#still christmas eve over here but yknow close enough

[theyrejustbehindtheveil]

meet-cutes aren't just for the movies, my lady

Now presenting, a (slightly belated) @mlsecretsanta gift for @celestialtitania. Hope you enjoy it!!

[Read on AO3]

...

The first time Adrien ever meets Marinette Dupain-Cheng, he is 17 years old, and tagging along behind his father as the man inspects garments that will become part of the next season’s collection, and produces forceful and prolific critique at each and every item and Adrien is so, so bored.

And so, when he notices a quiet shadow hovering on the outskirts of the discussion, arms full of folded fabric and a look of intense focus as she listens in on the conversations happening in front of her. She’s about his own age and so Adrien slides on over in the hopes that he could at least talk to someone.

“Hello,” is as far as he gets with that plan, because as soon as he opens his mouth she squeaks and scatters all the fabric in her arms all over the floor. The conversation near them stills and eyes turn to the pair as the girl bends to try and pick up everything she’s dropped.

“Marinette!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

Adrien’s father turns away from the mess on the floor. “Let’s move on, and leave your intern here to clean up the mess she made,” he says.

Adrien looks at his father at this. ”I’ll stay and help her, pére,” he says. His father gives him a cursory nod and leaves the room, which empties behind him.

“Hey.” he says, as he bends down to help the girl pick up fabric. “Sorry for startling you earlier.”

“Oh um, uh, not–no problem.”

He chuckles. “My name’s Adrien.”

She pauses in folding fabric. “Mari–Marinette,” she says, ducking her head away from his grin.

A moment of silence stretches between them, only punctuated by the sound of shifting fabric.

“So you’re one of my father’s interns?” He winces at the awkward question almost as soon as it’s blurted out.

“Oh! Um. Mr Agreste is my boss. I mean, he’s not my actual boss, he’s really my boss’s boss. He is still my boss though, technically, because it’s his company. That he is the boss of. I mean of course you know that, he’s your father. Because you’re Adrien, his son.” She’s rambling at him, still folding fabric and stacking it neatly, blushing furiously all the while. It’s adorable.

“So you like fashion?” he asks. She brightens at the question.

“Yeah! I really like fashion and design, it’s what I want to do after I leave lycée. I mean, I don’t know if haute couture is really for me. N–not that I’m not grateful for this internship. Because I am! I’m learning a lot! But like I really love street fashion, and it just feels a lot less…”

“Pretentious?”

She laughs. “Yeah. A little.”

“That makes sense.”

She blinks. “It does?”

“Yeah. I don’t like it much either, to be honest.”

She lifts her head up from where she is gathering up the last pieces of fabric that still remain on the floor. “You know you can do whatever you want after high school, not just what your parents do, right? Mine are bakers and I like helping them out but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life. And that’s okay, and they support me in that because they want me to be happy, yknow? You’re allowed to be your own person.”

That makes him pause. “Huh.”

She grins at him. “Yep. Pass me that pile?”

He does, standing, to carefully hand over the stack of folded fabric that he’s slowly been accumulating. “Here,” he says, as he moves to hand it to her, and instead, finds himself sprawled on the floor, fabric once more scattered everywhere, including draped over his head. He lets out a groan, and lifts one hand to move the folds of fabric away from his face so he can see. Marinette starts unabashedly giggling at him from across the room.  “Guess that looked pretty stupid of me?”

“Just a bit,” she says, between giggles, and then, as he makes a move to try and get to his feet, she stands and moves towards him. “Need a hand?” she asks, reaching her hand out to him.

“Please,” he says, taking her outstretched hand, which she grasps firmly and hauls him to his feet with surprising strength. He dusts himself off with a shrug, and she laughs as he tries to brush his hair back into place.

“Here, let me,” she says, reaching for his head. He bends down a little so that she can reach, and she gently brushes fingers through his hair, neatening the errant locks. Her blue eyes are fixed intently on the top of his head, and it almost feels as though time holds its breath along with him as he watches her face as she fixes his hair.

He comes back to himself when she steps back from him, her hands slipping from his hair. He doesn’t move for a moment, still looking at her, and she coughs awkwardly, and then bends to pick up the dropped fabric at her feet. “Help me out here,” she says, and he jolts into movement, rushing over to help her out. Together, they gather and fold the last few dropped pieces of fabric.

The next several minutes are spent carefully collecting the last of the mess, which Adrien spends a good portion of just watching Marinette, her deft fingers that handle all the fabric so carefully and elegantly, and her dark hair, tied back with a few errant strands tucked behind her ear.

Finally, all the mess is folded and stacked into a neat and manageable pile, that Marinette gathers up into her arms. “Thank you,” she says, stepping towards the door, “for staying and helping me tidy.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, moving eagerly to hold the door open for her. “Least I could do, since it was my fault for startling you into dropping it all.”

She moves out of the door ahead of him, pile of fabric almost obscuring her line of sight. He follows close behind her, and grins at her when she turns to face him. “I’m glad I met you, Marinette,” he says, and his grin grows wider at the sight of the faint blush that rises on her cheeks.

“Me too,” she replies, tentatively returning his grin with a smaller one of her own.

Before he can say anything else, however, his father strides out of the next room. “Adrien. Time to go.”

Marinette jumps in surprise at the sound of his father’s voice, even if she manages to keep ahold of her burden this time around. “I–I gotta–I have– I need to go. I need to put these away now. Goodbye, Adrien, Mr Agreste.” she stammers out, and then bolts away before he can stop her, or call out to her, or do anything that might give him a sure way of finding her again.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The second time Adrien gets to meet Marinette Dupain-Cheng is many years after the first time. He never does get to run into her again while she is still an intern, much to his disappointment, and he loses track of her after that.

After a year away from Paris, Adrien has come back to spend Christmas at home, to see his father and, apparently, to get himself roped into attending a Christmas Eve party by Chloé, even if they’ve barely talked to each other in months.

And so, here he finds himself, walking into a party that is full of some of the best and brightest in the fashion industry. The bright lights and the slightly too small suit he has on makes the atmosphere feel stifling, and the thought of walking back into something that so viscerally reminds him of some of the most hated parts of his childhood is almost enough to make him turn around and go back home. But–

“Adrien!!” he hears a voice call. He turns, and sees Chloé, striding towards him in a bright green gown that glitters under the lights of the room. Despite himself, he can feel some of the tension leave him at the sight of a welcoming face. “You came!”

He grins. “Hello to you too, Chloé, “ he returns, right before she pulls him into a hug. “Ooft.” He’d forgotten how tactile she is, and how tight her hugs were, as though she wants to hold her friends as close as she possibly could.

“I’ve missed you,” she mutters, from where her face is not quite buried in his shoulder.

“Me too. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Same here.”

That shocks him, just a little. Chloé, despite how much she’s apparently grown out of the spoiled brat she once was, is still not the sort to apologise, even obliquely. Adrien clears his throat to try and dispel some of the awkwardness he feels. Chloé, brash and self-confident as ever, doesn’t acknowledge it beyond a slightly stiff and awkward shake of her head.

He holds out his arm, “Well then, Chloé, shall we?”

She hooks her elbow through his, then grins. “Cmon, Adrien, you gotta meet my friend Mari. She’s like, my new favourite fashion designer, and she’s amazing . You’re going to love her. She made my dress for tonight, and she’s so cool. Like really Adrien, you gotta meet her, and I know she wants to meet you. I’ve told her so much about you.”

Chloé keeps up a steady stream of chatter as she drags him over to where a small knot of people are clustered around a girl in a dark blue dress. She seems… different, somehow, Adrien muses. Still as brash and self-confident as he remembers, but happier, somehow. Kinder, too.

“Mari!” Chloé calls, as they get close to the group of people she’s been making a beeline for. The woman in the dark blue dress turns, and her polite smile morphs into something wider and more genuinely delighted.

“Chloé!” she calls happily, and extracts herself neatly from the group she’s been talking to, including, Adrien realises, one of his father’s most serious competitors in the fashion industry. The woman walks up to them, her dress glittering under the lights as she moves to enfold Chloé in a hug. “I wondered where you’d run off to so quickly,” she says to Chloé, as she draws back from the hug to kiss both her cheeks, and then finally turns sharp eyes on Adrien, who fidgets under her direct gaze. “Hello.”

“Mari, this is Adrien. He’s the best friend I keep telling you about.” She holds out her hand to shake, and Adrien grasps it firmly. She’s shorter than either him or Chloé, and she has black hair and startlingly blue eyes, and something about her is weirdly familiar, though he can’t quite work out why.

“Adrien, this is Marinette. She and I went to lycée together, but we didn’t become friends until I ran into her again at one of Daddy’s parties a few months ago.” He blinks at her name as she releases his hand from her firm grasp, which vaguely reminds him of, well, something that he can’t quite place.

“Nice to meet you, Marinette.”

“Same here. Chloé talks about you a lot. She said you were overseas for this year?”

Yes. I spent this year on exchange at a university in England.”

“And how was that?”

“Good. The language took some getting used to, but I liked it.”

“What were you studying?”

“Physics. I’m working on my Masters at the moment.”

“Oh that’s awesome. I studied design, but I stayed in Paris to study and then work.”

“Yeah, Chloé mentioned you were a designer. She said you made her dress. It’s gorgeous, you’re really talented.”

Marinette’s face lights up at the compliment. “Thank you! I wanted to make her something that wasn’t her favourite yellow, just for the challenge of it. And I wanted to stick to a more traditional silhouette, because Chloé has the personality to pull off something that dramatic, you know? And...”

She continues to talk excitedly about Chloé’s dress, gesturing passionately with her hands as Adrien listens to her chatter, and Chloé nods along gracefully. And then, Marinette,  while Chloé is in the middle of telling a story about some misadventure the pair of them had gotten up to while trying to get the right fabric to make this dress, starts giggling, and Adrien finally places that frustrating deja vu that Marinette has been prompting in him since Chloé had introduced them.

“You’re Marinette!” he interrupts. Chloé’s story rambles to a clumsy stop as she and Mari– Marinette turn to stare at him with matching bemused expressions.

“Yes? That’s my name?”

“No! You’re Marinette! You interned at my father’s company in highschool and I frightened you into dropping all that fabric once!”

Marinette giggles, and Adrien is struck with the sudden realisation that he’d quite like to hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life. “I can’t believe it took you so long to make the connection!”

“You look different,” he mumbles, “and, besides, Chloé called you Mari.” He gestures to Chloé, who rolls her eyes and mutters something about the trials of having such oblivious friends.

“Less of a clutz than you remember?”

“A bit. It’s a good different, though! Really! And I tripped too, remember?” A slight pause. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you right away, really.”

Marinette laughs. “I forgive you. Make it up to me by sticking around for the rest of the night and impressing all these fancy fashion people with your good looks and charm.”

“Of course, my lady,” he says. Chloé huffs from beside them, and he glances over to her in time to catch her rolling her eyes.

“I’m going to go find Sabrina,” she says. “She just texted me to tell me she just got here.”

“Okay.”

“See you around, Chloé,” Marinette grins. “Come find me later so we can make fun of all the stuck up industry execs.”

“You know it, Mari,” she says, and walks off into the crowd in a swirl of fabric.

“Cmon, I really do need to talk to people tonight.”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“No! I want to, I promise.”

“Awesome.” Marinette’s grin is blinding, and when she hooks her arm through his, Adrien feels his heart miss a beat. “Let’s do this then.”

…

Adrien spends the rest of the night at Marinette’s side as she makes her way around the room, making polite conversation and impressing almost all the people she talks to. Adrien is a tiny bit in awe of how easily she manages to negotiate conversations with everyone. She looks to be in her element right at this very moment, and she shines .

After a few hours of this though, they are both over talking to people and Marinette leads them over to an emptier patch of the room. She leans back against the wall as they watch Chloé whirl around the centre of the room, tipping her head back in a laugh.

“She’s happier than she used to be,” Adrien observes.

“Yeah. She is,” a soft smile graces Marinette’s face, for just a moment. “I’m really proud of her.”

“Me too. I’m glad for her.” Adrien looks over to Marinette. “Do you want to head outside?”

“Yes please,” she answers.

“Come on, then,” he says, taking her arm to walk with her to a set of doors that lead out onto a balcony. The night air is cool, and Marinette’s dress shimmers gently under the street lights. As she leans on the railing of the balcony to look out at the city, he feels a sharp drop of cold on his nose, and tears his eyes away from her to look up at the sky. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Marinette do the same, her eyes closed and her face upturned to catch the snowfall.

It’s snowing, and he stares up at the sky in awe before a gentle hand on his arm drags his eyes away and back down to Marinette, who has snow caught in her dark hair and in her eyelashes. A long moment stretches between them as he stares at her, enthralled by her face and the tiny freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, and the way her lips curve up into a shy smile. It’s broken by the distant tolling of a clock striking midnight, and an enthusiastic buzzing that emanates from Marinette’s dress. She steps back as she reaches into a previously hidden pocket at her hip and pulls out her phone, which is lighting up with a succession of messages. Adrien misses her closeness almost immediately, as the sharp dampness of the still falling snow makes itself known to him.

“Sorry, give me a minute, my friends are all messaging the group chat now that it’s actually become Christmas Day,” she says as her fingers fly across the screen of her phone. She leans on her forearms against the railing as she texts, her phone held out over the open air. Adrien finds himself enthralled by the mischievous grin on her face, and the way her face lights up at the onscreen antics of her friends. Chloé was right, she’s amazing. He would would keep coming to every fashion industry event if it means he would get to see her, and talk to her, and make her smile.

oh

oh wow

He opens his mouth to say– something, to make her laugh or to ask her if they could go back inside – but, still reeling from the realisation of how much he likes her and the warm feeling spreading through his chest, what comes out of his mouth is a whispered “You’re beautiful.”

whoops

Marinette whirls around, thankfully without dropping her phone off the balcony, and stares at him with her mouth hanging open and a blush spreading over her cheeks. “Wh-what?!”

He takes a deep breath and shifts slightly towards her .“You’re beautiful, Marinette.” Another deep breath, to gather his courage. “Can I kiss you?” he blurts out, breathless and nervous, and hopeful.

Marinette stands in front of him for a long moment, and he can feel that little sliver of hope start to wilt in his chest before she pulls in a deep breath of her own and steps towards him, so close that he can feel her exhale gently on his skin as she fits her hands to his face. “Yes please,” she whispers reverently, before rising up and fitting her lips to his.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

THE NEXT DAY: ADRIEN'S PHONE

Chlo: Hey nerd I gave Mari your number. She thinks you’re cute. If you break her heart i will show you the knife skills her parents taught me

...

Unknown Number: Hi Adrien I hope you don’t mind but I got your number off Chloé. I had a really great time last night, thank you.

Unknown Number: also I wanted to ask if you wanted to go on a date sometime.

[3 seconds later]

ADRIEN: YES PLEASE

[seungcheolsbodyharness]

heart shaped: III

wc: 4.7k

summary: you and jihoon are both full of surprises.

genre: fake dating, fluff, minor angst

a/n: it’s june!!! have some christmas fluff

part one || part two || part three || part 4 || part 5 || finale (in progress)

you find yourself standing in front of jihoon’s door a few days later. it’s christmas, now, and maybe you should have asked first, but you’d decided that morning that it’d be nice to surprise jihoon. you already know he doesn’t have plans.

besides - it’s what a real girlfriend would do, after all. surprise her boyfriend with something sweet, romantic.

so you knock on his door, hear him call out that he’s coming, smile at his surprised face when he sees you standing on his tiny porch.

“did we have plans today?” he asks, surprise rendering his words sharp. he coughs, and tries again. “sorry. were we supposed to hang out today?”

“nope!” you bring your hands out in front of you from where they’d been hidden behind your back and present him with an envelope - nothing big, a pretty card with gift certificate to the record store he’s mentioned once or a few hundred times in the brief time you’ve known him. “just wanted to surprise you. merry christmas, jihoon.”

his eyes go wide and he silently motions for you to come inside. you take off your coat and shoes and settle onto his couch while he remains in the entryway, eyes staring at the card and its contents.

“you didn’t have to do that.” he mumbles. you shrug and smile at him. jihoon dismisses himself to the small office he has off the kitchen, presumably to put his present somewhere safe, but when he comes back he has a small box in his hands. he holds it out to you, not quite meeting your eyes. “sorry it’s not wrapped.”

it’s your turn to be surprised. you take the box from his hands and open it to reveal what appears to simply be a piece of fabric, but as you pull it out of the box you realize that it’s a scarf. it’s beautiful and soft, covered in delicate flowers. you aren’t sure what to say.

“my friend minghao helped me buy it.” you look up at the sound of jihoon’s voice, almost like you’d forgotten he was there. “i’m not very good at buying presents, but i thought i should get you, i dunno. something. it matches your coat.”

blinking, you turn your gaze towards the entry and think that he’s right. the scarf is same color as the coat you’d worn every time you’d met up with jihoon.

“thank you, jihoon.” you smile up at him and wrap the scarf around your neck despite the warmth of jihoon’s living room. “so - um, i was thinking we could go out and do something.”

jihoon thinks for a moment and then nods. “okay.”

the streets are unsurprisingly filled with people. everywhere you look you see couples: matching outfits, leaning closely to share quick kisses, hands clutched tightly together. for just a moment, you’re reminded of spending christmas with your ex, and then jihoon squeezes your hand and asks you if you want to get some coffee. clearing your head, you nod and allow him to lead you to a cafe that isn’t fit to bursting full of people. he tells you to find a seat and that he’ll get your drinks.

you pout, insisting that you’ll wait with him but he declines, giving your forehead a gentle flick as he laughs. “go find us a table before they’re all gone.” you pout again and insist he buy you something sweet as well. he nods, smiling, and you give in, leaving him in line while you peer around for a table.

being alone without jihoon to distract you brings back the thoughts of your ex-boyfriend once more. christmas had always been his favorite time of year, which made spending it with him that much more enjoyable.

which had made it worse when he’d broken up with you on christmas eve.

thinking back to that moment now, you know it’s for the best that you’re not together anymore. this is only your second christmas without him, immediately after not included, and while you were mostly fine throughout the year, spending christmas day alone was still hard for you.

not for the the first time, you’re tempted to check his social media - see if he’s doing something romantic with his new girlfriend. well, she isn’t new. they’d gotten together pretty quickly after your relationship’s demise.

“are you okay?”

jolting, you look up and see jihoon seated across from you. the look on his face isn’t quite worried, but it’s close enough. you laugh nervously and wave it off, “just thinking about something, don’t worry about me.” you smile at him, hoping you’re convincing. “what’d you bring me, hoonie~?”

jihoon blanches and immediately you wonder if you’ve misstepped. he blinks a few times and shakes his head as if to clear it, letting out a long breath. “my ex used to call me that. like, almost more than my name.”

“god, i’m sorry, i won’t say it again.”

jihoon waves a hand, eyes pinched. “no, no, don’t be. you can say it. i just - i dunno, i guess with all the real couples around i couldn’t help but think about her, yknow?”

you hum, nodding slowly. “yeah, i know. so - hoonie is okay? because it’s a very cute nickname.”

jihoon’s cheeks tinge pink and he shrugs. “if you want, i guess.” he slides a mug towards you, whipped cream heavy on the top. “i hope you like caramel hot chocolate.”

“i guess i’m going to find out.” you couldn’t imagine disliking it, and with that you gently bring the cup to your lips and sip slowly. the overwhelming sensation is that it’s hot, so hot, but it tastes delicious nonetheless. you swallow and set the mug back down, and jihoon’s shoulders shake with what you’re assuming is restrained laughter. “what?”

“oh, nothing.” he takes a sip of his own coffee, smirking against the rim, and you frown. using the front-camera on your phone, you realize just what it is he finds so funny.

huffing, you take a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wipe the whipped cream decorating your upper lip. “so…do you want to grab dinner, maybe? i’m sure there’s places doing couple specials tonight. we could probably get a pretty good deal.”

jihoon does laugh, then. “yeah, you’re probably right.”

the two of you finish your drinks and set back out into the cold, immediately bombarded with people handing out fliers for restaurants doing just like you’d thought - advertising couple specials for the holiday. you and jihoon take a few as you walk, figuring you can walk around some more before deciding on where to eat. the walk leads you both towards the park in the center of town, where there’s a light display. it’s nearly dark despite being late afternoon, so you both head down to see things close-up.

the lights reflect prettily on jihoon’s face as you look at several light-up santas, and you wonder if they look as nice on your own. you look over at jihoon and find him looking at you, expression unreadable. you smile at him softly, and he looks away. you follow him on the path through the displays out to the other side, where he stands waiting for you. he holds his hand out for you to take, and says, “i’m feeling in the mood for dumplings. sound good?”

you nod and let him lead you once more.

the evening goes smoothly - you and jihoon manage to keep each other distracted from your respective thoughts, laughing together over dinner and enjoying the buskers out even in the cold. jihoon gets a special, fond look on his face as you stop to watch a young man with his guitar, and you smile.

on the way back to jihoon’s, you ask him about it.

“did he remind you of yourself?”

jihoon hums. “yeah, a little bit. that’s how i got the job i have now, believe it or not. i had sent my resume and my application, of course, but on a whim i attached a youtube video of me busking from a few summers ago. the hiring manager was impressed, so here i am.”

“wow, jihoon, you’re so cool.”

jihoon lets out a little noise, almost as if he’s unused to the praise. “shut up.”

jihoon pulls into his driveway and walks with you back to your car. “for our next fake-date, i wanna take you to the record store. sound good?”

you don’t have to think before responding positively. “do you wanna do that before soyoung’s party?”

“mmm, like go to the shop and then swing by the party? we could do that.” he nods. “i had a good time today.”

“yeah! we’re getting pretty good at this date thing, huh?” you laugh and jihoon chuckles as well.

“okay, well, get home safe. i’ll text you later, okay?” you nod and he moves out of the way of your door so you can close it and drive home for the night.

finally alone with your thoughts, you find them drifting back to jihoon.

december is nearly over. the year is coming to a close.

you wake up on the thirty-first with a strange sort of dread sitting heavy in your chest, but you can’t figure out what it wants. you can’t figure out why thinking about the night ahead makes your heart clench tight.

you go about your day as if on auto-pilot: breakfast, shower, dishes, laundry, texting back and forth with jihoon and soyoung. both of them seem excited about tonight’s party. you don’t have the heart to tell them you’re not sure you feel the same way.

jihoon promised to pick you up around noon - in time for some lunch before heading out to the record shop, and then “there’s something else i want to show you.” that’s what he’d said in response to you wondering if maybe noon was too early - the party wouldn’t start until nine pm at the earliest. you’re eager to see what he has planned, though. jihoon seems too blunt to prepare surprises.

but then, he’s already disprove that.

noon rolls around and once again, jihoon is punctual and you’re running around trying to find something last minute - you let him in at the sound of the doorbell and motion towards the couch while you move quickly back to tearing your room apart.

“can you call my phone, please?” you ask, desperation obvious. “i haven’t been able to find it on my own and i don’t want to leave without it.”

jihoon nods and does as you ask, and you can hear your ringtone pinging in the living room. you scoff, annoyed because you’ve already pulled the cushions from the couch, even looking underneath, to no avail.

when you come into the living room you find jihoon on his stomach, peering into the dark abyss beneath your sofa. “it’s underneath.” he says simply, standing up and brushing himself off. he sets his own phone onto the coffee table and looks at you. “i’ll lift it up, you get under and grab your phone.”

“that’s all well and good, hoonie, but that couch is super heavy and -” jihoon ignores you in favor of doing just what he’d said he would and lifting the couch off the floor. you stand still for a few moments, shocked, before collecting yourself enough to dive to the empty space between the lifted furniture and the floor and retrieve your phone. gently as he can, jihoon sets the couch back into the floor and turns back to you, smirking. holding your phone to your chest, you can’t help but stare at him, mouth agape.

“ready to go now?”

you nod, speechless, and hurry for your coat and your purse.

jihoon will grant to himself he’s happy to see you wearing the scarf.

you get into jihoon’s car, and he drives out of the city.

“hey, you’re not taking me far away to like, kill me, right?” you’re mostly joking. mostly.

jihoon raises an eyebrow but keeps his eyes on the road. “why would i do that? people are expecting us at a party later.”

“that’s a joke, right?”

jihoon peers over at you, face blank. there’s a few beats of silence, and then he bursts out laughing, eyes turning back to the road. you slump back in your chair, immediately relieved, pouting at him.

“you think you’re so funny, don’t you?” you whine, and jihoon continues chuckling. “so where are we going, then?”

“my friend seungcheol told me about this place that has like, the best kimchi jjigae he’s ever had. and,” he draws the sound out, smile bright and mischievous. “there’s a branch of that record shop here too. it’s the original.”

you make a little ‘o’ with your mouth, nodding slowly. “i’m always down for some good jjigae.”

jihoon hums and taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “yeah, when i told cheol i wanted to head out this way he recommended it pretty quick. said he’d brought his girlfriend there once or something.” jihoon doesn’t mention the weird, suggestive faces cheol had made when telling him about the restaurant, nor does he mention the way seungcheol had kept repeating how glad he’d been he’d taken his girlfriend there.

the drive goes quickly enough - you and jihoon chat about a lot of things, somehow managing to avoid altogether the topic of the party. jihoon pulls up to the restaurant and you walk inside, and upon entry, jihoon realizes something. he keeps it to himself, in hopes that he’s wrong, but as the two of you find a seat and a woman comes up to the table to take your orders, jihoon realizes that he’s not.

“first date?” the woman asks, smile small but somehow knowing.

“oh, no.” you tell her, smiling. “we’ve been together a few weeks now. it is our first trip out of the city together, though!”

“ahh, i see. are you here for the kimchi jjigae?” her smile is warm and reminds you of your mother, but jihoon can only think of seungcheol’s smug, knowing face.

“yeah. a friend recommended it.” jihoon’s voice is low, almost sullen. the woman raises an eyebrow at him but quickly returns her attention to you.

“our kimchi beef dumplings are also the best in the area. you’ll have some of those?” she says it like a question, but it doesn’t carry the feeling of one. which is fine. you’re always down for good dumplings, too.

“that sounds great, thank you.”

she leaves the two of you alone at the table, so you turn your attention to jihoon. “are you…like, okay?”

jihoon sighs. he’s about to say something before the woman is back, setting side dishes down onto the table.

“you know,” she says, “our restaurant has a reputation among couples.”

“oh?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at jihoon.

“that’s right. couples who eat here and eat the kimchi jjigae never break up.” she smiles slyly at jihoon, who isn’t looking at you or the proprietor, and then walks away promising to bring your dumplings soon.

“i didn’t know, i swear.” jihoon blurts. your eyebrows remain raised at him, and he continues. “okay, so, i realized it like, as soon as we got here because i remembered cheol talking about it over and over and fucking over again after he came here last year, and then we got here and i saw his stupid picture on their couple wall. i wasn’t - it’s not like that, i swear.”

you laugh a little, and then it turns into a full stomach laugh. jihoon’s eyes go wide and he’s not sure if you’re laughing at his misfortune in the misunderstanding or at something else, but he figures it’s probably best to wait your laughter out, hoping that you’ll tell him. eventually it subsides, and you sigh before a few residual chuckles slip out. “it’s - it’s okay, jihoon, i’m not mad, it’s just that it seems like even after we’ve ‘gotten together’ people can’t stop interfering in our relationship.” you take a sip of your water and smile at him. “besides, if the jjigae is magic, it won’t work on us. we’re not really a couple.”

jihoon’s face lights up and he says “oh. you’re right.” even as a ‘couple’, seungcheol had seen fit to nose his way into your relationship. “i’ll probably kill him tonight. maybe. maybe some other time.”

“definitely after the jjigae though. magic or not, i bet it’s delicious.”

jihoon laughs. “i bet you’re right.”

your food gets brought out, dumplings and jjigae both, and the woman smiles sweetly at you as she sets it down. “it’s meant to be shared, of course. enjoy.”

you and jihoon smile politely back and then dig in, food just as delicious as you’d been promised. relationship magic be damned, the taste of it could be described as nothing other than magical.

“so, before you kill seungcheol for meddling,” you say after the meal is done, the two of you on your way back out to jihoon’s car, “you should still thank him for sending us here. that really was the best kimchi jjigae i’ve ever had.” you pat your stomach happily - you felt too-full, but in the good way.

jihoon huffs, tapping the address of the record shop into the gps on his phone. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

it’s only a short drive from the restaurant to the record shop, which despite the early saturday afternoon is nearly empty.

“good,” jihoon says when you mention the lack of shopgoers. “it’s easier to think and find something good when there aren’t people hovering around.”

you stand back while jihoon does his thing - thumbing through records with a concentrated look on his face: brows drawn together, lip stuck between his teeth. his mouth quirks to one side and you think he may be biting the inside of his cheek, eyes flitting up to a nearby shelf before he walks over to it. he searches through the stock here, too, and you wonder if maybe he’s looking for something specific. he finishes at the shelf and when he turns to look for more, he catches you watching him.

“aren’t you going to look for something?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

you shake your head. “records aren’t really my thing. i just knew you really wanted to come. besides, i like watching you look. you’re so…in your element here.”

something twists in jihoon’s chest and he turns away from you before you can see the blush rising on his cheeks. sensing that you’ve embarrassed him, you turn away and begin thumbing through the collection of records behind you. you get distracted looking at the cover art, careful not to treat any merchandise with disrespect, and it’s quite a few minutes later that you peer out of the corner of your eye you and notice that jihoon has left this section of the store, wandered off somewhere else, but you’re enjoying yourself where you are. jihoon knows where he left you, you figure, he’ll come find you when he’s done.

he does exactly that a few minutes later, after you’ve moved to another rack to look at more albums.

“i thought you weren’t into records?” he asks, tone soft.

you shrug your shoulders, still looking at the album in your hands. the art is so simplistic - just a small cloud on a blue sky background and nothing more. “i don’t.” you respond, putting the record back and turning to face him. “but i liked looking at the covers, i guess.”

jihoon knows this, though. while you’d been absorbed with cover art and he’d been wandering, he’d come back by the section you’d been in to check on you, make sure you weren’t standing there alone and unsure of what to do. unintentionally he had gotten stuck watching you browsing just like you had watched him, and he had seen you poring over a particular cover for a number of minutes before putting it back. and even after that, you had ended up going back to it, fingers tracing delicately over the artwork.

jihoon had wandered off again after that, deciding it best to leave you to it until either you sought him out or he finished his shopping, whichever came first.

which brought the two of you to the moment at hand. jihoon stood before you with a few bags in his hands, one of which he wordlessly holds out to you. assuming he just wants you to hold it you take the bag from him and start heading for the exit, and jihoon follows you back to the car, where you both place the shop bags into the backseat. checking the clock on the dashboard, it’s already a little after four, and the drive back to the city will take about an hour and a half which leaves you with hours still to go before the party. the two of you settle in, jihoon sets up the gps once more, and you hit the road.

“so was there anything else you wanted to do before the party?” you ask. “there’s not really a point in you dropping me off at home just to come pick me back up later, you know?”

“yeah, i told you earlier, remember? there’s something i want to show you. i don’t know if it’ll take like, three hours, but…we’ll see.”

oh. you had assumed the “something” had been the restaurant, or perhaps even the original branch of the record shop he loved so much in seoul. “what is it, hoonie?”

jihoon looks at you from the corner of his eye and smirks. “you’ll see.”

you groan. “haven’t you surprised me enough for one day? first the day trip, then the magic jjigae, now what?”

“you’ll see.” jihoon repeats smoothly. “also, the magic jjigae wasn’t - i already told you i didn’t realize where cheol was sending us.”

“i’m just teasing, hoonie. i trust you.” you smile at him brightly before turning back to your phone, scrolling through your twitter feed. smiling to yourself, you turn quickly and snap a picture of jihoon to post online.

jihoon drives deep into the heart of the city, into the underground parking lot of a building you’ve never seen before - not before saying hello to the man working the security gate. he pulls the badge hanging from his rear view mirror and throws it over his neck, taking you by the hand as he leads you to the elevator. he swipes his badge to get the elevator going to a specific floor, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand as the two of you travel upwards.

you step out once the doors open, jihoon leading the way. the guard working the desk looks up from his book and smiles big and wide at the sight of jihoon.

“evening, mr. lee!” he waves and jihoon waves back as he comes to a stop in front of the desk. “and who is this?”

“ah, this is my girlfriend.” he introduces you to the guard, who introduces himself as “dongsoo, miss!” and exclaims at how nice it is to meet you.

“dongsoo only works weekends, lucky bastard.” jihoon grumbles goodnaturedly.

dongsoo laughs. “that may be so, but no one forces you to come in on saturdays, mr. lee.”

jihoon shrugs. “i work best here. i get too…comfortable at home. and will you please just call me jihoon.” dongsoo smiles at that.

you raise an eyebrow at jihoon but say nothing. the two of you say goodbye to dongsoo as jihoon leads you down a long hallway lined with doors, going down until he reaches door 0526.

“this is me.” he says, voice soft, sliding up the keypad and putting in the passcode. he opens the door and leads you inside, revealing a small studio lit only by soft purple neon lighting.

“do you always work in the dark? that’s bad for your eyes.” you say it without thinking, but it’s true, and when jihoon doesn’t respond to turn towards him to see if you’ve maybe made him mad. he’s looking at you, clearly shocked. “what?”

he blinks, cocking his head back and scratching the back of his head. “no, it’s just that no one has really ever said anything like that. i mean….i don’t really bring people here, to be fair. woomin has been once or twice…seungcheol comes up and bothers me constantly even though he definitely has better things to be doing in his own department. a few others here and there. but everyone just talks about how cool the neon is.”

“well, yeah, it’s cool, but i bet you get headaches all the time.” you take a seat on the couch as jihoon plops himself into his computer chair.

he hums. “yeah…i do, actually.” you put your hands up as if to say “see, i told you.” and jihoon laughs. “yeah, okay, i’ll look into getting some better lights.”

“good. i’m glad.” you play with your scarf as jihoon logs into his computer and opens a few programs before turning back to you.

“i want to play something for you, if that’s okay.”

“oh!” you probably shouldn’t be as surprised as you feel. you are in his studio, after all. “okay, sure, go ahead. i mean, you should probably know i can’t give the kind of feedback you really need, since i’m not like, into music, but -”

jihoon puts up a hand to stop you. “it’s okay, you don’t need to give me any sort of feedback, i just…i just want you to hear it.” you nod, and jihoon clicks a few buttons, and the small room fills with music.

the tune is slow, and sweet, and you recognize jihoon’s voice immediately as it comes in over the instrumentals. jihoon’s voice and the music behind it build slowly, a quiet force by the time the chorus comes in for the first time, followed by a decrescendo of the music as jihoon’s voice stays strong. the instrumentals rise once more as the chorus approaches again, jihoon singing words of anguished adoration. the song ends softly, gently, fading off into silence followed by the click of jihoon’s mouse. he turns to look at you, almost shy. “so, i know i said you didn’t need to give me feedback, but um - did you like it, at least?”

you bite at your lip, blinking a few times before you answer. “ye-yeah, jihoon, it -” your eyes meet his and his face is like stone. clearly your opinion on this means more than he lets on. “it’s beautiful. it’s - it’s so sad, jihoon.” he nods, biting at his own lip. “is it - it’s about -?” you can’t bring yourself to finish. it doesn’t matter, he knows what you mean.

“yeah, it’s about her.” he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “i’ve written dozens of songs since our breakup, but…this one, this stupid song, has been giving me nothing but trouble. i’ve been determined to finish it but i kept getting stuck.” he turns and looks at you. “until the other day. uh, christmas. after you left i went back in and poured…a lot of feelings into this stupid song. so much came bubbling up i…i worked all night at it but…it’s done. it has no power over me, anymore.”

you get the feeling he’s referring to more than just this song, but you keep it to yourself. “so…can i ask? why was it so important to show it to me? i would have heard it eventually, probably. in the top 40s or something.”

jihoon laughs. “because without you and the christmas date, i don’t think i ever would have finished it. i wanted to…thank you, i guess.” he checks the time on the computer monitor. nearly six-thirty. he turns back to you. “do you want to see what else i’m working on? we can get delivery if you get hungry, and then we’ll go at like nine. soyoung won’t forgive us if we don’t show up. or we can go do something else. it doesn’t matter to me. at all. really.”

you laugh. he’s definitely right about soyoung.

“no, jihoon, it’s okay. i like watching you work. show me everything.”