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dreamycarat · 4 years ago

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Gallery Of The Fading Ones

Title: Gallery Of The Fading Ones

Characters: Photographer!Jaemin, Dancer!Renjun, NCT Dream

Summary: Na Jaemin decides to photograph a dancing butterfly for his next gallery, knowing that the season is about to pass soon.

Genre: Friendship, love, slight angst

Words: 7745 words

October 2019; The Angel Who Paints Galaxy

Pictures speak volume.

Nothing but the photos captured on Jaemin’s camera can describe how it is possible for an angel-like figure to appear among the hospital volunteers. With the soft piano melody accompanying the man on the centre of the small stage, he paints a galaxy full of bright shining stars with his graceful limbs. Hands forming a circle in front of his chest, he twirls a few times in a rhythmic pace before he lowers his upper body and extends his right leg high in the air, into a full back split. Jaemin swears he can see white blinding wings spread from the back of the figure, but his camera doesn’t agree with him.

The cheers the dancer receives from the audience don’t match the ethereal beauty of the world he takes them to in his dance routine. At second thought, Jaemin thinks the man doesn’t get enough acknowledgement for his talent- which explains why the Korean drops the camera in his hands and gives the dancer a deafening round of applause a few seconds after the cheers fall silent. All heads turn to his direction and before he knows it, he looks like a ripe tomato in summer.

Renjun pauses his step down the stage to find the source of the late applause, and their eyes meet. He flashes a big grin to the embarrassed man before he shifts his eyes somewhere else, containing his laughter at how red Jaemin looks.

Jaemin lets out a big sigh of relief as the emcee comes to his with a few remarks from the fantastic performance Renjun and Chenle hold. He shakes him head in disbelief, giggling at the incidence few seconds ago. He makes a mental note that a Jaemin in complete awe should never be allowed to appear in public. What a shame to his professional image…

Jaemin takes a quick preview on the photographs he managed to take during the performance, and one conclusion is made – The dancer is, indeed, an angel.

“Thank you,” an unfamiliar soft voice rings in Jaemin’s ears. “That’s quite of a… loud round of applause.” A hint of amusement is laced in the man’s honey-like voice. Renjun gives the taller man a shy smile as he turns around with a big Canon camera in his long fingers. The Chinese notices the picture displayed on the device – it’s him, black hair, with the brown plaid shirt and black slack pants, forming a split.

“Mind if I take a look?”

Jaemin somehow forgets to breathe. As if all the oxygen in the world is suddenly depleted, his lungs stop asking for more air. To be more exact, his brain is on the ‘pause’ mode. Perhaps it’s the way the smooth voice matches the angelic face of the man in front of him. Or perhaps it’s the absence of gap between them when the other person steps closer to see the photo in the camera. Either way, Jaemin is not used to the erratic heartbeats he is experiencing.

“Can I?” Renjun looks up to meet Jaemin’s eyes.

The photographer swears he sees the galaxy in those round eyes. It’s the same galaxy Jaemin sees through the man’s performance when he decorates the stage with stars and orbits through his short limbs.

“I guess I’ll take your silence as a yes,” the dancer says again.

The warm fingers wrapped on top of Jaemin’s send a jolt of electricity down his spine and hit him with a sudden wave of realization. His hands tremble as Renjun hold both his fingers and camera steady in those tiny hands of his, and Jaemin confirms that the man is indeed from heaven. It makes no sense how a complete stranger has the power to make his heart race with such unfamiliar comfortable kind of warmth.

“I look quite good here,” the shorter man chuckles, releasing his hands from the camera.

“You are,” Jaemin replies under his breath. It is more of a mumble, something that isn’t supposed to be heard by the man before him, but Renjun is quick to reply with a sly “I know.”

“And you take beautiful pictures,” the man compliments.

Jaemin’s daily happiness meter reaches the maximum level at the praise. Even if he is a world-famous photographer with various achievements, it feels different to be acknowledged by an angel with invisible wings.

Jaemin doesn’t know how to respond verbally, so he plasters a small smile on his face. God seems to be saving him from making a fool out of himself even more when the green hair man who played the piano during Renjun’s performance calls the dancer. They speak in a foreign language Jaemin doesn’t understand as he stands frozen in between them. The pianist is all grinning the whole time, eyes forming cute crescents as he tells a story or something. A tall, broad figure of a younger man then appears out of nowhere, eyes on the excited man.

“Do you want to get some ice cream after this?” The man with the tag ‘committee’ pinned on his shirt asks, voice deeper than the ocean.

The green-haired man steals a quick glance on Renjun before the dancer nods and pushes him towards the committee. They speak Mandarin, Jaemin realizes, when Renjun shouts the word ‘jiayou’ at his friend.

“You speak Chinese?”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “You speak Chinese too?”

The taller man shakes his head.

“I’m Chinese, that’s why,” Renjun offers a brief explanation.

“But you speak good Korean? Like… I don’t hear any accents or anything.”

Renjun turns to Jaemin with an amused face. “It’s because I came here when I was 14.”

“Oh…” Jaemin mouths before the conversation meets a dead end. At times like this, he resents himself for being an introvert because today is his only chance to talk to an angel, but here he is, by the window in a hall full of cancer patients, hands holding the camera, eyes straight into the dancer’s, but mouth sealed, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

“My late mother was treated here. She used to sit on the front row, right opposite of the centre of the stage…” Renjun points at the empty chair. “She used to cheer for me so loud after every dance,” he giggles, “it was quite embarrassing.” The giggle stops and after a few seconds, Renjun gives Jaemin a soft gaze. “You kinda remind me of her.” His voice lowers before he laughs it off. “But it’s a good thing, no worries. It’s just that… If you were to ask me, I would suggest you clap at the same time of the audience, not after everyone has finished clapping.”

Jaemin breaks into laughter. “I’ll definitely remember your suggestion, sir.” At the mention of ‘sir’, he realizes he still doesn’t know the name of the beautiful person he’s been talking to.

“I prefer ‘Your Majesty’ instead of ‘sir’, but since you take great pictures, you get to call me by my name…”

Renjun’s soft voice is drowned by the high note from the trot singer on the stage.

Jaemin squints his eyes to read Renjun’s mouth. “Say again?”

“Huang… Renjun.” The pronunciation is so Chinese that Jaemin has a hard time to follow along. Upon reading Jaemin’s awkward face, Renjun mentions his name again, making sure Jaemin repeats after him. He finds the Korean struggling to pronounce his name cute, he won’t lie. Although his Korean name is much easier, he prefers his Chinese name. After all, it’s the name his mother gave him.

After a few trials, Jaemin finally gets the pronunciation right.

“You owe me a dance because your name drains my energy,” he dramatically cries, a hand wiping off imaginary sweat on his forehead.

Renjun flashes him a confused look before his lips curl upwards into a pretty smile. “Sure,” he shrugs. “That means you’ll have to see me perform in Seoul Plaza next month for my graduation.” His eyes light up at the thought. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”

Jaemin fishes for his business card in his pocket, and when he hands the rectangular piece to the Chinese man, the man straight away reads what’s written on it.

Na Jaemin, an award-winning photographer based in Seoul.

“Photographs are impressive storytellers…” Renjun coughs. “Interesting.” His eyes then fall on the quote on the bottom of the card. “Let the pictures tell your stories…” He looks up. Upon the eye-contact with Jaemin, he carefully asks, “Do you think you can tell my story to the world?”

Jaemin blinks.

“It’s nowhere near great, but I’ve always wanted to be known as a dancer, even if it’s just for a brief moment.” When the taller man is lacking any response, Renjun scratches the back of his head. “It’s okay, forget I asked that,” he laughs it off as his face turns red.

“N- No,” Jaemin stutters, “I’d love to!”

It feels as if an angel falls from heaven for him, and he is willing to use all his luck in the world for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the beautiful dancer that paints galaxy.

November 2019; Dia De Los Muertos

For the first time in forever, Jaemin is having second thoughts at capturing Renjun’s solo performance on the stage. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but a big part of him wants to enjoy the beauty of the hard work Renjun puts into his self-made choreography. Renjun even gets him the most strategic seat among the audience as he requested, emphasizing the importance of the right angle and lighting. And here Jaemin is, right in the middle of the front row, with a large camera in his hands. He clutches on the device tightly as the lights are switched off. Only the fairy lights outlining the stage shine as a guide for the performers, before it gets total dark.

The drum beats once, followed by the strumming of the acoustic guitar. The spotlights focusing on at the stage are switched on, highlighting the troop of performers on the stage with synchronized steps. Jaemin’s eyes are quick to catch the familiar small build of the Chinese man at the side of the stage before he makes his way towards the centre, leading the other 20 dancers in the performance. Jaemin is too busy clicking on the snap button of his camera, adjusting the angles and focus every other second to even be immersed into the story they’re telling through their bodies. The only thing at the back of his mind at that moment is to capture the photographs that will do justice to Renjun’s angel-like moves.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Through a series of steps, Renjun then disappears at the back of the stage as the other performers take the stage. With the camera still glued on Jaemin’s face, he scans the whole stage, looking for any signs of Renjun. What surprises him is when the lights are switched off, leaving a spotlight at the centre of the stage. The dancers are on their knees, pointing to the only lighted area as an angel in white from neck to toes falls slowly from the ceiling.

There, supported by the strong wire, is Huang Renjun.

He looks ethereal.

The satin white shirt that hugs his abdomen in such a sultry way as his arms spread like a butterfly’s wings, as if he is enjoying all the attention on him. He closes his eyes, lips slightly parted, chin tilted. His ebony black hair completes his look in every way possible. He stills in his position for a good minute before he finally opens his round eyes. Among the sea of audience, the man in baby blue coat on the front row catches his attention. The big lens the person is holding sends thrills to Renjun’s spine as he takes a deep breath and spins mid-air.

The audience gasps.

Like a whirlwind, he twirls with such delicacy again and again, until his feet finally reach the cold stage. The music stops. Lights off. The sound of an arrow hitting a target then echoes in the hall. A few horrified yells come from the stage as the spotlight focuses on Renjun. He suddenly falls backwards in calculated steps. Red inks are smeared all over the silky white clothes and before anyone knows it, the curtain falls.

Jaemin is in complete awe. He doesn’t realize he hasn’t been breathing until his lungs burn from the lack of air. He lets out a deep cough and pants, catching his breath.

What a performance! And it’s just the first performance of the night!

Jaemin enjoys the rest of the performance with an easy heart before his phone lights up with a message from Renjun.

I’m up next. I hope you’ll get your aesthetic shots from your seat. Good luck!

Jaemin scoffs. Renjun is the one who needs good luck, not him. He’s just sitting in his seat comfortably with a camera in his hands, about to take pictures of an angel who paints galaxy with his limbs. Luck is already on his side.

The curtain opens with the first strum of the acoustic guitar, revealing Renjun at the centre of the stage, with a spotlight on him. He has his back facing the audience as he sways to left and right lifelessly, according to the downbeat melody. Petals of marigolds cover certain parts of the stage, creating a trail which ends with a frame of a woman’s picture on the altar at the side of the stage. He looks small compared to the big stage, but he conquers it with his powerful yet elegant movements, still back facing the audience. And when he finally turns around, he shocks everyone with the absurd makeup on his face.

Jaemin zooms in.

Renjun’s face is all white, decorated with a few flowers of blue, pink and purple all over his forehead, cheeks, and chin. Tiny yellow petals surround both of his eyes, encircling the dark brown eyeshadows. The tip of his nose is black. His lips are drawn as if they are stitched by a black thread. He looks like a skull, overall, but a magnificent one.

The other instruments join right after, violin and piano making up the beautiful Mexican-themed music. Renjun’s limbs hit the notes each time, bringing the audience to the afterlife. He dances around the trail of marigolds, expressing his sadness and longing for someone. For a brief second, it reminds Jaemin of Renjun’s mother. He did mention that his mother was suffering from breast cancer before she died 3 years ago. Perhaps that is the reason why the feelings he radiates from the choreography are raw and suffocating. His face says it all.

And when the music comes to an end, Renjun falls on his knees, defeated, still stuck in the afterlife he’s in. He pants hard. The beads of sweats are obvious through the lens, rolling down Renjun’s sideburns like a stream. He shuts his eyes, chin tilted, as the audience cheers for him.

It hits Jaemin that Renjun doesn’t just paint galaxy on the stage.

He paints life, too.

After the show finally ends, Jaemin waits for Renjun outside of the hall, eyes skimming through the photographs he captured. The proper lighting does justice to his pictures, and not to mention that Renjun looks extremely dashing the whole night with his white costume that compliments his black hair. And the most important thing is the expression Renjun wears on the stage – he seems as if he belongs there, as if he was born to tell stories through his body movements.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Renjun runs towards Jaemin with a knapsack hanging on his small shoulders. He has erased the skull makeup, and now he looks like an angel again. “Do you want to grab something to eat before we part ways? I’d like to hear your feedback.”

Luck is always on Jaemin’s side, and he is sure he will have to pay for the interest later.

They stop at a chicken restaurant. Renjun orders a lot because he says he hasn’t been eating since morning, but Jaemin knows the Chinese won’t be able to finish them later.

“So, how was it? Did you enjoy the show?” Renjun asks, eyes light up from excitement.

Jaemin only speaks compliments, as if it’s his mother tongue. He loses count of how many times he utters the word ‘wow’ but he’s glad the man before him looks pleased with his comments. The wide grin he pastes on his handsome face at every praise fills Jaemin’s heart with such warmth.

The grin somehow fades gradually when Jaemin asks about his inspirations for his solo performance. The Chinese then takes out his phone from his pocket and types out something. After a while, he shows Jaemin the screen. Pictures of people in aesthetic skull makeup fill his eyes. They remind Jaemin of the makeup on Renjun’s face during his solo dance.

“Dia De Los Muertos… Day of the Dead.” As Jaemin scrolls the screen, Renjun continues, “It’s a national holiday for Mexicans. It is believed that spirits of the dead visit the living during the celebration.”

The waiter then interrupts to serve their food and after she leaves, Renjun adds, “I was watching Coco the other day. And I thought, ‘oh, why not do a performance based on this story?’ so I did some research regarding the culture and walla, there goes the performance.”

Jaemin passes him the phone as the Korean mutters, “Oh, I see. I thought it has something to do with your mother, I’m sorry.”

Renjun places a fried chicken on his plate before he flashes Jaemin his teeth. “You’re not wrong, honestly. I do think of my mother when I was on the stage. I put her picture in the frame on the stage, if you notice.” He chuckles darkly. “And for your information, today, 1st November, is the Day of the Dead. That’s why I even put some efforts in decorating the stage with marigolds. They say marigolds will guide the spirits to their altars with their scent and colour.”

“So, your mother is there, too?”

“I guess,” he shrugs. “I’d like to believe that she’s with me on the stage, watching me perform in front of the audience.” He takes a sip on his hot green tea before he adds, “I personally think that believing in such things help me gain some confidence.”

“You don’t feel like you deceive yourself?”

“No, because I have faith in it.” He takes another sip. “You see, Jaemin, belief is such a powerful tool to enhance yourself in any aspects. You can do everything if you believe.”

Jaemin nods and smiles.

Turns out Renjun’s mind is as beautiful as his appearance.

December 2019; The Bee Among The Flowers

Ever since Jaemin agreed to tell Renjun’s story to the world, they have been spending their free time together. Be it at a playground near Renjun’s house, at the studio where Jaemin works on his upcoming exhibition, at the streets, anywhere, really, Jaemin is always ready to snap Renjun’s pictures as he shows the photographer his new choreography. Sometimes he does ballet, some other times he performs contemporary dance, but currently he is into yangge. It’s a Chinese folk dance he learned when he was 5, and somehow, he wants to showcase his culture to the Korean. He is proud of his nationality, and Jaemin finds him adorable whenever he talks about his culture.

They are currently in the middle of a snowy park full of red camellias. Renjun performs some slow yangge moves that highlights the gracefulness of his arms as the camera focuses on him. Jaemin circles around him for the perfect shot as the dancer remains unbothered. His eyes are glued to his fingers, creating magic in the heavy snow. The fluorescent yellow shirt he wears under the thick black winter coat reminds Jaemin of a bee, but a beautiful one. The one that outshines the flowers, that catches people’s attention with its vibrant colour.

“Are the shots good? Or do I have to perform them again?” Renjun rubs both of his hands together, creating some heat to keep his bare hands warm. “It’s freezing though,” he says as a matter of fact before he coughs a few times.

Jaemin checks the photographs he took and grins. “They’re perfect,” he ruffles Renjun’s hair. “Let’s get something to eat and you can view the pictures in the meantime. I’m unoccupied today. My day is all yours today, Your Majesty.”

Renjun scoffs at how Jaemin uses his unfunny joke during their first meeting but he doesn’t complain.

Their friendship develops over time, and they get even closer when they know they are of the same age. While Renjun is a little too friendly and talkative, Jaemin is the opposite. The taller man always takes his time to speak, as if he is contemplating the right things to say in a situation. And fair enough, he always says the right things. For example, when Renjun feels like his moves are not smooth enough, Jaemin will always say he does great, if not amazing. And to prove his statement, he will always show his pictures.

“Pictures don’t lie,” Jaemin always says.

Renjun often notices the way Jaemin observes his pictures to the smallest details to finally call them a perfection. And he is true – they are all perfect. They never fail to put Renjun in a complete awe, no matter how many times he sees Jaemin’s work. But Jaemin is much more than a skilled photographer. He is passionate in what he does despite confessing that he doesn’t have a specific goal in life. He is committed to his work. And the most important thing is that he is a cute ball of sunshine that lights up Renjun’s life when things get hard.

Perhaps Renjun is attracted to the new things he discovers about Jaemin every day.

Jaemin, to Renjun, isn’t just a photographer.

He is the Sun among the dark clouds.

January 2020; The Confession

Each second is fleeting. Capture well the moments, they always say, because they are evanescent. They are temporary, while pictures keep them alive. Jaemin makes sure to bring his camera everywhere he goes, especially when he meets Renjun for fun. The thing about Renjun is that he is a wonderful model without having to try so hard. His pose, expression, and gaze – everything is perfect. He can easily be a world-class high-grossing model, if he’s taller. But Jaemin is glad he is not, because or else, he won’t be asking for Jaemin to tell his story.

“Perfect,” Jaemin breathes.

Renjun takes a good look at the recent picture and beams like a child. “You’re amazing!”

The picture highlights Renjun’s sharp side profile as he stares at the stars above them. Everything behind him is a blur, but the colourful lights of the city can still be seen. It feels as if he is among the stars, with the city becoming the galaxy in the picture.

“Let me take your picture,” Renjun looks up. “You always snap my pictures. And I think it’s such a shame that a person this good-looking doesn’t have photos of him in his camera.”

Jaemin giggles and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

Renjun makes his puppy eyes and pouts. “Please…”

The next thing Jaemin knows, Renjun is already in between his arms as he teaches the settings to the shorter man. He only points out the important things such as focus before the Chinese pushes him away with a simple “I get this.”

Jaemin stands awkwardly, facing the camera. He plasters a small smile on his face which looks a little too forced to Renjun’s liking.

“Pose like a model, Mr. Photographer!” Renjun instructs.

Instead of listening to the direction, Jaemin looks even more awkward.

“Okay, let’s do it your way,” Renjun says under his breath before inhaling a large amount of air and raises his tone. “Na Jaemin, smile as if you’re seeing the most beautiful person in front of you.”

And it works.

Within a millisecond, Jaemin flashes his sweetest smile to the camera- or to be more specific, to the person behind the camera. He looks like Snowball from The Secret Life of Pets, but cuter.

Renjun clicks the snap button a few times, not wanting to miss the beautiful smile on Jaemin’s face. “There you go,” he hands Jaemin the camera. “Send me these pictures later, okay?”

Jaemin raises his eyebrow at the sentence.

“I deserve to have this masterpiece I took for you,” Renjun shrugs.

The night is calm when the clock strikes 1.30 in the morning. Both of them lie on the grass of the park in the middle of the city, eyes fixed on the ocean of stars above them.

“I’m glad I met you,” Renjun speaks, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “At least now I tick off one of my things-to-do-before-I-die.”

“And what is that?” Jaemin turns his head right and lands his eyes on Renjun’s pretty face.

“To have someone tell my story,” the Chinese answers. “I was thinking of a writer, actually. An autobiography about me? Hahaha…” he laughs at the thought. “But I’m no one compared to the billions of people in the world. I’m just a dancer who is yet to run a dance academy. I’m all alone in this world, without a permanent job.” He squints his eyes. “Oh my God, how sad is that?!” Renjun dramatically cries, jolting upwards. “Now I sound pathetic.”

Jaemin giggles at the sight. “No, you’re not.” Jaemin doesn’t continue his sentence right after, which makes Renjun think as if he’s lying. The truth is the man is contemplating whether he should confess all the truths his heart sees or not. But he doesn’t want to be taken differently.

“You’re an aspiring dancer, if you ask me,” Jaemin finally says after a few moments of silence. He props himself up and sits. “I think you’re an amazing painter as well.”

Renjun makes a surprised face at how the taller man suddenly mentions his hobby, only to realize that he means something else.

“You paint galaxy and life with your movements so effortlessly. I find that amazing.”

The dancer coughs. “I did put a lot of efforts in dancing, in case you don’t notice it.” He coughs again. “But… thank you. I’m honoured you see it that way.”

Jaemin nods, eyes pinned on Renjun. With the snow falling on his face, he looks ethereal, even when he’s laying still. Jaemin thinks Renjun is the most beautiful when he stares at something a little too long, as if he is immersed in his ocean of thoughts.

“I have something to tell you,” Renjun turns to his left and meets Jaemin’s dreamy eyes. “Promise me you won’t see me differently after this.”

Jaemin’s heart races. Adrenaline rushes throughout his whole body as he gulps, nodding slowly at the promise. His lips pursue tightly.

“I-“ Renjun coughs a little too hard. He fishes for his handkerchief in his pocket and covers his mouth. The moment the velvety piece of cloth is removed from his mouth, Jaemin sees a bright red spot tinted on it. It’s blood coming out of Renjun’s mouth from the rough cough.

Worry takes over Jaemin as Renjun continues coughing. He wheezes every time he breathes in more air and coughs. It’s not the weather anymore, Jaemin knows. It’s something else…

“I have oesophageal cancer.”

Jaemin tries to hide his surprised face, but he fails miserably.

“You promised me you won’t see me differently,” Renjun shakes his head.

In no time, Jaemin’s trembling hands pull Renjun into a tight embrace. When he is out of comforting words to tell, he hopes the sudden affection is enough to radiate some strength to the man. He caresses Renjun’s short hair gently, afraid if he’ll break with more force.

Later that night, Jaemin promises to let Renjun perform on his upcoming exhibition.

February 2020; The One That Shines

Photographs keep the expressions alive, but videos exist to keep the moments alive. While the simplest details are barely appreciated enough in videos, photographs come in handy in capturing a change of expression. Even though Jaemin prefers pictures over videos, he will not deny the fact that he will miss seeing Renjun’s graceful moves later when time steals him away. For such reasons, he hires a professional videographer to specifically record Renjun’s special performance on his exhibition. The video is for future purposes, just in case.

He wants to keep as many memories as possible with Renjun while he still has the chance.

“Do you think I’ll do well tonight? I haven’t been performing in front of a lot of people for a few months now… I’m a little nervous.” Renjun shakes his whole body, trying to ease off the rushing adrenaline throughout his body. “I mean, what if I mess up?”

“I know you’ll do amazing, Renjun,” Jaemin pats his back. “And you won’t mess up. But even if you do, I’m sure you’ll be able to recover from it in a speed of lightning.” He says from experience. He watched how Renjun never stopped dancing to the beats, even if he landed on the wrong position. He saw the passion in Renjun’s eyes through the mirrors surrounding the practice room. He knew how great the performance Renjun would deliver, because he is Huang Renjun, Jaemin’s favourite dancer in the whole world.

“And Renjun…” Jaemin breathes. “I believe in you.” He pulls the shorter man into a friendly hug. He can hear Renjun’s fast heartbeats, loud and clear in his ears. When they pull away, Jaemin stares right into the sea of stars in Renjun’s eyes and his lips form a small smile. “You can do everything if you believe.”

There is something magical in Jaemin’s words that Renjun can’t quite point out specifically. Perhaps it’s the way he means every single word he speaks, or perhaps it’s the way he is very straightforward with his choice of words. Either way, his words ignite a spark of hope and strength in Renjun’s heart.

“Thank you.”

To Renjun, those are not two common words. There are indefinite meanings behind them, and he means each and every one of them, whichever applies. The phrase holds significant values and Renjun hopes Jaemin understands the rich meanings behind it. He hopes Jaemin feels the sincerity from his fragile heart.

And Jaemin knows.

From the soft gaze that holds the galaxy, Jaemin knows Renjun means more than a simple ‘thank you’. It is ‘thank you for letting me have this golden opportunity before I die’. It is ‘thank you for making my wish come true’. And most importantly, it is ‘thank you for believing in me’.

“Now, go show off your talents to the world.”

As Renjun makes his way towards the centre of the gallery, the lights dim. Melancholic piano notes accompany his baby steps, alerting the visitors that a breath-taking performance is about to start very soon. With all eyes on him, he takes a deep breath and stands tall, feet pointed in the new ballet shoes Jaemin bought for him. He starts with pirouette before he turns his whole body elegantly in a series of chains and jumps with a perfect 180 degrees split, arms spread like a butterfly’s wings. After he lands on the marble floor, he extends his left foot forward to perform a pique, followed by a beautiful arabesque. He repeats the steps several times. And each time, Jaemin swears a new star is painted on the galaxy. He then performs some versatile fouettés, dropping some jaws from the audience. Each turn is on beat, and Jaemin thinks it is unfair how Renjun is not listed among the wonders in the world. When the dancer ends his 7-minute routine with saut de chat, a big round of applause echoes through the four walls of the exhibition gallery.

Renjun finds Jaemin with his camera from the corner of his right eye and he turns his head, meeting the lovely gaze the photographer sends him. Jaemin shows a proud thumbs up as he mouths, “You did great.”

Renjun shines the brightest when he dances, and it shows. He outshines everything, including all Jaemin’s masterpieces hung on the walls. He stands out in the most beautiful way possible because he believes, because he has Jaemin’s unbreakable faith in him.

And that is simply why Jaemin is the Sun.

March 2020; Of Life, Goals, And Death

While photographs keep the moment frozen, time passes by. As if it has the wings of an eagle, it flies so fast. With Jaemin being busy editing the countless pictures of Renjun he took for the past five months, chasing the unknown deadline, Renjun spends most of his time in the hospital. From chemotherapy, to surgery, to chemotherapy again, the man is doing his very best to survive. He will survive. He believes, and Jaemin believes too.

Sometimes, however, things get rough.

As the coughs worsen, burning his dry throat, he wishes he can cut off his oesophagus. He suffers every second of the day, hopes crushed, replaced by a silent plea to die. The pills kill him inside more than he can remember, but at the end of the day, a video call from Jaemin helps pick up the shattered pieces of hope and faith.

“I’m sorry I can’t visit you again today.” Low, Jaemin’s voice is, filled with a lace of regrets. He takes off the hat he is wearing, revealing his messy hair. “In case you need to hear this for the thousandth time, I miss you.”

A small smile appears on Renjun’s pale face.

“By the way, I’m half-way done with your photographs!” the Korean beams. His tired eyes light up with rays of excitement. The dark circles under his eyes become apparent every day, but he reassures Renjun that he is getting enough sleep. Renjun notices he is wearing the same blue shirt he wore yesterday, but he is feels guilty to point that out. The thing is he feels like a burden because he knows Jaemin is working extra hard to make his wish a reality.

“Why do you put yourself into so much trouble for me?” Renjun manages to say, voice cracks here and there. “Just forget it, please. I don’t deserve your time.”

Jaemin pouts. “You deserve the whole universe, Renjun. You truly do.” Jaemin places his phone against his monitor as he pushes his chair backwards, grabbing something from the corner of his studio.

“Look,” he shows a printed picture of Renjun during his graduation performance to the screen.

In the photograph, Renjun extends his right arm above his head, chin tilted. The passionate desperate eyes make him look as if he longs for something he cannot reach. The spotlight on him adds the dramatic effect to the picture. Before he knows it, Jaemin states that it seems as if he is reaching for the Sun.

It is amusing how Jaemin puts it in a way Renjun has always felt about him.

“It’s one of my favourites,” Jaemin flashes him a smile. “I miss seeing you dance.”

Renjun looks away. Tears well in his eyes at the sentence because truth be told, he misses dancing too. He misses the way his mind brings him to travel to a fantasy world whenever he listens to the beats. He misses the sweats that sometimes stick his bangs to his forehead. He misses the endorphin he experiences after every successful routine. He misses the round of applause he always receives from the audience. And most importantly, he misses the amazed grin on Jaemin’s face as he hides behind the lens.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”

Renjun’s tears fall upon Jaemin’s apology. He quickly wipes them away with the hem of the sleeve. “You never have to apologize, Jaemin,” he replies, facing the camera.

Oh God, he misses seeing Jaemin face-to-face.

“Will you put that on hold?” Renjun suddenly asks.

“Why would I?” Jaemin shakes his head. “Look, Renjun, we’re on a deadline.” His eyes mirror his fear, lips tremble. “I- I know you’ll survive…” he pauses. “But just in case…” Jaemin blinks a few times. “I’d like to do what I can to make you happy.”

“Spend time with me.” It is more of an instruction compared to a suggestion. “It hurts like hell right now. Everything is overwhelming. At least, if I have you by my side, I think the chances for me to survive will increase.”

Jaemin stares at the camera for a good minute before he nods.

“As you wish, butterfly.

May 2020; A Beautiful Transition

Renjun reminds Jaemin of butterfly metamorphosis, except that after the fourth stage, it turns into an angel. Jaemin doesn’t think the Chinese suits to be a caterpillar, because he resembles a butterfly already. But a caterpillar will have to digest itself to transform into a more beautiful version of itself.

In other words, it requires suffering for one to truly transform into a better shape.

With the chemotherapy and all, Renjun is now too weak for the world. His tiny build seems even smaller. He looks barely alive, except for his dreamy eyes. They hold a thousand messages Renjun wishes to tell Jaemin, but too bad they will be buried together with him.

Jaemin can see it coming. From the weaken grip of cold bony hand he’s holding to the forced heavy breathing that’s getting slower at rate, he can see it coming clearly. The end is near, he can sense it. “It’s okay…” He whispers under his breath. “It’s okay…” For some unknown reasons, only the two words are able to roll off his tongue. Perhaps those are the words Renjun needs the most at times like this. Perhaps he needs to know that it’s okay for him to leave Jaemin now, that the brown-haired man will be doing fine after a few days, weeks, months, or years. Perhaps it’s just Jaemin who’s running out of words because his mind can’t process what’s about to happen. He can see it coming, but he can’t see it happening so… slow.

The death he imagines is quick and easy – the kind of death that happens in a blink of an eye and before you know it, he’s gone. He never imagines he will be able to witness the pain Renjun has to bear when his soul is leaving his body. He never imagines he will get to listen to the wheezes of the forced air into Renjun’s failing lungs.

“It’s okay…” he says again, with a small smile masking his fear. “Don’t worry.”

The look in Renjun’s eyes softens as they fall onto Jaemin’s worried face. The older man gathers all his strength to reply the smile before his eyelids shut on their own. His breathing shags. His fingers, however, search for Jaemin's. The Korean intertwines their fingers at the cue as a wave of sorrow hits him at how their fingers are of the perfect fit for each other.

“I’ll be fine…” Jaemin speaks through the lump in his throat. The rawness of his voice is apparent. “I’ll hold the exhibition. I’ll tell the world your story.” he exhales. “I won’t let you die.” The hot crystals welling in his eyes fall like a stream, each drop hits their intertwined fingers. “I’m sorry,” Jaemin wipes the tears away with the back of his other hand, “I don’t mean to cry. I don’t mean to make you worried. I’m sorry.”

The grip tightens a little, as if Renjun is telling him that it’s okay.

“I know,” Jaemin creeps a smile, “We’ll be fine.” The man leans forward and presses his lips gently on Renjun’s forehead. “You can go now,” he whispers with a heavy heart. “Go to a beautiful place where you’ll re-join the troop of angels, the place where you truly belong.” Another peck is left on his nose. “I love you, butterfly.” And finally, he places the softest last peck on Renjun’s chapped lips. “Till we meet again, my dancing angel. I love you.”

As if it’s a cue, Renjun takes a sharp breath with a sudden jolt.

On 30th May 2020, 3.14 in the morning, an angel spreads its wings to make its most-awaited way towards heaven.

1st November 2020; Gallery Of The Fading Ones

Na Jaemin is an award-winning storyteller; except he replaces his voice with stilled photographs. The beauty that takes his breath away, the feelings he experiences from behind the lens – they are all being described in a series of printed pictures under the exclusive frames with small clumps of marigolds on all four corners. The golden colour of the frames fades gradually, coupled with the dimming lights with each section of the exhibition. On the last section, the petals of marigold fall off as the frames turn cream under the warm orange hue. It is the whole concept of the exhibition – The Fading Ones.

“Why ‘The Fading Ones’? Can you please elaborate?” The famous reporter with the tagline “Haechan, 37.5% viewers rating” asks, holding out the microphone right in front of Jaemin’s chin.

Jaemin pauses for a while. His eyes are glued to the electronic device he calls friend in front him, mind processing the rehearsed sentences to this expected question. “Ah…” He lets out a disappointed sigh. The words he prepared the night before are too formal, he realizes now.

The reporter notices the beads of cold sweats under the half swiped up bangs of the photographer. He then gestures at the cameraman to put the camera off. “It’s okay. Take your time,” he ends the sentence with a small laugh. “It has been what? Almost 9 months now? Since your last exhibition…” Haechan pats Jaemin’s back in a friendly manner, considering that he has been covering every photography exhibition Jaemin showcases for the past 4 years.

“It’s not that, actually…”

The thing is the wound deepens more than his expectation. The immeasurable longing for the person who inspires him the concept leaves him breathless, as if a rock is pushing against his chest. The nights he spends tearing up over his loss are hard to describe with words.

“I— I just— Okay, let’s start again, shall we?”

Jaemin forces his face muscles to creep up a small smile as Jeno, the cameraman, sets up the camera once again. He shakes his whole body slightly, loosening up the string of tension around his 177 cm figure. Haechan checks on his condition one last time and as he exhales deeply with a nod, the camera starts rolling.

“Hi, everyone! Welcome to Haechan’s corner with 37.5% viewers rating! And today, we are thrilled to show you this magnificent photography exhibition from the pride of South Korea, the one and only, my favourite photographer, Na Jaemin!”

The camera then zooms in to Jaemin’s face.

“I heard that the concept of this exhibition is The Fading Ones.”

Here it comes.

“Can you please elaborate a little bit about the concept? Why did you choose the concept? What inspired you? Or who inspired you?”

Jaemin’s lips feel dry. Once the microphone stops in front of his mouth, he throws his sanity away and stabs the bleeding imaginary wound in his heart. A name – that’s all it takes to break his inner strength down. Renjun; A simple Chinese name of two syllables rolls off his tongue smoothly. He emphasizes the ‘r’, pronouncing the name as if he is a native Mandarin speaker.

“Renjun…” he repeats after himself. “Renjun…” His tongue seems desperate to sound the name again. “The concept, the whole gallery, everything is inspired by him.” Jaemin steps aside, revealing the picture of a Chinese man in brown plaid shirt and black slack pants, right leg extending into the air, forming a complete split. His hands spread widely, giving off the image of a butterfly at first glance. His face hangs low opposite of the hospital tiles, but a hint of small smile can be seen on his reflection. It is the photograph that takes his breath away every single time. It is the photograph that introduces him to a magical world painted by Renjun. It is the photograph that holds all his luck in this world.

“The Fading Ones refer to the time limit we have in our lives,” Jaemin continues, eyes straight into the camera. “Just like how time fades away, we do, too.” His eyes steal a quick glance on the photograph of Renjun surrounded by flowers opposite of him. “But the right person will leave their footprints in our hearts forever, even if they fade away.”

Haechan’s eyes soften.

“Where is he now, if you don’t mind?”

Jaemin’s lips curl upwards slowly. His eyes glisten with crystals, which he tries so hard to blink them away. “Somewhere beautiful…” He manages to speak before the lump in his throat blocks his voice from coming out. “I’m pretty sure it’s a place surrounded by the stars and the galaxy, as he dances all day long until he’s exhausted. It’s a place where everyone will worship him for his talent.” The image of Renjun twirling comes across his mind. “In other words, I think he’s in heaven, being placed among the angels.”

Haechan pauses. He exchanges looks with Jeno before he turns to Jaemin and asks, “Any last words for Renjun? He might be watching you from above.”

Jaemin has a lot to say, but Renjun already knows everything. The Korean looks down. That is when he notices the petals of marigolds covering the whole floor of the exhibition. His heart stops for a second as a sudden wave of realization hits him hard.

“Dia de los Muertos…” he breathes. “It’s today, 1st of November.”

“I’m sorry?”

It’s Day of the Dead. With photographs of Renjun everywhere around the four walls of the exhibition, combined with the marigolds on the floor, Jaemin is sure he has summoned Renjun to this promised exhibition.

“Renjun is here with me today,” Jaemin’s face lights up. “Renjun…” he calls out, “Thank you.”

He hopes his photographs are enough to show that it is not just a simple ‘thank you’. Those two words hold thousands of significant meanings behind them, just like the pictures he took.

#jaemin #renjun #renmin #renjun imagines #jaemin imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream #renmin imagines #renjun scenarios #jaemin scenarios #nct dream scenarios

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dreamycarat · 8 years ago

Text

It Happens In A Bar

Characters: April (OC), Yoo Kihyun, Wonho

Words: 8526

Summary: April meets Kihyun in a bar and she thinks she cheats on her husband

Warning: Mentions of alcohols and bars, don’t read it if you’re under 15 years old

April has learned not to buy Wonho’s words when he told her he would try to be home early for the night to unpack their belongings in the boxes. He emphasised the word ‘try’ to not let her be hopeful but even if he didn’t bring his tone higher on the word, April already knows that she shouldn’t wait for him. It has been countless of times that he keeps on saying he would come home early- but he never did. Those are only empty words, but April appreciates his efforts to sound as if he really means to come home early. Or maybe he does. Maybe he does want to go home early, only he can’t, because work has been too cruel to him nowadays, especially when he has been promoted as the head of the financial department in the company he works for.

“Oh God,” Wonho says on the other line, “I am so sorry. I don’t mean to-“he pauses for a second before asking, “You’re not waiting for me, are you?”

April steals a glance on the clock by the table lamp. 10.13 p.m.

“Not really,” she says, propping herself up from the bed. She heads to the balcony, right hand pushes the sliding door open. “How late are you going to be?” She hears scribbling of papers as Wonho replies, “Very late. I have reports I need to submit tomorrow. The people here don’t know how to do their job well.” It sounds almost like a whine, but April doesn’t mind. She likes to listen to him talking.

“I guess I need to be stricter with them. Or else, they will keep giving me a pain in the neck,” Wonho goes on and on. April hums at times, but her eyes are quickly caught by a colourful signboard across the street that reads “X-CLAN BAR.”

“What did you say?” Wonho asks on the other line, startling the petite woman. She doesn’t realize the read the words out loud.

“Nothing. Do you know there’s a bar nearby?”

There is an obvious pause.

“Do you mean the bar? Where drinks are served?” Wonho asks for confirmation.

“Yes. The place where drinks are served. The bar. Do you know it’s just across the street?”

“I do. But, baby…” Wonho breathes, “You don’t drink.”

April acknowledges the fact too well. Her parents forbid her to drink because they are very much aware of their health. They don’t want their only daughter to ruin her liver by drinking alcoholic drinks.

“I know. I’m just going to look. And probably meet some people. I don’t know. Can I go?” April sees quite a lot of people enters the bar as she speaks, and Wonho sighs. He doesn’t really like the idea of his wife going to the bar.

“If you say so, you may go. But stay away from the drunks, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

April nods.

“Call me if anything bad happens, okay? I love you.”

And he hangs up.

April wastes no time as she grabs her denim jacket and her purse from the closet. She manages to check herself out in the mirror – a habit she developed when she started dating Wonho, because the man has always loved the mirror. Once she is satisfied with how she looks, she steps out of her condo for the first time since she moved there two days ago.

The hallway is empty. The clicking of her heels even echoes throughout the space and she quickly pushes down button. Shortly after, the elevator comes with a loud ping. It is oddly cold for a spring night, and April can’t help but to realize how silent the whole condo is.

The elevator stops at 24th floor, the doors open, revealing a man in his early 20s dressed casually from head to toe. He gives April a small nod and a smile that almost shows his teeth as he enters the cold confined space. April wants to say hello, but she is afraid she doesn’t get a reply, so she stays silent the whole time. Only the sound of them breathing rings in her ears.

“Have a good day,” the man speaks before he makes his way out as soon as the elevator reaches the ground floor. April replies with a polite “You too,” and she makes sure to remember his face with a reminder in her head – Man from 24th floor. Brown swiped up hair. Nice.

The moment she steps outside, the fresh smell of spring creeps into her nose, automatically making her smile. April has always loved spring, for its smell and flowers. The street is quite busy but she manages to enter the bar without having to bump into anyone.

The bar is breathtakingly beautiful. The decorations are simple, yet they look so nice. It is cosy yet elegant. The lightings are one of the best she has ever seen – just enough to give off the classy vibe that makes you feel like you’re in a dreamy world. The tables are almost full with couples or even groups of friends and there are only a few unoccupied seats at the counter. April picks the one in the middle, right before the bartender.

“Hello there,” the man behind the counter greets her a little too cheerful. “New beautiful face. First time here, huh? Never saw you.”

April nods. “I just moved here two days ago.” The bartender has cat-like eyes, and he seems friendly.

“Whatcha want, dear? I make the best whisky in town,” he says, wriggling his straight eyebrows.

“Coke, please.”

The bartender pauses. His eyes widen, mouth forming a big o before he goes behind the bar and serves her with a big cup of iced coke. April mouths a thank you silently before taking a sip on her drink. It is then that her ears catch a voice so soothing that she literally stops breathing. She puts down her cup, turning to the stage. The singer is hidden behind the piano he is playing.

April recognizes the song. It is Shape of You by Ed Sheeran, only this is sung by a bar singer who happens to have the voice of an angel. His voice is amazingly nice that even the sound of him taking breaths between the lines sounds so beautiful in April’s ears.

“Such a wonderful voice, don’t you think so?” The bartender asks as soon as the song ends. He notices how April looks mesmerized with the performance. April turns to the counter and nods. She takes another sip on her coke before saying, “I never heard anyone singing this amazing in a bar.” The tall man with red hair lets out a chuckle, finally introducing himself.

“I’m Minhyuk.” He offers his hand, which April gladly shakes it. “April.”

An hour passes by in an instant because Minhyuk talks a lot about himself, and how people love his whisky that they can come all the way from Busan only to taste his legendary whisky.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try it? I can guarantee you’ll love it.” He sounds very convincing, especially when he bends a little to meet April’s eyes. The lady gives him a small smile, saying, “I don’t drink. But I believe you, really.”

Minhyuk then continues to talk about how he turned into a bartender while he was originally a postman. He would excuse himself at times when people ask for more drinks, but after serving the thirsty people their glasses, he is more than pleased to continue his story. April silently makes a note in her head – Minhyuk. Bartender. Friendly. Talks a lot.

“Do you think I’m annoying because I talk too much? Gosh, I swear I tried to stop talking to you like thirty minutes ago. But I can’t. My mouth doesn’t like to stop moving.”

April assured him that it is fine, that she loves to find someone as friendly as he is. Being in a new place is quite hard, but with someone like Minhyuk, April thinks she can at least feel at ease now.

“Vodka, please.”

A familiar voice comes out from the person who took the vacant seat beside April a few seconds ago. As if on cue, her head turns to her right and her brown eyes immediately recognize the man.

He is the man from the 24th floor.

He offers April a small smile. “We met in the elevator,” he states as Minhyuk comes back with a glass in his hand. The man gulps down his vodka in a shot as if he hasn’t had a drink in days.

“Another one, Minhyuk.”

The lively man comes soon after he leaves, filling the empty glass with more vodka. April scrunches her nose at how fast the man beside her can drink. She isn’t sure why, but amazed isn’t one of the possible answers. His Adam’s apple, however, can’t go unnoticed. The way it bobs up and down when he gulps down his drink bothers April so much.

Oh God.

What is she thinking?

“Are you going to just stare at me or you’re going to finish that drink of yours?” He waves his hand before her face. That startles April, as she doesn’t realize her eyes are fixed on him. She mutters a quick apology before he asks, “Is that coke?”

April turns to her glass.

Why the hell does he make the word ‘coke’ sound disgusting?

“Coke, it is, yes. I don’t drink.”

His face screams amusement, furrowing his eyebrows at her. He sips on his drink and asks, “Then, what are you doing here?”

April pauses. The corner of her eyes see Minhyuk has now found someone else to talk to, and he is laughing with a woman. She doesn’t seem to have an exact answer. “I don’t know,” the truth slips out of her tongue, “I just need some fresh air.” She drinks down the coke until her glass is empty.

“And maybe I want to meet new people.”

The man scoffs.

“So, you think the bar is the perfect place to meet new people?” He props his hand on the counter, smirking. “I’ve heard a lot of cases where girls wake up the next morning with a complete stranger they met in a bar. Are you up for that?” His eyes lit up. April isn’t sure if he is hinting anything, but the man quickly erases her suspiciousness with a laugh.

“I’m just kidding,” a trail of laugh leaves his mouth. “You should’ve seen your face. You look flustered.” He touches her right cheek slightly.

“You’re blushing.”

April touches her cheeks in an instant. Hot. True enough.

“I’m Yoo Kihyun, by the way.”

April looks up to him with a nod. “Lee April.”

“So, you were born in April?” He asks out of common sense and she chuckles. “That is too obvious,” she states. She is about to ask him questions regarding himself when her phone rings with Wonho’s ringtone. She excuses herself before answering the call and leaves the bar.

“See you around, April.”

*****

April doesn’t really plan on going to the classy bar the next day, but when she exits the building she lives in, her feet drag her effortlessly towards the entrance of the bar. It is an impulse; she pushes the door open and sits on the empty seat by the counter. Minhyuk is delighted when he sees her face, at least April thinks he does, because he excuses himself from a man two seats beside her and greets her in his high-pitched voice.

“You came!”

Minhyuk disappears behind the bar and comes with a big glass of coke for April even though she hasn’t said anything yet.

“Your coke.”

April gladly takes her drink in her hand, but she feels odd. Her eyes dart around the bar, looking for someone. To her unfortunate, she only spots empty piano by the stage. No one is singing at the moment and she can’t help but to wonder about the bar singer.

“When will your singer perform? I mean- His voice is nice and I’m- The point is, will he come tonight?” Her sentences are not coming off well. She stutters. Luckily, Minhyuk laughs away her awkward question and answers, “Yes, of course. He is always here, only I don’t know when. He will come when he is not busy.”

“Are you still not going to have a taste of my whisky? I swear you’ll love it,” Minhyuk changes the topic. April refuses to politely, saying that she really doesn’t drink.

“A taste won’t hurt,” the man insists but before April can reply anything, a familiar voice says, “Let her be, Minhyuk.”

It is Kihyun.

“We all know your whisky is the best. But you can’t force someone who doesn’t drink to drink, can you?” Kihyun turns to April and flashes her a smile that almost makes his eyes fully close. April doesn’t realize when he comes but she does notice something – Kihyun always appears out of nowhere.

Minhyuk whines at how Kihyun stands up for April while stating that he has known Kihyun for more than 5 years. The red hair man continues blabbering about how his heart crashes into pieces and Kihyun is going to be the main reason why his life ends if he happens to be dead tonight.

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Minhyuk. And give me my vodka now.” Kihyun runs his lean fingers along his hair in frustration. He isn’t going to put up with any of Minhyuk’s dramas as of now.

When Minhyuk finally serves him his vodka, Minhyuk exclaims, “And you also don’t drink my whisky! That is too much, Kihyun.”

The man beside April rolls his eyes, taking a sip on his drink. Then, he turns to his left and asks April, “So, why do you come again tonight? To meet new people again?”

April is debating whether she should answer the truth – that she wants to listen to the singer’s voice again – but Minhyuk already cuts her off.

“She is asking if the singer is going to perform again tonight.”

April doesn’t know if it is only her imagination or Minhyuk does actually emphasise the word singer, but she quickly shrugs the thought off.

Kihyun puts down his glass and furrows his eyebrows at her. The corner of his lips curves upwards as he bends over so that the gap between them is small.

April gulps at how close their faces are.

“So,” he breathes, “You come for the singer.”

Truth.

“Do you think he would come tonight?”

April put her hands on Kihyun’s shoulders and slowly pushes him further before she replies, “I don’t know. Minhyuk told me he would always be here.” Her eyes dart to the counter, looking for the chatty bartender to verify her statement but the red-haired man is nowhere to be found. Kihyun parts his lips to say something, but he quickly swallows the question and gulps down his vodka.

“What’s your favourite song?” The question finally comes out of his mouth.

April seems to be thinking for a while. She lifts her chin without her noticing and her eyes are fixed on the high ceiling. It is a habit.

And Kihyun finds that cute.

The man rests his chin on his palm by the counter and he waits, because April takes quite longer than he expected to answer such a simple question. Well, probably it isn’t as simple as he thinks for her.

“Nightingale by Demi Lovato,” April answers after much calculations. Kihyun almost jumps from his seat and yells, “Finally!” but he manages to control himself. Instead, he grins like a Cheshire cat.

“You took so long to give me an answer. I wonder why,” he keeps it cool. The lady flashes him a glare.

“I never expected to be asked such questions.”

“Why not?”

“Because grown-ups don’t care about songs? I don’t know. I’m not the type of person who socializes a lot. I don’t know what people will ask, besides the weather. I’ve been living under the rock for the past ten months, except the rock isn’t really a rock. It’s called ceiling.”

Kihyun lets out a giggle which shows his dimples. They aren’t really on his cheeks, but they are beautiful. The kind of dimples that makes your smile look gorgeous.

And for a slight second, the thought visits her mind.

Yoo Kihyun is gorgeous.

“Why?” The question catches her off guard. She blinks a lot, trying to comprehend the question. As if he understands the signs, he repeats, “Why have you been living under the rock? Why didn’t you go out and meet your friends? Why?”

April sighs.

“I don’t have friends. I’m awkward with people. And I’m a home person. I don’t like to go out.”

Kihyun scoffs at her last sentence. His dimples are showing again.

“You do realize that you’re here for two consecutive nights, right?”

“But-“April pauses.

He is right.

“Maybe I’ve changed. Or… Am still trying to change. That is why I come here. To meet new people, remember? Throw my old self away from me and find a new one.”

Kihyun looks amused. He is already on his fourth shots of vodka, and his cheeks are becoming red. He looks a lot younger with his reddening cheeks.

“Is going here every night included in your-new-self plan?”

“Maybe yes. Maybe no. My husband doesn’t like the idea of me being here.”

April can see how Kihyun’s small eyes widen, as if he is shell-shocked. He puts down his glass and turns to her.

“Did you say husband? You’re married?!” His tone raises in surprise. A few people from the counter turn to their direction before they decide to mind their own business. April can feel heat rushing towards her cheeks in embarrassment.

He is probably drunk, she assumes silently.

“Yes, I am married.”

She thinks she hears him cursing under his breath, but she wipes the thought away.

Maybe he is really drunk.

“I’m going home. Do you want to come?” April asks as she stands up, leaving a tip on the counter. Kihyun looks up to her in disbelief. He scrunches his nose.

“Come where? To your house?”

“No! I mean…” She pauses, licking her bottom lip nervously. Her sentence sounds so wrong. And his sharp stare doesn’t even help to ease off the uncomfortable feel in her stomach.

“If you- um- we- um- how to say this?” Words are not coming out of her mind.

“Are you suggesting us to do it? At your place?” He raises his eyebrows. April quickly puts her hand over his lips in response, scared if anyone hears it.

“Hell no, I’m not,” she hisses quietly. Kihyun giggles at her funny response as he pushes her hand away softly and holds it in his hand. He gets up and drags her out of the bar, saying, “Come on, let’s go home.”

April only follows, blinking, realizing that the singer doesn’t show up that night.

*****

The exhaustion pasted on Wonho’s face every time he comes home can never be hidden. No matter how much Wonho puts his efforts for his lips to curl upwards when he meets April, he knows that his smile doesn’t reach his eyes at all. It seems so fake.

And April knows it all too well.

She prepares him hot bath and pyjamas the moment he is home late, and sometimes a cup of coffee if he needs to stay up to finish some work.

“You don’t have to overwork your body, darling,” April says softly as Wonho puts on his pants. He looks up to her on the bed, with a small nod.

“I don’t want you to be sick.”

Wonho heads to the bed with his shirt in his right hand. He sits beside April. His glorious abs is now visible under the dimmed table lamp. His fingers then caress April’s soft hair.

“I know.”

April never tells him how she looks forward for his magical touch every time they talk. It feels as if her heart is melting like an ice when being exposed to the Sun.

Wonho is the Sun.

He shines so brightly- or at least he used to, before he got the promotion.

And if April were to speak honestly…

Wonho isn’t her Sun anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Wonho’s soft voice brings April to her sanity. “I don’t spend much time with you.”

April flashes him a faint smile.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Those words are too common that she doesn’t even know if she really means them. It seems like a habit – ensuring Wonho that she is fine. Somehow, at some point, she does realize that she is fine. But the thought of her being fine without Wonho scares her.

Because he used to be her everything.

And now, she thinks she can almost be perfectly fine without him.

*****

April’s visits to the bar are never close to boring. Besides Minhyuk who always chats with her, Kihyun is also there. The brown-haired man is always late – not that they promise to meet at any time whatsoever. But April realizes that Kihyun only shows up after the singer’s performance. Or later. He is never there during the performance. When April tells him about it, he scoffs.

“I’m not into the singer’s voice like you do,” he says bluntly. April makes an annoyed face, disliking the fact that he mocks her. Kihyun rests his face on his right palm, eyes fixed on April.

“You really want to know why?” He asks suddenly. April nods immediately before he mutters, “You’re quite dumb for your face.”

April look at him in disbelief.

“Did you just say I’m dumb?”

Kihyun lays back, enjoying April’s mad expression.

“Really dumb, I mean.”

“I really hate you, Yoo Kihyun,” April says, pouting, before Kihyun bends over and cups her cheeks with his palms.

“Trust me – I’m the reason you come here every night.”

That kicks April right in her stomach. Her face reddens. She freezes. Her eyes widen. She doesn’t even blink for the whole two minutes. She feels as if she stops breathing due to excessive surprise.

Kihyun is the singer.

The angel voice belongs to Kihyun.

“How can you not notice? My singing voice is not that different from my normal voice.”

“Maybe I am very dumb,” April sighs. The person she longs for is right before her eyes. How can she not notice it?

Way to go, April.

“So,” she breathes, “What else about you that you haven’t told me yet? Because I told you about plenty of things. I told you that I bake when I am depressed. And that is the most secretive thing about me. And you told me almost nothing, except for your name.”

She lets out a sigh. Kihyun’s lips curve upwards, nodding.

“I’ve been a really good listener, if you were to ask me,” he replies, before April hits his thigh quick hard. He winces in slight pain before muttering, “Alright. Um- Where do I start?”

“Your family,” she suggests.

“I’m an only child and my parents are always busy. I own a few hospitals around the country, but I’m not a doctor. I just inherit them from my parents. I also own a few restaurants, clubs and bars. This bar is actually my favourite out of the others. I am single since forever, and yes, a virgin.”

April can’t help but to almost choke on her coke. Kihyun glares at her.

“Easy there, buddy. Just because you’re happily married, you shouldn’t seem so surprised to hear the word virgin.”

April mutters a quick apology for being rude before Kihyun continues.

“Minhyuk has been a friend of mine for almost a decade now, and I personally am not into his whisky. My favourite drink is vodka. But you have probably figured that out already.”

“I HEARD THAT, YOO KIHYUN!” Minhyuk yells on top of his voice, making a scene. April slightly covers her face in embarrassment when Minhyuk starts to argue with Kihyun about how Kihyun’s stupid vodka is not at all tasty, compared to his hella legendary whisky. Minhyuk’s high pitch voice manages to attract the attention of a few people around the counter, and April really wishes she can escape from the scene. The bickering lasts for a good 5 minutes before a man with plump lips two seats from her left snaps his fingers, asking for another round of whisky.

“We’re not done yet, Kihyun,” Minhyuk cutely hisses, backing away from them. Kihyun sticks his tongue out at the red-haired man, saying that he is tired of arguing over the little thing that cannot be changed – his love towards vodka.

“Remind me next time not to let you talk about your favourite drink,” April sighs. This is almost like a nightmare – to watch two grown-up men bickering about liquor. And she doesn’t even drink. That makes it even worse.

“Remind me next time not to let you send me home,” he replies sarcastically. “You seemed so comfortable in my condo it scared the hell out of me. No female has ever entered my personal condo before. And with you sitting on the couch, wearing the cute little puppy face, was not even helping.”

April blinks.

“What do you mean?”

Kihyun shifts in his seat uncomfortably. He then looks at her straight in the eyes.

“Don’t come to my house anymore…” He takes a deep breath. “Or I might fall for you deeper.”

April freezes.

Her eyes widen.

Everything around her seems to be stopping as well, before Kihyun bursts into laughter, showing his dimples and perfectly aligned teeth.

“Gotcha!” He exclaims, still laughing his ass off. He holds the counter for support and his other hand rests on his stomach.

“Wow,” April rolls her eyes, “That is funny.”

“Hell yes, it is. You should’ve seen your face.”

Kihyun finally gathers his sanity after a minute or two. He then gulps down his vodka before he says, “See you tomorrow then, April?”

She glares at the older man. “If tomorrow exists, then, probably. I am still not over your unfunny joke.”

*****

It feels like a dream come true for April to be having lunch with her husband, on Tuesday. Wonho insists they should eat outside, because it is their third anniversary. “It should be special,” he says as he drives his Mercedes along the highway. He claims that the restaurant they are heading to, is very famous, and it serves food from the best quality, according to his fellow colleagues.

The drive there takes them approximately 45 minutes, but the view is worth it. The restaurant is located in a countryside, surrounded by greens and browns and there is a beautiful mini self-made waterfall outside the restaurant.

“Wow,” April mouths. She is amazed.

The waiter takes them to a table for two, and as they pass a few tables by the windows, April thinks her eyes catch a glimpse of Kihyun’s familiar brown swiped up hair. She slightly turns her head to take a look at the man, just to make sure if her instinct is right. As if on cue, the man looks up to her way.

It is Yoo Kihyun.

And he flashes her his beautiful smile.

Different from his usual casual attires, he is clad in tuxedo and his blue necktie brings the beauty out of him.

Wonho squeezes April’s hand before she can reply Kihyun’s smile, making her look forward and realize that they are already at their table. Wonho pulls a chair for her before he takes his own seat. Foods are already served – cheesy garlic breads for appetizer and sirloin steak for April’s main course. Wonho, on the other hand, has lamb chop instead. April looks at him, puzzled.

“Since when do you eat lamb chop?”

He looks up to her expressionless. “I don’t exactly remember,” he answers, munching on the garlic bread. April nods, her lips form a small smile.

His taste in food has changed.

Wonho she knows is not a fan of garlic bread – cheesy or not – he just doesn’t like it. But this man before her, is eating it happily.

How can someone’s taste in food change in just a short moment?

Or maybe, just maybe, it has changed for quite a while now, only she doesn’t know. They barely eat together. How can she possibly know?

They are silent the whole time. April only focuses on her food and replies yes when Wonho asks her if she is fine. Wonho blinks uncomfortably, trying to find topics to talk about. He has stopped talking about work almost a week ago, because his colleague says that he shouldn’t be worrying his wife about his work.

“You look beautiful,” he finally speaks, gazing into her eyes. Blood rushes to April’s cheeks as she smiles slightly.

“You notice?” She asks, slightly biting her bottom lip unconsciously. She has dyed her hair a little lighter than before just for the occasion. She wants to impress him, and makes him fall for her again.

“Notice what?”

April blinks.

Her shines in her eyes become dimmer as she looks down to her food.

“Nothing,” she answers, voice laced with disappointment which Wonho doesn’t quite notice.

“If you’re talking about your make-up, then, yes. I see you put some efforts on your eyeliners,” he quickly says, trying to console her. April forces herself to paste a small smile on her face, “Yes. Thank you for noticing.”

It isn’t long until the waiter serves them desserts. Wonho has ordered a slice of mango cheesecake for April, but then, the waiter approaches them again with a big cup of ice-cream.

“A gentleman there ordered this for you, ma’am.” The waiter points to Kihyun, who flashes April his sweet signature smile. The waiter somehow manages to pass a small written note to April without Wonho’s realization before he excuses himself.

“You know him?” Wonho asks, worried. April nods. “He is a friend of mine. He owns the bar across the street,” she answers.

“Should I be worried?”

Yes.

“No,” she replies. Wonho then takes out his vibrating phone, signalling that he will answer the call for a minute, that it is urgent. April assures him that it is fine. The moment Wonho exits the restaurant to answer the call, April reads the note.

Lychee ice-cream with white chocolate and almond toppings – your favourite. As apology for my unfunny lame joke.

Forgive me, please?

P/s: Your new hair colour suits you well ^_^

April grins. She is deeply touched.

How can he even remember her favourite ice-cream while Wonho barely remembers that she loves lychee?

But… Above all…

Kihyun notices her hair.

*****

Wonho barely has time to talk nowadays. He comes home late every night, but he will be off to work before 7 in the morning. April doesn’t say anything about it because she trusts him and she knows that he is also exhausted. Bringing the matter up will only worsen things between them, especially when they are slowly getting distant.

They only share short pecks in the morning. Phone calls are rare now, seeing that April doesn’t really wait for him to come home. She visits the bar almost every night for the past two weeks, and sometimes she orders soda instead of coke. Wonho has expressed his concerns about her going to the bar, but she assures him that she meets really good friends there and she will be perfectly fine.

“I won’t drink, if that’s what you worry about.”

Wonho sighs. He states that there are always possibilities that someone can put alcohol in April’s drink or even sleeping pills.

“I can’t help you if that happens, baby,” he says softly as April buttons up his coat.

“I can take care of myself, Wonho. You don’t have to worry about me,” April replies, tiptoeing to give him a peck on his lips. When Wonho exits the door, April sighs.

She has a secret she doesn’t want him to know.

And it’s a sinful one.

*****

April is a woman of her own words. If she says A, it will always be A until the end of the world. She doesn’t change her mind once she has made a decision. That explains why she keeps refusing Minhyuk’s only wish – to see her taste his so-called legendary whisky. Even when Minhyuk pouts and whines and talks about how no one ever refuses his whisky, April will always say no to his wish.

“I don’t drink,” she says for the umpteenth time.

Kihyun, on the other hand, is effortlessly persistent. He asks April for a dance the moment a soft classical music is being played in the bar, which she politely refuses to, because she is not a good dancer.

“You don’t have to be good in dancing to dance,” Kihyun softly states, offering her his right hand. April unconsciously licks her bottom lip, thinking of another excuse. She can’t possibly say that she doesn’t want to dance with another man because Wonho is a jealous husband, even though it is the whole truth.

“So?”

April inhales deeply.

“It’s only a dance, April.”

The way his tongue rolls as he calls her name always catches her off guard. It might be his voice, she thinks, the reason why her name sounds so beautiful when it comes out of his lips.

“Okay,” April final gives in. She takes his hand in hers and he pulls her to dance in the middle of the bar, joining the other couples dancing. Kihyun holds April’s petite waist as she rests her hands on his shoulders. She follows his steps nervously, heart beating fast. Her stomach is doing summersaults twice a second.

“Are you okay?” Kihyun looks down to her, checking her out. She weakly nods. To be this close to Kihyun is like a forbidden dream to April, and she thinks he looks better-looking under the dimmed lights of the bar. His skin shines like the stars. His eyes glow up in the dark.

Yoo Kihyun is beautiful…

Until he pulls April closer to his body and tightens his grip on her waist. April fixes her eyes on Kihyun’s face, seeing a hint of smirk pasted on it. He bends over and brushes his lips against her ear. Her body freezes. Her heart is about to jump out of her body.

“Loosen up, April. There’s nothing to lose,” he breathes. The heat transferred from his lips sends chills down her spine, literally making her want to escape from this situation. April hasn’t been feeling this uncomfortably nice for quite a long time. And she isn’t looking forward to feeling it either. At least not with anyone besides Wonho. Not with Kihyun.

The taller man, however, knows exactly how to weaken April’s knees.

His fingers run along her waist in a slow motion, dragging her away from the crowd. April only follows without a word coming out of her mouth. It is sealed tightly. She is mesmerized by him that she doesn’t mind to ask where they are now. She doesn’t even ask why. Her mind is blank and empty, like the piece of paper she always takes when she wants to write a story but ends up discarded because the idea is not coming out.

Her mind is too blank to be true. And Kihyun is gorgeous.

“I wonder if you like it this way,” he traps her around his hands after pushing her to the wall. “You and me. Together. Alone.” Kihyun pulls her chin up to make her look at him, but she resists. April’s eyes dart everywhere but on the man before her.

It is then she realizes that they are in a secluded room. It looks luxurious, especially with the crystal chandelier that hangs in the middle of the room. It is more like a lounge, to be exact. And they are the only ones in the room. The air around them grows intense as Kihyun looks at her straight into the eyes. She can feel it – the gaze. It is as if he burns a hole through her with his sharp eyes. The room feels so hot- or is it only her who feels that way? It is as if the sun is right above her. She feels so much harder to breathe, because Kihyun alone can take her breath away, let alone this hotness she is withstanding.

This is too much for her to handle.

“I am not a bad guy, in case you ask,” Kihyun breaks the silence between them. He notices how April breathes unevenly. “And I’ve never done this before,” he states, finally making April to look at him.

“T- This?” she stutters.

Kihyun grabs her by the waist and places his lips against hers in a split second. His sinful tongue slowly explores her mouth, tasting her.

April doesn’t resist.

She doesn’t think anymore.

The kiss is mind-blowingly enchanting.

Wonho suddenly disappears from the back of her head.

Her mind is chanting Kihyun’s name over and over again.

When Kihyun finally pulls out to breathe, April gulps.

Her chest heaves as she gasps for air.

She returns to her sanity.

What has she done?

Damn it.

*****

April stops going to the bar after the incident. She is afraid of the truth. She can’t possibly love another man besides Wonho. She can’t. It is sinful.

But why does it feel so right?

April tries to stay away from thinking of the kiss but she can’t help but to still feel Kihyun’s strong grip on her waist, pulling her closer to him. She kind of longs for the kiss. Just once, her mind begs. She constantly forces the image of Wonho kissing her into her mind, but what she remembers are only short pecks. She forgets how majestic she used to feel when Wonho locks his lips with hers.

April is stressed out over her own feelings.

And the situation isn’t helping at all, because seconds later, someone rings the bell. April rushes to look at the visitor, only to be surprised at the familiar brown swiped up hair.

It is Yoo Kihyun.

She exhales deeply. She turns around, ignoring his presence. She bets he would go away if she doesn’t open the door. She, however, is very wrong.

Kihyun pushes the bell twice every second, and he speaks through the speaker, “I know you’re there. Open up. We need to talk.”

April paces back and forth in the living room, calculating the possibilities that will happen if she opens the door for Kihyun.

Will they actually talk without April stuttering?

Will Kihyun apologize and pretend as if it never happens?

Will she throw her arms around him and tell him how much she misses his lips on hers?

But…

Who the hell cares, really?

April decides that she will go with the flow.

If Kihyun wants to talk, they’ll talk. But if he’s there to make her turn her back away from Wonho, she is going to push him away.

Slowly, she makes her steps towards the front door and turns the door knob, revealing Kihyun, who is smartly dressed in a tuxedo. He seems like a well-off businessman, only he is not, because he runs the most famous hospital in the city, and he also happens to be running the bar across the street.

“Come in,” April manages to say without stuttering. She steps back to let him in before she locks the door behind her. When she turns around, she feels Kihyun’s sharp gaze on her.

“What?”

She doesn’t get a real answer. Instead, she gets a long passionate kiss. She almost stumbles backwards if Kihyun hasn’t lifted both of her legs so that they circle his waist. She has the wall to support her as she pulls him closer, wanting to taste him more. His tongue is skilfully amazing that she wants to beg for more. Kihyun pulls away for a slight second before April licks his bottom lip and works wonders on his lips.

April is weak against Kihyun. She can’t resist him. She is helpless and somehow, just somehow, she loves it – how Kihyun has the power to seduce her with no words.

April whimpers when Kihyun abandons her lips and starts to trail wet sloppy kisses along her neck, little does he know that her neck is the most sensitive out of all. She throws her head backwards in pleasure as he takes him precious time to bite and suck her neck in the most seductive way.

Talking doesn’t actually happen.

The whole day is filled with sinful pleasures.

*****

April wakes up from her deep slumber with no strings attached, and a pair of warm arms wrapped around her waist tightly. Her eyes squint a little to adjust to the brightness of the lights. She is in her room.

But the hands are unfamiliar.

They are smaller than Wonho’s, and definitely lighter.

Her heart starts to thump so fast.

Her head hurts, recalling the scenes before she fell asleep a few hours ago.

Oh God.

Tears roll down her eyes when she realizes the fact that she made love to another man besides her husband. Thrice. She sobs, feeling dirty. She has committed a really big sin and she doesn’t think she deserves her husband anymore. Wonho has been so nice towards her – so caring. He is always concerned when she goes to the bar.

And maybe, just maybe, this is the reason why he worries about her going to the bar so much. He is afraid she falls for another man. He is afraid to lose her.

And all this time, she has been so hard-headed.

Now look at what happens.

She is doomed.

“Hey,” Kihyun’s voice is hoarse from the sleep.

“Don’t cry,” he hushes her, giving her shoulder a soft peck. He turns her around, making her look at him straight in his eyes.

“No one will know about it,” he says. “This will be our little secret.”

He leans in for a kiss but April stops him.

“You should go,” she manages to say between her sobs. The look in Kihyun’s eyes screams disappointment, but she doesn’t mind. She is more disappointed in herself than he is.

She cheats on her husband.

Kihyun props himself up from the bed, picking his clothes up and slowly gets dressed. April looks at him secretly from behind. No wonder she melts for him.

Yoo Kihyun is mesmerizing.

“I’ll get going,” he softly states after he is fully clothed. He stops beside April and leans in for a kiss. This time, she lets him.

“No one is going to find out,” he whispers, “if you cover those hickeys with some foundation.” He points at her shoulders before turning around to leave.

April is startled.

She is really doomed.

*****

April doesn’t talk a lot after the incident. She bakes and bakes until it is too much for the both of them – Wonho and her. Her husband doesn’t say anything, deciding that he will let her alone for a few moments. He thinks April needs some time to open up her problems. But what she really needs is not time. She needs Kihyun to solve her problems.

“Where are you going?” Wonho asks, looking up from his laptop when he hears April packing the cupcakes she made into two big baskets.

“To the bar. I made a lot. I think I should send them there,” April mutters weakly. She sounds sick. Her eyes are puffy as if she hasn’t had enough sleep for the past week.

“Be safe, okay?” Wonho manages to say before keeping his focus on the numbers on the screen.

April closes the door and makes her way towards the elevator with the baskets in both of her hands. When the elevator finally comes and the doors are open, April’s eyes meet the familiar small brown eyes.

Kihyun’s.

He seems surprised to see April, mouth agapes, but soon after he collects his sanity, he steps back and lets April come in. She hesitates at first, blinking, but Kihyun’s voice kicks her in the stomach.

“I’m not gonna kiss you here. Come on in.”

The doors close after April forces herself to enter the cold confined space. She keeps a distance from Kihyun, afraid if she can’t control herself if she smells his light flowery scent. The way to the ground floor seems to be so long as Kihyun speaks, “I purposely go to your floor these days to check on you.”

“You didn’t go to the bar anymore. It has been four days. I miss you,” he adds.

April keeps silence.

“You don’t have any rights to give me the silent treatment, you know that. I asked beforehand, and you agreed. Thrice. It wasn’t totally my fault.”

April nods nonchalantly.

She is aware of the facts. She can exactly recall Kihyun’s voice when he paused, taking a deep breath before asking if she really wanted it.

“We’ll stop if you want to.”

His whisper still freshly lingers in her mind. She remembers telling him to continue, because she loves him too. Probably. She doesn’t know anymore. What she knows is, that she shouldn’t be treating him this way. However, she can’t do anything to make things right.

“I see you baked,” he states, eyes fixed on the baskets.

“A little,” she finally responds. The elevator stops at 10th floor and a woman dressed in a short flowery dress steps into the elevator, standing between April and Kihyun. She slightly smiles at April before she turns to Kihyun and smacks his arm.

“What is that for?” He asks, wincing in pain. April sees him glaring at the woman from the corner of her eyes, but she pretends as if she isn’t there.

“For being such an idiot,” she replies. Her voice is quite nasal and low. “Stop asking me to help you with your love life in the middle of the night. My husband thinks I’m cheating on him. Gosh.”

“You barely like someone and then poof, you’re in love with a married woman. What the hell is wrong with you, Yoo Kihyun? Can’t you love a decent person?” She sounds quite dramatic for someone with a poker face.

“Because she is wonderful,” he answers in his soft voice, fixing his eyes on April. “She is mind-blowingly mesmerizing.”

April slowly turns to him. Her heart beats fast as butterflies flutter in her empty stomach. Kihyun flashes her his best smile, continuing, “She might be married but I believe that she loves me too.”

Kihyun inhales deeply.

“Do you?” He asks April.

The woman looks puzzled, stating things like ‘I don’t know, why ask me?’ and ‘I am not the one you love’ until she realizes that Kihyun has his eyes on April the whole time. She turns to April with wide eyes, exclaiming, “Are you that woman?!”

April blinks. Hesitantly, she nods to the woman’s question. The elder woman mutters too many OMGs, claiming that it feels so awkward to meet April in the elevator whilst talking about her.

“It is fine,” she assures her.

“You haven’t answered my question yet,” Kihyun states.

“Do you love me?”

The elevator finally stops with a ping before April can actually answer. The other woman whines about how fast they reach the ground floor and that she longs for April’s answer but she has to meet a friend at a restaurant nearby. April clicks her heels, walking towards the front entrance, but Kihyun manages to hold her shoulder.

“Don’t… Leave… Before you answer the question,” he begs, “Please.”

April freezes.

Oh how she misses his touch.

“Don’t you know that a woman’s silence means yes?”

She then heads to the bar to send the cupcakes to Minhyuk.

*****

Crazy is all April is at the moment. She is too deeply attached to Kihyun that he is the first person she thinks of when she wakes up. It makes no sense how a person she met in a bar invades her life this bad. It makes even no sense when her mind begs to see him every day without fail. And to make it worse, she is having an affair with him.

“This needs to stop,” April always says to Kihyun, but all he needs to do is gaze at her straight in the eyes to melt her away. Kihyun does that every time April suggests to stop their forbidden relationship. And each time, April finds herself fall for Kihyun deeper.

“You’re all I have,” he whispers, running his fingers along his hair. He lays back, looking at April who stands before the door. He instructs her to sit beside him but she insists that her visit to his condo will be short, and this will be her last time.

“You told me that yesterday and the day before that. But you keep coming back,” he states.

“I know.”

April is well aware of the facts. She, however, promises that this will definitely be the last time she enters his condo. She will end their relationship today, by hook or by crook. She cannot keep on cheating on Wonho and looking at her husband’s face without guilt tugging her heart. She is not that ruthless. She wasn’t taught to be cruel.

“So,” Kihyun sighs, “What will happen to us after this?”

“We’ll part ways. I won’t look your way again. You can find another woman. We’ll live happily by our own,” April memorizes her lines. She doesn’t come unprepared. Of course she has thought of the things she would say, because Kihyun would definitely know that she doesn’t mean any of it if she stutters.

“Will we? Live happily by our own? Is that possible?” He saunters towards April, slighting caressing her hair. April freezes at his touch, but she needs to gather her courage to push him away.

Yoo Kihyun is bad for her.

“We will, eventually,” she replies. Her breathings are uneven, and she is doing her best not to grip the hem of her blouse.

Kihyun stands right before her, taking a good look at her face. His lips curl upwards in a second, muttering how beautiful she is. His hand slowly holds hers, and he can feel how she is startled at his sudden touch.

Kihyun smirks.

“You love me,” he claims softly. Kihyun grips her waist out of the blue, and he pulls her into a kiss. April swears she tries to push him away, but her lips are replying his kiss.

When he pulls away, she mutters curses in her mind, mad at how her lips are of the opposite from her mind.

“Go to your husband,” Kihyun whispers, looking straight into her eyes. “You love me, that is enough.”

April doesn’t know how to react. She blinks her tears away as Kihyun continues, “I read somewhere that to love is not to have.”

“But,” he breathes, “You know where to find me if you ever miss me.”

Yoo Kihyun is mesmerizing.

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