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veiledpeaches · 5 years ago

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chance encounters | part i: what secrets we keep

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible.

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 3k

thank you @seasonblues, you’re an inspiration to me.

She has just clocked into the office when she spots Doyoung at his desk, typing away furiously at his screen. This morning he has the blinds around his office up, such that anyone entering the office can see the faint glow of the computer screen reflected on Doyoung’s countenance. She guesses that he would be leaving the office earlier today, since he’s dressed a bit more casually, electing for his fringe to fall loosely onto the tip of his eyebrows instead of its usual comma hairstyle, his pressed white button-down free of its tie. His lips are moving, presumably mouthing the words presented on his screen while his eyebrows are slightly furrowed in thought.

As she gets to her desk, she lets her leather satchel, plump with files, fall onto her chair before walking towards the Managing Editor’s office.

“Haewon!” Doyoung’s face lights up as he meets her gaze, a childish and toothy grin forming on his face as he takes the cup of coffee from her. “I have excellent news for you.”

“Morning boss,” she laughs, “aren’t you leaving tomorrow? I thought you were on leave today.”

Doyoung hums dismissively, taking a sip of his coffee. “They like it, the Evergreen winner. They liked his work.”

The Evergreen Writers’ Competition was a local youth creative writing competition that was also a popular event that publishers looked into to discover aspiring and potential young writers. Haewon had been promoting the recent winner’s work to Doyoung relentlessly for the past few weeks. Even though Doyoung had been generally unconvinced of the commercial potential of the novel, he had submitted her proposal of it to Headquarters for their consideration under Haewon’s ceaseless endorsement.

“They’re publishing it?” Haewon presses her hands together with glee, “They liked it?”

“They liked it so much they want me to bring both the original and revised manuscript when I leave tomorrow. Oh, I’ll need the cover artwork too. They’re planning on translating and pushing it out to the American audience.” Doyoung smiles knowingly.

“I told you it was good!”

There is a hint of a smile at Doyoung’s lips, “I have to admit I couldn’t put it down the whole time, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But-” he pauses, “you need to admit the writing isn’t spectacular. The emotions are too raw, and his diction is unrefined-”

“These are things we can change with copyediting boss,” Haewon emphasizes, “with proofreading. We can make it better. But the world building is immaculate. It’s an incredible piece of work for a seventeen-year-old.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, a smirk peeking from his lips. “Are you sure this has nothing to do with the way he looks?”

“Boss!” Haewon is scandalized, “he’s seventeen!”

“When I googled about him, I knew at once why Marketing said he would be good for press,” he laughs. “He looks more like he should be scoring on a game or scoring dates than scoring at a budding writers’ competition.”

While Doyoung has maintained a more professional relationship with her through the three years she has worked as his assistant, there are moments like these where Doyoung’s cheeky side slips through the cracks, reminding her of why she was so drawn to him from the very start. How effortless his humor is, how playful he actually is. The small crinkles that form at the corner of his eyes when his face breaks into a laugh. How wide his eyes get and how dramatic his gestures become when he’s talking about things he loves outside of work, like a drama he’d just started on, or the current political climate. The way he bends over her desk to explain to her about target readership in different export markets. And more than that. How much he loves reading, and his job, even on days he can’t agree with the directors. How he throws a disdainful expression at her when he overhears colleagues making sexist comments. How he tells her he’s trying to become a better listener, whether people need that or not. How convinced he is of his rightness and proud he is of his work, but not in the least satisfied with it. How attentive he is to every detail, whether it’s about Accounting’s expenditure records or about how her eyes remain a bit watery for the rest of the day after she receives a call from her mother.

Haewon rolls her eyes, but her smile is unwavering. “I’ll go prepare the documents you need now, boss.”

He nods and turns to his phone in his hand, and she’s about to turn and exit his office, when he speaks again, this time gentler, “oh by the way, Inhee told me you haven’t RSVP’d yet.”

He looks up from his phone, and then back at it again, his smile uneasy – a classic Doyoung gesture when he needed to ask about something he didn’t really want to. As if he needed to check his guest list again. “Would you be busy that day? I don’t recall you telling me you had to be out of town.”

She’s about to speak, when a breathless Lee Donghyuck appears out of the blue, rushing to Doyoung and sighing emphatically about this month’s sales numbers. She smiles and nods, exiting his office with a promise of talking later.

It’s just after lunch and well into Haewon’s food coma when her desk phone rings, startling her from a well-deserved but secret post-lunch doze.

“Dam-il Publishing, this is Haewon speaking.”

“Haewon!” The excited whisper is characteristic only of Nakamoto Yuta, whose wide-eyed gaze Haewon meets as she averts her eyes towards the Designers side of the office. “It’s me, it’s me!”

“Oh Yuta, that reminds me, I’ll need the proposed artwork for Cho Young Jun’s novel.”

“Cho Young Jun? The bald guy?”

“No! The prodigy! The Evergreen winner! I need it by today, Doyoung’s flying to New York tomorrow-”

“Oh, I’ve completed that weeks ago, I’ll email it over later whatever – listen, I heard what Doyoung asked you about just now. About the wedding.”

Haewon flinches, then realizes what Yuta would probably be thinking, and a small sigh of relief leaves her. “You mean Donghyuck told you.”

“I heard, Donghyuck told me – what does it matter… Is it because of the program? Did you get in?”

General nosiness aside, Yuta’s actually one of the few colleagues (other than Doyoung) whose company Haewon really enjoys. Which is why Haewon had told him about an application she made months ago, to pursue a master’s program in Literary Arts at Brown University. Needless to say, she had earned Yuta’s immediate and fervent support, knowing that studying English Literature instead of Creative Writing for her bachelor’s had been a cop-out on Haewon’s part and a regret she had drunkenly let slip to him at an informal company gathering.

She’d always wanted to study Creative Writing, and while she didn’t exactly need that master’s degree to become a writer per se, she really hopes to further her studies in fiction writing.

“No Yuta, I haven’t received news yet.”

“Shouldn’t you know by now?” Yuta has always been straightforward, “besides, why’re you keeping it a secret? You should just tell Doyoung; you’re so close, he’ll be happy for you. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty about taking your shot.”

The reality is, the situation is a lot more complicated than Yuta’s understanding. There’s the thing with leaving the company in the midst of this busy period when Doyoung needs his assistant, but there’s also the other thing, the bigger issue at stake. That Haewon is in love with Doyoung and might not necessarily want to see him walk down the aisle with a woman who isn’t her.

“It’s not that simple – besides, he’s been swamped ever since the acquisition.”

Dam-il Publishing Co. was a small local publishing company with a focus in Korean language fiction novels, until its recent acquisition by the large multinational New York-based Bertsman Publishing House. Despite the acquisition, Bertsman had allowed Dam-il to retain its name, knowing that it is an emerging trusted brand among aspiring and established writers, and a known publishing company in many Korean households. However, the acquisition had also brought Bertsman employees into the office, and the number of people were far too many for Doyoung to handle at the start.

Doyoung is also, generally, a less trusting person when it comes to work ethics. While he greatly appreciates his Dam-il subordinates and their efficiency, he has less to say about their Bertsman counterparts – in Yuta’s words, Doyoung finds them “fucking lazy”. Haewon has always been his key go-to person to check on their progress in their projects, and he relies on her effortlessly and wholeheartedly.

Doyoung is… something else. According to their mutual friend Johnny, Doyoung had majored in Finance in college, done inexplicably well and had received an offer from one of the big four financial consulting companies even before graduation. However, as Doyoung had told him upon graduation, that wasn’t the life he was after. He loved books and wanted to make a career out of it, so he started working for Dam-il as an Acquisitions Editor’s assistant right after graduation against the heed of his professors and university friends. He was, to say the least, smart and a fast learner, quickly making his way up the company ladder and was handed the highest rank of Managing Editor in just nine years (a fact that somehow only made Doyoung more attractive to Haewon).

Thanks to his work ethic and Dam-il’s excellent sales numbers, he’s now the Bertsman CEO Fulworth’s most trusted Managing Editor – something Johnny loves teasing him about.

Yuta sighs into the phone, lifting her from her stupor against the quiet backdrop of a whirring air-conditioner and a bubbling coffee machine.

“Well nevertheless, you need to tell him soon, Haewon – especially if you can’t go to his wedding.”

Johnny is sitting in front of their living room window by the time Haewon reaches home. She’s completely exhausted, her cranberry lipstick visible only on the outer reaches of her mouth and her eyeliner leaving small charcoal patches beneath her lower lashes. It’s ten in the evening on a Friday night, but surprisingly Johnny is at home sipping red wine, his eyes relaxed and shut. His other hand gestures wildly and somewhat pretentiously like an overexcited conductor to what Haewon recognizes as the last line of Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got The World On A String.

“You’re home early,” Haewon comments.

Johnny swings around in his chair. “Haewonnie, I feel like I’ve gotten old,” he pouts dramatically, even though, Haewon thinks, his bright, enthusiastic puppy-like expression definitely begs to differ.

“Mark asked me after work if I wanted to hit a bar downtown with the kids tonight – but I actually feel drained. I had to say no.” The slightly annoying and yet endearing pout hasn’t left his face.

Just as Doyoung is Fulworth’s golden boy, Mark Lee is Johnny’s – constantly trailing after him at his company. Despite being almost thirty-two years old and the head of his department, Johnny loves hanging out with the young employees and interns, determined to keep his youthfulness in check.

Haewon grew up in the same neighborhood as Johnny back in Chicago, where Johnny was popular among the Asian kids as the kind older brother to them, fending off bullies on their behalf and bringing them to bookstores and ice-skating rings and bowling alleys. When he turned fifteen, Johnny moved back to South Korea to attend high school – a decision that surprised everyone in the neighborhood. But Johnny has always done what Johnny wants and exceled in every situation, so his parents agreed. While Haewon did not consider herself particularly close to Johnny when they were younger, Johnny has always been generous with his concern for others. When he found out from his mother that she was planning a move to Korea three years ago, he reached out to her and offered to share his apartment with her.

(“The rent is too expensive anyway,” Johnny had insisted, but Haewon knew even then that he could definitely afford it given his salary.)

Johnny is… pretty much Haewon’s lifesaver. Even before she came to Korea, Johnny had everything arranged for her. Understanding that she had majored in English Literature and loved books, he hooked her up with a publishing job at Dam-il under Doyoung, a deed Haewon has always been insanely grateful for. And while she had been shy and quiet upon her arrival to Korea, his cheerful demeanor, along with his puppy-like enthusiasm and child-like laughter had been more than enough to draw Haewon out of her shell. Even though she had been depressed and lost in life, Johnny had been by her side, cheering her up and restoring her usual happy glow.

Unsurprisingly, Johnny is the director of the product design department for a leading technology conglomerate. Unlike Doyoung, Johnny actually enjoys the ‘hustler’ lifestyle of ‘work hard, play hard’.

They met in college where they were both in the Business faculty. Despite being inherently different, the two became close quickly, bonding over a shared distaste for unnecessary societal expectations and parochial attitudes stereotypical of elitists in their country. While growing up abroad made Johnny more open-minded and gentler with the people he met, Doyoung’s open-mindedness is the culmination of years of observing people and their idiosyncrasies. The tough experiences of witnessing school bullying and students’ imploding from academic stress fueled a quiet and righteous, vaguely Robin Hood-like, anger towards societal insularity, that is now characteristic of Kim Doyoung.

“You’re not old – besides, who wants to go to a bar when you can drink in the comfort of your own home?”

“I want to! Haewon-ah, you’re acting too old for your age-”

Her phone rings, interrupting Johnny’s nagging monologue. She glances at the caller ID before picking up quickly.

“Hey boss, what’s up?” In the background, she can hear Johnny making a chant out of the words ‘is it Doyoung?’, leaning out of his seat to peer over eagerly. She nods, and a huge grin spreads over his face.

“So sorry to disturb you this late, but it’s kind of an emergency- is that Johnny?”

It takes a moment for Haewon to realize, but Johnny has since progressed from his ‘is it Doyoung’ song to a strange jingle that sounds like ‘my friend Kim Doyoung, my brother Kim Doyoung, my love Kim Doyoung’ to the tune of a lullaby. “Yeah it is, he’s lying spread-eagled on the ground now and crying out your name in despair-”

Doyoung laughs, breathlessly and colorfully, sounding like a musical instrument of his own and making Haewon smile as she walks into her room and away from Johnny’s antics.

“Say hi to him for me. Okay so,” his voice turns serious, “do you have Cho Young Jun’s file?”

“Yeah I have it with me right now, it’s in my bag.”

“Oh thank God,” Doyoung heaves a sigh of relief, “sorry, I might need you to bring it to the airport tomorrow. I need his personal particulars and the signed hard copy of his indemnity form.”

“No apologies needed boss – but, so urgently?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung sounds frustrated, and Haewon can almost picture him running his fingers through his hair, a gesture not in the least unattractive to her. “Well he’s still considered a minor, so royalties will probably go directly to his guardian for safekeeping. And… They want him to do press.”

“Okay, so I’ll reach out to our usual media and PR agencies – what does that have to do with-”

“No…” Doyoung sighs, “American press; talk shows, interviews – things like that.”

“He’s seventeen.” Haewon raises an eyebrow, “he’s totally unprepared for that kind of thing. Plus, his English isn’t fluent, last time I checked.”

Johnny has since entered her room and conjured the most dramatically shocked expression Haewon has ever seen, as if Doyoung had informed her that Cho Young Jun would be going into prostitution instead of doing press. She glares at him as she listens to Doyoung’s instructions, ending the call with a, “okay sure, I’ll bring them for you tomorrow. Good night boss.”

Johnny smirks as she finishes the call, “ooh boss. Kinky. Me likey.”

Johnny is the only person privy to Haewon’s admittedly rather long term ‘crush’ on Doyoung, catching on rather quickly since they met and letting her down gently with “he’s attached, Haewonnie”. In fact, it’s been three years since Johnny has shared that piece of information with her, but Haewon is unfortunately still hopelessly in love with Doyoung.

Ever the best friend, while Johnny has told her that he’s worried about her pertaining to this, he manages to make the situation more light-hearted effortlessly. In fact, he sometimes cracks jokes at her expense to her privately and not unkindly, while knowing when to offer her a shoulder to cry on.

“You’ve heard me call him boss a thousand times,” she rolls her eyes, pushing him out of her room to rest for the night, “also, you’re driving me to the airport tomorrow.”

Johnny drums his fingers against the steering wheel, his cheeks puffing up as he waits for Haewon’s text to get to his car at the pick-up point. They had left the house at eight in the morning to catch Doyoung at the airport just in time before his flight, and Johnny really needs to catch up on sleep once they get home. He is absentmindedly humming to Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You on the radio, when Haewon clumsily gets into his car.

“Johnny-” At once, he realizes she’s ashen pale, her lips quivering.

“What’s wrong, Haewon? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“John, I just… I just saw…”

“What?” He starts the car and begins the route home when Haewon’s next words make him pull up at the side of the road in shock.

“Inhee’s cheating on Doyoung…”

w/n: this fic will be updated regularly until its resolution, look out for an update every Thursday at 9pm KST.

talk to me!! here

#nct imagines #doyoung imagines #johnny imagines #doyoung scenarios #johnny scenarios #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #nct scenarios #nct #doyoung #johnny #nct fanfiction #doyoung fanfiction #johnny fanfiction #nct au #chance encounters #my work

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aesthetic4ngel · 5 years ago

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Letters.

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader !

2.7k Words !!

Primarily Fluff with hints of Angst! (swearing and very brief hint towards sex)

Summary — You & Yuta met when you were children. However after a long time you two finally reunite rather suddenly and realise that there’s a possibility you two could work out after all.

A/N: Hey angels! I’d appreciate if you’d let me know what you think of this one-shot! It’s my first ( properly written & uploaded ) fic! Not to mention, I’m curious yet anxious to know how well this is perceived! 🖤 also let me know if you would like a spicy part 2!

This was loosely inspired by an 80’s movie!

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ .⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⋆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⋆ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀. ⠀ ⋆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

Osaka prefecture, Japan, somewhere your family absolutely loved visiting every year for their summer vacation, the city was filled to the brim with; modern architecture mixed with traditional Japanese buildings, hearty cultural cuisine, nightlife. Osaka had it all. However, the beaches were amazingly unforgettable, the white sand and how it complimented the crystal clear ocean was something that would always remain in the memory of your household.

Speaking of your household, your parents were very fortunate to be very successful business folk, both managing a business that they had bought many years ago, the duo also owned shares in many other popular companies globally and to put it bluntly? Your family were mega rich. Your parents had it all, from expensive cars, to a big mansion. To be painfully honest, they didn’t expect to have a child and it was a shock when your mother had found out she was pregnant. In fact, they didn't really want to have any children at all, your parents were the workaholic type, constantly focusing on company and shares matters and whatnot, that's all that was important in their little business savvy minds.

So, that ultimately meant that your parents didn't really pay much attention to you, unless it was absolutely necessary, for example when you had wandered off in a store, curiosity getting the best of you, their voices calling your name pretending like they cared — you know, situations like that. There was one thing you were appreciative of and that happened to be the holidays to Osaka, it provided fresh air for you, both literally and mentally. Your favourite part was the beach, a youth like you would find yourself being too engulfed in making sand castles to ever notice the world around her, it was your escape from your life. . . Getting lost in your imagination, your innocent eight year old mind naively worrying about how your castle should look, like this was something important but finally you could bask in the glory of this calming moment of peace. Until. . .

"KONICHIWA!"

You let out a gasp, clearly startled, "You scared me!. . . What do you want? I'm trying to build this!" huffing, you turned to face the person whom had disrupted your attempts at sculpting the perfect sandcastle, folding your arms out of annoyance but your expression immediately softened when you realised who the voice belonged to, it was a boy.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I-I just wondered if you want to play?" He stood there with a frown, his high pitched voice becoming quiet when the realisation hit him that he shouldn't have approached you and spoken so abruptly like that.

"Well, would you like to help me build this?" You looked up at him with a smile, easily forgiving. Taking his hand, you gently pulled him down so he was sitting beside your frame, the two of you exchanged a toothy smile, before beginning to work on finishing your already halfway completed sand castle.

You found yourself and your new friend talking and giggling for what felt like hours, whilst working hard on completing the build, it was obvious that the two of you shared a lot of things in common; such as what you watch on television, likes and dislikes, upon many other things. It felt amazing to finally have someone to talk to.

"Soooooo, what's it like where you live?" You had always been curious about the Japanese culture and how everyone lived and frankly, you wanted to know everything there was to know, just so you could brag about it to your snobby friends back at the lavish private school you attended.

"It's okay, I mean, my house isn't that big but it's still home," the boy replied with a weak smile, which made you frown and look away, for the first time you actually felt guilty for ever asking such a personal question, that didn’t sound as intruding in your mind. Nevertheless you panicked a little, anxious that he was offended so you tried your best to make a smooth recovery with the conversation.

"You'll always have me y'know! I know I live far away and I'm going back home tomorrow but just know that I'll always be here for you," finally smiling, you nudged the boy playfully with your elbow to cheer him up, truthfully, you hated how you had to go back home tomorrow, back to school, back to being ignored, having nobody, it hurt — you didn’t want to leave this boy who actually enjoyed spending time with you.

"How will we talk if we'll never actually see one another?" He spoke up, raising his eyebrow in confusion, thinking for a moment before suddenly standing up, his eyes lighting up at his genius idea, "I know! Why don't we write to one another? Then we can always talk!"

"That's a great idea! I—" you were suddenly cut off by a voice that could be heard in the distance, "musuko! It's time to go home!" The voice was aged and you only assumed it belonged to the boys mother. Your attention was shifted due to his frantic search of his pockets, trying to find something that he could write on, eventually he pulled out a piece of scrunched up paper and a pencil. ( who knows why he had a pencil and some paper in his swimming shorts ) He scribbled some words and numbers down before swiftly handing it to you.

"Wait! Before you go, what's your name?" Your small self called out, comprehending that after all of the talking and enjoying each other’s company, you never learnt what the boys name was, yet you had told him your name, I guess both of you got caught up on more exciting topics.

"Yuta! Yuta Nakamoto!" He shouted in response, jogging up to his parents' shabby car before turning back to face you, "Don't forget me!" He shouted again, his tone sincere — smiling and waving goodbye before getting into the car, and just like that, he was gone.

With a weak smile, you straightened out the dishevelled note, your smile gradually growing wider upon reading what was written down, it was Yuta's address, you clutched the note and held it to your chest letting out a relieved sigh, before hastily running back to the holiday home your family owned that resides next to the beach.

~"Don't forget me!"~

It had been weeks since your return from Osaka and there you sat, at your perfect and polished white desk where homework would normally be sprawled out all over the table, your head down getting on with work, but this time? You were there for a different reason and that reason was to write to the boy you met in Osaka, Yuta Nakamoto. You smiled, looking down at the note which had his address scribbled on it, getting lost in your own thoughts momentarily. However, instead of procrastinating for any longer, you finally began to write the anticipated letter, crossing your fingers, hoping that Yuta and you would remain in contact.

Present Day. . .

Fortunately for you, that wish you had crossed your fingers for? Hoping and praying for? It was granted. Yuta immediately wrote back and this continued back and fourth. Suddenly, you felt like luck was on your side, everything was going just how you planned and finally, finally, you had that friend you had been waiting for all of your life, as cheesy as it sounded.

All throughout your childhood you confided in Yuta, he may not have been there physically to support you but he certainly felt like he was there spiritually — just how you trusted Yuta with your thoughts, so too did he with yourself. The Japanese boy had informed you about how he had picked up the hobby of football, how he hoped to carry that on and make a career out of it some day. As much as you wanted to support him, you had this odd feeling that despite his passion for sport, he wouldn’t pursue it. As for you? Well, you didn’t really have a choice in the matter in regard to your future or your occupation, it was all mapped out thanks to your overbearing parents, you had to become a successful business woman. . . You acted like that was a terrible idea through the span of your teenage years but the older you became, the more you realised that your parents only wanted what was best for you, for you to be successful like them and you were appreciative for that, because it finally felt like they cared for you, loved you.

Your family resumed the yearly vacations to Osaka, so that fortunately meant both Yuta and yourself could meet again, it was like the two of you practically grew up together and with every passing year, Yuta was growing into a handsome young man and you couldn’t help but develop this small crush on him at fifteen years old, it was cringeworthy yet cute looking back on it.

You honestly assumed this crush would have subsided but boy were you wrong, with every letter that arrived to your manor, with every word your eyes read, your heart would skip a beat and just as quickly as you became friends; you fell in love with Yuta just as fast. The next trip to Osaka was on your sixteenth birthday and it was a blur, all you remember is Yuta whispering a quick “close your eyes,” and the next thing you knew were his lips were on your own, they molded together perfectly with yours. Then his hands; how his hands curiously wandered your body, how yours did the same in return. It was blissful but it was short lived.

“I passed.”

“You passed what?”

“I passed the audition.”

“O-Oh, you never told me about an audition.”

“I wasn’t going to... y/n, we can’t meet again after this, that kiss last year? It was a mistake, I don’t like you in that way, when you go home, don’t write to me again, don’t call or text, because I won’t answer.”

That last conversation played repeatedly like a broken record within your mind, you still could not begin to fathom why Yuta had turned, it was almost as if a switch flipped, the way he left you standing there on the beach, sobbing alone, after that you definitely did not send him another stupid letter. Yet here you were present day; a fully grown adult, sitting in your parents holiday home in Osaka, all alone, dwelling on the past like usual. Then it occurred to you how you used to escape your thoughts all those years ago, by relaxing on the beach.

“I’m sorry, this area is blocked Miss.” the security guard held out his hand, blocking you from proceeding, making your face twist into confusion, ‘since when did they start closing the beach?’ You thought.

The guard was quick to pick up on your internal question, after all, it was written all over your face, “this beach is closed because a member of NCT 127 wants to be here without fans bothering him.”

“Who?” This heightened your confusion, who were NCT 127? You had no idea at all, it had been a while since you visited Japan so you weren’t up to date with the newest celebrities and pop culture or anything for that matter.

“Miss, I cannot give you access-” the security man trailed off, ranting — you stopped listening, instead preoccupied with this man you noticed in the distance beyond the barriers. His hair bleached blonde, dark and shaven along the sides, his presence ( although far away ) was familiar and you had no idea why; you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You hadn’t even noticed when the mysterious man had approached you and the guard, the “drama” taking place outside of the barriers clearly catching his attention. Immediately Yuta knew it was you, he could tell a mile off, as soon as he heard your voice he froze, feeling his heart skip a beat and he knew he had to investigate further.

“Let her in. I know her.” It was rather blunt but that’s all Yuta managed to communicate, he was shocked, it had been so long but regardless, he wanted to keep a cold and distant exterior, he wanted to seem tough for some reason, maybe he was used to doing so when having to deal with clingy fans.

For a moment you were panicking, trying to piece together how you knew this man who was famous but as soon as you heard the guard mumble a quick “whatever you say, Nakamoto,” waving you in. That’s when it hit you like a ton of bricks, this was Yuta, this man with his eyebrow shaved, eyebrow piercing, clearly a celebrity, was Yuta.

Rage filled you quickly, especially when he flashed a smirk in your direction, you couldn’t believe that after all of this time, after practically abandoning you, he was acting so nice, like nothing ever happened! Then again, you couldn’t help but stare, he was so handsome, not to mention, extremely hot too, this look he was sporting, definitely suited him.

So when the two of you finally reached the beach, you did what was appropriate — slap him. Your actions made Yuta let out a small groan in response, his hand coming up to his cheek.

“What the fuck was that for? You should be grateful! Without me coming to the rescue you wouldn’t have been allowed on the beach!”

“How dare you! After all these years, you had left me crying and begging for you to come back! Now here you are saying I should be grateful? As if Yuta!” There was no hesitation to get all up in his face, you were feeling so many emotions at once in that moment, it was overwhelming to say the least, you genuinely believed that you would never see him again, yet here you were, standing on the exact same beach where the two of you had first met as children.

“I left you to protect you y/n!”

“Protect me?! Don’t even try and lie! You said you didn’t even like me! Then you left me! and look who gets all of the luck now, Yuta Nakamoto who’s famous! Oh and who’s a major asshole too!”

Within no time, this turned into a screaming match between you both, many times you had gone to slap Yuta again and every single time his hands caught your wrists, gripping both of them tightly, just so you couldn’t wriggle out of his grip.

But what happened next? You didn’t expect that at all. . . It was an all too familiar feeling. Your eyes widened in shock, your hands wanted to push him away but you couldn’t, having Yuta’s lips meet yours once more made your eyes flutter closed, just like that you were weak at the knees for this man again, although you hated to admit it. Yuta slowly loosened his grip, gradually moving his hands elsewhere, deciding on wrapping them around your waist but your hands made their way around his neck, eventually slithering down to rest upon his chest, the kiss turning into a makeout all because of Yuta’s tongue forcefully pushing its way past your lips, he was so eager to explore what he had been missing. Before things could get too heated, you pulled away, panting, regaining your breath.

“Just because you kissed me, doesn’t mean I forgive you.” It was your turn to smirk now, you enjoyed how hot and bothered Yuta was, your fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt, teasing him.

“Seriously y/n, I’m sorry, I was an idiot, I wanted to protect you from everything, I didn’t want you receiving hate from my company or any fans, I want to start again because I do love you and as cringy as it sounds, I’ve always loved you. . . So please, will you give me a second chance?” Yuta pleaded, biting his lip, preparing himself for the worst possible outcome, you could easily leave him, exactly how he left you but you weren’t like that, you were in love with Yuta.

“Of course I’ll give you a second chance you idiot!” You giggled, tilting your chin to plant a small peck on his lips before smirking once again.

“Now why don’t we continue what you started back at my vacation home, big boy?”

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