yawnzznfever

The sound of laughter echoed somewhere in the distance. Children wandered beside their families, while couples walked hand in hand across Pont Neuf, smiling as they enjoyed the evening together. And then there was him.

Standing beneath the warm glow of the Paris night, looking almost unreal. Too romantic under the Paris moon.

The golden lights of the city blurred around you as the sun began to set, bathing everything—including him—in shades of amber and gold. For a moment, it felt as though the entire city faded into the background, leaving only Yeonjun in focus.

“You’re staring again.”

Snapping out of your daze, you turned toward him.

He was standing right beside you.

You looked up at him, his tall frame making you feel smaller than usual.

He looked effortless.

Sexy.

Dangerously attractive without even trying.

Yeonjun was dressed up tonight, and it wasn’t like this was the first time you had seen him like that. You had seen him dressed up countless times before.

So why was it different now?

Why were you suddenly noticing every little detail?

The way his clothes fit him.

He was wearing a dark-wash denim set that suited him unfairly well, the jacket sitting perfectly on his shoulders and the matching jeans hugging his long frame in all the right places. Underneath, a patterned button-up peeked through the open collar.

The warm brown collar of the jacket framed his neck, drawing attention to the sharp line of his jaw whenever he turned. His hands were casually tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

His posture was relaxed.

Confident.

His hair was styled naturally, his forehead exposed, the strands slightly tousled. Somehow, that alone had your heart skipping a beat. The evening light caught in his hair, making the strands glow.

He looked expensive.

And everyone passing by seemed unable to stop glancing in your direction.

More specifically, at him.

And for some reason, you didn’t like it.

You watched as strangers stole quick looks his way, their attention lingering a second too long before moving on.

A strange feeling settled in your chest.

One you couldn’t quite name.

It felt almost selfish.

As if you didn’t want to share this version of him with anyone else.

As if the sight in front of you was meant only for your eyes.

The thought startled you.

The way the golden light caught his features.

The way he carried himself so confidently without even realizing it.

You had never paid this much attention to him before.

At least, that’s what you always told yourself.

Don’t look at him too long, Y/N.

Your heart always forgets how to behave when you do.

It was ridiculous that you were noticing all these things.

Because it was Yeonjun.

Your best friend, Yeonjun.

That was the excuse you had repeated to yourself over and over again.

And lately, it was becoming harder to believe it was just an excuse.

Your heart stumbled for a second before you quickly looked away, pretending you hadn’t just been caught staring at him for far longer than you should have.

That knowing, insufferable smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, drawing attention to how pink and plush they were.

Breaking the silence, you spoke, “I’m not staring.”

“You totally are, Y/N. It’s okay. You can admit I’m pretty handsome.”

His grin widened, his tone playful and teasing.

“You always do this.”

“Do what?” you asked, confused.

“Pretend.”

Your stomach tightened.

The look in his eyes softened right before yours did.

Softer.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

Before you could say anything else, he took a step closer.

Then another.

Suddenly, you were hyperaware of him again. His expensive cologne clouded your thoughts, making it difficult to focus on anything except him.

At some point—you didn’t remember when or how quickly it happened—the distance between you disappeared.

“Yeonjun…” you said quietly.

Your voice sounded small.

Your breath caught in your throat, making it impossible to form a coherent sentence.

“What?”

The way he said it made your heart leap.

If he kept teasing you like this, looking at you the way he was right now, you were convinced you would end up in the infirmary before the night was over.

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Weird?” he repeated, as if he had no idea what he was doing.

Before you could answer, his fingers found a loose strand of your hair. He absentmindedly twirled it around his finger, his gaze never leaving yours.

Then, with a softness that caught you completely off guard, he tucked it behind your ear.

The simple gesture sent an unexpected warmth rushing through you.

And judging by the faint smirk that appeared on his face afterward, Yeonjun knew exactly what he was doing.

“Yes.”

A laugh escaped him.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

His gaze drifted to your lips before returning to your eyes.

The movement was subtle.

Barely noticeable.

But to you, it felt impossible to miss.

Your pulse quickened.

“You’re really annoying, you know that?” you said, mostly to hide how flustered you were becoming.

All these people around you, walking past and looking in your direction while Yeonjun stood so close to you, were making you nervous.

Could he stop doing whatever this was?

Seriously.

People were staring.

Well… maybe they weren’t.

But it certainly felt like they were.

And with the way he was looking at you right now, it was becoming increasingly difficult to think straight.

“Funny,” he said, tilting his head.

How did he seem completely unaffected right now?

Totally calm.

Meanwhile, your heart felt seconds away from giving out.

“You’re enjoying this.”

You were still standing entirely too close to each other.

“Oh, absolutely.”

The honesty caught you off guard.

So confident.

So unfairly attractive.

“You’re finally noticing.”

Your breath caught.

“Noticing what?”

For a moment, Yeonjun looked almost nervous.

Only for a second.

Then it was replaced by something warmer.

Something that made your entire body feel electric.

His familiar presence wrapped around you like a blanket—comforting, safe, and yet somehow making your heart race faster than ever.

“You’ve always been kind of slow when it comes to this stuff,” he said, a small smile appearing on his face. “So let me show you what I mean.”

Before you could protest, he stepped closer, one hand finding your waist.

Your breath hitched.

And then—

You found yourself lying on the hotel bed, your heart racing as your eyes shot open. After the taxi driver dropped you off, you both made your way to your room and ended up passing out almost immediately.

You were supposed to have separate rooms, but due to maintenance issues and last-minute inconveniences, you were reassigned to share one bedroom, with a view of the Eiffel Tower visible outside on the terrace.

And then the reality of it all settled in as you remembered where you were and what had just happened. You and Yeonjun were sharing a room… and one bed, and you had just woken up from a dream—a dream where Yeonjun was about to kiss you, and it almost felt like you weren’t opposed to it.

What was going on with you?

He’s your best friend. Best friends don’t dream about each other like that.

There had to be something in the air, something wrong with you, because ever since you both landed, something between you and Yeonjun had shifted—so subtly that anyone else would’ve missed it. But you didn’t. You knew him too well not to notice.

It wasn’t your usual dynamic anymore. And that realization sat heavy in your chest, unsettling in a way you couldn’t name—and didn’t want to.

You stayed still for a few more seconds, staring at the ceiling as if it might give you an answer, fingers threading through your hair in a slow, restless motion. The faint sound of the shower running pulled you back into the room, grounding you in the present, even as your mind slipped backward again.

The taxi ride.

The cramped space. Your legs brushing against his. The way neither of you moved away right away, like neither of you wanted to be the first to break whatever quiet tension had settled between you. The glances you kept stealing, only to catch him already looking at you.

And the worst part—the way your faces had ended up so close at one point you could feel his breath, almost able to read whatever he hadn’t said yet.

Because he had been about to say something. You knew it. You still didn’t know what.

And then the driver interrupted.

Just like that, whatever that moment had been… was gone. Just like the moment in your dream. Gone.

You exhaled slowly, forcing your expression to settle into something neutral—something familiar.

It didn’t happen. The dream didn’t matter. The taxi ride didn’t mean anything. Yeonjun was Yeonjun. Your best friend. That was it.

You pushed yourself up from the bed, smoothing the sheets as if that could smooth your thoughts too. With deliberate movements, you reached for your phone, pretending the screen was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him.

The quiet sound of water stopping filled the room. A moment later, the bathroom door opened, and Yeonjun stepped out—shirtless, with only a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his waist.

You had to force yourself to look anywhere else—anywhere but at him.

“Oh, finally you’re awake,” he said, his voice light and teasing as he stepped further into the room. “I was starting to wonder if Sleeping Beauty was ever going to wake up, or if I was going to have to come save you myself.”

There was that familiar ease in his tone—playful, effortless, like nothing in the world had shifted at all.

You blinked at him for half a second too long before forcing a small, lazy scoff, already slipping back into the role you knew how to play. “Wow,” you said, reaching for your phone like it was the most important thing in the world. “Such a hero. I’m honored.”

“I just value sleep more than your dramatic and extensive shower routines.”

But even as the words left your mouth, your chest tightened, because somehow hearing him sound so normal made it harder to ignore how not normal you suddenly felt around him.

So you told yourself you were just looking at him because he was right there. Nothing more. That’s all.

He glanced at you then, like he was considering that for a second. “Dramatic?”

“You heard me.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth, but he didn’t argue.

“We can’t all wake up from a nap and look that good, Y/N,” he added.

The compliment caught you off guard—because was he even looking at you right now? You probably looked a mess, whereas he looked far more put together than you ever did.

There was still a faint warmth to him from the steam, the kind that carried into the room, followed by the clean, slightly sweet scent of his shower gel that lingered longer than it should’ve. Fresh. Familiar. Distracting in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“You’re just jealous I got to shower first,” he added, casually tossing his towel over the back of a chair like he lived here more than he should’ve.

He stepped further into your shared room with a towel hanging loosely around his neck. His damp hair was still dark from the shower, slightly pushed back as he ran his fingers through it. A few strands fell forward anyway, framing his face in a way that somehow made him look even better.

And you hated the way it made you feel—suddenly shy, suddenly aware of him in a way you couldn’t quite shut off.

Because why were you reacting like this?

It’s not like you’d never seen him like this before. Not like you’d never watched him come out of a shower or wander around his apartment without a shirt when you were over. Nothing about this was new.

And yet, something about it felt different now.

“You’re staring again,” he said suddenly, tone light. Not accusing. Just stating it.

Your spine went a little too straight.

“I am not.”

“Mm.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Sure.”

But you still looked away a second too late—just as he glanced up and caught you staring.

Except he didn’t react. At least, not in any way you could tell.

Yeonjun just blinked once, expression steady, unreadable in that annoyingly effortless way of his, before continuing as if nothing had happened.

“…We’re going out in a few hours,” he said instead, like the moment hadn’t even existed. “You should probably stop fighting sleep like it personally offended you.”

“I wasn’t fighting sleep.”

“You were literally unconscious. Smiling too, if I remember correctly. Must’ve been some dream.” he added.

That made your face warm instantly, Yeonjun completely unaware of what you had just dreamed about. If only he knew, he would probably be mortified.

“That’s different,” you responded.

“Is it?”

You didn’t answer that.

He walked over to his side of the bed, gathering his things like it was the most normal thing in the world, like your gaze hadn’t just lingered on him a second too long.

Finally getting up from the bed, you gathered your things and picked out an outfit for tonight, realizing you still needed to shower and get ready. Your long afternoon nap had thrown you off schedule, leaving you slightly behind.

So you quickly busied yourself with anything else—anything but him—your face already warm as you convinced yourself he hadn’t noticed. Of course he hadn’t. He was just Yeonjun. Always unbothered. Always in his own world.

Meanwhile, he moved with quiet ease, pulling on a shirt after a moment, like he wasn’t in any rush at all. Like he wasn’t aware that you were still very much trying to recover from being caught staring at him like he was some five-star Michelin meal being served on a platter.

He headed toward the small shared closet next, calmly hanging up his clothes, deciding what he’d wear for your first night in Paris.

And if there was the faintest hint of something amused in the slight tilt of his mouth as he turned away—something he made sure you wouldn’t see—you were too busy pretending you hadn’t just been caught to notice it.

Yeonjun didn’t say anything. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease you the way he usually would if he caught you staring too long at anything, let alone him.

Instead, he just kept talking like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t noticed at all.

And that somehow made it worse—because it meant either he truly didn’t see it…

Or he did, and he was pretending he didn’t.

“Do you want to go somewhere fancy tonight?” he asked, tone shifting slightly more thoughtful now, like the earlier teasing had been folded away.

“Depends,” you said from behind your suitcase. “Are you paying?”

A beat.

“…Absolutely not.”

“Then no.”

You both joked like this often, but knowing Yeonjun, he wouldn’t end up letting you pay in the end. He was too much of a gentleman for that. Being your friend and all, he always said it was his duty to take care of you, so he always said, but you would always notice he never treated your other friends like he treats you, so you always tell yourself it's because you are best friends and it is different.

Soon you were both ready to leave. You’d chosen a silk black dress, the fabric smooth and fluid against your skin, paired with a tailored black blazer that sharpened your silhouette without overwhelming the outfit. Black kitten heels completed the look—simple, understated, and elegant in a quiet way.

For your makeup, you kept things clean and natural—soft skin, a light touch of color, nothing heavy or overdone—just enough to enhance your features rather than mask them. The overall effect was effortless, put-together without trying too hard, like you had stepped out already knowing you didn’t need to prove anything.

Yeonjun was dressed in layers of neutral tones that softened the frame of his figure. He wore a simple white shirt beneath a beige Ralph Lauren windbreaker, paired with washed-out blue-gray trousers, a belt, and black dress shoes. The fabric shifted subtly with each small movement he made, catching the light in quiet, effortless motion.

His blonde hair was tousled in that familiar way, as if it never stayed perfectly in place for long.

He looked like he had stepped out of a postcard you weren’t supposed to keep.

You both were now ready to go explore the city.

The Paris air outside felt different the second you stepped out of the hotel—cooler somehow, sharper, like it immediately pulled you out of the quiet safety of your room, and into something louder, wider.

The streets were still alive with movement . Laughter, music spilling out from cafes, the soft glow of street lights reflecting against the pavement like scattered gold.

Yeonjun stepped out first, adjusting the sleeve of his windbreaker as he glanced around, taking in the city like it wasn’t his first time—but like he still found something new in it anyway.

“You coming?” he asked, looking back at you.

You hesitated for half a second too long.

Then nodded. “Yeah.”

You walked beside him.

At first, it was normal. Easy. The kind of silence you’d always had with him—comfortable, familiar. Your steps falling into rhythm without trying.

But tonight, something about it felt slightly off.

Not wrong.

Just… noticeable.

Every so often, your shoulders brushed when the sidewalk narrowed. Small, careless touches that you normally wouldn’t think twice about.

Except now, you did.

“You’re walking too slow,” he said suddenly, glancing down at you.

“I’m not walking slow.”

“You are.”

“I’m literally walking normally.”

He hummed, unconvinced, and kept walking.

But then—after a few steps—he slowed down anyway.

Matching your pace without saying anything about it.

That made you glance at him briefly.

He was looking straight ahead, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

Like nothing had changed.

Like he hadn’t just adjusted for you on purpose.

You looked away again quickly.

“…It’s just the city,” you said lightly, mostly to fill the silence. “Everything feels slower here.”

“Mm,” he responded.

Not agreeing. Not disagreeing.

Just there.

The silence settled again.

But this time, it didn’t feel as comfortable.

It felt aware.

Too aware.

A few steps later, his shoulder brushed yours again.

Longer than before.

Not enough to be intentional.

But not quick enough to be accidental either.

You stiffened slightly before forcing yourself to relax.

It was nothing.

It was just crowded.

It was just—

“Y/N.”

His voice cut through your thoughts, quieter than before.

You turned your head slightly. “What?”

He was already looking at you.

Not fully. Not intensely.

Just… briefly.

Like he had almost said something, thought better of it, and decided not to.

His gaze lingered for a second too long anyway.

Then he exhaled through his nose, almost like a quiet laugh at himself.

“Never mind,” he said.

And kept walking.

But he didn’t speed up.

And neither did you.

So you stayed like that—

walking side by side through Paris,

with something unspoken sitting quietly between you both,

close enough to notice…

but not close enough to name.

A/N: I was so inspired by these Yeonjun photos of him in Prague. He looked so romantic and unreal. I just was thinking about him in this way the whole time I was writing.

“All passengers, we will be arriving in Paris in about one minute. Thank you for choosing Air France, and we hope you enjoy your stay. And to all the lovebirds on board, the City of Love awaits you,” the flight attendant announces over the intercom.

“I can't believe we're here!” you state, turning to your side.

Yeonjun, sitting beside you with a smile on his face and excitement written all over his features, turns to face you.

“Our younger selves would not believe we're actually doing this.”

“Soon we will be sitting by Pont Neuf, overlooking the Seine River in Paris, with a coffee and a croissant in our hands,” you stated.

Yeonjun leaned back slightly in his seat like he was already picturing it, his eyes closed as he took a deep inhale, clearly already imagining all the new food stops they would visit. With a grin spreading across his face, he states, “Mmm… Pont Neuf, huh?” He drags out the name as if he’s testing how fancy it sounds on his tongue. “Sounds very… cinematic of us.”

He turns his head toward you, eyes bright with that familiar spark of mischief. “While we’re picturing how our days in Paris will look, I’m looking forward to becoming a full-time Paris food critic by the end of this week-long trip,” he adds, nodding seriously for exactly half a second before breaking into a small laugh.

You give him a playful look, feigning fake annoyance, and he continues, “If someone’s going to do it, it has to be me, you know, since I have such a great palate for great food.”

You shook your head, taking a good look at your longtime friend from high school, happy to see him happy. You both had always talked about visiting Paris together when you were younger.

You had always been obsessed with Paris growing up—the food, the people, the history, the romantic vibe of the city, and the beautiful scenery you had only ever seen in movies. Yeonjun, likewise, had his own reason for always wanting to visit Paris, though his had more to do with the fashion scene.

You and Yeonjun shared a lot of dreams in common, and you always told each other that when you were both settled and done with school, you would take a trip to Paris together to celebrate the testament of a friendship that had never faltered all these years.

The plane had finally landed after a seven-hour flight. Everyone quickly stood up from their seats, impatient and restless to get off. Exhaustion was evident on everyone’s faces, including yours and Yeonjun’s. Although, Yeonjun had been able to sleep a little bit on the flight.

You always found it difficult to sleep the whole plane ride, always too nervous to fall asleep in case something happened. So you chose to stay awake and sleep at the hotel when you got there.

But Yeonjun, on the other hand, had taken two tablets of melatonin to help him fall asleep and knocked out almost immediately, only waking up about ten minutes ago. He stretched his hands above his head, his deep, husky voice rough with sleep as he asked where they were, sounding almost disoriented, like he had no clue where they were for a moment.

He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, visibly confused, his usual pouty lips set in a soft pout as he blinked a couple of times, before realization slowly hit him of where they were and where they were heading.

You giggled, giving him a side-eye that he was all too familiar with, scanning him for a second as you thought your friend looked a little too adorable like this.

The man had a bit of a fear of flying, and he had told you earlier on in the flight that the melatonin would help ease his heart and mind and give him a few hours of rest, so he could catch up and be ready to make this experience as incredible as possible as soon as they landed and begin making those memories.

“What are we going to do first once we drop our stuff at the hotel?” he asked, curious to hear your response, his luggage already in his hand from the overhead carry-on storage.

You, on the other hand, were struggling to reach your bag—it seemed someone had pushed it all the way to the back of the overhead compartment. You sighed in frustration, and Yeonjun looked over at your frazzled state, then up at where you were trying to reach. Without hesitation, he got up and got it for you.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a smile, and he returned it with an even warmer one.

You were so lucky to have him in your life, to be able to call him your friend. You honestly didn’t know how he had the patience to put up with your brattiness all these years, but he had always been by your side, steady and constant, like the sun and gravity.

As patient, respectful, and kind as always. Granted, he had a personality too.

You two were complete opposites when it came to personality—where you were quiet, timid, and reserved, he was confident, vibrant, extroverted, loud, and effortlessly funny, always just being himself. You enjoyed that about him. You liked the person he brought out of you every time you were with him. Everyone who knew him, loved him and always had good things to say about him.

It made you think back to college, when things were no different.

Back then, people always assumed you and Yeonjun were dating. It wasn’t even a rare comment—it happened so often it almost became part of your routine.

You’d be sitting together on campus, sharing food, walking between classes, laughing at something only the two of you understood, and someone would always, without fail, ask the same thing.

“Are you two together?”

And every time, you’d both laugh it off, shaking your heads. At times, Yeonjun would hesitate for a second before answering, his eyes flickering to you first, but you were always quick to correct them, and he would simply agree, offering his striking smile to whoever had asked.

“No, we’re just best friends.”

Just best friends who happened to spend almost every day together.

Just best friends who always chose each other first.

Just best friends who, apparently, made everyone else think there was something more, when to you, it had always just been normal and comfortable with him.

You thought it was so stereotypical how, whenever anyone saw a girl and a guy being overly friendly with each other, they automatically assumed the two were dating. A girl and a boy could totally just be friends.

Besides, he’d always had a reputation back in college for never committing to a relationship and casually dating around, so you always thought it was best to keep things as just friends.

You never really understood why he hadn’t settled down with someone by now, considering people would practically throw themselves at him for a chance. But none of his relationships ever seemed to last.

It was always something about them not being the one for him, or that he had simply gotten bored—whatever that meant.

You found yourself wondering about it more often than you cared to admit. Because if Yeonjun truly wanted to be in a relationship, you were convinced he’d be taken in a heartbeat.

But, of course, you never told him that.

Now, you weren’t blind, and you weren’t a liar either. You had eyes, and you couldn’t deny that your best friend definitely had the looks. You understood why he was so popular in almost every phase of his life that you had known him.

Yeonjun had such a striking, unique face that it was almost impossible not to look at him when he walked past you. His features were sharp, refined in a way that made him stand out even in a crowd.

At first glance, if you didn’t know him personally like you did, you would probably agree with the general population that he could come off as intimidating or even rude based on his appearance alone. But most people never cared enough to get to know the real him the way you did.

You think that’s probably why the two of you clicked so quickly back in high school and became inseparable. You accepted him for who he was without all the expectations and labels people constantly placed on him to fit their own narrative. And in return, he had always done the same for you.

Coming back to the present moment and snapping out of your thoughts, you took a good look at him standing closely behind you as the two of you exited the plane after grabbing all your things. Yeonjun had decided—more on his own than at your request—that he would carry some of your bags for you.

As you finally stepped out into the airport and began making your way toward the arrivals and baggage claim area to grab a taxi, you found yourself stealing another glance at him.

His hair was currently tousled, framing his face, his bangs falling over his eyes and softly parted just enough to reveal a bit of his forehead, though not fully since it wasn’t styled up today. His hair was a honey blonde color, with a light golden sheen that complimented his features and made him look mature, exactly what he has been trying to achieve with his look.

He had a sharp nose and plush pink lips that always rested in a slight pout when he was concentrating or thinking intensely. You found it quite endearing—quite Junie. His brown, fox-like eyes had a way of pulling attention without trying; if you looked at them for too long, someone might say you could get lost in them. They tied everything together perfectly.

Today, he wore an all-black outfit, a black knitted short-sleeved polo shirt, solid black dress pants, and black dress shoes. Everything just suited his proportions in all the right ways. And you tried your hardest not to stare for too long because why would you even think about looking at your best friend in that light, you said to yourself.

Once you stepped out of the airport with your luggage, you and Yeonjun were starting to make your way to the hotel you'd be staying at on your trip. One week in Pairs. The hotel was close to all the tourist attractions you both wanted to explore together. Yeonjun, still carrying some of your bags along with his own, scanned the area for a taxi to get you both there in one piece.

The hotel was about ten minutes away from the airport, so it wasn't a very long drive, and you were thankful for that because you were exhausted and hoping to get a nap in once you guys arrived at the room.

“Did you pack your whole life in this bag?” Yeonjun questioned. “It’s so heavy, even for me,” he continued, letting out an exaggerated groan as he adjusted his grip. His tone was playful and sarcastic, the kind of dramatic flair he always fell back on. It was so typical of him—always a little extra about everything. And somehow, it never failed to make you laugh.

“I told you I didn’t have a problem carrying it, but you insisted on it,” you giggled, watching him struggle with all the luggage. He had one of his bags on his left shoulder and a backpack on, along with your two bags hanging off his right shoulder and your purse dangling from his arm.

His hair was a bit messy after you guys got off the plane, so he ended up putting on a backwards cap for now, saying something about how he had “hat hair” and that no one could see it in the state it was currently in. You, on the other hand, thought he looked fine.

“Are you sure you don't mind carrying all that?” you asked, looking at him apologetically, now feeling bad. Your best friend was always so caring when it came to your needs—more than any of your other friends had ever been. Honestly, you had never had such a caring and attentive person in your life like him.

“No, Y/N, I don’t mind,” he began as he finally managed to wave a taxi down. The driver pulled up to the curb outside the airport pickup terminal, waiting for you both to get inside. The taxi driver got out and took both of your luggages, placing them in the trunk as you both got into the small taxi cab.

“Besides, what kind of man would I be if I let a lady carry all this stuff by herself? They might think I'm some narcissistic jerk, and I am not a jerk. I am your loving best friend of fourteen years helping out his friend who looked like she was struggling back there.” He said in still his usual sarcastic and playful tone.

His face became somewhat smug as he looked at you with a playful, mischievous expression; something Yeonjun was always known for.

He was well known for his fun and playful side. That was something everyone was drawn to about him. Well, that and his looks, but you would never let him know that. Otherwise, he would never shut up about it and would tease you endlessly, so you kept that little fact to yourself.

You guys were finally on your way. You and Yeonjun sat closely together in the back of the taxi. The car was a little cramped, forcing the two of you to squeeze into the limited space. Your right thigh pressed against his left, and with how little room there was between you, you could almost say you were sitting on top of him.

Every bump in the road seemed to push you a little closer.

You were so close that the faint scent of his cologne filled your senses. You tried not to linger on it—or on the strange feeling it stirred in your stomach whenever it drifted your way.

Yeonjun often wore his signature cologne, which you had complimented him on more than once. It carried notes of sea salt and fresh air mixed with crisp earthy sage, warm cedarwood, and a soft musky undertone that smelled quietly luxurious. Familiar. Like him.

Comforting.

Dangerously so.

As the taxi turned a corner, your shoulder bumped into his. Neither of you moved away.

Instead, Yeonjun shifted slightly, trying to make more room for you, but somehow it only made you more aware of how close he was. The warmth of his arm brushed against yours, and suddenly the backseat felt much smaller than it actually was.

“Damn,” Yeonjun muttered, glancing around the cramped car. “Did they build this thing for children?”

You laughed. “Maybe you're just too tall.”

“Too handsome, actually.”

“There it is.”

“There what is?”

“Your ego.”

“My ego?” He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. “Y/N, you wound me,” he chuckled a smug smile on his face.

The movement caused his arm to brush against yours again. Neither of you acknowledged it, or at least you thought you didn’t—but Yeonjun definitely did. He just didn’t say anything, keeping it to himself for now.

“I think it's a perfectly reasonable observation,” he stated.

“You think everything about yourself is a perfectly reasonable observation.”

“Not everything,” he said with a grin, poking his tongue out. “Just the important things.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the smile threatening to pull at your lips, but with him smiling at you the way he was right now, it was impossible not to.

Another bump in the road made your leg press more firmly against his. For a brief second, neither of you shifted away— comfortable in each others space.

Then Yeonjun cleared his throat.

“This taxi is seriously way too small.”

“That's what you've been complaining about for the last five minutes.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “I can practically count your eyelashes from here.”

Your eyes widened slightly before you quickly looked away, hoping he didn't catch the faint blush now appearing on your face.

It wasn't until you turned to look at him that you noticed just how close your faces were to each other. His breath faintly fanned against your skin from the close proximity.

Yeonjun slowly scanned your face before lifting a finger and pointing toward your eyelashes, pretending to count each one in a joking manner. You were wondering how much longer you were going to have to be stuck in this cramped up car with him.

“One... two... three...”

“Yeonjun,” you laughed.

“What?” he asked innocently, clearly teasing you at this point.

His ridiculous behavior made you laugh despite yourself, and you tried to quiet yourself down a bit, afraid it would draw the taxi driver’s attention—not wanting that.

Though the warmth spreading across your cheeks and the fluttering feeling in your stomach left you feeling somewhat flustered.

“Then stop looking at me.”

A laugh escaped him.

“See? That's the problem. You're making impossible requests already, and vacation hasn't even started.”

You felt your stomach do that strange little flip again.

You told yourself he was just being Yeonjun. He was always like this—playful, teasing, and naturally affectionate with the people he cared about. He definitely couldn't have meant it as anything other than a friendly comment toward his friend.

Thankfully, Yeonjun turned toward the window before he could notice.

The taxi slowed to a stop in front of the hotel.

The driver said something in French you didn’t quite catch.

“We’re here,” Yeonjun said, his voice quieter now.

But neither of you moved.

For a moment, it was like the space between you forgot how to shift back to normal. The cramped backseat suddenly didn’t feel as small as it did before—but it didn’t feel any easier to leave either.

Yeonjun stayed still, one hand still resting near his bag, eyes flickering toward the window before drifting back to you.

And then he paused.

Just slightly.

“…You’re staring again,” he said, softer than before.

Your heart gave a small jolt.

“I’m not,” you said quickly, maybe too quickly.

A beat.

He didn’t tease you this time.

Instead, he just looked at you for a second longer than usual—like he was thinking about saying something, then decided against it.

The silence settled again, heavier this time in a different way.

The taxi meter clicked faintly in the background.

Neither of you reached for the door.

“Y/N,” he said after a moment, voice low.

Not playful. Not teasing.

Just your name, like it meant something he wasn’t fully putting into words yet.

But before anything else could happen—

The driver cleared his throat from the front seat.

“Madame. Monsieur. You are at the hotel.”

The moment broke.

END OF CHAPTER 1