the goal needed to take the trophy home, the stadium is deafening, so loud that you need to cover your ears from the unrestrained passion of fans and watchers alike, the buzz of excitement unmatched. 

nagi is awarded man of the match, taking home a shiny trophy in recognition of his athleticism and remarkable talents. yet the first thing he does when taking his prize is not rush over to his teammates and… do whatever it is that men do, but to run over to where you reside, a possessive and dark look in his eyes. it sends shivers down your spine. 

he sweeps you into his arms, winding you so close that you can feel the body heat radiating from him, even through the fabric of his jersey. the trophy presses against your back.

“can i kiss you?” nagi questions although it sounds more like a demand, especially with that breathy voice due to how much he’s been running around.

short circuiting for a moment, you reply: “but everyone’s watching.”

“let them.”

you’re well aware of the multitude of cameras that may be pointed at you and nagi. if you act stupidly, it will appear on the internet and who knows what repercussions it might bring, are you ready to be thrown into a life of chaos, joining alongside your boyfriend?

the answer is obvious when you take the initiative of kissing him, allowing him to devour you whole: his first act of establishing just exactly who you were to the entire world.

you adore how scandalous this feels.

his second act comes mere minutes later at the exit where paparazzi and media were waiting patiently behind barriers for their star players. this time, instead of leaving alone or with his teammates, there’s an unidentified figure accompanying him, hugged close to his side and proudly wearing his jersey. the very one that boasts ‘NAGI’ along the back. everything descends into chaos. 

an immense feeling of deja vu encompasses you when you recall the day nagi asked you out and the overwhelming lineup of paparazzi and photographers that waited for him outside. it’s different now. you feel confident in your place beside nagi, looking perfect to him in his clothes- as if you were meant to be his.

nagi walks in front of you to use his stature to protect from the greedy eyes of the internet whilst you use your hands to cover your face as best as possible, all to ensure your privacy from those who are going to eat these photos up when they see them. 

and- well, if everyone is going to see them then why not send a little message whilst nagi’s here?

the kiss nagi sneaks on your neck is entirely proprietorial, a clear sign of affection for the whole world to see as he eyes the cameras with a deadly look in his eyes. 

“mine,” he mutters in your ear, sending one last glare over his shoulder before disappearing from their nosiness and intruding flashes.

the cameras can see your hair tie that slips up when his sleeves are tugged too short.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

your notifications are rampant the next morning, mostly because of friends, and ‘#nagi seishiro’ has taken the internet by storm once again.

this feeling of anxiety settling in your stomach will never go away whenever you check social media to see if any of your information has been leaked and by whatever miracle, you’re absolutely relieved to see that nothing drastic has been revealed.

speaking of boyfriend, nagi stirs from where he lays beside you, stretching for a moment before patting the bed in search for your warmth. 

shutting off your phone and putting it down, you watch him try to locate you, unable to stop the smile from stretching at the corner of your lips. he’s adorable. even more so when he has to open one eye because his instincts were failing him.

“oh. why are you awake?” he asks groggily, still adjusting to consciousness. nagi tries to sit up to rest on his elbows only to fail miserably and fall face-first into his lush pillow.

“body clock,” you say. you’ll talk about yesterday later. right now, it was just you and him and the soft glow of the sun saying good morning.

“turn it off and go back to sleep.”

“fine.”

“c’mere,” nagi beckons you over weakly, hands reaching for your figure but falling short due to the enormous size of his bed.

it’s not like nagi to splurge on things but it is like him to splurge on getting the most comfortable bed ever, so when he demands you to fall back asleep, how could you say no when it feels like napping on a cloud? and with your adorable boyfriend? some things in life come too easy.

shuffling back towards him, he’s quick to throw an arm and a leg around you, trapping you in. 

“my body hurts,” whines nagi. “so much.”

“what do you want me to do about that?”

“massage later, please?” 

“is that all i am to you?” you question teasingly whilst rubbing hearts into his skin.

“maybe,” he sings.

astounded, you give him your best look of betrayal. “we’re breaking up.”

“no, don’t do that,” nagi pleads, hugging you closer as if you were going to get up from his vice grip in the first place. “don’t be mean.”

“oh sure because i’m the mean one,” you joke as he burrows his head into your neck. instinctively, your hands card through his hair, extra soft from washing it last night. after a moment of silence, you speak up. “you’re trending again because of me so just remember that what i said about our fame-grabbing relationship was true.”

“i didn’t mean for that to happen. i’m just too good,” he takes his head out of your neck, doe eyes looking up at you with heart wrenching awe. “and i love you too much to hide it.”

you pat his cheek, unable to stop a wide, dreamy smile from appearing on your face. “go back to sleep.”

“‘k. goodnight.” the second nagi’s head hits his pillow, he’s out like a light. 

it’s a little surreal to be wrapped in his embrace like this, to be able to gaze at his features so closely and unabashedly whilst his arms extend to mould you into him. even being as close as humanly possible isn’t enough for nagi who has an unlimited desire for more, at all times. 

if it’s you he wants, then you’ll happily grant it.

but you don't say anything of the sort out of respect for his wish.

"i won't worry," you say. it's a lie at first but a statement you're entirely committed to turning into a truth. you say it in hopes it would convince him that shedding tears before you wasn't a mistake; that the walls of your embrace and the fortress built by this mutual trust won't crumble in face of his vulnerabilities. "so cry as much as you need to, don't ever bottle it up when you're with me, okay?"

jihoon nods all too quickly, as though he's been waiting ages just to hear those words, and you watch helplessly as another tears falls straight to the ground with the way jihoon hangs his head. finally, you pull him in, cradling his head into your chest in hopes that your warmth can absorb it all; his anguish, his hardships, his doubts. anything and everything he can't yet tell you, or never will—you don't mind either way.

because being able to cry before you is enough of an indication that he won't hide anything from you. he may not convey what burdens he shoulders exactly, but it's more than enough to know that he trusts you to be at his side when his knees give in, that he reaches for your hand to make it through this storm.