#Doh Kyungsoo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soobadnoonecanstopher · 4 months ago

Text

Rat Bastard - Part 1

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 7700

Warnings/Tropes: Strong Language, There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers

Links: Part 1, Part 2

You were due for some good.

Genuinely and honestly you could feel it. You were due for something good to happen to you. So much lately had been so very bad. This kind of bad luck seemed defy all the odds. Surely, surely this impressive streak of the universe opening its big cavernous mouth and vomiting all over your head could not, absolutely should not keep going. You were due. Something good. Anything good. For the love of God, it wasn’t as if you were a bad person. It wasn’t as if you routinely bet on dog fights and stole money from the big charity jar for the sick kids next to the register. You’d never ever, not once in your life even so much as looked at a dog or a kid funny. You never raised your voice or lost your temper. You didn’t yell at service workers. You didn’t deserve the cataclysm of shit that had been flung your way and even if, okay maybe… maybe once or twice you’d told a white lie, it was only to spare someone’s feelings. Maybe you’d stolen a piece of candy from a corner store as an ignorant child. Maybe you stepped on an ant or a fly or a spider but you swear none of it had been on purpose. You weren’t a bad person, not in the way that those bad people who get punished by the universe are punished, that wasn’t you. This shit storm had to end soon. It just had to.

You had been repeating this to yourself during the entire flight. During the entire, eerily empty flight with the single flight attendant who occasionally looked up and smiled at you when you made eye contact and uttered out a sweet, “you alright, hon?” When your own smile dipped just a little too far as the turbulence grew to what you were sure had to be abnormal levels.

The plane was one of those tiny propeller planes. The kind that had a whopping nine seats total and what every creak and groan of its rusted out nuts and bolts barely holding the thing together as it fought through the high winds outside and sent shivers down your spine.

What if this was it? What if that pilot had flown this thing right smack over the Bermuda Triangle and your rotten shit ass luck sent the three of you down into a watery grave nestled up beside Amelia Earhart and her tangled barnacle covered wreckage at the bottom of the sea.

No.

No, you were due for something good.

“Is it normally this loud?” You shouted across the tiny airplane cabin but the lone flight attendant had her head turned as she peered through the open cockpit door. She didn’t hear your question and offered you no reassurances as she stood up, straightened her uniform, a tasteful pantsuit, and disappeared through the open doorway

“Fasten your seatbelt and prepare for landing, Hon,” she popped her head back out for the quick announcement and disappeared through the space again, leaving you completely alone to contemplate your own mortality and what you hoped would be a swift end. It felt impossible. You hadn’t even been able to see land from outside your window. It had been endless ocean for hours now. Maybe you wouldn’t even feel the impact. Maybe the adrenaline dump would protect your dying mind and body from the pain that came from with a water impact. Your knuckles were bright white as you gripped your armrests and you remembered that one episode of MythBusters that said the best position for a plane crash was with your body bent in two and your head tucked down between your legs.

The plane was shaking terribly. It was rattling and screeching. You were clenching down so hard on your teeth you half wondered if you might knock a few of them loose. You were praying to yourself with your eyes squeezed up tight and you wrapped your arms tightly around your thighs doing your best to hold yourself together even if this plane fell apart around you. There was a boom. You hoped you wouldn’t pee your pants but thought you might be justified if you did. The search and rescue team would understand as the collected your remains.

The roaring and trembling of this world around you creaked and moaned and swayed and eventually you could feel the change of speed deep inside your chest as everything, every groan and strain and clench came to a stop with a dramatic throwback on the landing that jostled your body and made you feel positively seasick.

The plane had stopped.

You were not dead.

“Ladies and Gent—” The pilot's voice broke through the tiny speaker over your head. You pulled your sweaty head up from your lap and looked through the still open cabin door as the man speaking paused for a moment to consider his words, “uhh…just lady, we welcome you to La Malinche Island. The temperature is a damp and balmy 89 degrees Fahrenheit and dropping as the winds pick up. Not sure what possessed you to fly to a tiny island in the Caribbean right before a hurricane hit but Barracuda Air does not want to know your business. We only care about our promise to you. Our promise of course, at Barracuda Air, with a … 0% flight cancellation rate, not counting that one incident with Jerry — be it rain or snow or sleet or hail, Barracuda Air does not care. Barracuda Air will get you there. Welcome to La Malinche. We hope you like 150 mile-per-hour winds and torrential rain.”

Hurricane? Is that was the roaring and terrifying shaking has been about? A goddamned hurricane?!

You’d checked the weather last week. There was zero mention of a hurricane. You pulled your cell phone out of your back pack and turned off airplane mode and you watched the cell service signal in the upper right hand corner spin and spin. It eventually gave up and gave you the saddest little no signal sign and you toggled airplane mode on and off again with the same terrible result.

But…but…

You were due.

“Thank you for flying Barracuda Air.” Your flight attendant was standing near the exit at the front of the plane; her voice just loud enough for you to hear it; her smile just wide enough for you to get the message.

You tried your phone one more time, this time turning the whole thing off and turning it on again while holding it up high above your head to be able to catch the signal better. You just needed a minute for it to come back on. You only needed one bar, one bar would be enough.

“Thank you for flying Barracuda Air.” This time her voice was closer. She was standing at your row now, her voice betrayed none of the urgency implied with the repetition. Her smile was still believable enough.

You looked down at the useless paperweight in your hands and outside of the window on the tarmac below, you watched the lone airport employee wheeling your checked bag away from the airplane. The wind whipped his rain jacket around his body fiercely in all directions and you swallowed down the very real sense of dread that was beginning to fill your stomach.

This was supposed to be a vacation. This was supposed to be paradise. It had been advertised as such in the brochure. The single’s retreat at the five star resort where only other eligible global singles of extremely high caliber would attend. The probably very expensive luxury retreat that was a gift from your very best friend in the entire world, Clare, who sold you on the idea that here — here you would surely find your soulmate. One that would be as delighted to meet you and you were to meet them.

Here you would be the most beautiful and captivating woman any of these sad, but not clinically; lonely, but not in a creepy way; brooding but not in a mean way; hurt and broken but not broken in some way that some sweet woman’s attention couldn’t fix — you’d be the most womanly woman any of these manly men had ever seen!

Definitely not the kind of man that still lived with an overbearing mother, but one who still loved his mother very much, but maybe lived far enough away from her that he didn’t have to listen to everything she told him anymore. Hell, maybe you’d get lucky and land a man with a dead mother. No, no, no. No need to be greedy.

But the kind of man — no, the kind of men who were very, very attractive.

They were going to be tall with clean skin and clean teeth and they’d be successful, but not too successful. They were smart, but not annoyingly so. Oh! And charming! But most importantly, they were men who would find you to be absolutely irresistible. These men were supposed to be waiting for you. They were going to be beside themselves when they got a load of you. They were going to flirt with you and call you sweetheart or darling with a southern drawl or and they would buy you drinks and feed you cheesy lines about how they’d never before seen a woman that held galaxies inside of her eyes like yours did.

“Ma’am,” a voice called to you, sharper than before, “you need to get off the plane. The airport is closing because of the storm. You can't stay here.”

You hadn’t even unbuckled your seat belt yet.

God forbid they give you a damn minute.

It was a disaster.

You quickly gathered all of your belongings. The flight attendant had pulled your carry-on bag down from the overhead bin and her smile had long since vanished as she held it out for you to take and get the hell off her plane already. You grabbed the handle, no longer grateful for her help. No longer thankful for the small bag of peanuts she’d fed you earlier or the two cans of soda she’d handed you hours ago. She was ushering you down the aisle, through the exit door, and had watched you navigate the scary stairs until you plopped your two feet right down into the cement of the tarmac belonging to the smallest airport you had ever visited in your entire life.

The wind came at you in waves. One second you were sure this whole hurricane thing had been exaggerated and the next your hair was taken and spun around your head, whipped into some sort of frenzied do as strands hit your cheeks like tiny, stinging whips. You did your best to grab ahold of it with one hand but lost your cardigan in the process. It flew a few feet and landed on the floor in a brown puddle of water beside the door with a hand-printed arrow directing you to open it for Baggage Claim.

You were an adult. You had been a responsible, self-sufficient adult for some years now. You had found yourself in situations that required you to navigate this cold cruel world by yourself before but as you reached down and picked up your sweater and watched the muck drip in slow, fat, thick drops from the once pristine knit fabric, you suddenly felt more alone than you’d ever felt in your entire life.

Behind you, far beyond this mystery puddle, the only one in this entire dry concrete hell; somewhere on that small runway you heard the Barracuda revving its engines for take off.

Maybe you weren’t due for anything good to happen in your life ever again. Maybe it was just going to be shit from now on.

Had you somehow brought all of this on yourself? Maybe it had been the bad thoughts you’d had. The ill wishes you’d genuinely hoped to fall on those who had done you dirty in your life. Your recent ex-boss, you’d hoped and prayed would face a bout of public uncontrollable diarrhea. Your ex-coworker who’d stolen work from you, lied about you and sabotaged you and who you believed led to you being fired, you hoped she would be hit by a city bus, not enough to kill her but you hoped at least three bones would be broken.

The ex boyfriend who cheated on you with your ex friend, you hoped the both of them would sail off into the sunset and be lost as sea, eaten by a whale or something scarier with suckers and sharp teeth.

And most recently, that friend of a friend, that charming, sweet, funny, and handsome man who would be absolutely perfect for you, according to Claire who set you both up — the blind date who not only stood you up, leaving you to wait for him for a whole hour at the fancy ass restaurant, but also, in some wacky attempt to tarnish your good name told all of your friends that you were in fact the one who flaked on the date. You could not imagine why he couldn’t have just come clean. Well you weren’t going to let him win. He was trying to play the victim when in fact you had been the loser who was stood up. You denied it earnestly. He maintained his lie and you both had been stuck in a bitter stalemate ever since. Any gathering of friends where he was scheduled to be there, you refused to attend. You heard through various sources that he had a similar reaction to the threat of your presence and this only fanned the flames even hotter. Any time his name was uttered in pleasant company you rolled your eyes and made snide remarks under your breath. Doh Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo. Chef Doh. Decorated and celebrated private chef, a genius with a knife and a frying pan. You wanted to vomit.

After a while the fight moved from only inside your own head to the real world. He would leave sarcastic replies to some of the things you said to your friends. Things you told them with love and respect would get a passive aggressive laughing reaction from him or some sort of contrary comment right below yours. You both evolved into taking little snips at each other in the comments of your mutual friends' social media posts and like the good friends they were, everyone of them politely ignored it.

Just, how dare he? There was nothing worse than men who lie. You hoped at the time that he would be exposed for the fake and liar that he was, although now as you wandered through this empty airport this punishment seemed not enough for your shitty mood. In this moment you hoped and prayed that he would have been the one trapped on a deserted island with a hurricane bearing down over his head. Even his name and profile picture filled you with an irrational rage. That sweet and innocent looking, fake ass motherf—

Wait.

Wait one goddamn minute.

Your forward movement abruptly stopped and you stood with your luggage in your hand on the sidewalk of an empty and deserted airport with no cell reception and no idea how to get to the hotel.

Wasn’t all this doom to my enemies wishing how you got yourself cursed by the universe? Was all of this really your own doing?

You took a step, trying to remember if the hotel was situated within walking distance of the airport. Trying to recall it was to the west or to the east or if maybe it was to the south.

This was a tiny island. Maybe it wasn’t that far. Maybe if you wandered around town someone might point you in the right direction and you wouldn’t be mugged or mudered.

You closed your eyes for a split second and smelled something crisp and funny in the air. You could feel the hairs on your arm standing on end and a feeling of panic surged through you as the first fat raindrops began to fall from the sky at the same time as an ear deafening boom sounded out over your head. It was so loud it shook the roof over your head.

You screamed and covered your head, taking several big steps back and away from the empty parking lot where the blinding flash of lightning must have struck.

There was a gross taste inside of your mouth. Your rational brain attributed it to the close lightning strike but you knew deep down what that taste really was.

It tasted like you might be about to make a deal with the devil. You shouted right out loud into the air above your head, “Doh Kyungsoo is great! I misunderstood him! He is a prime example of a man and a genuinely good person! I hope his pillow is always cold and his toast is never burnt!”

You knew it was silly. You were a silly lady.

Of course it was silly.

It wasn’t as if the skies would magically clear, the whipping winds would calm and five taxis would drive up each more eager than the last to drive you to your luxury resort for free.

You did hear something new and unexpected though. Something that had you spinning around to investigate.

There was a man standing behind you. He wore a clean crisp suit and a very wide and bright inviting smile on his face. He had cleared his throat. This respectable gentleman clearly had something to say to you.

“Yes?”

His smile widened with your acknowledgement, “Hello. My name is Mr. Chen. I’m the Concierge with Shifting Sands Resort, are you by chance Miss—” his eyebrows lifted and he extended a hand, palm up, the beginnings of your name formed on his lips.

“Oh my God, yes. I am her. She is me. Oh, thank you, thank you!”

His smile deepened and his eyes turned up into little moons on his pretty face and the relief that surged through you was complete and instantaneous.

“Might I take your bags, Miss?”

Was this man your savior? Would he have come to your rescue all along? Or was Doh Kyungsoo your karmic stabilizer?

You were loaded up and buckled in and well on your jolly way to your promised paradise of pampering and relaxation. Dare you wish for a handsome man or two desperately waiting to make your acquaintance?

Maybe you’d even settle for just one. One handsome and suave proper gentleman to spend the week with; to wine and dine with; to sweep you off your feet. Surely this entire trip wouldn’t be a complete waste. Surely you hadn’t dug yourself down that far deep yet.

Your driver had been maneuvering the big comfy van in silence up until now but you caught his kind eyes glance back at you in the rear view.

“Mr. Chen, please tell me some other people have showed up for this singles retreat.”

His eyes held on to yours for only a few seconds and his lips were pursing together in more thought than you figured was necessary.

“Ummm…” his voice trailed, “well…actually…”

His eyes drifted away from yours under the guise of watching the non existent traffic on this scenic road that, had it not started raining, might have been a beautiful drive.

You weren’t sure what kind of sacrifices the universe demanded. You wanted just one. You didn’t even ask for much, just another living breathing human male who was the complete opposite of that slimey, slandering, thought he was slicker than a bowl of shit, Doh Kyungsoo.

The car screeched to a halt and your seatbelt caught and firmly locked you into place, digging hard enough into your neck to leave a mark. The rain outside pelted the roof of the van, much harder now and Mr. Chen seemed to be breathing quite hard as he tripped the steering wheel tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Miss, are you alright? I am sorry, this road is blocked. We will need to take another way around.”

Jesus. The near kiss with death had you gripping your seat very tightly and you closed your eyes.

That…that…ass— as lovely on the inside as on the outside, Doh Kyungsoo.

That saintly and angelic man.

That accurate and symmetrical and pragmatic and punctual, Doh Kyungsoo.

You could feel yourself running out of adjectives. What is the opposite of a rat bastard?

That legitimate, law-abiding, insured, and licensed to drive, Doh—

“Ahh, what were you asking? Other guests? Yes miss, of course. The singles retreat — well, we don’t have nearly the crowd we expected but there is at least one other guest who you should find most agreeable. He is very handsome and charming. All of the other staff members are positively enraptured by him already. Especially the ladies, but I have to admit I myself felt a bit of a flutter when he caught me in those big brown eyes of his.”

It worked. It fucking worked.

Son of a bi — son of a w-wise and gentle lady probably — what the hell did you know about his mother? She raised a f-fine excuse for a son, that much you knew. A real piece of work— err — art! A piece of art. A real, honest to god, adult male human being. You really needed to get that man out of your head. You could actually feel the first real dangerous slips into madness the more his name and his profile picture danced through your head.

You closed your eyes tight and you tried your absolute best to think about someone else. Anyone else. The mystery man who you were about to meet. The tall, dark, handsome, sweet and successful man who would sweep you off your feet the moment you met him.

The alternate route to the resort was down right pleasant. It was scenic and beautiful and you looked out the window as you drove the long way around, the very deserted road that took you along the breathtaking coastline. You continued the almost ritualistic positive compliments in your head Mr. Chen was chock full of his own compliments for the handsome and admirable guest who was to be your only other companion during this week’s retreat.

You were fine with that. Even if it didn’t turn into love — by the sounds of him and based on how Mr. Chen absolutely raved, you were sure the two of you would get along quite well and maybe even become good friends once this whole thing was over.

The fancy resort was as lovely and beautiful as the brochures had promised, yet your chest felt tight with apprehension. Something was wrong. There was nobody here. Mr. Chen profusely apologized for the shortness of staff due to the incoming storm which from the sounds of the serious news reports you could hear playing on the overhead television in the empty lobby, was already wrecking a neighboring island. The huge and scary category 4 hurricane which threatened to turn into a category 5 at any moment now and who’s outer bands were already knocking trees down outside and whipping rain fiercely against the windows. This wasn’t even the real storm and the wind and sheets of water hitting the window outside sounded so scary. It even sounded as if the building itself was moaning under the pressure of the wind outside. The longer you stood in this enormous and astonishingly empty building, it was becoming more and more evident that maybe you shouldn’t be here at all. Here you stood, your presence alone putting these people in danger. You, the only insane person who stubbornly refused to accept the reality of this storm. Not only would not be the relaxing and love connecting vacation you had been preparing for, but what if something really bad happened to you here? What if you died on this island? Fuck love, fuck men, fuck that man, Doh Kyungsoo in particular — what if you actually died here?

There seemed to be some sort of serious whispered discussion taking place between Mr. Chen and two other uniformed employees of the resort.

You weren’t being checked into your room. In fact, you still had your own bag in your hand and there wasn’t some moist young whippersnapper scooping your bags up to lead you to your room so you could snack on strawberries and cream and sip on champagne.

Someone made eye contact with you. There was a small regretful smile on her face and you caught the deep chest filling breath Mr. Chen took as he looked away from your curious face. It took him a moment of looking away before he exhaled, closed his eyes briefly to collect himself and the same rueful smile took over his face when he turned to come to you, taking several large steps to return to your side, he looked up into your face and carefully began to speak to you. His voice sounded grave and serious.

“Miss, I am,” he lifted a hand and laid his palm over his chest, “extremely, terribly sorry.” His eyes were sad, his eyebrows curved his face into a grimace, “I have received some bad news. The resort will have to close. We have lost power to all of the guest rooms. The ballroom was flooded, as it was closest to the ocean. The kitchens are down. It seems we are in an emergency situation due to the storm.”

This felt like a bad dream. Maybe you had fallen asleep on the plane and when you woke up it would be a bright sunny day in paradise like you’d been promised.

“We will all need to leave. The other guests have already been moved. I’m so sorry, Miss, of course the entirety of the cost of the stay will be refunded. We are prepared to offer a free week’s stay at any of our resorts for you and a guest to use at a time of your choosing. But right now we must go. The roads are beginning to flood and we can only go to the shelter at the highest point on the island. We have to move quickly before the storm surge.”

“Storm surge?” You could feel the panic and upset building inside of you. “Sh-shelter?” You knew it was evident in your voice. “The other guests were moved?” You looked outside the window. Anyone with any sense at all knew there was very real danger happening out there.

“Other guest. Sorry, there is only the one guest. I apologize but you both will need to bunk together in the barracks. The generators should last throughout the storm. There is no other place to go.” Mr. Chen was talking but you felt dazed. You were ushered into a different vehicle and the other staff members climbed in beside you. Mr. Chen was still talking about the place where you were being taken. Something about a room full of bunks, used during some historical war between two countries that didn’t exist anymore. Something about the man, the only other single from this god forsaken Singles Retreat. He was to be your bunk-mate. He, a complete stranger, was supposed to share the very large and spacious barracks with you. There would be ample space for you to spread out, as the space was designed for armies of 20 soldiers or more, but you were not to fear because Mr. Chen and his staff would be right next door should either of you need any assistance.

The road up the hill was bumpy and hectic. This vehicle was obviously well equipped to handle the rough trip, but you still found yourself jostled around, feeling seasick with the swaying back and forth and big bumps the wheels traveled over.

You began to think you might not make it. The queasiness from the ride had you closing your eyes and trying to breathe through it. Begging and pleading that you would not be sick inside this vehicle. You took deep steadying breaths through your nose, exhaling through your mouth, willing your overly sensitive stomach to calm down. The big truck soon began to slow and eventually crawled to a stop.

“I — I need to get out,” you mumbled just under your breath, unbuckling the seat belt and pushing yourself toward the door. You reached for it and pulled the handle, kicking hard with your feet. The rain was falling hard outside and you leaned over, breathing deeply as the raindrops quickly soaked your entire head.

You couldn’t meet him yet. Not like this. Not schrodinger's man of your dreams. Not fighting nausea while looking exactly like a drowned rat as you were babied by some kind hotel worker who probably shouldn’t be getting wet in the rain like this.

The cooling effects of the rain helped to calm the nausea and you felt a hand at your shoulder a moment before the deluge of rain falling over your head stopped. Someone had placed an umbrella over you. Someone was leaning into you; the staff woman from the hotel was talking to you.

“Miss, are you alright?” She rubbed a comforting warm palm over your back between your shoulder blades in slow and careful circles. You opened your eyes, noticing first the soft swell of what had to be a baby in her belly before you looked into her concerned face. She looked to be pretty far along too. She was probably due any week now. Her name tag said Sara and she had kind eyes.

You forced your shoulders back and pushed a smile upon your face. You worked for it and did your best to straighten out the expression on your face, gripping the stick of the umbrella and angling it so it covered more of her body. You’d be damned if you gave some expecting mother pneumonia just because you’d always had an overly sensitive stomach and the Barracuda Air pretzels were sitting funny.

“I’m okay. Just got a little carsick but it’s passed now that I’m out of the car. Let’s hurry inside before we get too wet.”

Your belongings were already rushed inside the drab, depressing, tan colored cement walled building that was to be your shelter for the next week or so and you rushed inside quickly with Sara stepping inside right behind you.

There was a click of the big heavy doors and aside from the two small windows next to the door, there wasn’t much in here for natural lighting. There was a musty smell in here and a thick layer of dust over most of the surfaces.

“I really am sorry that things have ended up this way, Miss.” Sarah waved hand back and forth in front of her face, waving away some of the dust in the air. She didn’t pause for long enough for you to absolve her of any guilt related to this messed up situation before she was speaking again, this time stepping further inside the space. There was a hallway up ahead that she turned into.

“If you could follow me, I’ll show you the room with the bunks and introduce you to Mr. Doh, our other guest. We changed all of the bedding so it’s clean and the space really is quite big.”

She was walking away from you as she kept taking. You felt a strange tickle along your scalp. A raindrop rolled down the back of your head, tickling its way down inside of your hair.

Did she say Mr. Doh? That same dream-like feeling that had been haunting you ever since you’d stepped off of that airplane returned.

Sara was turning a door handle and she had both of her hands pressing on a door.

“I’m sorry, what did you say his name is?”

“I’ll introduce you,” she smiled widely and leaned her head in closer to you as she dropped her voice, “He’s not that tall but he’s so, so, so handsome. He’s funny and witty too. I’m sure you’ll get along.” She said this last part with a genuine giggle of excitement. “I am just so excited!” She squealed. The eagerness in her face had a feeling of dread building inside of your belly. That stubborn queasiness you’d felt before returned.

The room was empty. Of course it was empty. Bunk beds lined each wall and a center aisle just wide enough for a person to pass through single file separated the rows of bunks and on one of the beds, the one closest to the door sat a black travel bag. A dripping rain jacket was hung over the metal frame of the upper bunk and whoever owned these items was not around.

“Oh, he was…just here…” Sara was spinning around, reacting to a sound, the sound of a door opening and your eyes followed to catch the movement of a person, a human, a man as he emerged from what you imagine was a bathroom. His head covered with a small white towel and a tanned arm rubbed swiftly over his straight black hair. On his torso, he wore only a simple white t-shirt and the fabric was too thin. The rain shower he’d been caught in made the shirt nearly transparent.

It only took a moment.

You knew what was going on.

It took less than a second for your eyes to touch deep inside of his big round brown eyes and you knew in an instant; you knew exactly who this Mr. Doh was, this esteemed and honored guest of the Shifting Sands Resort, you knew who he was and you knew exactly what this was — this man who stood in front of you; this man who was not very tall but so, so, so, and yes she was right, so handsome — because he was very handsome; even you could admit that, of course he was.

You wouldn’t have agreed to that idiotic blind date with him in the first place if you hadn’t found him to be incredibly attractive, with his clean skin, soft as hell full lips, achingly deep brown and oh so judgemental eyes, sexy and strong back, bulging arm muscles; his goddamned smart ass comments, and annoying as shit filthy lies that he told to tarnish your reputation with at least four good friends — this man who dropped the towel slowly as his eyes looked into your own stunned ones, this was that man; the one and only, Doh Kyungsoo.

You knew exactly who he was. The rat bastard, Doh Kyungsoo and you knew exactly what this situation was.

You were dead.

You had died in that airplane; gone down in the Caribbean Sea with the rest of the Barracuda Air flight and cabin crew.

You were dead and this was hell.

If your face betrayed the shock you felt right now, Sara didn’t notice. She must not have been paying any attention to you at all. She simply giggled as she gave her sweet introduction of you, raising a hand out palm up as she called out your name and recited some lame facts about you and what kind of man you were looking for in a relationship. Facts that you’d haphazardly typed out during the registration process for this Singles Retreat from hell, she said them all with a wide smile and a small silent clap of excitement as she got the words out.

Sara recited from memory, straight from your own mindless words, “Her ideal man is someone who is funny and witty. Someone who is just the perfect height for plenty of eye contact — and of course a man smells nice and is handsome.” Her hand motioned over and around his pretty face as if she simply could not help herself.

His eyes were wide with just as much genuine surprise in them as you had in yours.

Sara continued her introductions, bringing that palm right back around in front of his chest, at an even level with the nipples you could just make out through the sheer fabric of the wet t-shirt, and she proudly declared, “this is Doh Kyungsoo. His ideal woman is someone who’s as kind as she is honest and trustworthy. She is someone with an iron stomach who isn’t afraid to try new foods and explore new adventures with him.”

You felt too stunned to move. There was no way this was really happening. You felt the room spinning and it reminded you a lot of sitting with your head down between your knees as that airplane fell out of the sky. The same feeling as bouncing around the back seat of that off road truck that brought you up this hill to this bunker out of the immediate threat of the hurricane that blasted outside and into the waiting arms of a much more agonizing threat.

Sara had finished her introductions. Neither of you moved.

He was the first to break the silence.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His question was blunt. He hadn’t bothered with appearances or with how abrupt and callous his question was, or with how full of disgust that expression on his face might appear to Sara.

He never once considered just how far down her shoulders might deflate to have the cold hard truth splashed in her face. That not only did not you check a single one of his boxes, but you might very well be the last woman on this entire earth that he might fall in love with.

That he’d rather sneak out the back door after catching a glimpse of you waiting for him, all gussied up with your cheap drug store makeup and little black dress from the clearance racks at Target — a specimen so far below his level that he couldn’t even spare you the humiliation of faking a smile all the way to dessert before ghosting you the next day; instead he’d rather leave you stranded and embarrassed. Having to foot the bill yourself for your three glasses of white wine and no entree. Having to suffer through the pitiful glances of the waitstaff as they took turns asking if you were “still waiting for someone,” all the while knowing you’d been abandoned and publicly marked as unlovable.

“Me?!” You were too blindsided for tact. Your indignation at his bluntness filled you with just as many questions as he must have had in that pretty, stupid head of his.

“Why you?”

Once the first question was out, the second came out with gusto. He balked and his eyebrows furrowed. His fist clenched around the towel he was holding. You reached down deep within your diaphragm and the words came out too loudly.

You couldn't help the anger you felt. This was supposed to be your Prince Charming. This was supposed to be paradise. You opened your mouth and you let it fly. The frustrations from the trip so far, from the sham of a blind date, from being so unethically and undeservedly fired from your job, that fucking hurricane outside that stole the 5-star resort from under your feet and plopped you down inside this musty concrete prison from the 1940s and the words came out of you as if you threw them hard right into the eye of that hurricane outside.

“Why is it you?! Why are you the Mr. Doh that she is introducing me to?!”

“Because that is my name!!” His voice level rose higher and you actually flinched at the sudden volume he used. This motherfucker. How dare he shout at you. And in front of Sara. The poor girl took two steps away from the both of you and covered her belly with both of her arms.

“Why are you yelling?!” You took a step into him and shouted right back, right into his face. You needed answers for his awful behavior. He did not retreat. You could smell the light cologne he wore from this close.

“Because you yelled at me first!!”

His clenched fist gripping the towel tight was lifted, his eyes were wide, and his voice had so much more power than yours ever could that you nearly cowered. You almost backed down and backed off. Almost. He was clearly just as stubborn as you were.

Also the words he said took only one second to sink in and your next bit of anger got caught inside of your throat, refusing to come out.

Damn. He was right. You did yell first. It was you who did it first.

You’d just been so caught up in your awful mood that seeing him standing in here, knowing that what this man already knows about you would basically ruin your chances of finding any other man here to trick into falling madly in love with you. What if he told them all about your messy life. You hadn’t bothered concealing any of your recent failures on social media. You’d obsessively scrolled through his own profiles often enough to know that not only was this man a work-a-holic, but he was a big ol’ nerd. You figured he had done the same with you since some of his recent digs at you in Claire’s comments had been about you being recently liberated from your job. You’d been in his circle for long enough to know plenty about him, you were sure he had all of the dirt on you. You stepped back and away from him. From a normal distance he didn’t smell so damned nice.

“Oh I did, didn’t I?” you said in a much more normal tone, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

Your apology was as abrupt as the yelling had been, but it seemed to have a bigger effect on him. His eyes seemed to grow softer or perhaps just more confused and he blinked rapidly as his focus touched lightly around all edges of your face.

“Sara, not this one,” you pulled your eyes away from his face, not quite finding the conviction to be able to fully look away from him, but your words were at least directed away from him and onto the woman who stood three feet away from you with what you almost thought was a fully enthralled expression on her face.

“Do you have any others?”

Kyungsoo made a sound. It was a scoff mixed with a grunt. It was disgruntled. You pulled your mouth into the sweetest fake smile you could manage and directed all of that sweetness at him.

“I mean the room, of course.”

“Sara, I think I’d also like to switch to another room. This one seems to have something fundamentally wrong with it.” Kyungsoo said without taking his eyes off of your face, “it’s not for me. This place seems undeservingly high maintenance and might even have some nasty pests hidden in the walls. I bet they really come out at night.”

Sara was silent for long enough for you to actually need to look at her. When you did, you smelled trouble. Sara was smiling. It was the kind of smile you got sometimes when you found a great drama to watch and you knew that these two wacky characters were about to thoroughly ruin each other's lives before they fell in love.

Her eyes were bouncing back and forth between you and Kyungsoo and with each pass her smile only widened.

“Sara.” You said in a flat tone. You had seen enough romantic comedies to know what she was thinking. “Sara, no. Not in a million years.”

She was giggling and nodding her head now.

“There are no other rooms.” She said with a voice three octaves higher than normal and she was giggling as she said it. “This is the only room.”

“You can’t even leave because there’s a hurricane outside.” She was outright laughing.

“I have to go tell Mr. Chen everything,” she whispered to herself and she was rushing toward the door, pulling it open with all of her might and vanishing through the opening much faster than you thought a woman in her delicate condition should be allowed to move.

“Sara, I swear to god,” you shouted down the dark hallway that she disappeared down, “Sara!” But she was long gone and behind you the huffing and puffing, very put-out man was grabbing every single bit of his belongings from his bed and moving them all down to the bed at the farthest end of this enormous room, putting himself and his itty bitty towel and his sheer white t shirt with his visible nipples physically as far away from you as possible.

It was actually funny to see him throwing such an obvious fit.

“I can see your nipples through your wet t-shirt, you know.” You said it under your breath but not at all trying to not be heard.

“I’m not the only one in this room with a wet t-shirt, Princess. Between the two of us, your nipples are far more eventful than mine,” he sing-songed back, using as much sarcasm as he could manage with the pejorative he used as a nickname for you.

You gasped covering your chest with both hands — the liar. The damned liar. There was no way. But when you looked down, you could very clearly make out nearly every detail of the entire shape and outline of your breasts, even the dark circles of your nipples in the center stood out. Cold and wet with your precious cardigan long tossed in the trash can back at the airport after it got wet in the puddle and you left with only the sheer bra you stupidly decided to wear under this light pink colored shirt and the hope that maybe, maybe this was one of those countries that didn’t extradite murderers and you might get away with killing him in his sleep tonight.

Links: Part 1, Part 2

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