Chapter Text
It’s just passed 11am in Seoul when you step off the plane, the morning air kissing the fatigued skin of your cheeks hello as you step foot into the foreign city with bleary eyes. Lengthy flights were never any fun, but the prospect of a new surrounding was more than enough to encourage you in agreeing to fly over.
Constant work had been making you ill and the repetitive nature had left you dull, uninspired and worn out. A month-long trip to witness your best friend marry the love of her life, in a dreamy far away city - was the perfect way to start off the new year.
"Jade!" You call out, waving a woollen covered arm in the air to catch her attention. She confusedly turns in her spot with furrowed brows, scanning the crowd of arrivals for you, you huff. With long strides, you wheel your over-stuffed suitcase over to where she is, finally catching her gaze as you approach her.
"Hey!" She exclaims happily, engulfing you in a warm hug as she jogs to meet you halfway. She chuckles against your shoulder, "Sorry I couldn't spot you." She says, muffled, petting her hands against your soft woollen cardigan. You tut, pulling back to take in her appearance, "It would've been your loss anyway," you joke. “Who else would help pick the flowers in your bouquet?”
You had first met Jade in University, both studying for your Master's degree to enter careers in marketing. You shared a bunk bed in a small dorm room and survived largely on ramen noodles and potato chips like the rest of the masses. Consistently sleeping at sporadic hours and inhaling enough nail-polish fumes to keep you permanently dizzy for life during Friday-night pamper sessions.
Upon graduation you had both applied into the same company with purpose, being accepted and working alongside for six months before she accepted a higher position in the South-Korean branch. Simultaneously weakening both; your heart and your will to continue working without her both at once.
That was a little over two years ago.
Now she stands before you, glossy red hair and sun-kissed skin. She almost looks exactly the same, the only noticeable exception being the smile that never seems to leave her face and the dazzling diamond around her left ring finger.
"How was your flight?" She asks, taking your suitcase from you while you check your phone for a lack of messages - Instead clearing notifications from your favourite game apps asking why it is that you’ve been away for so long. "Mm, good," you hum, “I had a teenager in the next seat and I could hear her music word-for-word, that's how loud she had it." You explain, with a light chuckle.
Jade chuckles along with you, "That's not that bad, remember last time you visited? You sat next to that-"
"Ugh," you groan. "The snoring guy." She snorts at your dramatic eye-roll, popping open her trunk in the process. She places your barely-zipped suitcase into the car and situates herself as you head off into the city. Her car is small and cosy and smells of artificial vanilla, but her plush, sheep-skin seats cause you to let out a small sigh at the immediate comfort they provide. In contrast to the uncomfortable, stiff foam of the air-plane seats.
"Nice day, huh?" Jade asks, pulling down all the windows. A tepid breeze that faintly smells of gasoline and car fumes fills the space of the car, the scent becoming clearer and cleaner with each mile you drive away from the congested highway. You nod, sighing at the scenic surroundings, “Beautiful.”
The drive to Jade's house in Gyeonggi is a decent hour long, most of which is spent going over what needs to be done for the wedding - with her old Girl’s Generation CDs playing in the background.
Flowers, invitations, and table decor were all that was left - the absolute perfect amount in your eyes. Lucky for you, Jade had been more than happy to plan together with you over the phone, so when you arrived your trip would be one lacking as much stress and hassle as possible. You could only thank her for her kind nature in the best possible way you know; with a bottle of her favourite sparkling wine from back home, hidden carefully in your handbag.
Upon arrival to her building, Jade leads you up to her apartment, the one she's shared with Yuta for the past year on the second floor. She insists on carrying your suitcase up for you and even cooks something quick for you while you shower and get comfortable. Her apartment is humble, small and cosy; one bedroom and one bathroom. The main feature being a large photograph of her and Yuta hung up in their living room, in a tasteful rendition of a loving embrace.
It's early evening when you're seated on Jade's couch, sharing the beloved bottle of sparkling wine in an effort to wash down her lacklustre fried rice when Yuta arrives home. You watch her practically jump up to answer the door, embracing her fiancée when he steps through the door as though she had gone without seeing him for months.
You chuckle to yourself at the sweet sight, smiling behind your now lukewarm glass at the way she pouts and clings to him as he pets her hair and smiles down at her. Completely and utterly in love with each other. Jade calls you over with a wave of her hand, "C'mon."
The only time you had visited South-Korea - a year after her move - Yuta was out of the country for a family occasion. So the butterflies that flit about in your belly are completely normal upon your first meeting. You scurry over to where she is with a smile, holding a hand out for Yuta to take as you approach him. Which he does, shaking it with vigour and a toothy grin. Yuta is tall and lean, with kind eyes and dark hair that seems to fall perfectly into place as he runs his fingers through it.
"I’m Yuta," he smiles, friendly and gentle. "Nice to meet you." You smile in return, looking to Jade in confusion as you pull back your hand. "You speak English?" To which he nods at adamantly, "I'm fine thankyou, and you?" She rolls her eyes at his confident tone of voice, muttering something to him. "No, he doesn't. What you heard just now is all that he knows,” she clarifies.
"Don't worry, be happy," he adds nonchalantly while you two chatter, with a nod. "And that," she deadpans with a point of her thumb. "I can translate,” she perks up, changing the subject. “Do you have anything you want to say to him?" You shrug, "Congratulations on your pretty wife?" You offer jokingly.
She snorts at the comment, but relents, turning to him and relaying your message. He claps his hands, dramatically laughing in response as he replies. You stand dumbfounded, patiently waiting to be filled in as they converse. "He said you should be congratulating me on my hot husband," she scoffs. You laugh at this, your eyes meeting Yuta's as you take in his translated joke.
It continues like that for a short while, going back and forth before Yuta politely leaves the room to wash up for dinner, leaving you with Jade once again.
"Hey J?" You call, picking up your now half-full glass. She hums in response, coming over to where you're perched. "What would you say If I told you I've booked my own accommodation?" You mention hesitantly, her eyes widen comically and her lips part, shocked. "What? Why?!" She whines.
You sigh, placing your glass down again. "You two are getting married, I shouldn't be staying and invading your space. I just think it's best that I sleep elsewhere, and it's only five minutes away!" You explain, your hand resting comfortingly atop of hers.
She sighs and lays her head on your shoulder with a pout. "Okay, you're probably right,” she mutters with a heavy sigh. “Besides, Yuta said you look sketchy to him anyway.” You jerk her off your shoulder, “He said what?” You ask, exasperated. She snorts, laughing inwardly as she takes in your expression. Widened eyes and furrowed brows. “I’m kidding. Oh my gosh, woman.”
“That is not funny,” You accuse, pointing a finger to which she shrugs at. “I thought it was.” She defends, “Anyway,” she begins, “Do you need a ride?”
Jade drives you the quick journey to your hotel, checking you in and making sure you’re all set before she leaves. The hotel sits on the corner of a well-populated street, tall and picturesque with two pillars aside the entrance. Pristine glass doors and down-lights that would have it mistaken for a luxury clothing store, had it not been for the concierge.
“If someone tries to talk to you, what do you say?” Jade asks, closing your beige door behind her, a golden peep-hole three-quarters of the way up the wood. You pause for a second, recollecting the sounds of the syllables in your mind before you answer. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Korean,” you repeat slowly, to which she nods happily at. “Good. Do you have a translating app downloaded?” You roll your eyes, “What will I need that for?” You quiz, she scoffs. “You can’t speak the language, and I’m not available 24/7. What if there’s an emergency?” She presses, you sigh, “Alright Mum, maybe I’ll get one.”
She rolls her eyes, “You’ll thank me for it,” she nods with a point of her car-key. “And call me if you need me,” she reminds you. “I will,“ you smile softly, “Goodnight.” She embraces you in a warm hug, “Night, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” You bid as you pull away. Her car keys jingle in her grasp as she waves you goodbye, “Tomorrow.” She confirms with a nod and a warm smile.
Your room is of decent size and sits pretty, up on the third floor, giving you a nice view of the quaint shops that litter the narrow street below. You have a queen bed all to yourself with crisp white linen and red and gold details all throughout. Your bathroom has an accommodating bath and the television has subtitles, which you almost jump for joy at.
After you’re settled in, it takes a while for you to sleep once the sun has sunk into the sea. Jet-lag pestering you until the early hours of the morning, settling for four measly hours worth of rest in the end. When you do wake, you’re starved. It’s 8am and you’re unsure of operating hours in Korea, but head out in search of something regardless. Ruling against the overpriced room service breakfast platter at $35.
You’re surprised by the morning chill as you step out of the hotel, shoving your hands into your coat pockets as you scan the streets. You had almost forgotten about the language barrier as you stare dumbfounded at the shop signs, finding yourself having to step up to each shop window to see what was open.
You make your way down the concrete side walk, cars zipping by on their early morning commute as you take in each franchise. You pass by what you come to find by the pictures, must be a fried chicken joint - and your stomach growls in response.
But you groan once you take a peek inside and find the place to be closed, because, obviously it’s 8am. You push yourself away from the glass, leaving marks of condensation where you had huffed against the window as you continue your quest.
There’s a small kiosk at the end of the short road, an older man selling chicken skewers made to order. The hot scent of lemon-grass and a mixture of enticing spices filling your nostrils until you’re almost salivating. But left unable to communicate and ask questions that pertained to an important peanut allergy you had, you sadly let them go.
You cross the road and start walking back toward the way you come, scanning the opposite side of the street for any sign of something to fill your belly. You find solace in a small bakery adjacent to the hotel, a neon croissant flashing green, signalling that they’re opened for business from above the shop sign. You take a peek through the large glass panels, eclairs and brioche and half-moon biscuits all placed neatly in lines on the opposite side of the glass. And you pause to wonder if they’re real or made for display by the way they’ve been perfectly crafted.
You pull your hands out from the warmth of your fluffy pockets, exposing them to the frosty air as you pull the glass door open by the chilled, brass handle. A small chime from a bell above resonates gently throughout the premises as you step in, as though to keep you awake when the warmth of the store envelopes your wind-chilled bones.
“Good morning,” a staff member greets from behind the counter, slightly startling you. You hadn’t noticed anyone in the store - too busy amidst your conquest to find a suitable snack to fill your stomach. You turn at the foreign sound and you offer a tight-lipped smile in response. But regardless of the awkward, seemingly-cold response - the friendly boy smiles, adjusting trays of loose cookies in the display case. You struggle to understand anything, all of the small signs beneath the items scrawled in foreign characters.
마카롱 macaroon
크로와상 croissant
계란 타르트 egg tart
So you judge by appearance, taking your time to pick out which pastries look to be more delicious than others. You pick out a row of mixed bagels, wrapped in plastic which is littered in little gold stars and tied off with matching ribbon. You suddenly pause when you think of your peanut allergy once again, defeatedly pulling your phone out with a huff.
You hold the bag between two fingers as you pull up your translator app, typing out your necessary question as you turn to the worker, a wave of anxiousness washing over you. You walk over to where he is, catching his gaze when you approach the counter. He smiles expectantly, waiting by the register, most likely presuming you were ready to pay.
“Um...” You hold up your screen to him, to which his smile falls and he squints at.
땅콩 알레르기, Peanut allergy
Your hand shakes as you hold it up, feeling a good ten seconds pass before he smiles again. “Korean... No?” He tilts his head as if talking to a child, and you find the gentle tone of his voice somewhat endearing.
You let out a breathy sound, akin to a shy chuckle in response. “Ah..” You shake your head no and he nods, coming around from behind the counter to assist you. He’s tall and lean, fitted black slacks with shiny shoes to match. A long-sleeved white button down hidden behind a burlap apron and a silver gel name tag printed in Korean pinned on the left.
태용 Taeyong
He’s handsome, devastatingly so. Strong brows and a sharp jaw and you try not to stare as you await his assistance, blaming the haze over your eyes on your lack of proper rest. He stands in front of the display cabinet for a short moment, folding his arms and scrunching his nose slightly as if trying to recollect the ingredients of each product.
He goes over and picks up a wicker basket, holding it out for you. You feel your cheeks heat up at this, and go to take it from him, to which he shakes his head at. He point to the bagels in your grasp and you finally grasp his intentions, holding them out to place them in the basket. He nods with a friendly smile, his eyes scrunching up at the sides as he holds the basket in his hands.
He shows you to the safe products, the peanut-free pastries and cakes. He points toward a batch of round biscuits, wrapped in the same patterned plastic and you look to him, holding a thumbs up in question, to which he returns with a firm nod of his head. You smile happily, nodding, and he lets out a small chuckle at the interaction as he places them in the basket for you.
Before you know it, your basket is half-full. Cherry tarts, custard buns and a blueberry Danish larger than a fist, to last you a good while. When he brings your basket over, the clock hanging on the cream-coloured wall now reads 8:43am and you’re absolutely famished.
He enters your products into the register with quick taps of his fingers, and calculates your total, but when he looks to you, he does so with an unsure gaze. He tilts his head, clears his throat before attempting the feat. “One...” He hesitantly reads, angling his gaze to make sure you understand him, waiting for you to nod before he continues. “Fi-five.”
You pause at the reading of the numbers, putting them together, “15?” You clarify and he makes a small noise of confusion, but nods as though he understands. You nod and dig around in your small shoulder bag for your purse and open it to him, flashing the slim stack of notes you had exchanged at the airport, but yet to become familiar with.
He smiles at the action and takes the money from your purse with careful, nimble fingers. He enters the note into the register and hands your change to you, the coins jingling in your palm as he withdraws his hand. “Thankyou,” you smile, hopeful that he can understand your gratefulness. He nods, “Have a good day,” he bids, careful and slightly accented.
When you get back up to your room - with your pretty bag of goodies, you feel accomplished. Boiling a hot cup of your favourite tea with the hotel kettle to accompany your array of snacks as you decide what time to meet at Jade’s.
“12pm is good, Yuta will be at work so we’ll have the place to ourselves,” she mentions. You hum at the information, “So we don’t need to go through anymore translating today?” You ask quietly. “Why?” She questions, pausing. “Did you try to speak to someone?” You hum in response, “I went out to get breakfast and I had to use an app to ask if any of the products contained peanuts,” you explain with a whine at the awkward recollection. She clicks her tongue at your words, “I told you, you’d need that app.”
You inwardly groan at her comment and change the subject, wanting to forget about the embarrassing incident altogether. “So twelve?” You confirm, she hums, “Yeah, twelve.”
When the afternoon rolls around it brings a soft, chilled breeze with it, the faint scent of freshly turned dirt and dried leaves blowing through Jade’s living room windows. She doesn’t live very high up due to her aversion to heights, so the view from her windows is that of a community garden. A space for the whole neighbourhood, building included, to come together in an effort to care for an array of different plants and crops. Flora species that look similar to that of the cuttings from magazines and printed photos of bouquet arrangements scattered along her beige floorboards.
The responsibility of maid of honour is slowly becoming more than you’d thought you could handle when she can’t seem to settle on a flower that she likes. The dainty watch strapped to your wrist reads 3:12pm when she rules out colourful hydrangeas, deciding simple white flowers would suit the soft peach colour of your dress better.
“Lilies, tulips or roses?” She asks, holding out three different photos of bouquets. You hum in contemplation, eyes darting across each image carefully. “I like the lilies,” you express with a smile, “They’re gorgeous.” Jade hums and turns the photo of the lilies toward her, “You think?”
You nod, “They’re elegant an-”
“I was thinking tulips,” she cuts in. “Don’t you agree?” She asks, holding up the photo for emphasis, a definite sign you should agree with her. When you laugh out loud, she looks to you confusedly. “Why did you ask my opinion if you already had your heart set on tulips?” You question with an amused smile.
She whines inwardly, placing the photos down. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to include you.” You wave it off, “Jade it’s fine, I’m here to help. I’m not here to make your decisions for you,” you offer with a smile. “Besides, you’ve pretty much organised this whole wedding alone. You don’t need me to jump in at last minute to mess up your scheme.”
She scoffs, “Well, you’re right with that one. Yuta’s more interested in the catering than the colour of table arrangements.” You let out an amused noise, “Don’t go turning against him now,” you angle your gaze knowingly. She sighs and nods, collecting the scattered photos into one neat pile. “I’m not, I just-” She makes a frustrated noise, between a grunt and a whine. “I just want to get married, I’m sick of all this extra bullshit that comes along with it.”
You nod sympathetically, “Well you could still elope,” you offer. She scoffs once again, “Yuta insisted upon eloping trust me. But there’s no way I’m missing out on the experience of a big white wedding,” she explains, contradicting herself. “I just can’t wait for that day, I really can’t,” she expresses quietly. “To finally be able to call Yuta my husband, I just-” she sighs dreamily. “I’m so happy,” she gushes lovingly, to which you coo at. “You two are adorable, really J,” you smile.
She bites at her lip to hold back her smile as she goes over to tuck her photos back into her wedding folder, “Oh! Don’t forget, we have the wedding rehearsal next weekend and Yuta wants you to meet his groomsmen before then. He suggested that you pick where we’re eating though,” she explains.
“Me?” You ask exasperated, “Why would he want me to pick? I don’t know any places around here,” you ask confusedly to which she hums at. “Look, do you just want me to pick?” She offers, to which you nod at, “Yes please.” She clicks her tongue in contemplation, “You don’t want BBQ?” She offers, “Samgyeopsal is the best in Gyeonggi,” she explains with a firm tone, “To die for.”
You hum, “I want to try something different though,” you answer. “Keep going,” you nod with a jut of your head, going over to where she’s not perched upon her bright red sofa. “Hm, there’s always Jeon. Are you up for a bit of drinking?” She asks, slumping against the sofa. “Always,” You nod happily.
“What are they like?” You ask curiously, “His friends,” you clarify. She sits up as she answers, folding her legs as she settles herself. “They’re decent guys,” she starts. “You'll like ‘em, don’t worry,” she offers with a pat to your knee.
“It’s just, the whole language barrier,” you sigh. “I’m worried that I won’t be able to express myself properly.” She nods, “I’ll be there, don’t worry. Plus,” she angles her gaze, “If all else fails, just start making noises or draw a picture,” she chuckles, playing out the action with her hands causing you to roll your eyes.
You turn your attention to the sound of the front door being opened to your far right, Yuta appearing in the doorway with a boisterous voice, a boy of the same height trailing behind him. You furrow your brows at the sight and turn to Jade, “Who’s that?” You ask, curiously watching them converse as they chatter away in the hallway.
“Ah, that’s Taeyong,” she answers. You tilt your head in contemplation, not having much time to ask another question before Yuta’s coming over to where you are to greet his fiancée with a quick kiss.
“Hi, Taeyong,” Jade greets, standing to greet the taller boy. “Jade,” he nods with a bright smile, “How’s the wedding planning? Yuta isn’t giving you too much stress, is he?” He jokes, to which Jade scoffs at. “You already know, he hasn’t helped with anything,” Jade deadpans, to which Yuta shakes his head at. “Not true hyung, I helped pick the meals,” he says candidly.
Taeyong screws up his face at the news, paired with an exaggerated click of his tongue. “Well, good luck with everything Jade,” he says sarcastically, causing Yuta to chuckle, draping an arm over Jade’s shoulders and pressing a loving kiss to her temple. “I’m just lucky I have this angel with me now,” Jade says, turning to face you. You jump up at the attention, coming to stand beside Jade as all eyes are suddenly on you. “What?..” You trail off, questioning close to her ear.
“My best friend and maid of honour,” she says proudly, pulling you forward to stand in front of the intriguing stranger. “This is Taeyong, Yuta’s best man,” Jade mentions as he holds a pretty hand out for you to shake, an even prettier smile offered to match as the cold rings around his slender fingers meet your warm skin. You take it and shake softly as you stare into his eyes, dark brown velvet suddenly making you hyper-aware of why you seem to recognise him.
“Jade,” you aim towards her, eyes still on Taeyong’s. “He works at a bakery, right?” You ask, letting his hand fall away with a small smile as you come to stand beside her. “How did you know that?” She asks, slightly jarred and shrugging off her fiancées hand sliding around her waist.
Yuta leaves at some point during your translated chattering and occupies himself elsewhere, making an awful ruckus from the kitchen in the next room. But Taeyong, remains.
“He served me this morning,” you answer, “The one I had to use the app with, remember?” You ask, turning to her with warmed cheeks at the reminder. “Oh!” She exclaims, “She says you served her this morning, in your bakery?” She asks before you can stop her, aiming the question toward Taeyong.
A shy smile takes over his face at the memory, “Ah, yes,” he chuckles breathlessly. “I remember,” he nods, eyes on yours as he smiles fondly. “Ask her if she liked the pastries,” he suddenly turns to face Jade, his face serious as he awaits the verdict.
“He wants to know if you liked everything,” Jade turns to you, your heart beating as you feel his gaze on yours when you take in the translated question. You turn to him shyly, nodding as your answer. “Really good,” you comment with hopeful enthusiasm that he understands.
His ears peak at the comment, his eyes scrunching up adorably as he smiles. “I’m happy,” he drawls back, slow and careful with his pronunciation. You smile at the interaction, a small giggle leaving your lips at his reply. He clears his throat, “All...” He pauses, turning to Jade with an unsure look, his eyes squinted. “How do you say ‘recipe’?” He asks, with a curious tilt of his head.
After Jade explains he nods, collecting himself as he turns to you. “All recipe.. Mine,” he informs you, placing a hand upon his chest as he mentions himself. “Oh?” You ask, impressed. “Uh,” you pause, turning to Jade as your words fail you. “Tell him I’m really surprised and that he’s very talented,” you express, pulling a small chuckle from Jade.
“She said you’re very talented,” Jade translates, a shy smile taking over Taeyong’s face as he lets out a breathless huff. “She’s surprised they’re your recipes,” she adds in. He nods, “A lot of people are surprised that I both bake and serve, but honestly the bakery is my whole life. I’d even live there if I could,” he chuckles.
You stare back into his eyes with each word he speaks, admiring the way his soft pink lips shape to form each word as he spills his heart to you in sentences you can’t decipher. His voice is sweet with a slight baritone lilt to it, smooth and comforting. He makes you feel as though you can understand him, just purely by the passionate expression in his voice.
You almost miss Jade’s translation as you stare into each other’s eyes, conveying words through your interpreter that you wish you could speak to him, yourself. “Are you two going to flirt through me all day? Or should I just leave you to it?” Jade jokes with an exasperated sound. You let out a shy chuckle, finally pulling your gaze from Taeyong’s as you stare into Jade’s wide, expectant eyes.
“Were we flirting?” You ask yourself as you laugh, embarrassed. “I..” You trail off with a quick glance to Taeyong, a fit of shy giggles spilling from your lips that pull a smile to grace his face. “He’ll be at the dinner on Saturday, bring your app,” she jokes above a whisper, with a slight nudge that has your chest blooming with butterflies.
Saturday morning rolls around rather quickly.
You had spent Thursday night watching old comedy movies with Jade, subtitles displayed for Yuta to understand. Finding it utterly romantic the way Jade would explain jokes to him to get him to join in on the laughs as you sat back and watched with subtle admiration.
Friday was spent catching up on business emails, comparing your workload to Jade’s over the phone from your humble hotel room. Jade had recently expressed to you her desire to move back home once she and Yuta return from their honeymoon. They had mutually decided living overseas would be a nice change, and Yuta had been itching to learn more about his lover’s culture. Plus, she was looking at returning to her old job alongside you, which made you absolutely ecstatic.
Jade had driven over to walk you to the restaurant that she picked out in your name, seeing as it was closer to your hotel than her home. You were rugged up in dark jeans and a cream knit turtle-neck, two pairs of socks beneath your leather boots as you clicked along the side-walk to the destination. “It’s not cold enough for gloves,” she deadpans, “You look ridiculous,” she lightly teases with a laugh.
You tug out your leather-clad hands from your soft coat with a huff, condensation billowing out from your frost-bitten lips as you speak. “I’m fucking freezing, Jade,” you complain with a small, raspy grunt. You begin wiggling your toes in your boots in an effort to get your blood pumping as you walk, to feel a little more warmth spread throughout your body as Jade pauses, ignoring your constant complaints.
“This is it,” she aims with a jut of her chin, signalling to the welcome sign with her arm. It’s a humble restaurant with large, colourful posters of the menu in the windows and a red neon sign that flashes the image of a steaming dish. “The boys are waiting,” she speaks, holding the glass door open for you as you step in, pulling the cranberry beanie off of your hair and fixing the stray strands in the process.
She shrugs off her coat, hanging it up and taking her shoes off as she greets the owners politely. “Coat?” She asks, watching you unzip your boots off but cling onto your coat. “Do I have to?” You whine quietly, wriggling in your spot as you clutch onto the lapels.
She rolls her eyes, “The heat’s on in here anyway,” she bargains with you. You slide out of it with a nod, handing it to her for her to hang up as you smooth our your clothes. When she turns to you with an angled gaze you gaze across your outfit and back to her with an unsure look, “What?”
“You’re not keeping those gloves on, are you?” She asks with a nod to the leather pair. You question it with a hum, hissing through your teeth. “Could I?” She scoffs and gives you an amused look before you relent, tugging them off and cupping your hands almost immediately, huffing hot breaths onto them in an effort to keep warm. Jade leads you over to a long table where the boys are sat, cross-legged upon the heated floorboards.
“Hello everyone,” Jade sing-songs happily as she takes a seat beside Yuta, a small kiss planted to her frosted cheek as she settles herself. A chorus of monotone greetings relay back to her as you take a seat beside her, flashing Taeyong’s familiar face a soft smile as you settle in across from him.
“Hi,” you greet, with a small wave. “Hello,” he replies with an amused smile as he balances his head on his hand, appearing quite bored before you had situated in before him. “Okay so,” Jade turns to you, “Sicheng, Johnny, Ten,” she introduces the rest of Yuta’s grooms party to you. You give three small nods and a friendly smile as you fidget with your hands in your lap.
“This is your maid of honour?” Johnny speaks, your ears peeking at the familiar language. “You speak English?” You ask, exasperated, your voice raising a little too high with your level of shock and excitement. He chuckles, his head bopping in a nod, “So does Ten,” he explains with a point of his thumb to the occupied boy. “How do you two know each other?” He asks, taking a sip of water from the small porcelain cup in his grasp. “We used to work together back home, before I transferred,” Jade explains, Yuta occupied with chatting away to Sicheng as Ten taps away on his phone.
“Ya, what are you talking about? I can’t understand,” Taeyong complains quietly to Johnny, catching your attention as Jade continues to tell your story. Johnny simply waves him off, too engrossed in the tale of your friendship as you fish out your phone from your jean pocket.
You huff slightly before opening up your translating app, your cold fingers hovering over the letters before typing out a question. You look up to find Taeyong occupied with chewing on the sides of his nails as you hold up the screen for only him to see.
배고파요? Are you hungry?
He raises his brows at the question, looking to you behind the phone and nodding immediately. “Very,” he nods with a quick widen of his eyes for emphasis. You nod back with a hum, “Me too.” You chew on your lip, trying to think of another topic of conversation before he holds his hand out, motioning toward your phone. You happily hand it over, watching him tap onto it before he turns it to face you. You break out in a small chuckle, reading the words in bold across your screen.
Do you drink alcohol?
You look behind the screen to the boy who expectantly awaits your answer with an arched brow, nodding happily to him and painting a smile on his face as he hands you over the phone with careful movements. He then passes you a shallow bowl made of brass, with two hands. Picking up a white bottle of rice wine in his grasp before shaking it, giving the bottom a tap with the heel of his palm.
He cracks open the seal, raising on his knees to fill your glass as you hold it out politely, the way in which Jade taught you. Taeyong can’t help but smile fondly at your accurate attempt to adhere to the culture, sitting back down as he sets the bottle aside. He motions for you to drink up as he screws the lid back on, you furrow your brows, with a tilt of your head that almost catches his breath at the adorable gesture.
“You...” You trail off, gesturing between him and the bottle, only receiving a similar look of confusion in response. You place the bowl down and fish out your phone again, typing out your desired sentence before turning it to him. Accidentally pressing speech in the meantime.
너 왜 술 마시지 않니? Why aren’t you drinking?
The woman robotically relays throughout your phone, making you drop it with an embarrassed noise. Taeyong reaches for it first, cursing quietly to Ten beside him who finds it utterly amusing the way you cringe out of sheer embarrassment. He once again occupies himself with the phone, switching the keyboard to Hangul and tapping out a paragraph quickly.
나는 취하면 그냥 자. When I get drunk, I just fall asleep.
You manage a small nod, taking the phone off him with understanding. You hum in thought as you look over to him, holding up one finger. “Just one?” You ask meekly, watching his eyes go back and forth between the bottle and your subtle pout as you suggest a drink In an effort to bond with him.
He scrunches his nose, curling his lips inwardly as he relents, “Okay, one,” he confirms, passing you the bottle. You nod as you excitedly sit up, leaning over to pour his drink for him and admiring the way his eyes sparkle from the angle in which you’re sat.
You sit back on your heels, placing the almost empty bottle aside as you pick up your bowl, mirroring Taeyong and the others as you drink up. The sweet, chalky texture of the Makgeolli coating your tongue in a tangy, astringent layer that makes you shudder upon first taste. You push through it, gulping the rest of it down, a small clinking noise relaying as you set the empty bowl upon the wooden table.
Taeyong cringes before you, hissing through his teeth as he sets his bowl down, half-empty and still carrying a decent amount of milky-rice wine. He picks up the bottle upon eyeing your empty bowl, filling it up almost immediately, much to your confusion. He eyes your furrowed brows, his gaze finding Jade and with a quick poke to her arm over the table - he has her attention.
“Can you explain why I filled her bowl?” Taeyong asks politely, his eyes on yours as he waits his relayed message to be translated. Jade nods and turns to you with an amused smile, “If you set an empty cup down, it’s custom for it to be re-filled. So If I were you, I’d only take small sips. Unless you want to get shitfaced in front of Yuta’s groomsmen,” she angles her gaze with a cheeky stare. You chuckle, shaking your head. “Okay, got it,” you nod. “Thankyou.”
She nods in thanks, turning to Taeyong quietly. “She gets all cutesy when she’s drunk," Jade explains as you take smaller sips. Taeyong raises his brows at this, taking note of the way your eyes have already become glassy upon the consumption of your second bowl. “Really?” He quirks, Jade nods, “Make sure she doesn’t drink too much, she’s a bit nervous.”
You learn over the night that Johnny is married with a baby on the way, having met Yuta back when he was the younger boy’s accountant, nearly four years ago. Sicheng, he had known since high-school, explaining that they used to play soccer together after hours. During which Yuta tells you (through Jade), that they had won two premierships with their junior club. Ten, however - lives next door to Jade and Yuta, and was a logical choice for a grooms men when it come time for deciding. He had known the couple since they started dating and after all, he used to be in the translator position Jade now finds herself in.
You then learn, through thorough translation, that Taeyong and Yuta had been best-friends since childhood, their Mother’s having known each other since being pen-pals back in the 1980′s. Yuta’s Mother had been writing Taeyong’s Mother, through an exchange program in college in hopes of learning more about Korea. So when it come time to finally decide to move over, she naturally sought out a residence near her only friend.
Taeyong opened his bakery two years ago with his life savings, just after graduating from culinary school, and Yuta worked in a office building not too far from his best friend. You admire the twinkle in Yuta’s eye when he teases Taeyong about his lack of customers, the older boy replying with a cheeky tut and a mention of the loss that cut his soccer career short. Your delayed laughs relaying across the table as Jade fills you in.
Once the food arrives, the table falls quiet. Sicheng is no longer reaching over Johnny to pinch at Ten with each lame joke he makes. Nor is Yuta trying to convince Jade of receiving a massage while they talk about something under their breaths that you can’t decipher. Taeyong has left your phone alone, the device now sitting lonesome beside his bowl as he eats quietly, offering you the bigger pieces of Jeon with a jab of his chopstick between bites.
Taeyong had been making sure to watch your level of alcohol consumption - as per Jade’s mention. Stopping Johnny when he went to fill your bowl, instead relenting and accepting to have his own filled. As a result when it comes to the end of the meal, he’s hiccuping, groaning and trying to keep from falling asleep with his head in the palm of his hand. You were warned, but the second and third filling of his bowl were Johnny’s doing, not yours. Something you now curse upon as you watch with a frown, your brows scrunched together as you watch him struggle to stay present.
“Jade,” you whisper, elbowing her to grab her attention. “What?” She calls, turning toward you with a distant hum. “Taeyong, I think he’s pretty tispy,” you point out, jutting your head toward him as he fights to keep his eyes open. She sighs at the sight, promptly turning to Yuta.
“If I put him in a taxi, can you make sure he gets into his house okay?” Jade turns to you with a serious look, her voice laced in concern. You raise your brows incredulously, “Me?” You confirm, “Why not one of the other boys?” You ask, motioning toward the three men on the other side of the table.
She sighs, “Johnny’s wife works the night shift, he has to be home soon to drive her,” she lists on her fingers. “Sicheng,” she motions with a nod of her head, “Lives too far away,” she explains. “And knowing Ten, he’d probably redirect the cab to a karaoke bar,” she tells, earning an unimpressed tut from Ten across the table.
“Am I wrong?” Jade challenges, to which he shrugs. “Maybe not, but still very rude,” he fires back with a squint of his eyes as he sips his water. “See?” She confirms her reasoning. You hum in contemplation, eyeing the way Taeyong’s head falls off his palm, a small groan of protest falling from his lips as he scrunches his brows in another weak attempt to keep himself awake.
“What about Yuta?” You challenge, watching the way her eyes seem to twinkle at the mention. “He... He can’t,” she rushes out, squirming as he slides his arm around her waist. You curse at the image with a sigh, “Where does he live?”
Taeyong lives only a short walk from your hotel, not too far from his bakery - you find. The cab ride was spent watching him try to stay sat up in his seat, only for his head to thump into the window each time he begun to drift off. Jade had shoved a bottle of water into your hand upon being seated beside him in the back seat, of which you tried to give him sips of every time you stop at a set of lights.
He had fully slumped over at one point, bumping his head into the soft fibres of your coat, slowly nestling into it. He makes a small whimpering noise at the collision, sighing at the sudden comfort he finds, your clothed figure much more comfortable than the frosty glass window. You let him rest, seeing no problem in the gesture as he sighs heavily once again, the soft wafts of alcohol permeating through the air as your breaths mix.
You turn your head to look out the window, the pretty lights of the city twinkling rainbows through the water droplets that stain the glass. Taeyong makes a small noise in the back of his throat that catches your attention, your gaze falling to where his head is laid against your shoulder.
His lips are slightly pouted, his breaths heavy as he dreams away. The slope of his nose is elongated and so smooth, you feel the urge to run your fingertip along it. His eyelashes flutter, full brows scrunched up as he lets out another weak groan, muffled by his pouted lips. He’s still so handsome like this, terribly tipsy and incoherent, you think as the taxi slowly comes to a halt. A small stone walkway leading up to a quaint, cottage style home that you assume to be Taeyong’s comes into view as the driver turns to you expectantly.
You swallow thick with nerves as you relay the message Jade had taught you, the same words you had tried to repeat over and over in your head in rehearsal. “How much is the fare?”
“23,000₩ miss,” he says to you, causing a flood of panic to rush through you as you stare at the 50,000₩ note that Jade had slipped you on your way. You pass it to him, words of confusion spilling from his mouth as you click off your seatbelt. “Uh, it’s a tip,” you simply reply from memory, “There’s no tipping over here,” the driver mutters to an oblivious you, who is busy leaning over to undo Taeyong’s seatbelt - who is incessantly mumbling as he comes to. You open the door, freezing air hitting you immediately as you step out onto the wet curb, your hands reaching for Taeyong as you wait for him to scoot toward the end of the car. “Thank you.” You aim toward the driver as Taeyong joins you, shuffling along the side walk with you once you farewell the cab.
Taeyong walks slightly ahead of you, giving you an opportunity to monitor the way he moves while under the influence. Pausing, he ruffles his dark hair, cursing under his breath before stumbling against the front door. You jump at the action, your first reflex being to reach for him as your hand wraps around his forearm to steady him. He turns to you with a sheepish smile to contradict your worried gaze, still looking terribly exhausted as he fishes out his keys from his jacket pocket. The jacket that you had imagined wearing, and the way it would feel on your skin, once or twice throughout dinner. Tough black leather with soft sheepskin lining, a piece of clothing with as much duality as the boy himself.
He turns to you, holding them out between his thumb and forefinger as he mutters something you can’t decipher. “You gotta catch them first,” he chuckles lightly, swinging them back and forth as your palm is laid under in an effort to catch them. Whenever he decides to drop them, that is.
You let out a small huff, a bubbly giggle falling from his lips at your obvious frustration. You manage a small chuckle at the sound, leaning against the wood of the front door in the same way he does as you feel your energy flee. You had still not managed to adapt to Seoul time, and dealing with a drunken boy who you might have been developing a small crush on, was not what you had planned for the end of your night.
“Taeyong,” you sigh with a tired smile, “Please,” you beg with a small whine. He pauses, taking in your state and relenting with a click of his tongue, as if to say, ‘I was only having some fun,’ as he takes your hand and drops them down with a plop, sound that he makes.
“Thankyou,” you breathe, moving to unlock his door and holding it open for him to enter. He walks in leisurely, his feet knocking against each other as he struggles to hold himself up. You worriedly cast your gaze over him, ready to fish out your phone to ask Jade if he has anyone who can stay over with him when he gently reaches for your hand. “You.. Here?” He drawls, pausing to swallow thickly, his eyes wide and round, glassy as he awaits your response. He had only wanted you to be comfortable; it was beginning to rain again and the thought of you walking back to your hotel alone in the rain didn’t sit well with him. Intoxicated or not.
You hum in contemplation, scrunching your nose up as the thought begins to appeal to you. Though you shake your head, waving your hands in rejection of the offer. “I can’t,” you sigh.
He nods but suddenly makes a strained noise in the back of his throat, hunching over as he coughs and throws up the troublemaking liquor all over his hallway floorboards. You curse at the scene, stepping out of the firing zone and leaning down to aid him as best you can. He slowly falls to his knees, now on all fours as he continues to make pained retching sounds that threaten to swirl your own belly to sickness.
Your eyes scan your surroundings as you pat the cool leather of his back in comfort, small droplets of rain that had collected on the material causing your hand to slip with the motion. There’s a small kitchen in the next room that you immediately run to, flinging open the cupboards in search of a bowl or dish deep enough to hand over to him as he continues to be sick. You find a bright-pink dish bowl, running over to where he is as you shove it in his hands, helping him as he rids of the contents in his belly.
He seems to pause after a while, hot pants leaving his mouth as he falls back against the hallway wall with a groan. His forehead is covered in sweat, cheeks littered in glistening tears that have fallen down his skin in iridescent streaks that you wish to brush away with the back of your thumb. “Are you okay?” You ask softly, in hopes that he can understand. And even though he doesn’t entirely, he nods anyway to console your worried tone.
You get up briefly to the kitchen again, finding a clean dish towel in one of his drawers, you dampen it up under the faucet and bring it over to him. You hold it out for him to take, but his eyes are closed as he catches his breath, disoriented. You crouch down to his level, running it carefully along his mouth and lips, catching the mess that has dripped along his chin. He flinches when you lift up his fringe with your palm, folding the towel over as you run the clean side along his forehead and cheeks, cleaning him up as best you can.
You forego the mess on the floor in favour of helping him up, slowly draping his arm over your shoulder, carrying most of his weight as you make your way throughout his house. He groans out of discomfort in your grasp, coughing weakly as his head lulls forward. You pause when you approach the first room just past the couch in the living area, cracking it open to see a bed which you assume to be his as you walk him over to it. You sit him down onto the edge, sighing as he threatens to fall over, swaying back and forth.
“We need to get this jacket off, it’s all wet,” you mutter to yourself as you reach for the edges, pushing it up and over his slumped shoulders as he very slowly shimmies out of it. He then proceeds to fall back against the mattress, sighing softly as he brings his knees up to curl in on himself, snuggling into the sheets as he kicks his shoes off.
You sigh inwardly at the sight, you wished he could at least have had a drink of water before falling asleep, but the goal seems unreachable as he soon begins to snore softly. A fond warmth spreading through your chest at the sound.
You leave the door slightly ajar, worried he might be sick again as you pad over to his kitchen, still in your wet boots as you begin searching through his cupboard for another bucket. You find plastic chopsticks with animal heads on the ends, a porcelain mug with the letter ‘T’ on it, and a set of gold croissant conicals along your journey.
Once you stumble upon a deep stainless steel mixing bowl, you tip-toe into his room, leaving it on his bedside table just in-case. You find yourself wandering over to the mess in the hallway, pinching your nose as you clean it up quickly with some paper towels and a rapid wipe of a damp kitchen sponge that you immediately dispose of. Once you’re sure the area is completely clean, you wash your hands thoroughly and wander over to his off-white sofa.
Lined against the wall opposite is a modest television mounted to the wall with two shelves on either side. Shelves housing a row of thick cook-books with two gold accented book-ends, a small glass diffuser - which you suspect is responsible for the warm vanilla hues permeating through the space. A honey-wooden photo frame with a sunny, landscape shot of ducklings splashing around in a pristine pond, and a glass jar half-filled with sweets wrapped in brightly coloured foils.
You pull out your phone and settle into the plush sofa, crossing your legs as you sigh in comfort, your joints that seem to ache in the freezing weather, crack as you find a comfortable position and you slip your boots off. The first thing you’re greeted with when the brightness of your home screen hits you is a text reading; Did you get home okay?
Jade. You reply to her, letting her know that Taeyong is sick and you’re staying for a while to see that he’s okay. She explains that she’s sure he can take care of himself, but once you hear him stirring, more sounds of sickness coming from his room, you’re quick to jump up.
You hurry to his room, to the sight of him using the mixing bowl as you had intended and you sigh in relief, going over to his side. He coughs and splutters and mostly dry-heaves, but he soon calms down, effectively having emptied his belly of all contents. He sets the bowl down and takes some tissues from the handful you offer him, taken from the box from his bedside table. He then falls back limply against the bed, catching his breath.
“I’m going to get you some water, okay?” You speak worriedly, he nods weakly as though he understands, watching you leave the room. You carry the bowl over to the sink with your nose pinched once again, cleaning it out before bringing it back over to him. This time accompanied by a glass of cold water and some precautionary painkillers from your purse. “These,” you point to the medication, “Okay?” He squints at the package, recognising the brand as he nods slowly, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.
“Up,” you motion softly, sitting on the edge of his bed as he watches you with hooded eyes. He lifts his head with a small groan, letting you push the pills past his lips as you bring the water to his mouth. He drinks almost half of it before you stop him, a weak sound of protest coming from him. “You need to sip it, if you drink it all you’ll just be sick again,” you explain softly, placing it on his night stand as his eyes follow you with lack of understanding, still craving more water.
You tilt your head as you stare down at him, his gaze just as warm as the first time you saw him. He slowly blinks and turns on his side, gripping his pillow as he sighs, sleep taking over once again as his eyes fall shut. You leave his room, making sure he’s okay before you lie across his sofa, stretching out with a yawn along the soft linen.
You plan to rest before you walk back up to your hotel, only when you feel the heavy lull of sleep pull you in, you don’t fight against it.
It must be a few hours later when you wake, the metallic sounds of pots and pans clashing together causing you to stir with a whine. You slowly come to with a chill down your spine, as you realise your surroundings.
You shoot up with a soft gasp, turning to the direction of sound as you hold your head, squinting at the bright lights that beam from the kitchen. You spot Taeyong, now sporting damp hair and casual pyjamas. Loose boxer shorts that fall to his muscular mid-thighs and a white singlet that showcases broad shoulders and prominent clavicles as he turns to you at the sound of your gasp. Your stirring had interrupted his task of a midnight meal, the 3am ramen he was planning to cook for himself to settle the sickly feeling in his stomach. And the impending hangover.
“Ah, sorry,” he curses, slightly accented and voice a little rasped. “Um.. Ah..” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, scanning over his limited vocabulary in an effort to convey his feelings of gratitude toward you. You go over to where he is to help him out, curious eyes watching you take a seat at his breakfast bar as you fetch your phone. You quickly find the app that you so desperately value, yawning as you wait for it to load up.
Taeyong finds it incredibly heart-warming, selfless - the fact that you had stayed with him while he made a drunken fool of himself, in his own mind. He pushes the thought aside, placing the shallow pot in his hand down in favour for a deeper one as he comes over to you. Your eyes are watery from the lights and the small squeak you let out as you yawn threatens a small smile to tug at his lips that he represses, waiting for you to tap out your message to him.
몸은 좀 어때? How are you feeling?
He lets out a small huff out of shyness as he reads the text, nodding his head as a small pink tinge paints his cheeks out of embarrassment. “Good,” he nods in a distant voice. You smile sleepily as you offer the phone to him, which he takes happily, biting his lip as he concentrates on his message. He turns it to you, your eyes focusing as you read it.
Thankyou for taking care of me, even though I made myself look like an idiot.
You tut, your eyes softening at the message. You shake your head, “You’re not an idiot, Taeyong,” you sigh to yourself, occupied once again with your phone.
당신 바보가 아니예요, 어제 술 많이 마셨죠.
You’re not an idiot, you drank too much last night.
He sighs and nods when he absorbs your message, “I was a little nervous around you, I wanted to welcome you properly by drinking with everyone,” he pauses, your eyes falling to the way he bites on his lip nervously. “It would have been better to stop drinking than to be sick in front of you,” he chuckles dryly, pausing as his eyes widen at a sudden realisation. He pads around you, causing you to turn in your seat to follow his movements as he walks over with the pot still in his grasp.
“Did you clean up?” He asks confusedly, almost astonished as he points to the floor. You stare blankly back at him, at the questionable tone of his voice. “I cleaned it all up, don’t worry,” you smile sheepishly at the reminder. He sighs and comes over to you, pausing just a step away as he roughly ruffles his dark tresses. "You?” He asks, pointing toward the hallway. You nod, confirming once again as he nods appreciatively. “Thankyou,” he smiles. “Of course,” you reply with a wave of your hand.
Taeyong manoeuvres his way around the tiny kitchen, filling the pot with bottled water before igniting the flame for his ramen. He’s busy, chopping up green onions and mincing garlic with a vegetable knife, all the while humming quietly throughout as you watch him.
He pauses mid-chop and turns to you, “Do you want some?” He asks, pointing his knife toward the pot blipping away on the stove. You nod once you piece together his question, “Yes please,” you smile sheepishly as you feel your belly rumble with the spicy scent.
Your phone calls for your attention as it beeps from where it’s sat upon the island, reminding you of your low battery with a final cry before it dies. You curse under your breath at the realisation, that your constant use of your trusty app throughout the night had drained your battery. Taeyong’s plating up two bowls of steamy ramen when it finally passes, the screen turning to a black that causes a wave of nerves to wash over you. As you’re left without the only thing you two rely on to communicate.
His lips are curled against his teeth in a proud smile when he places a bowl in front of you, taking a seat beside you as he hands over a spoon and two chopsticks. You think to frown when you find they aren’t the plastic animal ones, but thank him with an appreciative smile anyway. The bright green onions are piled up in the middle of the dish, surrounded by a sea of vibrant garnet soup and thick noodles. You brush your hair behind your ears as you lean over to inhale the homey scent, your mouth watering at the savoury wafts coming from the dish.
Taeyong watches patiently as you take your first bite, flinching at the way you yelp and let the noodles fall from your mouth with a scolding reminder to blow on your food first. He hisses and scampers over to the fridge to pour you a glass of cold water, pushing it into your grasp as you thank him. “Hot,” you warn, pointing your chopsticks toward the dish, he sheepishly nods, apologising. “Sorry.”
You wave, feeling blisters already forming on the tip of your tongue, “No no, it’s my fault.” You sit back for a while, blowing on your dish while Taeyong begins to eat up, slurping up his noodles with hisses full of pleasure and scrunches of his nose at the temperature. You on the other hand, don’t attempt to eat again until the steam has stopped rising from the dish and you’re sure it’s cooled.
You welcome the spicy warmth the broth brings once you take a sip, melting a trail down your throat and into your belly as you swallow them down happily. You aren’t surprised to find he can cook as good as he can bake as you devour the hearty meal. But a slow heat creeps up your throat, burning your tongue in invisible flames that make your eyes water. You drop your chopsticks and gulp down your water, not used to the level of immediate spice that the soup holds.
Taeyong watches you worriedly, his eyes rounded and brows pinched together. “Spicy,” you point, a sheepish huff leaving your lips as you set your half-empty glass down, your tongue still burning. “Is.. Okay?” Taeyong asks timidly, watching you attempt another bite as he sets his chopsticks neatly atop his bowl after he finishes up his meal.
You push your noodles into your cheek as you nod happily, “It’s so good Taeyong,” you gush as you munch on a crunchy piece of onion, humming at the burst of flavour it provides in contrast with the spice. He gives a small smile as he watches you dig in, the way your wide eyes follow the noodles as you drop them from your chopsticks, not used to the metal as they repeatedly slip and slide from the utensil.
He chuckles quietly, causing your gaze to slide over to where he’s propped his head up on his palm again. “What now?” You huff amusedly, stirring your remaining noodles through the soupy river at the bottom of your bowl. He sits up slightly, shifting in his seat as he shakes his head, dark tufts falling in wisps around his temples. “You’re cute,” he mentions in admiration.
You place your chopsticks down, turning to him as he talks, mirroring his former position as you lean your head onto your palm. His eyes follow the way you slowly blink back as you watch him, the slight twinkle in your eyes from the heat of the dish and the way you sniffle as a result of the spice. “I wish I could talk to you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you.
You sigh, watching his lips move slowly when he talks. “What are you saying? Hm?” You ponder out loud once his ramblings seem to take a pause. “You’re saying, ‘gosh, I can’t believe you cleaned up that mess,’ aren’t you?” You giggle, sitting up in your seat and he smiles at your apparent amusement. “Laugh,” he says suddenly, peaking your interest.
“Laugh?” You repeat in question, “My laugh?” You ask, a hand placed to your chest in question. He nods rapidly, a pouted smile on his lips, “I like it,” he admits. You huff breathlessly at his confession, a second heat threatening to burn across your cheeks as you watch him stare back at you.
He quietly watches, with a small tilt of his head as though he’s shocked by the sight of you being flustered. You huff, embarrassed, raking your hands over your face and through your messed hair as you try to steady your beating heart. “Can we talk about something else?” You request as you avoid his gaze.
He chuckles quietly, amused by your inability to handle the attention as he changes the topic by instinct. “Are you still tired?” He asks, “You can sleep in my bed if you want, I promise it’s clean,” he offers sincerely. You push your bowl forward as you fold your arms against the bench, leaning on your arms with another big yawn. “See, I knew you were still tired,” he clicks his tongue, gathering his best English skills. “B-bed?” He asks, in question of the correct word. “You?” He points with his index finger, brows raised in question. You hum, “Hm?
He huffs, frustrated with his lack of speaking skills as he sits up in his seat. “You sleep,” he pauses, “My bed,” he offers, his accent coating each word in a way you find incredibly endearing. “Oh,” you nod, finally able to grasp his question. “No,” you shake your head, “What about you?” You ask, watching him focus on the way your lips move to help better his understanding. “That... Sofa,” he points behind you.
You turn, “The sofa?” You confirm, he nods. “No,” you shake your head as you turn back to face him, “I can’t, you’re sick. You should sleep in your bed, Taeyong,” you encourage worriedly. “No?” He confirms, to which you nod your head at.
“I mean,” you start, “I could walk back to my hotel,” you offer, eyes occupied with turning the button on the sleeve of your coat. “It’s only-” you pause. “Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, “I actually have no idea what time it is right now,” you breathe. Taeyong watches helplessly, unaware of the subject of your ramblings as he relishes in the way you sound when you speak so confidently in your native tongue. “Couch it is, I guess,” you hum.
"Do you,” you pause again, hissing through your teeth. “Fuck,” you curse frustrated as you lean forward into your palms once again. “I need to ask you for a blanket, but you don’t know what I’m saying do you?” You turn to look at him hopefully, to find him blank and patiently waiting for you to magically say something he can respond to. “Um,” you trail off, signalling with your hands the image of a pen and paper when he sits up, alert as he recognises the action.
“Ah,” he nods understanding. He moves up, shuffling along the floorboards into the next room, returning promptly with a leather bound book and a blue pen in his grasp. “Thankyou,” you gush gratefully with a smile as you take them from him, “No problem,” he happily responds in a chirpy tone.
You draw the image of a stick figure atop a rectangle, you point to it with the end of the pen, turning to Taeyong to explain. “Bed,” you point. He nods, watching attentively as you poorly sketch your desired message.
You then draw another misshapen rectangle atop the figure, shading it in and pointing to it once again. “Ah,” Taeyong nods understanding, “You want a blanket,” he hums. He’s up on his feet soon after, shuffling his sock-clad feet along the floorboards into his room, returning with a folded up blanket and one of his pillows.
You push yourself off from the stool and head back over to the couch, which reminds you of its surprisingly comfort as you sit onto it again. You finally peel off your warm coat and stretch out along the length of it as Taeyong happily unfolds the blanket and lays it across your figure.
You let out a small giggle as the force of the blanket falling blows your hair backwards, with Taeyong quietly laughing along with you at the sight. He steps back and assesses your surroundings, watching you turn onto your side and snuggle into the pillow he placed down for you. He wants to ask if you’ll be okay on the couch, if you think you’ll be warm enough and if not, to go into his room and wake him up so he can get another blanket.
But all he can manage is a minuscule, “Okay?” That he relies in you to answer correctly. You nod happily, “Thankyou,” you smile as you feel the warmth of the blanket intoxicate your fatigued figure. He raises his brows at your pronunciation, flustered and caught off-guard with your reply. He smiles sheepishly, as to cover his shock as he ruffles his hair, something you’ve noticed he does when he gets particularly shy.
“Goodnight,” you breathe, offering a sleepy smile as he moves to turn the kitchen lights off. “Goodnight,” he drawls before padding off into his room once again. You fall asleep to the sounds of a clock ticking somewhere in the vicinity of his house, dogs barking in the distance of his neighbourhood as the sun starts to peak up behind the clouds.
When you wake, there’s no sign of Taeyong. Obviously by the drawing left on the coffee table in front of you, he’s gone to work. The detailed drawing, a replica of his bakery as an indication of his whereabouts as you wake up alone. You curse at the reminder of your phone being dead, and collect your belongings, folding up your blanket and placing it with his pillow back on his bed before you leave. Passing your dirty footprints along the floor from the night before.
In the daylight you can see his place clearly, as you leave you turn to appreciate the front of his house. A small walkway surrounded by stones and pebbles of various sizes, all in grey tones that match the dark charcoal the house is painted. There are hanging baskets with pretty green ferns spilling out over the edges, one on each side of his front door, a nice contrast to the grey sky above. There’s a littering of empty tins of tuna below his porch step, causing you to make a note to ask him about it at some point.
As you make the short journey up the road to your hotel, your mind races with images, mutterings and shy giggles from the night before. Your belly is stirring, fresh memories of Taeyong smiling causing you to grin as you walk alone, your boots clicking along the side-walk as you enter the lobby.
Once in your room, you shower. Your phone charging so when you come out, you can finally let Jade know that indeed, you are alive. She answers almost immediately upon the first few rings, “You!” She exclaims, “You haven’t answered me all morning, what’s been up?” She asks, her voice laced in concern.
You sigh, “Sorry, my phone died at Taeyong’s,” you explain as you run a hand through your wet hair, a chill running through your bones at the low temperature of your room. “Hm,” she hums. “And how did that go?”
“Good,” you reply, “He’s not sick anymore, which is the most important thing,” you note. She hums once again, “That’s it?” She asks, and you can practically see her scrunching her face up on the other side. You let out a small chuckle as you crawl into bed, under the red and gold striped covers as your hair drips freely onto the fluffy white pillows. “I don’t know what you expected. He made us ramen at around 3am,” you guess, “My phone went flat so I don’t really kno-”
“Babe,” she deadpans. “You’re here for another three weeks, don’t start something you can’t get too deep into,” she warns in a caring tone. “I know you, and I know what you look like when you’re attracted to someone.” You sigh, because you had been thinking the same thing, over and over as you tried to sleep. “Jade,” you pause, “It’s just a crush.”
She sighs down the phone, “Okay,” she replies, “Just be careful and don’t get too attached.” She pauses, a small giggle leaving her lips, you furrow your brows at the sound, “What’s funny?”
“Nothing, nothing,” she assures you, “It’s just- I didn’t think I’d have to worry about this, you two don’t even speak the same language,” she spills truthfully. You give an amused huff in response, “Trust me, we’ve found ways to communicate,” you reply.
She whistles, “And what does that mean?” She quizzes. You splutter, choking on your words at her assumption. “No!” You panic, “Drawings and stuff,” you sigh as you explain, “I meant drawings, oh god,” you sigh, holding your head in your hands as you listen to her laugh on the other end.
By the time your conversation comes to an end, your hair had fully soaked into the back of your now previously, warm robe. Preventing your body temperature from ever rising to a comfortable level. “I know what you meant, I’m just playing,” she explains. “You’re too easy to tease,” she adds with an amused noise. You bid farewell and hang up curtly, leaving your phone to charge as you join it, recharging beneath your duvet as you recount your plans for the rest of your time here.
Decor was mostly finalised, food too. Dresses were picked out and fitted, shoes and accessories to match. Jade just had to book make-up and hair for the day, and all was set.
Then you remember the speech you had told her was written.
“Shit,” you curse to yourself. You had told her you’d write your speech after arriving, not letting her know your plan to also have it written out in Korean so the local guests could understand. Of course you couldn’t turn to Jade, and Yuta’s English wasn’t anywhere near the level of him being able to help you translate.
You remember Johnny, who was fluent, but you knew nothing about him other than the fact that he used to work with Yuta. He was too out of reach, the thought of asking him made you cringe and so did the idea of Ten, the boy who helped the couple communicate in their first stages of their relationship. He was busy planning the photography with Jade and though he seemed perfectly friendly, you couldn’t trust him not to spill the news to her if you approached him with the idea.
That left you with the only other person you knew in this country, the only other person who you could speak albeit minimal, English with.
Taeyong.
The thought made your stomach flip, being able to spend some more time with him while finally writing out your speech. Two birds with one stone.
He was incredibly friendly and after last night, you’d come to know he was generous too, not afraid of helping you out regardless of the language barrier. His level of speaking ability would definitely need some guidance from your phone, but with him there to confirm the shoddy internet translations, you had confidence in your partnership to achieve the task.
So you don’t hesitate to call him up.
He had left his phone number on the note from that morning and when you dial, it’s a good minute of ringing before he answers. A polite greeting of - "Good morning.”
You smile at his chirpy tone, obviously having presumed you were a customer calling about a sponge cake or a catering order when he picked up. You let out a nervous breath that crackles down the phone, “Hi,” you greet in a quiet voice, picturing his reaction to the foreign language on the other side.
He utters your name quietly, as if not in question, “Yes?”
You nod to yourself, letting out a small laugh, feeling silly for calling in the first place. At least in person you could gesture and, why didn’t you just send him a translated text?
“Yes Taeyong,” you confirm. “I.. Need to write a speech for Jade, in Korean,” you inform him casually, too desperate to worry about his lack of understanding. “I was wondering if you could help me?” You ask, your fingers playing with the spiralled cord of the hotel phone. There’s a small pause, during which you hear a faint hum of contemplation. “Help?” He repeats in a chirp and you hum in confirmation.
“Ah,” he hisses once again, sounding unsure. “Come.. See me,” he asks timidly, “Here,” he adds, sounding more sure of his words. You bite your lip in response to the question.
You had only just left his house less than an hour prior, and now you were getting ready to see him again. You had barely seen anything in Gyeonggi besides Jade’s apartment and Taeyong’s dark eyes, but the thought of your speech pulses loudly in your mind until you agree.
“I’m coming.”
You had dressed up for the cold weather, drying your hair and sticking a soft beanie over to keep your ears from freezing, along with your coat that still had a small littering of ramen soup splashes hidden along the burgundy colour of it.
The journey isn’t long when you find yourself at the door of his bakery, which Jade informed was called ‘Warm Delights’, a name you found as sweet as its owner.
Taeyong is busy helping a customer upon your entry, but calls out a warm greeting to you in the form of, “Hello,” across the store. You busy yourself with admiring a sparkling silver tray of samples upon the register counter, an array of tiny symmetrical meringue cookies in the shapes of colourful pastel stars. You’re interrupted by a teenage girl approaching the counter, naturally moving to the side, you wait for their transaction to be complete before stepping over to where Taeyong is.
“Hi,” you wave, analysing the contrast of his appearance to the night before. You hadn’t seen him like this since the morning you met him. Dressed up neatly in his uniform, his dark hair is brushed back and you can’t seem to stop staring as he brushes stray strands behind his ears. A small gold hoop threaded through his right lobe.
“Hi,” he smiles, a sight for sore eyes. “So,” you begin, picking up where you left off with your former phone conversation. “My speech,” you begin, tapping your toes as you try to rack your brain over how to explain it to him in a way he can understand. You huff, retracing those words Jade repeats over and over on the phone.
“We...Wedding,” you pause, nodding as a way to ask if you’re pronunciation is correct. Taeyong bites back a smile, the corner of his lips lifting in admiration of you speaking in his mother tongue as he nods for you to continue. “Speech,” you finish, signalling to him with motions of your hands, similarly to the way you had the night prior.
“Ah,” he nods in understanding, “Okay.”
It was the beginning of a new week when Taeyong had any good amount of time free to help you with your speech.
In the meantime you had written out the text in English, re-read it a couple dozen times, and settled on a finished copy ready to be translated. Everything else for the big day was finalised, the only thing Jade hadn’t done was figure out her styling or stop talking about her honeymoon to Santorini, which she seemed just as excited about.
Taeyong had texted you a friendly message in the morning, one that seemed jumbled and clearly run through a translator. But it painted a smile on your face regardless, along with the cute smiley faces he sent along with it.
After a quick change of clothes, you find yourself approaching his house, the small walk in the frosty midday air giving you a chance to soak in your surroundings.
Next door to Taeyong’s small house there’s a modest sized lake, surrounded by wild prairie weeds and connected to a park that runs through to the next neighbourhood. Rich in dewy green grass and a small flock of grey ducks, dunking their heads into the water and quacking in conversation with each other.
You walk along his cobblestone path to the front door, admiring the vibrant grassy colours of the ferns in his hanging baskets in the cool daylight. He answers the door almost as soon as you knock, a bright smile and a shy chuckle out of habit as a greeting along with a small, “Hello.”
After your own shy greeting he leads you over to his sofa, where he’s set out everything, a notepad and some coloured pencils and pens. Two glasses of water and a plate with two pain au chocolates in the middle of the coffee table.
You turn to him with an appreciative smile, “This is perfect,” you speak in admiration. “You take this pretty seriously, don’t you?” You chuckle, watching as his lips twitch into a smile. “Okay?” He asks, jutting his chin toward the couch, he sighs when you nod happily, leading the way to the area.
You sit at opposite ends of the couch while you work. Your phone is laid out flat on the table, with your prepared speech ready. You read out line by line to Taeyong, running it through a translator and working with him to un-jumble your mess of text into the correct form.
As the afternoon progresses, you’ve succeeded in mastering and finalising a couple of lines from your lengthy paragraph. Happy with the patience Taeyong has for the task at hand, he hisses through his teeth as he gazes across your next line of roughly translated text.
“There’s no word for this in Korean,” he points confusedly, tapping at the screen. You furrow your brows and look over to the phone, tilting your head as you read over where he’s pointing to. “This word?” You ask in question to the unknown problem, he nods. “No,” he confirms.
You curse under your breath, you should’ve thought about not including trend words throughout your speech. Causing you to let out a frustrated groan as you sit back against the couch. Taeyong watches with his brows bunched together, worried he’s upset you as you take your face into your hands.
“I’m going to have to re-write that whole part,” you mutter to yourself, your hands cupped over your mouth, magnifying the volume. “Sorry,” Taeyong apologises meekly, misunderstanding your frustration as his fingernails audibly scratch at the skin of his nape. You sit up in your seat, “Oh no, no Taeyong,” you huff. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m just annoyed with myself,” you sigh.
His gaze falls to his hands which now rest neatly atop his knees as he settles back against the couch, mirroring your previous position. “Are you okay?” He asks slightly accented, his tone warm and patient as he watches for your response from the side of his eye.
You nod, “I’m okay,” you confirm. “Just let me fix this bit up,” you reply slightly breathless, cheeks burning out of embarrassment over the frustration you had displayed. Taeyong doesn’t understand why you were upset, but seeing you more relaxed has him releasing a sigh. The feeling of seeing you visibly upset and not being able to know how to comfort you, was suffocating to him.
Taeyong sits back against the couch and quietly sips from his glass of water, watching you mutter to yourself over the change in speech. You hum and move to sit up in your seat, your hand pressing into the top of where Taeyong’s is laid as you try to shift up against the couch. You gasp and pull your hand back, your skin burning from the touch as you look to him. “Sorry,” you spit out rushed as your cheeks burn. He just blinks up at you with round eyes, equally startled but offering a small nod as comfort to your beating heart.
Taeyong’s hand was smooth, soft and so warm. Which come as a surprise as he sat their in a thin white t-shirt, a contrast to your thick sweater in the evening chill.
The first time you had sat with Taeyong for your speech, it was surprisingly awkward. You had become frustrated far too quickly with the lack of understanding and let the language barrier get the best of your patience. But now as you sit side-by-side on his sofa, his shoulder bumping into yours every now and then, you already feel the change in atmosphere.
Taeyong is eager to sound words out for you, hearing you relay them back to him with small giggles that he can’t help but let out as your accent bleeds through. He finds it enthralling, exciting even - to hear you speak new words to him. To have the opportunity to have you speaking sentences he can grasp to him, he feels you’re doing him the favour.
After many pouts, you had grown used to watching him smile at your attempts, and the thought that your progress had the potential to have him breaking out in a bright smile, spurred you on.
“Are you ready?” Taeyong asks, wide eyes waiting for your next attempt at pronunciation. “Mhm,” you nod eagerly, “Go.”
“University,” he says, elongating each syllable. You nod, holding up your index finger as an indication for a needed repeat. The corner of his lip turns up at this, repeating the word until he sees you nod. “Uni..” You pause, unsure. He nods firmly, giving a hum in encouragement for you to continue. “University?” You finish, still unsure.
“Aha!” He claps his hands together in a cheer. “Perfect,” he praises you, angling his gaze as you let out a bright smile. “Good?” You ask in confirmation. “One more?” He asks, holding up his finger, tilting his line of hearing toward you, squinting his eyes to focus on your voice. “University,” you repeat proudly, watching him smile happily at your effort.
“You sound like a native,” he hums. “Perfect,” he comments with a breathless huff, smiling and watching the way you twirl the pen between your fingers. “Okay,” you chirp obliviously, “Next part.”
By the end of the working week, you had spent everyday with Taeyong.
Wednesday you had finished the third chunk of your speech, the part you had the most fun translating since it had the word you found most fun to say.
“Dummy,” you playfully repeated in a sing-song tone.
Taeyong huffed, “Good,” he nodded, holding back his amusement at how you kept repeating it over and over. “Hm, are you sure? Dummy,” you repeated playfully. He clicked his tongue, leaning over the table to jot down the next line. “Why do I still find you cute?” He muttered under his breath, breaking out into another smile at the way you whispered it into the air.
On Thursday he had surprised you with an array of allergy-safe treats from his bakery for breakfast. It seemed to be a way of communication for Taeyong, for him to be able to give you food he had made with his heart. It was as if you were understanding each other as you munched on the same chocolate cookie, broken in two halves.
Jade had wondered why you were leaving her place in a hurry, always seemingly busy when she asked you over. And as much as you loved her, Taeyong’s company was far too enticing for you to be able to stay away for copious amounts of time.
By Friday, Taeyong had noticed the stress you were feeling while trying to finish your speech off, and had suggested you meet him at the park beside his house instead, as a celebration for having finally finished the speech the day prior. A suggestion that come in a jumbled text you treasured all morning.
When you find him on a worn-out wooden bench beside his house, tossing sprinklings of sunflower seeds along the grass for the ducks with noises of encouragement, you almost hold your breath. Condensation billowing from your lips in a soft sigh when he stands to greet you with a warm smile and a gentle call of your name.
You spend the afternoon attempting to chat aimlessly about the ducks, asking him through text about the cans of tuna he always seems to leave out by his front door. Receiving a robotic explanation through your phone, the reason being his beloved stray cats. He’s not sure how many there are, but he knows of at least one regular visitor, who which he’s lovingly nicknamed. “Tomcat.”
As the sun begins to set, Taeyong invites you out to dinner, to the night market vendors a few streets away. You agree adamantly with excitement through your veins and a smile so big, you think the ducks could tell how happy you were.
Taeyong doesn’t drive. Instead he walks you over to the nearest bus stop and keeps you warm by offering you the scarf that was draped uselessly around his collar as comfort. He leads you onto the bus after handing over the coins that had been jingling around in his pocket to the driver, joining you beside the seat you had chosen toward the front of the bus.
You make the short journey a few blocks down, relishing in the heat that blasts from all around the near-empty vehicle. Taeyong points to certain things along the way from beside you, monuments and restaurants, festival lights and picturesque rivers. Leaning over quietly to explain things to you. When he finds you staring blankly back at him, but listening so intently, his heart freezes and melts simultaneously.
You step off the bus and back into the cold with a shiver, Taeyong notices your discomfort with a frown and first leads you toward a stall that serves hot beverages - by the looks of it. Bright lights and modern RnB tunes playing from an old radio behind the friendly vendor, he approaches with a shrug of his shoulders to keep himself warm as you trail beside him.
“Two cups of green tea please,” he orders holding up two fingers to which the barista nods at. He passes over a small note, turning to you and soaking in the subtle way your eyes twinkle under the fairy lights hung above the stall, your own gaze settled upon the mass of people scattered around the street. He turns with a friendly smile on his face when the young girl then hands him two steaming cups, thanking her before facing you. “For you,” he offers affectionately, extending the paper cup in his hand for you to take.
You smile, surprised. Gushing a thankyou as you take it from him, visibly shuddering from the warmth it radiates through the palms of your hands. You hold it up to your face and let the steam wash over your skin through the freezing bursts of wind that blow through the warmth. Only taking a small sip once you’re sure it’s no longer scolding hot.
“Good?” He asks, a hand deep in his pocket as he sips from the cup in his other hand. You nod, “Thankyou,” you hum in appreciation, watching him smile in return. “Hungry?” He asks, chuckling at the quick nod he receives. “Mm, you pick,” he suggests.
You swallow another mouthful and whine, “But I don’t know what’s good,” you complain, your green tea sloshing around in your cup as you shift your weight between your feet. “You’re the expert,” you retaliate. He clicks his tongue, taking in your tone of voice. “Me pick?” He confirms, you nod and he melts at your hopeful smile, “Okay, okay.”
Taeyong buys a bit of everything for you to try, spoilt for choice.
A small bowl of jjajangmyeon for you to share, offering the sleeve of his denim jacket for you to wipe your mouth on when you have bits of sauce on the corners of your lips. He avoids the spicy fish cakes with memories of your struggle with his homemade ramen and instead lets you choose out the safe option of rolls of kimbap, 6 for 5₩. Not before making sure there’s no traces of peanut oil when he communicates with the older man behind the counter.
There’s crispy vegetable dumplings that you both wait 10 minutes outside the stall for, huddled together and hissing as you both laugh and avoid burns when you finally get them into your mouths. Toothpicks stabbing at the soy-drizzled crescents in the small cardboard tray.
After a leisurely hour of tasting, you’re strolling through merchandise stalls with a brown sugar hotteok each for dessert. Munching it away as you admire the intricate details of hand-made crafts and arrays of unlicensed t-shirts. Taeyong laughs and comments on a few of them, on the over-pricing of clothes and how to bargain with the vendors. And while you can’t absorb the street-smarts, you’re thankful to hear his voice in tones you’ve never head before as he chats aimlessly, confidently.
You’re walking side-by-side past outdoor claw machines and arcade games when Taeyong pauses and falls slightly behind. You turn to find him staring intently at a row of capsule toys, seemingly entranced. “Taeyong,” you call softly to grab his attention, head tilted as you watch the way he seems to be fixated on a set of key rings. “Oh?” He looks up with rounded eyes, humming and coming over to where you’re stood before him, ready to continue walking.
You point behind him, “Do you want one?” You ask, he pauses and hesitantly nods, “It’s okay,” he waves off casually, trying to coax you into walking forward and forgetting about the toy. But you grin instead, turning to walk toward the toys. You dig out some coins from your shoulder bag, and when Taeyong comes over to you, you hold your palm full of coins out in question.
He pauses for a moment, then lets out a chuckle at the realisation that you had still yet to become familiar with the currency, fixated on the way you look to him expectantly. He picks out the coin from your palm with a jab from his index finger to the bronze metal. Watching you tuck the rest of the coins away as you crouch down to win a toy.
When you stuff the coin in the slot and crank the handle a few times, a round capsule falls and you lift the squeaky metal flap to grab at the plastic ball. You stand back up and hand it over to an eager Taeyong excitedly, bouncing slightly on your toes at the hope that you had won what he was after.
“Thankyou,” he chuckles breathlessly. He scratches at his nape and looks around briefly before popping the ball open, biting on his lip as he squints, gasping. “Look!” He cheers, “This,” he steps to your side, pulling out the keyring of a miniature tabby-cat in patchwork denim overalls. “Is going on my work keys,” he grins proudly, spinning it around his index finger triumphantly.
You let out a small giggle, “Is this a good one?” You ask, pointing to it curiously. He nods, “Good,” he confirms. “Very cute,” he emphasises passionately, causing another slew of giggles to spill from your lips as you playfully bump into his shoulder. “Come on,” he encourages with a click of his tongue, leading you toward the next round of stalls.
You follow Taeyong closely, not wanting to get lost among the sea of locals, but a stall offering brochures to a Meercat cafe catches your attention and before you know it, Taeyong has wondered off and is nowhere to be seen.
You curl up the troublemaking brochure in your grasp, jumping up to see past the sea of heads to no avail, panicking slightly as you move to grab your phone. As you hold the phone up to your ear, you miraculously spot Taeyong, making his way over to where you’re stood through the crowd of strangers. Still at the same stall where he had left you.
You whine and tuck your phone away, “Taeyong!” You curse, “I thought I was lost,” you huff, complaining. He just smiles obliviously, leaving you befuddled until he pulls something out of his pocket; A small bracelet with glass, rose quarts beads and Hangul letters between them. You tilt your head, looking between the bracelet held up between his fingers and the proud smile on his face. “Is that for me?” You ask quietly, swallowing thickly as you feel a heat rise up toward your face.
He nods happily, holding it out for you as you slip your hand through the dainty accessory. You roll your wrist around to get a look at the gold detail in the lettering and gush with a smile, looking to Taeyong with so much admiration blossoming in your chest you might have stopped breathing if it hadn’t’ve been for his following question.
“Do you like it?” He asks quietly, hopefully. You watch the way his dark eyes twinkle in the glow of the street-lamps and nod slowly, as in awe of the gorgeous bracelet as you are of him. “Thankyou so much,” you mutter softly, your lips bitten with the way you have to chew on them to hold back the ridiculous smile you threaten to wear. “You’re welcome,” he smiles sincerely.
“What does it say?” You ask as he begins to lead you back to the nearest bus-stop. He clears his throat and shrugs up his shoulders as he shoves his hands into his pockets, and you can’t tell if he’s understood you or not.
“It’s freezing. Let’s get you home, shall we?”
Spending Saturday morning alone in your hotel and without the promise of meeting with Taeyong, had not sat well with you. You craved more small interactions and accidental touches that brewed excitement in your belly, like that of a love potion. To be deprived of seeing the way his eyes crinkled up at the sides when he laughed, or when he chewed on the sides of his nails as he waited for your translations to be revealed to him. It felt melancholy, as though you wanted to spend as much time with him while you were still here and not leaving to go back home.
He was steadily finding his way into all of your dreams, all of your thoughts until you craved the warmth his presence offered and you were starved without it.
The beige carpet of your room is rough, scratchy under the soles of your feet when you finally get out of bed. It’s freezing cold again and the thin socks covering your feet no longer offer the warmth you need, slipping into a pair of flimsy hotel slippers that were sat beneath the foot of your bed. You wander over to your window with a yawn, the steady hum of the mini fridge beneath the entertainment unit, the only sound in the room. The brightness that greets your eyes makes you squint upon first glance, but as your vision adjusts, your gaze falls to the bakery across the small road beneath.
You smile at the familiarity you find in the shop front, the reminders of the previous week warming your chest until you can make out your own smile in the reflection of the window. Your smile falls and lips part when Taeyong comes into view, spraying the window with cleaner before wiping it clean, his lips pursed in concentration as you squint to make out the definition of his face.
You have to. You can’t fight it, the urge to run downstairs and spend the day pretending to be a customer to fellow patrons as you playfully chat to each other, was far too strong for you to fight against. But as you turn away from the bird’s eye view having made up your mind - your fingers tracing over the beads around your wrist - your phone chimes from your bedside table, the image of Jade’s scarlet hair and smiling face making its way onto your screen.
You sigh, going over to pick it up with a rasped greeting. “Good morning, maid-of-honour,” she scoffs, “I don’t know if I can even call you that anymore! Where have you been, I miss you,” she complains. You can’t help but chuckle at her needy tone, sighing as you walk over to the window once again. “I’ve been trying to keep it secret, but if I don’t give an explanation I’d look pretty bad, huh?” You chuckle. She hums, intrigued. “I can’t tell you though, but I’m planning something for the big day,” you inform her, eyes on the delivery mopeds that zoom through the little street below.
“Okay,” she huffs, “As long as you’re doing something useful with your time here. You have to get back to work soon,” she teases. A pang, deep in your heart reminding you of the bitter fact as she speaks. “Yeah yeah I know,” you shrug the comment off. “And you get to go on a dreamy holiday with your husband,” you drawl. She cheers at this, “Damn right I do!” She celebrates.
“You busy today?” She quirks, causing a sigh to fall from your lips as you reply. “I’m free,” you inform, eyes stuck to the empty glass doors of the bakery below, finally turning away as she cheers once again. “Let’s do something! That damned rehearsal is tomorrow, I wanna get my mind off everything, just for one day,” she pleads. You relent.
Jade takes you out for some good old-fashioned, retail therapy. Along the little streets that line your hotel, she informs you that you’re in the middle of the bargain zone. The small shops littering the neighbourhood being the type that offer maximum value for minimum price, your favourite type.
“Do you think that’s enough for today?” You ask amused, with a lethargic huff as you adjust the bags in your grasp. Jade hums, condensation billowing from her nostrils as she breathes. “I think we could take a break,” she agrees. “Tae’s bakery is up the road, we could go get something?” She offers, “I’ll pay.”
You visibly light up at the suggestion, your heartbeat changing its pattern at the mention. “That sounds.. Pretty good,” you comment casually as she begins to lead the way, boots shuffling along the side-walk.
Upon approaching the bakery, your stomach flips and you feel your cheeks heat up in anticipation. Gosh, it had been less than a day without seeing him and you were already craving the feeling of his presence. The comfort his warm voice provided, the way he watched you when you spoke to him.
Jade walks ahead of you as you enter, Taeyong peering up from behind the counter upon the sound of a customer entering. “Taeyong,” she greets enthusiastically, “Working hard I hope?” She jokes, setting some of her shopping bags down as you come over to where she’s stood at the counter.
He opens his mouth to speak, his bright grin faltering once his gaze lands on your figure. His smile doubles in size as you stare back at him, slow blinks as though you’re both in awe and Jade notices it. “Hi,” he beams, a small nod offered as a greeting as he leans his hip against the glossy counter. “Hi,” you wave back with a gloved hand, a breathless chuckle falling from your lips out of nervousness.
Jade watches the way your demeanour changes almost immediately, your voice coming out softer, hands folded in agitation and you tap the toe of your boot against the vinyl flooring in stuttered patterns. “Anything new for us to try?” Jade changes the topic, reminded of your initial reasoning for entering the premises in the first place.
Taeyong hums, but clicks his tongue. “Nothing new, I’ve been a bit busy.” He explains, gazing upon the way your eyes are locked with the chocolate-custard eclairs in the display case. “But the eclairs seem to be selling well today, would you like one?” He offers, Jade nods watching him slide open the small glass doors behind the case. “Yes please,” she agrees, wetting her lips.
You watch the way Taeyong’s slender hands appear in the case, reaching in and grabbing exactly what your heart was set upon, painting a smile on your face when you look up and catch his gaze. Carefully picking the eclairs up with silver tongs, he gently places the treats in two separate paper bags with the store logo on the front. He hands yours over first, soaking in the way your eyes light up and you thank him happily, almost immediately sinking your teeth into it as Jade collects her matching treat.
Taeyong tries to act subtle once he catches Jade’s watchful gaze, wiping a towel over the fingerprints he had left on the glass case. Peering up momentarily as you hum appreciatively. “It’s so good,” you gush, letting the cold custard coat your tongue in a delicious glaze.
Taeyong hides a smile and bites back any reply as Jade pays for the sweets, “Don’t forget about the rehearsal tomorrow,” Jade reminds him as he passes her change over. “Of course not,” he replies adamantly, “A night so important shouldn’t be forgotten.”
“Mm, tell that to Sicheng. He thought it was next weekend and planned a night out with Jungwoo,” Jade huffs from beside you, missing out on the way you discover a spot of chocolate on the side of your lips and try to thumb it off. “He didn’t,” Taeyong deadpans, Jade nods. “Yuta reminded him though, don’t worry,” she chuckles, placing her coins back into her purse. “Of course he did,” Taeyong clicks his tongue with an amused gaze.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Jade bids, zipping up her purse and picking up her bags. Causing you to do the same as you sense the conversation ending. “Of course,” he smiles warmly, giving a nod as if to say, ‘trust me.’
Jade makes her way first, signalling for you to follow as you trail behind, turning to give a final wave and flash a smile to Taeyong who had been waiting expectantly for another interaction with you.
As the door falls closed behind you, Jade remains quiet as you make your way up to your hotel to drop off your things. Only speaking to you once you’ve shrugged off your coat to check your messages, lounged upon your messy bed.
“So, you and Taeyong seem friendly,” she mentions, her tone holding something you can quite put your finger on. You hum, and glance up from your phone to acknowledge her statement. “We are,” you confirm, “He’s been helping me with something.” You chuckle, “Something secret,” you sing-song teasingly, placing your phone down as she sits beside you atop your lumpy duvet.
She sighs audibly, “That’s not what I meant,” she angles her gaze. “You’re all-” she pauses, waving her hand. “Bubbly around him, you’re so giddy and you look so happy, but you know,” she pauses again. You nod, “I know,” you reply. “I have to go back home. I know, Jade.” You assure her.
“So what are you getting yourself into?” She asks quietly, her tone warm and comforting as you wrap your head around her words. “I- I’m not getting into anything,” you defend. She sighs again, nodding as though she doesn’t accept the answer but agrees anyway. “I hope so, for your sake,” she speaks. “I don’t want to see you heartbroken.”
You nod, gaze fixed upon your phone, flashing a message that indicates your translating app has an update available. “And you won’t,” you reply adamantly, ignoring your phone and turning to her. “So, help me pick what to wear tomorrow night,” you beam, watching her slowly grin at the mention.
The following day passes so quickly, by the time you meet Jade at the wedding rehearsal, the sun has well and truly fallen asleep and the stars have come out to greet you as you arrive.
You and Jade had spent the previous evening picking out a suitable dress for the rehearsal, an azure coloured number that hugged your figure and still looked suitable under a thick coat. Paired with attractive heels comfortable enough to spend the night in.
Upon arrival, Jade informs you her and Yuta’s parents are seated at the end of the long rectangular table, the main setting for tonight’s event. A white linen tablecloth spread out with stray stems of Oriental Lilies down the centre, warm-white fairy lights are manipulated around lit tea-light candles to cast an effervescent glow upon the faces of attendees as they sit and converse with each other.
The scene was picturesque, alike the settings you see in interior decor magazines as you adsorb the view. Yuta is seated at the right-head of the table, Taeyong beside him with Johnny, Sicheng and Ten all lined up in that order. Their parents chat happily at the other end of the table as you stroll past them with a quick greeting to take your seat, aside Jade and opposite Taeyong, a mirrored beam taking over your face as you make eye contact.
“Hi,” you wave, a hot flush taking over your face and washing over your body as you take in his familiar visage. He gives a nod and a slow blink that entrances you, the aura around him glowing a shade brighter than the candles lining the middle of the table. “Hi,” he drawls, rasped and warm, as though the sparkling wine fizzing away in his glass had melted the honey off his vocals and left a sugary crust in its place.
You sink into your seat, hyper-aware of the fact that all interactions with Taeyong will be made in front of the watchful bride ahead of you two as you catch eyes again. You quietly admire the way his hair is neatly styled, a dark charcoal button down open around his neck where you admire his collarbones peeking through. His veins dance under the skin of his neck as he turns to face Yuta every now and then, pulling under the alabaster flesh as he laughs heartily throughout their conversations. There’s a glint in his eyes as he takes in your appearance, and you act as though you don’t feel his dark eyes trail along the blue fabric of your stunning dress when you stand and reach over to shake hands with the other groomsmen.
You’re mid-conversation with Jade, chatting leisurely about the confirmation of her transfer back home when you feel your phone vibrate from the tiny silver purse you had borrowed from her for the night. You continue to listen to her gush about how happy the news has made her, when you fish out your phone. A message from Taeyong displayed on your home screen.
You trail your gaze upwards subtly, watching the way he acts innocent. His eyes darting anywhere but yours as he clears his throat, fidgets with his cuff-links and sips from his champagne.
“Are you as bored as I am?”
You bite the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh, turning to Jade to ensure that yes, you were indeed still listening to her ramble as you tap out a reply.
아니 어떻게 알았지 How did you know?
You send it and place your phone back into your lap, tapping your fingernails along the glass as you await a response. It comes a few minutes later, Taeyong still not wanting to be obvious as to who he was texting from across the table. When you feel the mobile give a quick indicative buzz from your lap, your fingers twitch to grab it, but keep it in your grasp as you remind yourself about being subtle.
“So we’ve found an apartment in the heart of the city, Yuta thinks it’s too small but that’s just because our place now is double the size,” Jade rolls her eyes playfully. “He needs to get used to the property prices back home, hey?” She chuckles, pulling a quick amused huff from your lips in agreeance. “He has a shock coming to him,” you chuckle.
You watch her take her glass of white wine into her grasp, taking a deep gulp as you quickly peek at your phone. “Jade?” You quirk, eyes glancing to your translated messages.
“Would you like to take a walk?”
“Mm?” She hums, setting her glass down. “I think I’m gonna take a quick walk, just around the perimeter,” you mention, already pushing your seat out to stand. She nods, “Okay, are you feeling alright?” She asks curiously, you nod. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just want to get some air and I think I saw a pond outside,” you mention, pushing your chair in as you tap your fingers along the satin lining of the cover. “If I don’t come back, the Koi have eaten me,” you playfully reply, "Psh,” she chuckles, “Just be back in time for the speech rehearsals,” she points out as you turn away.
You take slow steps toward the exit of the hall, turning and casting your glance over the room, waiting for Taeyong to catch your eyes before you turn to leave the building.
You spend a few brief minutes walking in circles near the exit as you wait for him, the sound of your platform heels scratching against the bricks being the only distraction you have from the freezing chill that creeps up your skin.
You hear a quiet gasp from before you, pulling your gaze from your pretty heels to an even prettier Taeyong who closes the heavy glass door to the hall behind him with a thud. Rubbing his hands together in an effort to keep warm as he approaches you, the suit jacket he had draped around his chair - now draped over his forearm. He grins, condensation billowing from his nostrils as he comes over to your side, “Are you cold?” He pauses to ask, taking in the way you stiffly wring your hands together. You nod rapidly, “But I’m okay,” you answer sheepishly, lying.
He tuts, grasping the unused jacket and offering it to you. You shake your head no, refusing politely though all you want is to wrap yourself up in it and melt your freezing arms. He tuts once again, opening up the jacket for you to step into. He juts his head over and you sheepishly go over to it, sliding your arms along the silky lining until your drowning in his jacket, his scent all over you. He moves to the front of you and folds down the lapels, giving you a proud smile when you connect eyes and you visibly cling to the warmth the jacket provides.
“Thankyou,” you gush softly, feeling your shivering begin to subside. “Of course,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as though it was no big deal. It makes you laugh quietly, when he gets bursts of confidence in his English speaking and tries to ignore there’s a language barrier between the two of you. But as you walk along, draped in his jacket and the soft wafts of his warm scent that flood your senses, your elbows brushing together. You want nothing more than to chat about the situation, your inevitable return home and eventual separation from the boy who causes a million flowers to bloom in your chest when you think of him.
But, you must settle for minimal chatter, two one-sided conversations that flow into the air and fall to the floor without being understood.
You walk slowly in shuffled steps, eyes to the floor where the gold toes of his stylish leather shoes twinkle against the contrast of the dirty gravel beneath your feet. “I really don’t want this wedding to happen,” he begins quietly, causing your gaze to be pulled up to the side his face as he talks. “Once it’s over you have to go back home, right?” He questions, pausing before he nods. “You do,” he sighs.
“I like you,” he breathes softly, as though it hurts to say. “I like you,” he repeats above a whisper. “I don’t have the pleasure of being able to speak to you fluently, but maybe I could learn, you know?” He ponders to himself, his hands bunching up in his pockets as you begin to pass the pond you had mentioned to Jade. You turn to Taeyong, who has since stopped talking to watch the way your eyes light up, excitement bubbling up your throat.
“Can we go see the fish?” You ask quietly, with a bright, effervescent smile on your face that softens the hard wall he’s been trying to build up when it comes to his feelings for you. He huffs a little as he smiles, nodding and letting you lead the way up to the small perimeter of grass that lines the edge of the circular pond. You crouch down, turning to Taeyong who mirrors your position, you laugh quietly as the large koi poke their mouths out to greet the strangers who have approached their home.
“I wish I could pet them,” you mutter, “Is that crazy?” you chuckle, turning to Taeyong who has his chin rested on his arms atop his knees. He looks to you out of the corner of his eye, your beautiful obliviousness that breaks his heart. He feels a wave of emotions roll through his chest at the feeling of loneliness that burns within his chest, until he feels tears pricking at his eyes and he sniffles quietly.
You turn to him, intrigued by the sound and furrow your brows at the sight of his eyes glassy, watching quietly as he moves to stand. You worriedly follow him to where he wanders a few steps from the pond, moving to place a warm hand on his shoulder, you pause. “Taeyong, are you okay?” You enquire softly, “Are you okay?”
He sniffles once again and turns to you, pausing before softly pulling you in for a hug which catches you off guard. But you’re quick to reciprocate, your fingers expanding over the warm skin beneath his thin shirt as he rests his face against the warmth of his own jacket. “I’m okay,” he whispers quietly, swallowing down the lump in his throat at the comfort you provide him. He softly nuzzles his nose into the material, the soft scent of your hair already lingering on the fabric as he warms his cold cheeks against your shoulder.
After a moment he lifts his head with a small chuckle, embarrassed as he pulls back to stand on his own again. He frowns when he notices the glistening trail a stray tear had left on your cheek as it falls over the arch of your cheekbone. He lifts his hand, slowly grazing his thumb over your cold skin to collect the wetness, sighing as you lean into his touch.
His lips part when you connect eyes again, his blinks slowing as he inches hesitantly, slowly toward you. An almost silent gasp leaves your lips as you move in to meet his kiss, your heart almost halting its beats in anticipation when you feel his warm breath on your chilled skin. You feel the soft brush of his lips against yours when you’re interrupted.
“Yong! Is that you? We’re doing speeches, hurry back in! It’s freezing out here,” Yuta’s voice quickly tears you two apart. Your legs shaking with the terrifying thought of having been caught as the cold suddenly sinks into your bones and you decide you’ve never been more freezing in your whole life.
Taeyong audibly sighs, sniffling curtly before nodding solemnly. “Be right there!” He musters half-heartedly, catching a glimpse of your frown before he wordlessly leads you back into the hall.
Defeated and practically glacial.
Waking up to a filthy pillow covered in smudged makeup was how you begun your last week in Korea.
After the rehearsal dinner was over, you had gone back to your hotel, crawled into your bed and cried yourself to sleep. Thoughts of not being able to communicate with a boy you had growing feelings for was tough, but knowing you were destined to leave him and his country altogether, was even tougher.
A pathetic nights sleep, a hot shower and a few more tears later, you were at Jade’s door. Handing over the reigns.
Monday it was a spa day, filled with exfoliants, deep tissue massages and tingly facials. A failed effort to bring you back down to earth, your mind up in the clouds with the soft baker who had refused to leave your thoughts.
Tuesday it was matching manicures and pedicures, more dreamy thoughts and casual conversations interrupted by a rude woman with a hatred toward your cuticles - so Jade had amusedly informed you.
Jade had wanted to make the week special, knowing it’d be the last full week you’d spend together for goodness knows how long.
On Wednesday she had sent Yuta off to sleep over at one of his friend’s house to spend the night catching up with you. She had thrown on one of your old favourites, letting the movie play in the background as you giggled over memories from university.
Concoctions of sweets and chocolate are still fresh in your belly when you wake up on the living room floor in an attempted fort made of blankets. Jade’s scarlet hair greeting you when you turn over, waking her with a pillow to the face which she reciprocates groggily until you’re both up, hair messed and stomachs growling.
“Should we make breakfast?” You ask, snuggling into one of the comforters and sniffling, the top of your nose chilled as you rub at your eyes. “Mm,” she ponders for a moment, “Or we could just go down to the bakery, it isn’t far,” she mentions.
“No,” you cut her off quickly, “I’ll make something,” you suggest. She looks taken aback, furrowing her brows. “You don’t want something from there? Taeyong makes-”
“No,” you repeat, “It’s fine,” you shrug. “Pancakes okay?”
On Friday Jade has a make-up trial, one you go along with for fun. The absence of other bridesmaids had its benefits, Jade turned to you for everything and you never felt left out. Perfectly included in all her decisions, feeling a little happier at the sight of her hair crimped against her request.
You let out a quiet laugh that catches her gaze as the stylist rinses her hair. “You’re smiling,” she notes. You pause, frowning confused, “Hm?”
“You’ve been upset all week, I could feel it,” she mentions, away from the stylist as her wet hair now drips onto the dark towel around her neck. “What’s upsetting you?” She enquires. You sigh, “I’m not upset,” you muster a feigned smile, “I’m just not coping with the weather all too well,” you lie.
She takes a seat beside you, in a vacant clients chair as she leans forward to pat the top of your knee. “It’s Taeyong isn’t it?” She states rather than asks. Your lips part, slightly breathless at the accusation as you fail to reply quick enough for you to defend the claim. When you keep quiet she nods, sits back in her chair as brushes her scarlet locks behind her ear. “It’s Taeyong,” she confirms with another nod and a sigh. “Am I that obvious?” You ask quietly, your heart beating in your throat over the discussion of the topic. She chuckles lightly, “Just a bit.”
The hairdresser comes back over with a blow-dryer, keeping you quiet for the next few minutes as the loud noise prevents you from speaking amongst yourselves. You watch as the older woman satisfyingly styles her hair with a round brush, silky strands blending together perfectly, in a way that paints a happy smile on Jade’s face.
After having decided on the perfect look for Saturday, Jade offers to take you back to her place to cook up something special. One of the only dishes she’s completely confident in making; macaroni and cheese. Which since you’ve met her, has developed from instant powders and microwaves to breadcrumbs and ovens.
You’re sat on her couch with a steaming bowl full of the pasta, blowing on spoonfuls before you eat them with quiet hisses. “Good?” She enquires, her own face scrunched up as she flinches from the scolding heat. You chuckle, nodding, “You’ve outdone yourself miss,” you confirm with a satisfied hum. “Thankyou,” she smiles proudly, a bubbly giggle falling from her lips.
The sounds of spoons clinking against the porcelain of her deep bowls is all that’s heard as you continue eating, the evening news on the television before you, drowning out the silence of the room. You’re scraping through the hardened cheese clinging to the sides of the bowl with your spoon when Jade snatches your bowl and places it on the coffee table your feet are resting upon.
“So,” she starts, startling you slightly in your relaxed state. “Do you like it here?” She asks out of nowhere, you furrow your brows inquisitively. “Your apartment?” You ask, puzzled. She huffs, “Yes, my apartment. But more importantly, Korea,” she clarifies.
You nod immediately, “Oh of course, I love it here. I’d probably love it even more if it were Summer,” you joke with a slap to the couch cushion. She hums, “Because,” she starts. “Yuta and I need someone to look after the place for the month of our honeymoon,” she mentions. “Would you be able to stay for another month?” She asks hopefully.
A small gasp leaves your lips at the proposition, “Another month?” You ponder the thought. You’d have to ask you manager, and the fuss it would cause already makes you feel nervous, but Jade chuckles as if you’ve already agreed. “So that’s a yes?” She assumes, causing you to shrug. “I’ll see,” You sigh, “I have to ask my manager.”
She rolls her eyes, “You’d get to spend more time with-”
“Shush!” You dramatically quiet her, “Enough with that,” you quip. She pats the top of your knee affectionately, as if trying to entice you. “Make it last while you can,” she says with a small smile. “Have some fun before you have to leave, sweet,” she encourages you. You nod solemnly, not wanting to feed that ache, deep in your heart. Besides, you had spent the whole week coming to terms with having to leave Korea.
So why diminish all that progress?
It’s freezing Saturday morning when Jade wakes you with a squeal, causing you to curl up and shield your ears in defence from the shrill sound. “I’m getting married tomorrow!” She cheers, making you wonder how long she had been awake to be so full of energy. You on the other hand, snuggle further into your comforter and away from the cold of the early morning as you stuff one of her fluffy pillows over your head.
“Babe!” She whines, “Get up so we can go check out the venue! Yuta’s probably waiting there already,” she mentions, jumping up on the bed beside you. You whine, your eyes burning from the cold as you scan the room. She had already picked out an outfit and hung it up on coat hangers on her closet handles, a peach scented candle lit on her vanity beside a scattering of make-up brushes. She peels back the blanket and pulls you upright by your hands, laughing when you flop back over with a groan.
“I’ll run a hot shower for you, Taeyong’s bringing some pastries for breakfast,” she mentions nonchalantly. “It’s almost 8am! Hurry!” She whines.
You curse under your breath and get yourself up and ready, hiding your tired eyes behind a pair of sunglasses you find in Jade’s glove-box as she drives you two over to the venue, a half hour away. When you arrive, parked beside Yuta’s car, you feel an influx of excitement wash over you when you see dozens of florists delivering her beloved tulips in open, rectangular boxes. Stuffing the sunglasses away once they’ve served their purpose.
“It’s really happening,” you comment under your breath, turning to Jade with a bright smile once you exit her car. She chuckles, “It is,” she breathes in awe. “Can you believe it’s finally here?” She questions rhetorically, slowly making her way into the hall as she admires the venue.
You pause to soak in the architecture of the dated building, tall and intricately detailed. A shiny bronze plaque in letters you long to understand, a small inscription detailing the history of the hall that you pass upon entry.
The scent that hits you reminds you of aged books in a dusty library, the floral scent of the tulips drowning it out as you pass through the doorway. The clicks of your light footsteps are muted by a long red carpet rolled out through the middle of the aisle, separating the brides side from the grooms. The florists are already bunching up the tulips in glass vases at the end of each row of seats, vases that glitter like crystals in the small burst of sunlight that shines in from behind you.
The sweet scent of the tulips grows stronger with each slow step you take down the aisle, with pauses to reflect on the perfect decor Jade had carefully picked out. You’re in awe. Twirling in dreamy circles that almost make you dizzy; the grand chandelier above the source of your attention as you move around to catch the different ways it glitters in the glow of the hall lights.
Amidst the morning-fog that hazes your brain and has you spinning like a little girl, your feet have brought you closer to the altar. Where Jade is stood, speaking visibly happily to a clingy Yuta and a lethargic-looking Taeyong.
You think it’s the effect of the spins that has you dizzy and almost breathless, but you know the true cause is the baker who stands looking sullen - but still effortlessly handsome.
You swallow thickly and feel a wave of nerves, and confusion washing over you. You want to let the dozens of butterflies in your belly free to flit, but the nasty swirl of reality holds them down and contains them in a cruel cage.
Images of your night spent wandering the street markets suddenly litter your mind; Taeyong’s warmth, his generosity and the meaningful bracelet that now feels cold around your wrist. You struggle to approach where Jade stands when she waves you over and you feel his gaze watching you move. A heat rushing to your face so quickly you feel your eyes fill with unshed tears until you’re turning, spitting out a robotic excuse and walking so quickly down the aisle, your scarf blows backward with the force.
Your breath leaves you almost as soon as you exit, a sob carrying the weight of a tonne of bricks hitting you when you step outside. The bitter cold of the early morning bites at your cheeks as soon as you allow your tears to spill down. You clap your hand over your mouth, sinking down the side of the concrete walls until you’re crouched against it, shielding your face from the line of traffic in front of the building.
You let yourself feel as pathetic as you look. Crying freely into your hand as you dwell on the thought of your predicament; If you stayed a month longer, the blossoming feelings in your heart would only bloom further and you’d be left twice as heartbroken. You didn’t want neither you, nor Taeyong to grasp onto the false hope that a little more time would change anything, and you decide it’s best that you rip the band-aid off as soon as possible, and focus on your career that you had worked so hard for.
When you hear footsteps shuffling toward the exit of the hall, you’re quick to wipe away all traces of unhappiness with a rough rake of your woollen gloves over your face. Sniffling and thumbing at the sides of your lips; you clean yourself up and play the part of happy maid of honour so well, it almost frightens you.
The footsteps that had startled you, finally greet you; Jade’s heels now in front of your line of vision against the bricks on the pavement. You slowly look up to find her worried gaze, smiling falsely and standing back up to her level. “All good?” You ask, your voice hoarse and nasal as you move to push past her.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” She asks, gently. Her worried tone of voice fills your eyes with more tears, causing you to turn away as you struggle to keep them at bay. “Nothing’s wrong,” you clear your throat, “What else needs to be done?”
“Enough,” she sighs. “You don’t need to put on an act for me, just tell me,” she encourages, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Jade,” you struggle with a strained voice, “He looks so-” You whimper, feeling a fresh trail of another hot tear searing down your skin. “I know,” she sighs, agreeing. “He looks about as terrible as you do,” she adds.
You’d be offended if you didn’t already know the same truth. You turn to her as she welcomes you in a hug, “I’m so sorry,” you sniffle against her shoulder. “I’m ruining everything,” you apologise, muffled. She rolls her eyes and pets her hand over your hair, sighing. “Don’t be sorry for being heartbroken,” she mutters. You then let out another broken sob, pulling back to wipe at your tears as you hiccup, she tuts and softly shakes her head. “What are we going to do with you, hm?” She hums, taking in your dishevelled appearance.
Jade pauses when you lift your hand to wipe at more tears, reaching for your wrist with a gentle grip. “Where did you get this?” She asks, rolling your wrist around to read at the lettering on the beads. She looks up to find your glassy eyes, staring back at her confusedly. “T-Taeyong gave it to me,” you whimper through another hiccup. She gives a slow blink and sighs, letting your hand fall back to your side, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
You sniffle, “What? But you have important things to do, don’t let me ruin it.” You protest weakly, she shakes her head, adamantly. “Everything is under control, besides,” she juts her head toward the interior. “Yuta’s here.”
“Let’s go,” she encourages once again, shooing you to get situated in her car while she informs Yuta of her departure. Only when she appears in your view again, the boys are trailing behind her to walk her out as she returns to the car. You gasp, panicking to cover your tear-stained face as you make out Taeyong’s figure from the corner of your peripheries - your ducts burning with the want to spill more salty tears.
As Jade takes off to head back to her apartment, she turns up the morning news on the radio to cover up the sounds of your whimpers as you cry quietly. And you sadly take notice of the fact that you had never gotten any pastries for breakfast after all.
Once you’re back in familiar surroundings, you excuse yourself and push past Jade to scamper to her bedroom. Falling asleep almost as soon as you bury yourself under the covers, exhausted with the happenings of the morning
You wake to Jade softly calling your name, your eyes burn and your mouth feels sticky and you almost can’t lift yourself to sit up with the heaviness you feel in your chest. “Are you hungry?” She asks, and it’s then that you notice the world has fallen dark behind her, the drapes pulled open with the glow of the street lamps outside casting downwards across the floor.
You sigh and hold your face in your hands, your fingertips pressing into your eyelids softly as you take notice of how swollen they feel. “No,” you rasp, “I don’t want anything.” She sighs and sits up onto the bed with you, leaning over briefly to switch on her bedside lamp, a yellow glow illuminating the room.
“I don’t know any other way to say this, I’m not so good with words,” she starts, pausing before taking a deep breath. “When I asked to transfer back home, I was only accepted because there was an open position available,” she continues. “When I filled that void, I left another void,” she speaks, angling her gaze as you yawn through her explanation.
“So,” she starts, “There’s a position in the firm over here available,” she informs you. “There’s a spot open, waiting to be filled.”
You feel your body go numb at her information, and almost instantly you feel your tired eyes fill with tears again. “What?” You ask quietly, your voice shaking. She nods, “If you want to stay, if you don’t want to leave this badly - you don’t have to.”
You cover your mouth as you free the flood of tears, reaching forward to pull Jade into a tight squeeze, hugging her as you cry. “Is this real?” You ask, “Would they accept me?” You enquire, pulling back to trail your gaze over her features. She nods, “It’s real, and I don’t see why not. It’s a lot easier if they do an exchange, my boss is still upset I’m leaving in the first place, I bet this would cheer him right up,” she laughs. “I’ve told everyone there about you anyway, my colleagues practically know you already.”
You let out a weak huff, a small smile tugging at your lips at the thought until you’re burying yourself face-first into her bedding with an excited giggle. “Is this real?!” You yell out, muffled by the duvet. She chuckles and comes over to you, patting you on the back as you turn your head to breathe, “Now, will I get to see you smiling at my wedding?” She quizzes, playfully.
A lot can change in the span of a single day. It can both rain and shine, it could begin perfectly and end in disaster.
But today? Today was absolutely flawless.
It begun with hair and makeup in Jade’s crowded living room. Family and make-up artists, hairdressers, forgotten cups of tea and the soft soulful vocals of Joni Mitchell. You in your peach princess gown and Jade spilled over in ivory lace and satin, looking like a marshmallow in a frothy cup of milk - or so her Aunt had playfully remarked.
It was then easy-going as you piled into the back of a vintage Rolls Royce with the rest of her family, enjoying a chatter with her mother and calming the sobs that racked through her mature frame.
You walked slowly down the aisle with your bouquet in hand, trailed a few steps behind three of Jade’s cousins; matching little girls dressed in the same soft peach and spilling colourful rose petals onto the scarlet carpet below. Your cheeks burnt hot regardless of the chill throughout the hall, with dozens of eyes on you it was overwhelming. But this time when you caught Taeyong’s stoic gaze as you neared the altar you smiled, you grinned so big you almost started giggling loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. But what made your heart that much fuller; was that he was smiling back.
You shed a few tears as Yuta and Jade read their vows in the quiet of the early afternoon, proclaiming their undying love for each other, two times over for the whole of the audience to grasp. And when you felt a tap on your shoulder, you turned to accept the tissues Taeyong had offered you, warm from his pocket.
You signed their marriage certificate as a witness, right beside Taeyong’s insignia in an enchanting scribble of his name. You sat beside Jade per her request as you rode to the reception with her and Yuta, a short drive to the same hall of the wedding rehearsal. She giggled and sighed and giggled some more as she gushed over the reality of the gold wedding band around her finger, resting her head on your shoulder as the news on the radio informed you of the surprise sunny weather that was cast for the next day. The scent of her bouquet permeating throughout the vintage car.
It was a rather lengthy evening. Two hours has passed before all the guests had shown up in order for chefs to start preparing food, and during the time you had met almost everyone in attendance.
There was Yuta’s friend in the form of tall, dark and handsome co-worker, Doyoung; who had brought along his wife and two children. The two with matching smiles who spilled little giggles when Uncle Johnny picked them up and spun them around like some sort of handsome carnival ride.
There was Ten’s bubbly partner whom he had met through his photography studio, both sat going over the shots he had taken over the events of the day. Sicheng and his adorable younger sister and Taeil, Yuta’s boss. Whom had spent most of the night coming up to the bridal table to ask when the music would switch from love songs to party tunes so he could de-stress through the art of dance.
Dinner was delectable; a fusion of Japanese and Korean cuisine, and a good old-fashioned ice-cream sundae that had Jade’s doing written all over it. Peanut free of course.
You gave your speech, this time in both languages - with Taeyong’s watchful, proud, gaze on you as you stuttered a few times throughout. But with Jade’s grip, squeezing your hand with tears in her eyes, you were confident enough to get through the mass text. Revelling in the applause from all the guests - the most important one himself, included.
It was once a majority of the guests were on the dancefloor - including Taeil, who had given up and was now dancing to Michael Bolton - that you were occupied with your phone. Bored with pushing around leftover icing over your fine-china, remnants of the beautiful cake Taeyong had lovingly created for the couple, you had opted for the company of your smart phone for a brief moment.
It’s only when you’re about to exit off the dozens of comments Jade and yourself had received on your latest social update to friends, that a small notification bar at the top of your screen informs you of a new message
From ; Taeyong
Would you like to dance with me?
You think your ears have tuned out the sound of yet another ballad, because all you can hear is the quick thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears when you look over the two empty seats beside you to find Taeyong staring at you expectantly. Watching for you reaction.
You place your phone down and then slowly, he’s making his way over to you. You begin to feel bad for a brief moment because this is the happiest you’ve felt all day, but the brief feeling slips away as quickly as it come when he offers his hand, palm up - for you to take.
He leads you away from the abandoned table and over to the dance floor, his grasp on your hand so gentle, it takes a small squeeze to remind you it’s there.
As if sensing your nervousness, he offers you a warm smile when he moves in front of you, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to make you comfortable. He hovers his own hands over your hips, sending you a look as he asks, “Okay?” To which you agree to, with a small smile. You melt at the feeling of his hands resting on your hips through the soft wisps of the peach fabric of your dress, leisurely following his movements in a lazy two-step dance to the ballad over the sound system.
You don’t know where to look.
His eyes are glittering, dark and round, innocent yet wise and all-knowing. He’s staring back at you, watching you so carefully that you feel breathless, and distract yourself with tracing your gaze over the thick lashes that rim his eyes and seem to sweep stardust over his cheeks each time he blinks. Cheeks that are slightly flushed, a deep scar beside his right eye, and lips, blushing pink and ample; you have to look down to where your hands are rested to keep sane.
You look more lively to him today, much more than you did yesterday. You’re lively in spirit, you look well-rested and your eyes aren’t dull or tired. Instead you’re smiling, effervescent and bubbly toward guests, and though he can’t share the joy you seem to feel, he’s content with the way you’re sighing happily in his grasp and stepping closer to rest your head on his shoulder. It startles him for a moment before he reciprocates the contact, wrapping his arms around you, pressed up close and gentle as you continue to slow dance.
His warm scent drenches into your skin from the close proximity. His soft white dress shirt and ebony suit jacket framed around his neck in a way that showcases the tops of his collarbones and the gorgeous colour of his skin. Though from where your head is laid, all you can see is the dark hair trailed along his nape and a dainty gold-hoop threaded through his earlobe.
You slowly part ways when the song comes to an end, and Taeyong catches your wrist before you turn to make your way back to your seat. He trails his thumb along the beads of your bracelet, the one that compliments the colour of your dress so well you couldn’t find a reason to forego it. Taeyong smiles softly, almost proudly at the sight, watching you wriggle out of his grasp to gently grab his hand, his lips parting at the contact as you intertwine your fingers and walk back to your seats.
The night ends like that.
Back in your cosy hotel room with Taeyong’s scent along the fabric of your dress and his thumbprint in the glass beads of your bracelet. The blooming in your chest advancing so rapidly, the flowers burst out of your chest in the form of a smile that stays on your lips throughout your slumber.
Waking alone was peaceful. The room was placid and Gyeonggi was still drowsy with sleep, the thick lull of a warm bed - much too tempting to the outside world, judging by the lack of traffic sounds. The promised sunshine is here too, streaming through in beams across the beige carpet from the windows adjacent your bed.
Jade calls you over just after you finish a lengthy shower, a cup of hot tea in your belly and some of Taeyong’s shortbread biscuits, which were included as last night’s parting gift.
“Yuta had some last minute things to figure out at work, his replacement for the next month arrived and he had to give her the explanation of rules himself - of course,” she chuckles. “Are you hungry?” She quirks, piling up a bunch of lotion bottles against her chest before dropping them down onto the cover of her bed. “No,” you huff, “All we seem to do when we’re together is eat, anyway,” you note.
She hums in acknowledgement, “Too accurate.” You watch as she struggles to fit all her toiletries in a mesh travel bag, grunting as she overexerts the zip. “I can’t believe you didn’t pack,” you mention with a shake of your head, “Sorry we can’t all be as organised as you, princess,” she sasses. You snort, “Have you packed Yuta’s things?” You ask, folding up her summer dresses into the smallest possible squares. She hums, “We ran around doing his this morning, but he isn’t bringing much anyway. He wants to show off his ‘Summer body’,” she rolls her eyes.
You laugh loudly at the comment, and she watches you open your mouth to speak before you snap it close. “What?” She quirks, holding a perfume atomiser in her grasp. “I was going to ask how your night went, but suddenly I don’t want to know,” you shake your head to rid of the thought. She wheezes through a tumble of laughter before turning to you again, “Oh, please,” she emphasises, “Keep it PG.”
You’re halfway through her suitcase when the buzzing of one of your phones interrupts your folding of her stringy bikinis. “Was that your phone or mine?” You ask her, watching as she walks over to check. “Mine,” she hums, checking the message.
“Sweet, I’m gonna shoot off to the shops for some last-minute things,” she informs you, a smile growing on her face that causes a small suspicion in the back of your mind. “What for?” You quiz with an arched brow. “Oh,” she pauses, “Yuta.” She nods, “He forgot to buy sunscreen,” she chuckles lightly with a wave of her hand, “I’ll be back soon,” she calls, the jingle of her keys being the last thing you hear before she exits.
There’s a few minutes of silence that you revel in, the flickering of an orange candle lit on her vanity, one of Jade’s favourite scents; cinnamon and apple, wafting softly throughout the expanse of her shared bedroom. Then it’s a quick round of knockings on the apartment door that snap you out of the serenity, and you’re placing down her beige sandal collection to answer it.
Your lips part at the sight before you, a teary-eyed, frantic looking baker. You gasp quietly, taking in his dishevelled hair and puffy eyes. “Taeyong,” you breathe in question.
Before you can ask about his appearance he’s moving forward and pressing his lips to yours, his hands framing your face as yours bunch up the front of his shirt in your fists. The tears across his cheeks wet your skin and just as you sigh into the kiss, he pulls back, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands. “Don’t go,” he begs, strained and broken-sounding, “Please,” he sniffles, “Don’t go.”
You feel your eyes burn at his words, at the way he sounds in pain when he pronounces them. You shake your head softly, stepping forward to thumb at the tears that he’s built up and spilled over while you speak. “Taeyong,” you breathe softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”
He grips at your hand with both of his, a tight squeeze that reminds you of how much he cares for you. “Not going?” He quirks, his breath high as if he’s asking in hopefulness. You nod, watching his eyes search yours for any trace of untruthfulness of false hope, and when he finds none, he’s kissing you again.
Soft, so soft and gentle and you relish in the way his thumbs stroke at the skin of your jaw as his hands frame your face once again. His lips are plush, pillow-like dreams and when he pulls back slightly, he brushes them over yours, back and forth a few times until he has you chasing his lips for another delicious kiss.
His breath is warm against the expanse of your cheeks, and when he tilts his head, you have to hold back a soft moan when you feel the tip of his tongue dip in to trace yours. He pulls back when he feels your breathing pick up in pace, resting his nose at the skin of your cheek, managing a quick peck to your lips before he pulls back completely.
He stands there, with your hand in both of his, his thumb running over your knuckles as you catch your breath quietly, licking your lips with the subtle taste of his lipbalm on your tongue. He then turns your hand, palm up to face him as he pulls back the sleeve of your sweater a little up past your wrist. He gives a shy chuckle when he finds your bracelet still there, refusing to ever leave since he had put it on you that cold night so long ago.
The delicate tip of his index finger traces over the beads, and from where his head is hung, staring down at the jewellery, he flickers his gaze up to you. Your breath fleeting with the look in his eyes.
“Do you know?” He asks slowly, nodding toward the bracelet in his hand. Your gaze leaves his with great reluctance, to gaze at the lettering on the rose-quarts beads. You shake your head no, he sniffles, his fingers sliding down until you’re hand is interlaced and with a small squeeze he breathes; “It says I love you,” he informs you.
Your lips part in a soft gasp, the breath you inhale burning your lungs at the realisation and you find yourself stepping forward to pull him in for another kiss. But this is rushed, sloppy pecks that leave wet marks along the outer corners of his lips until he’s smiling and holding your head in place to calm you as you let your own tears fall. “I love you too,” you gush. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you confess, wrapping your arms around his middle as you press your cheek into the soft fabric of his hounds tooth coat.
He lets out a breathless huff, breathing your soft scent in with a deep breath, a content sigh as he wraps his arms around you. Smiling happily when he feels you press a kiss in to the warm skin of his neck from where your head is laid, and he decides he’s never been more in love with you.
Yuta and Jade had been off to Santorini for the past week, and you had been house-sitting while you look for your own place. You farewelled your humble hotel room in favour of the apartment with Jade’s wishes, when she mentioned once again that it would be vacant.
You had arranged for your transfer, and were accepted upon Jade’s mention that you were the co-worker she had mentioned so many times before. But while you waited for your family to send over your belongings, you familiarised yourself with your surroundings.
Taeyong accompanied you, as-per your request - on your first trip to the local grocery store. Helping you decipher the difference between the quality of certain brands, and the way the self-serve check-out system worked. Warning you strongly against buying the boxed cakes, with an insisting indication that he would make you some himself - or so you think by the way he gestured to himself with a few self-assured nods. He walked you home, kissed you on the lips and made you dinner before leaving to return home, with another series of delicious goodnight kisses.
As Winter approached, you slowly become immersed in the differences of the weather patterns. Some days were placid, the sun almost feeling tepid through your thick coats during morning walks around the neighbourhood. But the days with hurricane-heavy winds and flood-inducing levels of rain were becoming more frequent.
You were huddled on the plush sofa with a hot cup of tea and a thick blanket when the subtitles below the pretty weather girl informed you of an impending typhoon - expected to hit over the weekend. You panicked and called Jade, informing her of the news and asking if there was there was anything you needed to do in preparation. And once she calmed you down, and explained that they were perfectly normal, your routine was back to normal. Still freezing cold, but stress-free.
Over the weekend you had barely slept. The typhoon seemed to flare during the night, and at one point you had thought the windows of Jade’s bedroom were going to give way and you’d be sucked out of the building. A pillow over the head didn’t help, and the restlessness that served you as the torrential rain hit the building in loud rounds, had left you sleep deprived and a little unwell.
Taeyong had invited you over come Monday morning, welcoming you with a warm hug and a round of soft kisses to your lips as you whine about your headache on deaf ears. Enjoying the way his hands gently pet your messed hair away from your face as you sniffle against his warm, navy sweater.
With you refusing to let go of him, he walks you over to his sofa with you still wrapped around his middle. Seating you down and covering you in a thick blanket, tucking you in and pressing a kiss to your burning forehead. He hisses at the contact, pressing his palm-flat to your skin with a tut. Then, as you rest on his sofa with tired eyes, you drift in and out of consciousness for a while. The muted sounds of Taeyong in the kitchen paired with more pitter-patters of light morning drizzle.
You wake fully, eventually, to the rich smell of something hearty. Your bleary eyes focusing on Taeyong’s figure at the stove, stirring slowly through a deep pot. He turns when he hears you coming, rumble-y whines and socky feet shuffling toward him. He welcomes your warmth as you wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head against his shoulder as you inhale the scent of his cooking.
“Mm,” you hum with a small smile, “Smells nice.” He turns and grabs one of your hands, gently manoeuvring around so you’re in front of him, his arms around your waist and his head on your shoulder. You let out a raspy chuckle, leaning back into his figure as he hums, quietly. “Soup,” he informs you. You nod happily, “I can see that,” you reply. “I bet it’s really yummy,” you compliment, turning to gaze across his face as he stares back at you. You frown at the failed receiving of your comment, leaning up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw instead. Leaving a soft rose on the apples of his cheeks in response.
You eat, cosy and huddled up, your legs intertwined under the thick blanket on his comfy couch. Soft sounds of content, hissing sounds and hums all the while. You sleep again after eating, bowls piled up on the coffee table in front of you. Your belly warm and full and Taeyong’s chest serving as the comfiest pillow in the world as you catch up on more much-needed rest.
When you wake it’s late-afternoon, you’re feeling better and well-rested and Taeyong is still snoring velvety-soft sighs from above you. It doesn’t take much to wake him, you learn - when you wriggle out of his grasp to use the restroom. Only when you shuffle down the hall and move to switch on the light, it doesn’t turn on and you frown in confusion.
Afterwards, you find Taeyong still lazing on the couch in the haze of his nap and bring out your phone. Loading up the beloved translation app you had come to adore, turning it to him as he sits up to read it.
The lights aren’t turning on
He nods, humming in acknowledgement, “I know.” You frown, “Did you already know?” You quiz, he nods again after taking in your tone of voice. “Ah,” he pauses, thinking. “Rain,” he points toward the roof with this index finger. You frown, your brows pinched together in an effort to understand. “You don’t have electricity?” You ask, he just stares back you for a moment, shrugging in a lack of understanding.
You move to grab the television remote off the coffee table, Taeyong’s curious eyes following you as you sigh in confirmation once it remains dormant. “You have no electricity,” you repeat affirmatively. “It’s going to be freezing tonight,” you mention, turning to him and settling back into the warmth of the couch. Welcoming his touch as he secures his arms around you to pull you into a warm snuggle. “You should stay with me tonight,” you breathe softly, melting at the way he brushes his lips lovingly across the skin of your temple.
Taeyong had contacted a handyman friend of his to assess the damage to his house; Sicheng’s workmate - young Jungwoo, who had told him it would be a while before the electricity would be able to connected to the main switch again. Having to wait until the storm was over to begin working on it.
You had helped him pack enough necessities for a few days in some sort of romantic deja-vu - and caught the bus together over to Jade’s apartment before the storm really began to hit. Just in time for the evening.
It was a slow night. Huddled together in front of the news coverage of the storm, legs outstretched over the sofa with Taeyong’s soft touches trailing along your back and over your arms. Your head against his chest, absorbing the rhythmic thrumming of his heartbeat beneath his soft cardigan. “Taeyong,” you mutter softly, muffled by the soft wool beneath your your cheek. “Hm?” He hums, lifting his head to look into your eyes as you smile. “I love you,” you whisper.
A smile, almost blindingly bright - takes over his face at your confession. Eyes sparkly and lips curled against his teeth, a small giggle spills from his lips as you raise to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you,” he reciprocates, with a hushed drawl, pulling you back down for another kiss.
It’s so gentle, the way Taeyong kisses. He brushes his lips along yours slowly, not teasingly, but as if to extend the excitement of anticipation for a moment longer. He catches your bottom lip in a slow pull, darting his tongue out to flick against it once, before settling in to suck at your top lip. You welcome the softness of his bottom lip between yours, your tongue licking into his mouth in a tentative swipe that has him sighing softly against your lips.
Your arms burn with the effort of holding yourself up, so slowly, you lower yourself down to press against the length of Taeyong’s body, bringing your legs up on either side of his hips to maintain a comfortable position as he deepens the kiss. He sits up, one of his arms encircling around your waist to keep you close to him, his other hand rested on your thigh as your hands nestle in the soft strands of his dark hair.
It doesn’t take long before you feel yourself become breathless, determined to kiss through the lack of sufficient breaths between intoxicating pulls of his lips. The hand against your thigh slowly moves further up to rest between the crease where your hip and thigh meet, and you let out a small sigh when you feel slick begin to collect against the cotton of your underwear. “Mmph, Taeyong,” you breathe out against his lips, his hands bringing a shiver down your spine when they move up your waist, trailing up your neck to cup your face, bringing you from your sitting position back down with him to lay flat.
You shift your hips in an attempt to cope with the new stickiness between your thighs, drawing a breathy moan from Taeyong in the process. The noise causes you to pull back to catch your breath, in a much needed break, eyes equally as hooded as Taeyong’s as you trail your gaze over his face. Cheeks flushed and lips bitten-red, he’s dreamy and gorgeous in the soft light cast by the television and you feel like a kid without their floatie in a pool when you aren’t kissing him.
You sit back on his thighs, and he lets out a soft whine when he notices you trying to shift to move off the couch, still trying to ignore the electricity between your thighs when he uses a gentle grip on your hands to tug you back to his level. You let out an amused breath when his hands frame your face again, and he hums happily when he presses his lips to yours again. You relish in the feeling once again, letting him melt you into a pile of mush when he removes all trace of previous amusement and his tongue moves to meet yours, tracing your own muscle with soft movements that draw a high-pitched noise from you.
Your breath stutters against his lips when you feel his touch trail over your back and down over the slope of your ass, giving you a firm squeeze that causes your hips to rock against his. He releases a groan against your mouth, so genuine that you feel your belly lurch and you clench your muscles in retaliation. “Taeyong,” you gasp, your hips twitching to roll against his with another encouraging push of his hands, “Taeyong,” you repeat, calling his name in a plea. He pulls back, his lips shiny and chest heaving as he watches you collect yourself. “Let’s go to bed,” you mutter quietly.
You can’t wait, but Taeyong seemingly has no rush.
Once you’re both nude, rolling around with more kisses upon the bed you hope Jade and Yuta are going to replace once they move away - you’re whimpering against his lips with his thigh wedged between yours. Begging for him to take you as you refrain from grinding against him, moaning out when he curls his fingers against your heat and stretches you open with two of his fingers instead.
He watches carefully as you fall apart beneath him, muttering sweet-nothings incoherently against the shell of your ear as you struggle to hold out long enough to truly relish in the movements of his lengthy fingers. “Cum for me,” he breathes, feeling you start to squeeze around his fingers, your whines slowly growing in volume. His thumb is slippery and incessant against your clit, and it’s with the intake of his plea, combined with the sound of the storm swirling over the city, rumbling the glass panes of the windows - that you cum for him. Your thighs closing tight around his hand, but by the way his fingers still incessantly work you through your high, he doesn’t seem to mind.
He kisses you after you cum, trailing his sticky fingers up over your belly and grasping the soft flesh of your breast in his hand. Moaning against your lips when you move to grasp his length in your own hand. You gasp as you feel him throb in your grip, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder, panting against your ear as you squeeze him, relishing in the weight of his cock in your hand. He stops you with a soft hiss, grasping around your wrist to pause your movements, kissing you on the cheek with a soft brush of his lips.
He reminds you he loves you when he fills you slowly, your leg hooked up over his waist and a soft kiss to your lips, sighing out against your mouth when he bottoms out. He notices your breathing becoming shallow almost immediately, your head swirling with the feeling of him filling you, raw and slick against you when you shift your hips. You moan - breathy and distant, brows pinched together, gazing up at Taeyong in awe when he slowly starts rolling his hips.
The beads of your bracelet dig into his wrist from where your hands are interlaced, held tightly together beside your head. His heart swells, flashes of everything that has led up to this moment, the pain and suffering you had both endured; finally over as you proclaim your love to each other, whispering each other’s names in quiet calls of ecstasy.
Taeyong rolls his hips gently, soft thrusts that steadily have you panting, keening at the way he remains looking so focused above you, brushing his lips against yours to hush you when he delivers a particularly harsh thrust. Your cheeks burn and there’s a slick trail of sweat beading down the skin of your neck, small drops of his own sweat rolling down onto your chest from his hairline.
You move your free hand up to brush his hair back, the slick of his sweat painting the palm of your hand and he leans into your touch, pausing the steady thrusts of his hips to duck down and press his lips to yours. You’re breathing is ragged against his lips, and you can feel the sweat of his upper lip transfer to yours. “You feel so good, god Taeyong,” you pant, groaning loudly when he slowly rolls his hips. He hisses when you move your hand down to dig your nails into the flesh of his thigh, rolling your hips against him.
He grunts, regaining his pace when he lowers his head into the crook of your neck, leaning down on his forearms as he strengthens his movements. You hum between closed lips, turning your head to kiss at the side of his face until he’s lifting it to face you, kissing you to swallow your whimpers.
It’s when he himself starts moaning, losing his own composure that you start to feel yourself come undone, your breathing erratic with pants as he quickens his movements. He shifts, changes the angle of his thrusts and you gasp, “There,” you whimper, strained. He pauses his hips, lifting his head to look into your eyes when he pants, confused. “Mm?” He asks, distant and flustered. You whine out, shifting your hips, another gasp.
He looks dazed, his face is hot and flushed, cheeks red and glowing with a sheen of sweat. He gives a short, testing thrust of his hips and you keen, squeezing his hand in your grasp and he seems to get the message.
He gives stiff thrusts, careful to keep the same angle as your grip on his hand becomes limp and your moans high and breathy. He pants, then inhales and holds his breath as he focuses intently on his movements, stopping to spit out a quick huff when he feels your walls tighten around him. You cum so quickly he’s almost in awe, with an empty moan, your muscles tensed and thighs squeezing around his hips, over-sensitive as he chases his own release. He gasps as he fills you in slow drags of his hips, groaning lowly as his head hangs between his shoulders, more sweat from his brow dropping onto your chest as he pants.
He leans down to rest his head in the crook of your neck, catching his breath and relishing in the way your sticky bodies press together in the haze of your love. His nose is nuzzled into your hairline, his slowing breaths warm against your ear as you feel a shiver creep up your bare legs. Your eyes fall closed momentarily as another rattle from the window panes echoes throughout the room. A roll of heavy winds washing over the city, and if it were written in the stars that you were to be sucked out through your window at this moment - you don’t think you could bring yourself to care.
It’s once Taeyong has caught his breath, suckling gently on the skin of your neck as not to leave marks - that he shifts to pull out, and you whine, keeping him in place with your thighs on either side of his hips. He pinches his brows together, hissing quietly as he feels you throb around him momentarily, “No?” He asks softly, watching you shake your head with the slightest pout on your lips. “No,” you confirm, leaning your head up to reclaim his lips in another kiss when he comes back to your level. You sigh against his lips, your heart bursting full with pure love and adoration and together with the feeling of Taeyong’s hips pressed flush to yours; you feel that much more full that you could burst.
You wake feeling warm, with angel kisses; light against your hairline, your head rested in the crook between where Taeyong’s shoulder and his head meet. You hum softly, stretching your limbs as you come to, wrapping your legs between his as he lets out a soft breath. “Good morning beautiful,” he rasps softly, using his hands to brush back your messed hair. You lift your gaze to his, a lazy smile coming onto your lips at the sight of him, “Good morning handsome,” you grin with a soft whisper. You roll your neck and use the opportunity to press light kisses to the bare skin of his upper chest, loving and gentle, soft sticky kisses in a short trail along his warm skin. He sighs and rests his arm against the expanse of your shoulder as you move, and you relish in the goosebumps that rise along his skin.
The first thing you notice when you look beyond Taeyong is the sunshine streaming through the window, the storm well and truly over and it makes you smile in relief. “The storm is gone,” you mention, looking up to Taeyong happily. He smiles lazily as he watches you speak, melting at your light and airy tone that your morning rasp holds. He hums and leans down to brush his lips over yours, delivering a small peck that has your toes tingling from where they’re pressed to his inner calf.
You’re rested against his chest for a moment longer, enjoying each other’s body heat in the quiet serenity of the room before a persistent buzz from one of your phones interrupts it. You shift up the bed and watch as he answers his phone, sliding open the device until his messages are displayed in foreign jumbles.
Taeyong, your electricity has been reconnected and your main switch is safe from further disconnections. Your home is ready. - Jungwoo
“What does it say?” You ponder quietly, watching him tap out a quick response. The way in which his thumb moves over the Hangul alphabet in a blur; leaves you in awe and wondering how soon you’ll be able to do the same.
Jungwoo, thankyou so much.
“But I already am home,” Taeyong mutters quietly, placing his phone down and bringing his gaze back to down you. “Hm?” You breathe in question, forgetting the quiet mention when he presses his lips to yours once again, smiling into the kiss.
Kismet; (noun), destiny, fate.