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yoonjinkooked · 5 years ago

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lockdown | (m) - Chapter 1

moodboard by @flajka

pairing; jungkook/female OC genre; college au, strangers to lovers, smut and tiny bit of fluff too, humor ofc rating; explicit words; 4.900

— synopsis; Eunhee is in trouble and facing a deadline - in comes curly haired jungkook to save her life, make her laugh and maybe, just maybe, fuck her brains out. When the two end up locked in a building overnight, who knows what will happen?

warnings (for this chapter): cursing, OC really wants to murder Tae, banter, cute Kook, slightly cocky Kook, hints of sexual tension. Just an introduction chapter, really.

A/N: I hope you enjoy the first part guys. I am now starting to work on Chapter 2 and will let you know when I plan on posting it. Let me know what you think - I’m still a tumblr newbie and basically, I’m crappin my pants.

With that being said, let’s start chapter 1 :)

In the life of a journalism major, there are a few life-changing, stress-inducing moments that essentially serve as a preview of what’s to come if you do decide stay on your chosen career path.

For me, a handful of these moments made me question anything and everything I have ever known about the career I’ve chosen to pursue back when I was 18 and frankly, a little bit stupid. One of these moments was back when I was doing an obligatory internship at a small, local newspaper, only to realize that the editors and big shots there expected me to do nothing more than to make them coffee and copy papers in their stead.

Another moment was when I attended my first murder trial, which probably would end up being a part of my future job, only to spend the entire afternoon wondering if this really is something I want to do for the rest of my life.

And the final moment, at least the final one that I can think of right now, is currently occurring, with me losing my shit as we are trying to get the final edition of this year’s university magazine ready for printing. And I, as one of two co-editors, will be the one to blame if anything goes wrong.

Half of my grade depends on this. My future job prospects depend on this. Whether or not the professor is happy can influence the direction of my masters’ next year. This is ride or die for me and I am losing it.

“Namjoon, where the hell is he?” I ask my co-editor, best friend and partner in crime. Who also happens to be the only person on this planet who is well equipped to deal with me losing my shit.

“I know as much as you do,” he reminds me, moving the phone away from his ear. “I am trying to reach him now. You panicking will not do us any good and it definitely won’t make Taehyung answer me sooner. So don’t panic and focus on the things we already have here and work with that. The photos aren’t the only thing we need to look over before it’s ready for print.”

I nod my head franticly, knowing deep down that he has a point but also knowing that won’t help me at all. It never does because whenever I am chasing a deadline, I follow the same line of action. Work, panic, panic some more, work, panic like the world is ending, forcefully calm down and then, finally, get shit done. I am not sure if I am on the ‘panic some more’ or ‘panic like the world is ending’ phase yet but as I run fingers through my hair, letting my nerves get the best of me, I am positive said hair is gray.

I hear Namjoon cursing under his breath but for the sake of getting things done, I ignore him for now and simply focus on the task at hand – proofreading. As long as I preoccupy myself with tasks that need to be done, I cannot focus on the fact that Taehyung is late, like he always is, despite it being the one time he truly needed to be on time.

So for the next few minutes, I go over several articles in the speed of light, once, twice, three times. No matter how much they’re using spell-check, our reporters still make mistakes and honestly, when I see my name below one title, I know I am not allowed to judge because I obviously do it too.

Campus activity, student achievements, published works and former alumni ‘look, they’re famous now’ column – all covered and grammatically perfect. And Namjoon is still trying to reach the one man we need the most right now. Slowly but surely, the other students are becoming less frantic and more calm and casual, because their tasks are all but finished. Namjoon, Hoseok and I? Not so much.

“Okay, what the hell?” Hoseok throws his pen rather violently on his desk. “He does this every time. Every damn time. I’m the designer – I need to go over everything and make sure the photos are put where they belong. How can I do that if I don’t have said photos?”

“Hoseok, I know I’m not the textbook definition of calm but we need to try to be,” I tell him, turning my chair to face him over our connected desks. “Try to design it somehow, leaving the space for the photos. Vertical or horizontal, I will find good photos to fit. And if I have to change something, I will.”

“Are you sure you can do that?” he looks doubtful, which is extremely insulting, since we have known each other for three years and have been working together for more than two.

“Basic editing? Yeah, I can do that,” I roll my eyes. “If you doubt my editing skills, you can stick around till midnight to check on me.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. “It’s Jimin’s birthday party tonight and you know I need to be there.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, not even sure why, since it’s absolutely obvious that he is dead serious. “This is the most important edition we’re going to release. We’ve been doing this for years and this is our grand exit, which we need to execute perfectly, and you’re telling me you want to go to a party?”

“I’ll be going too,” Namjoon covers the speaker of his phone to tell me. “Sure, this edition is a big deal and we want it done well but most is already done and this isn’t our entire life.”

“Oh please,” I reach for something, anything, and end up hitting him on the chest with a block of post-its. “You’re just going because you hope to hook up with Hyejin, even though we all know you will just end up drunk, alone and watching her from a distance.”

“How dare you?” Namjoon is flabbergasted.

“She isn’t wrong,” Hoseok chuckles, ignoring the glare Namjoon throws his way. “But he’s right about this not being our entire life. You will burn out, Eunhee. It’s been two weeks and you haven’t stopped thinking about this once,” he tells me, as if I needed to be reminded. “This is the final edition with you being the editor. You should celebrate, not stay here after hours and pulling the hair of your head.”

“With the two of you playing beer pong and complaining about girls ignoring you, someone has to be the responsible one,” I point out. “All of this is riding on the three of us and you’re just… gonna dump me?” the betrayal is evident in my voice and yet, neither one of them is bothered enough to look guilty. Before they’re co-editor and designer, they’re just stupid, horny students.

“It’s already done Eunhee,” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “The one doing the dumping here is Taehyung and you just told Hoseok you can handle the editing. If you’re not sure, you can send him your final version and he can fix it if it needs to be fixed.”

“I am not leaving that party to fix Taehyung’s mess,” Hoseok cuts in.

“Our mess,” I remind him. “We have until 4AM to send it. So long as you’re not wasted out of your mind, it’s doable. If you even need to fix anything. Taehyung is always late but he also always brings more than enough material for us to work with. He’s a jackass but a talented jackass.”

“And a jackass who can’t answer his phone,” Namjoon adds, throwing his phone on the desk, before sighing as he slumps down onto his chair. “I’m going to regret that,” he glares at his phone.

“I can’t force you to stay here and help me,” I mumble, watching as the student reporters casually leave our office space, not even bothering to say goodbye because it’s the final week – who cares, life goes on, we’re going to see each other eventually and our portion of work is done. “I can, however, remind you of this in the years to come, guilt tripping you into doing favors. Many, many favors.”

“You make it sound like you’re not already doing that half the time,” Hoseok points out.

“Not my problem you somehow always end up owing me one. Or two. Or five,” I shrug as I turn towards my laptop, planning on searching for some stock photos we might be able to use, if Taehyung doesn’t show up. I know that he always does, last minute or not, but I can’t leave anything to chance. While stock photos would be a cop-out of sorts, we need to have a plan B.

The next two hours pass in almost complete silence. An occasionally sigh would leave Hoseok and every now and then, Namjoon would curse under his breath as he tries to reach Taehyung for what has to be the hundredth time – so far, to no avail. The panic I felt earlier had already left my system so I was able to focus on other things, all the while ignoring what seems to be our pending doom.

The sun had set and the lights are now on and that son of a bitch is still not answering his phone.

“You know, at this point I’m starting to wonder if we have better chances of finding him at Jimin’s party,” Hoseok breaks the silence. “I’m done with all the pages, I left enough space for all kinds of photos and there’s literally nothing more that we need to do.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mumble as I open the email he just sent me, showing the draft for the final version of the magazine. It looks as amazing as possible, seeing as 98% of photos are missing – instead, white blocks serve as breaks between long rows of text. “You know what? You two go. Go and have fun and if you find him, kick his ass. There’s no way he’d ever miss Jimin’s party. I’ll stay here and finish this up and when you send him to me, I’ll kick his ass too,” I tell them.

“Eunhee, are you sure?” Namjoon walks over to my desks and leans on it, giving me what I can only describe as a look of pure and utter pity. “I don’t want to leave you hanging; you’re not the only one with the responsibility here.”

Seeing as I am the only one that will sit Jimin’s birthday party out, I kind of am, but I do not say it. “It’s okay Joon,” I reassure him. “Go. Have fun. Try to get some with Hyejin. I’ll take care of this, it’s not like it’ll be the first time I pull an all-nighter. Just find that bastard and get those photos to me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Hoseok stands up and throws a bag over his shoulder. “We will find him and I will do my best to stay sufficiently sober if you need my help. Which, if you do, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?” I nod, knowing I would rather fix it myself than have drunk Hoseok ruin it. He’s majestic with the editing software but when drunk, he can’t even walk straight, much less edit.

“Just make sure to get his USB to me, even if you have to kill him to make it happen,” I remind them. Namjoon is still worried but I roll my eyes at him, which apparently is the sign he needed to get his things and leave. I wave them out, surprisingly relieved to have the office for myself.

I am a decent team player but the last couple of years have shown me that I do my best work when I do it alone. Not to say that I take all the credit – hell no. Joon is the editor as much as I am and half the work is done by him but at times like these, I just want him out and away, busy with Hyejin. This way, if it’s a mess – it’s my mess. If it’s a work of art – it’s my work of art.

With a coffee in one hand and glasses of my head, I go over last year’s photo folder – that’s a better plan B than some basic stock photos. Some of the photos look like a decent backup – our campus hasn’t changed much over the last couple of months, after all. As long as I avoid last year’s seniors, I might be able to pull off plan B without anyone except a handful of us knowing the truth.

Even the swimming team – they have won gold last year, they have won gold this year too. The members are all the same, no new freshmen, no seniors last year. If my memory serves me well, all of them kept their natural hair colors and I can totally use said photo in this month’s edition. Sure, Jimin and the rest of the team will probably know what’s up but that’s nothing a round of beer can’t fix.

Look at me – such a professional. Bribing my way to get the work done. Yay.

In the midst of scrolling, I pause to glance at the clock – it’s almost ten and still no sign of Taehyung. Stifling down the pending panic, I take a deep breath and decide to play some music, hoping to distract myself more. While 80s rock has its charms, I still fidget as I scroll through folders upon folders, grabbing hold of my favorite koala mug again and downing the rest of the coffee in one go. Needing something to distract me further, I open the top drawer of my desk, grabbing the emergency M&Ms I’ve kept there for a few weeks now, knowing I was bound to pull an all-nighter sooner or later.

Just as I down a handful of candy, someone knocks on the office door and I nearly choke. I cough, make sure a lone M&M is not going to kill me, take a deep breath and shout a ‘come in’.

The little hope I have deflates as I realize it’s not Taehyung, the bastard himself – instead, it’s a guy I know, but not really. Tall, wavy brown hair, wide brown eyes and a slightly dumbfounded look, hidden under the hood of his black sweatshirt as he barely steps inside the office, still with one foot out as if he is ready to run.

I am positive I know him. I’m sure we have class together, or had the year before. Or perhaps we just have classes in the same building – I know I’ve seen him before, in the background, on the side, but for the life of me, I can’t put a face to the name.

“Can I help you?” I ask, once he doesn’t speak up for a few moments.

“Yeah,” he snaps out of his daze, tilting his head before reaching for his pocket – I keep my eye on his hands, half expecting him to draw a gun and shoot me in place. “Taehyung sent me to give you this,” he says as he pulls out a USB stick out of his pocket.

Finally, I can breathe. Finally, I know I will manage to get this done tonight. “Thank fuck,” I sigh, closing my eyes for a second before opening them up again and realizing I have just confused the shit out of him. “I was positive the jackass would leave me hanging. I would have murdered him in cold blood.”

“He’d never do that,” the guy smiles at me, a smile that evaporates as quickly as it appeared; making me wonder if I even imagined it. “If he had told me sooner, you wouldn’t have to wait. He texted me like 10 minutes ago, telling me that I need to bring this to the office.”

“He left the stick with you and didn’t tell you what it’s for?”

“No, he asked me to edit the photos,” he tells me. “Oh. You don’t… I’m the G.C.F guy. I’m the other photographer,” he explains and suddenly, the little boxes in my head fall into their designated place.

Taehyung had a photography partner. I’d say a solid half of the photos we’d print were Taehyung’s, and the others belong to the guy always signed as JJK, G.C. F; I have never met him, never asked for his name and before tonight, he had never showed up in the office.

And now I can remember the guy more clearly – he always had a camera, either hanging around his neck or covering his face as he would relentlessly take photos.

“Ah, now I get it,” I smile. “I’m Eunhee, the editor.”

“I know,” he tells me. “Jeongguk.”

Yep, I know the name. It’s all clicking now.

“Well don’t just stand there Jeongguk,” I tell him as I stand up; I walk around my desk and start Hoseok’s PC, knowing that he has a better editing software ready to go. “I’m going to need your help for this. Everyone else is getting shitfaced at Jimin’s so if you’re up for it, you’re going to be the one to help me get this edition ready by 4AM. You up for it?”

Honestly, I’m not particularly surprised when he doesn’t answer me straight away – it’s not like I’m offering him free food, drinks and a night he’ll remember – quite the opposite, I’m offering him a night full of work. Simply put, I’m begging him to help me, without actually openly begging.

“Sure,” I hear him shuffle around as he puts his backpack down on the ground. “Where do you need me?”

"Just get yourself a chair," I wave my hand around the room, staring at nothing as I try to figure out where should we start from. I suppose that from the beginning is the only real answer to that one. "Hobi had set it all up for me to finish but I think I need to see what you've brought me, see what i have to work with," I decide, turning to Jeongguk, just in time to see him drag Namjoon's desk chair from the corner of the office.

"All of them are edited and ready for use," he reassures me with a tight smile as he joins me behind the desk, a good foot between our chairs. Noticing that he still has his hood up and covering half of his face, I bite my tongue and decide not to wonder why - he has his reasons, I suppose.

"Then we just need to decide what goes where and that is where you come to my rescue."

"What makes you think that should be my call?" he asks, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"Well, you're a photographer," I announce, as if the guy is not aware of his profession. "Doesn't that officially make you a better judge when it comes to esthetic mumbo jumbo?" I ask, because I truly don’t know. I am not familiar with the job requirements a photographer needs to fulfill, other than to have a camera, of course. I simply imagine they have some sense of beautiful. Wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong about something and that is why I ask – there’s no shame in not knowing.

After a beat of silence Jeongguk looks at me, keeping direct eye contact for one whole second, which is time enough for me to conclude that he is cute, ridiculously so. Cute in a way that no man in his early 20s is allowed to be. Yet not cute enough to make me focus on him instead of the task before us.

"I guess so," he tilts his head as i force my jaw shut - now is not an appropriate moment for ogling. "Aren't you the boss lady though?"

"Boss lady," I test the nickname and roll my eyes. "Difficult to work with, perhaps. Bossy? Don’t think so. But I’m taking it because I obviously need your help tonight - I am good with words, not at making them look good on paper."

“What you need to do here is not that hard,” he waves at the monitor and I turn to look at him. “Deciding on which photo should go where depends on… the overall page. The colors, the neighboring photos and countless other things. There are no rules – just feeling. Photography is feeling,” he waves his hands about as he talks, completely immersed in his explanation and making me wonder if he’s talking about this particular problem or just photography and its misconceptions in general.

“No rules?” I ask through a chuckle. “That’s not what people told me when I took a selfie from a downward angle.”

To my shock and frankly, shame, he stares at me in silence, blinking once, twice, three times. I gulp. “That was supposed to be a joke,” I elaborate in a low voice, as I hope that the ground will split in two and just swallow me into a never-ending dark hole. Or that Hobi’s PC will finally be usable.

“Oh. Okay.”

Well, this settles it then – absolutely no possibility of mild, harmless flirtation. That flat-lined reaction will end up being a source of trauma for me in the years to come – I just know I will end up awake at 3AM in like five years, thinking of how awkward this particular moment was.

“Finally,” I feel relieved now that I can actually work with Hobi’s PC – I slide the flash in, on the first go. I nearly celebrate the seemingly impossible victory but I decide to hold myself back. If Jeongguk can’t take a joke, he will probably think I am insane if I behave like I normally would. “Now let’s see what we have here,” I mumble, opening the pop up. One folder named 1 – I open it. I click on the first photo, of a group of students sitting on grass and talking (looks absolutely staged but based on what I know about Taehyung and his G.C.F partner, they don’t roll that way). I smile when I see a photo of our swimming team huddled up together, gold medals hanging around their necks – I won’t have to use last year’s photos after all. “These are really good. Perfectly edited too. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, it’s my job,” Jeongguk mumbles as he eyes the photos I scroll through. I can no longer tell if he’s serious or joking and I simply give it up altogether – who cares?

“This will fit perfectly,” I mumble as I finish going through the bunch of photos and end up on the first one – the one with a bunch of people that looks absolutely staged. I exit and go back to the folder, then back to the original one. It’s as if I could feel, actually physically feel, my heart slowly sliding down inside of my body. I go back and open the folder again, looking as the fear slowly grows in me. “Jeongguk, where are the other photos?” I somehow manage to utter.

“They’re all there,” he tells me, his eyes going wide when he notices the look of pure and utter horror on my face. “Taehyung told me you need 20 photos, no more, no less. There are 24, I added 4 more just in case, if you didn’t like some of them… Eunhee, what is going on?”

My chest goes up and down frantically as I try to calm the whole tornado of emotions that starts within me. Panic, worry, sadness and more than anything else, anger. Pure anger. “I will murder him.”

“What? Who will you… Taehyung?”

“I said,” I slowly speak, pausing for deep breaths. “200 photos. 200 photos, no more, no less. 200 from which we would end up using more than 100. I said 200, not 20.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit.”

“What… where are you going?” Jeongguk asks as I jump off my chair and nearly fly over the desk to grab my handbag. I throw my phone inside of it and turn to look at him, only to find him flinching away from me. Apparently, I look as angry as I feel.

“I am going to Jimin’s birthday party,” I announce. “Where I will grab Kim Taehyung by the neck, drag him outside, throw him onto the ground and murder him in front of the entire student body. I’m thinking strangulation is the way to go. You should come too, take a few photos of it for the delayed magazine edition.”

“No!” Jeongguk snaps but I am already heading towards the door. His hand wraps around my wrist and he drags me back towards the desk.

“What?”

I don’t know what else to say because why the hell did he pull me like that?! I wasn’t actually going to murder Taehyung, no matter how much I might want to do so.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at me and I feel even more stupid than he made me feel minutes ago. The nerve. “If you go there and yell at Taehyung, or even kill him in cold blood, you’re just going to end up wasting valuable time,” he tells me. Okay, true, I can’t argue with him on that one. “Not to mention that you won’t get the photos. He doesn’t have them on him at all times and even if he did, they aren’t edited.”

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that I am fucked? Like, missionary, sideways, in the ass fucked?”

“I wouldn’t choose that particular wording, but yes,” he sighs. “If you stay here, you’re not fucked. Just… follow me. It’ll make sense soon,” he seems impatient as he grabs hold of my wrist again and this time, he drags me out the door. I actually stumble to keep up with him, too confused to even ask him what the flying fuck he is doing and where the hell we’re going. He walks fast and with him dragging me behind him, I have no choice but to break into a light jog to keep my arm attached to my body.

Down the hallway and to the left, Jeongguk drags me towards the last door, in front of which he finally stops. He starts fidgeting and feeling himself up and down. It takes me a moment to realize that he is looking for the keys. “What are we doing here, what is this place?”

“This,” he unlocks the door and smiles at me mischievously. “Is my office.”

As soon as he turns on the light, it all makes perfect sense – it’s a darkroom. A darkroom which I had no idea existed, even though I have spent a bigger part of my college education just down the hallway. “Don’t just stand there, come on in,” Jeongguk urges me but I do not move. The hood that still covers half of his face, paired with the room’s red light, is making him look pretty ominous.

“No thanks, these places are as creepy as they seem in movies.”

Jeongguk laughs and shakes his head. “They’re not creepy. Suit yourself.”

“What the hell are we doing here?” I ask, feeling my earlier agitation return. Fix the mess then kill Taehyung. Stopping by a darkroom was not on my to-do list. “How the hell can this help?”

“As I said, this is my office,” he tells me and I see him rummaging through the top drawer in one of the desks that are lined up against a wall. “I keep my work here. Some, not all. Useless work mostly. Random campus photos I take just because I think the moment is worth capturing.”

“While that is very poetic and deep, how the heck can that help us now?”

“Haven’t I just said I take random campus photos?” he asks in annoyance. “I have at least one flash drive with random photos like the ones you might need. I’m a good photographer and,” he waves his hand and I notice something black in it – he walks over to me, takes my hand and puts the flash into it. “I’m the one who will make your words look good on paper.”

It’s not what he said – it’s the way he said it. For the first time tonight, his hood did not block my view of his entire face. The way his eyebrows lifted, followed by a smug smile and head tilt, my heart went into overdrive. His expression and the fact that he is a solid foot taller than I am makes it so easy for me to feel tiny, irrelevant, overpowered.

Despite being the talkative one of the duo, I am speechless for a moment because good lord, does he look hot right now. Like… please slam me against the wall and leave hickeys down my neck hot.

“Come on boss lady,” he laughs down at me. “Work awaits.”

What the fuck happened to the shy guy who couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than a second?! He is giving me whiplash! I again have to run to catch up with him but I do it without complaining, realizing that for tonight, he is my lifeline. This random dude who’s good at photography is my only hope.

Tonight’s going to be a very long night.

#jungkook smut #jungkook series #jungkook fanfiction #bts smut #bts jungkook #bts #bangtan #bangtan smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfics #jjk #jeongguk #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook

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jishua-moved · 8 years ago

Text

Light Me Up | Chapter 2

Pairing: Vernon x OFC featuring S.Coups & Jeonghan

Genre: angst, fluff, humor

Word Count: 4539

[ Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 ] + Moodboard

Summary: Just as the moon had her scars and imperfections, so did she. And he loved every bit of it. To him, she was the moon that shone brightest in these rare moments. The moon who’s light had been dimmed. To her, he was the sun that would eventually, light her up in every way. Only she hadn’t accepted it yet. She hadn’t yet accepted the light slowly growing inside her chest, but it wouldn’t be long until she did.

“If you can love the wrong one so much, just imagine how much you can love the right one.”

A/N: I don’t even know how to start this note lol. It has been too long since I posted chapter 1 and I apologize greatly for not posting this sooner. I had the worst writer’s block! I would like to thank my lovely secret admirer Vernon anon for giving me that little spark of inspiration that I needed. A huge, enormous thank you to my @kaviea ! You are the best! This would be nothing without your help. Thank you! Once again, forgive me for not posting sooner, so here’s basically a double chapter for y’all. I hope you enjoy!

By the time she got up to her apartment the morning light had already crept into her living room. The light shone through her window, making her realize she’d forgotten to pull down her blinds.

She kicked off her boots and hung her coat by the door, making her way into the bathroom. A warm shower was exactly what she needed right now.

Her makeup needed to be washed off first. Applying makeup was something she’d do every weekend, and sometimes she really hated the trouble that went with it. She mostly hated having to look into the mirror in order to remove it and seeing a bleary-eyed reflection of herself. She was tired of washing off the same unyielding eyeshadow and mascara over and over again. Although taking the makeup off was a pain, it wasn’t as hard as applying it, and it was worth it, as the makeup did make her feel prettier. But it was still something that she’d rather not do routinely.

Eventually, she got out of the shower, put on her PJs and walked over to the window to roll down her blinds. Taking a look outside, she saw Vernon. He still sat at the bus stop, wearing his red cap and rubbing his bare hands together frantically.

She opened the window and called out to him, “Hey! What are you still doing there? The bus should’ve come and gone a while ago.”

He looked around, shrugged and was about to reply when she noticed how he was shivering. Decided, she beckoned a couple of times for him to get up and told him to make his way across the road.

“Apartment 3A.”

He stopped warming his hands together and went completely still. “What?”

“Get up here,” she added before closing the window and pulling down the blinds. She never considered that he might not come up into the apartment of an older woman who he had just met.

He hesitated for a bit, surprised by the fact that she had popped her head out of a window and invited him up to her apartment like that. As cold as it was, though, he eventually got off the bench and crossed the road.

She scanned her living room, making sure it looked presentable, but her eyes, in their mad dash around the room, crashed to stop on her coffee table.

It was a mess of bills for the club, so she kneeled down and frantically started gathering them up.

“Shit!” she hissed, jerking her hand away. Of course, she’d managed to get a paper cut now of all times. The doorbell rang and she quickly shoved the papers into the first drawer she saw, closed it hastily, and made her way to the door.

When she unlocked the door, both of them unconsciously ran their eyes over each other from top to bottom.

He stood in the doorway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his bomber jacket. She noticed how his nose and ears were slightly pink from the cold. The cap wasn’t doing a good job of keeping him warm, and neither was the jacket.

He, on the other hand, noticed her completely different outfit. It never occurred to him to picture her wearing something other than her chic black dress. He was pleasantly surprised that she owned anything as comfy-looking as those PJs, but now that he had seen her in them, it somehow fit. It pleasantly surprised him and he couldn’t help but smile. Was this what she was really like beneath her controlled professional appearance? He found that he desperately wanted to know.

His smile grew even more when she tucked that same lock of hair behind her ear. Only now, her hair wasn’t in a neat ponytail, but in a messy bun. Her locks were dripping with water and her face was bare.

“You coming in?” she asked, as she pushed that stubborn lock of hair behind her ear yet again.

He nodded a couple of times and shuffled into her apartment, mumbling an apology.

“Were you a dollar short again?” she teased. “Or did the bus not come at all?”

He ran his fingers through his brown hair and admitted with a sheepish grin, “Both.”

His grin softened something in her expression, and she chuckled quietly. He felt a little strange, standing in her living room like that, not knowing where to go, but strangely feeling like he very much wanted to belong there, until she pointed to the couch.

“You can sit down there. Just take your shoes off here,” she said. “You can stay until Coups answers his phone if you like. You look like you could use some sleep and the bus certainly doesn’t look like it’s coming anytime soon.”

“That’d be nice, thanks, but I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome. The bus ought to be along any minute now,” he replied.

She didn’t mind him staying. It was just a gesture of kindness in her mind. She wouldn’t be able to sleep if she thought he was freezing to death outside waiting for a bus that was never coming.

“Don’t worry. You’re not,” she shook her head and extended a hand to take his jacket from him. Their hands brushed and she gasped, “Oh my God! Vernon, your hands are like ice!”

He ignored what she said, as his eyes had dropped to her finger with the paper cut, “You’re bleeding!”

“Shit, I forgot.” Instead of going to find her first aid kit, she hung up his jacket on one of the hooks near the door and went into her bedroom.

He was still staring at his jacket next to her coat when a minute later she came out holding a soft purple blanket. It wasn’t folded but rolled into a mess of a ball. She awkwardly dropped it onto him where he was sitting and hurried to her drawers that stood near the window. “I’ll make you some tea in a minute,” she added.

He watched her as she carefully rubbed ointment on her finger. Then, she neatly wrapped a band-aid around it, tucked the first aid kit back into the top drawer and peered out the window. The wind outside was stubbornly pushing the trees back and forth and the streets were empty.

“I don’t think the bus will be coming anytime soon and the wind just got worse. Why don’t you wait this out and get some rest? I’ll get your tea now. Make yourself at home.”

The way she talked to him, it was like he was her longtime neighbor and friend. There was no awkwardness or typical fear of a stranger. He felt warm and welcome. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

She handed him a cup of warm tea, wished him a good night (morning) and shuffled away into her bedroom nonchalantly.

He watched her take those couple of steps towards her bedroom door, smiling to himself. She looked so comfortable and happy. A huge contrast to the girl he met at the club. That girl was a polished piece of perfection, but this one, this girl was clumsy enough to injure her finger while picking papers off her coffee table at 5 am in the morning and then treat the tiniest wound like she was a nurse in training. This girl openly invited him into her home and made him tea, keeping him warm and comfortable.

What was astounding, was that she was the same girl. He wondered which side was the real her and why she appeared so different from the first time they met. There were a million questions in his head, but he tried not to think too much. Regardless of which girl was the “real” one, he liked them both.

His eyes were shutting and his body was filled with drowsiness, but, he pulled out his notepad and scrawled down a couple more words before sleep overtook him.

Does she love me Does she love me not I am counting flower petals all day long Does she love me Does she love me not What will the petals answer to me?

In a few hours, he woke up. Now that he was wide-awake, he rose from the couch and took a few steps around the living room.

The place smelled like freshly ground coffee and chocolates. It must have been the scented candles, which were neatly positioned on the shelves, he thought.

It was a small, but comfy space. There were two doors. One that led to her bedroom and the other, which he assumed led to the bathroom. The way to the kitchen was just an opening in the wall.

In contrast to her dark clothes and makeup, the interior of her place was much lighter. In a corner, there was the bright blue three-seater couch that he’d just slept on. It stood next to an ever brighter pink armchair. The drawers that’d she’d rummaged through earlier stood next to her window, which had its blinds pulled down. Amongst the many shelves filled with books, boxes, and DVDs there was a TV positioned right across from the seating area.

One shelf particularly stood out, as it was wrapped in fairy lights. Stepping a little closer, he noticed that it was stacked with movies, some dating back to the 90s. He lightly ran his fingers across the endless boxes, mouthing the titles of the movies that he recognized.

He stopped at one particular spot, reading the words on the box to himself, “School of Performing Arts - Seoul.”

As if struck by a sudden realization, he decided to pull the box out and take a closer look. It was a simple black DVD box, labeled as “SOPA. Annual Talent Show.” There were a couple more similar boxes that stood next to it on the shelf, dating back two years.

The sudden creak of the door made him turn his head towards the noise. She was awake. She wore the same clothes from early morning, but now, a silky lavender robe hugged her shoulders. Groggy from her sleep, she mumbled, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoed.

“Find anything interesting?” she asked softly, pointing at the box in his hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop, but...” he hesitated, but continued, “...you didn’t say you attended.” He held up the DVD. It was more of a question than a statement, as he remembered the things he told her a few hours ago. She never mentioned that she had attended his dream school.

“So that was the dream school you were talking about,” she replied with an ever softer voice. One that was barely heard. “I didn’t realize.”

“I dropped out anyway,” she added, lowering her gaze.

His eyes widened, “You dropped out?! Why?!”

To him, it seemed like something almost impossible. He couldn’t comprehend how someone like her would leave something like that behind.

“It doesn’t matter. I just left and didn’t go back,” she sighed and shook her head, refusing to tell him anything else.

She’d met Jeonghan at that same school. It was her first week there along with Seungcheol. They’d both applied and had been accepted for showing exceptional talent. Most of her breaks were spent with Seungcheol in the cafeteria or roaming around the campus.

One day, when Seungcheol had to stay home, she decided to wander the corridors of the campus. It wasn’t too long until she heard the sound of someone singing through the thin walls.

The noise came from the auditorium. She made her way towards the door and quietly went inside. The lights were dimmed and the only one who stood on stage, was him, Yoon Jeonghan, the talented senior that everyone talked about, the one with the voice of an angel.

He didn’t notice her at first, so she chose to sit down in one of the comfy chairs at the far back. She sat there and listened for a while. His voice had hypnotized her, but it wasn’t the only thing that caught her attention.

His hair stood out the most. It was onyx black and pulled into a short ponytail, with not a strand out of place. He wore an elegant white button-up and sleek black pants. His patent leather shoes were polished to perfection. He had the aura of a sleazy rich boy, or so everyone said.

When the music came to a halt, she found him directly looking at her. Despite the distance between them, she felt his gaze to be piercing and yet gentle. In that moment, she somehow knew that this young man would be the end of her.

It was love at first sight, a true fairytale. “Prince Jeonghan,” she’d call him. She was overwhelmed with feelings towards him and much to her joy at the time, he’d soon returned them without hesitation. Looking back, she knew that their relationship consisted of late night drives and dates that lasted hours. Some nights they’d lay on the bed in his apartment in Seoul, talking about little nothings including what their days were like in college.

It was everything she’d ever wanted. It was perfectly perfect. But it wasn’t.

And in another year, she would quit her school, move to New York, and become a completely different, secluded person. She would hide away her traitorous heart that she once so eagerly wore on her sleeve. She would forget about ever performing again.

But for now, she lived her fairy tale happily, unaware of the near future.

The way Vernon talked about attending that school, made her feel guilty for quitting. But she’d never let him know the real reason why.

They stood in silence as the memories ran through her head. Vernon looked genuinely shocked but didn’t try to ask any more questions. Somehow, he understood that it wasn’t money that held her back. It was principle.

Her ringtone cut through the awkward silence. S.Coups finally called back.

“Heeeeey,” he said in the most innocent tone he could before she could flip out on him. “I know you’re mad. I’m sorry, but--”

“Don’t ‘but,’ me Choi Seungcheol. Where were you all morning?!” She snapped, turning sideways to avoid direct eye contact with Vernon, who was very grateful that she wasn’t yelling at him, as she was barking curse words at Seungcheol.

While she was on the phone, Vernon slowly put on his boots on and slipped the notepad into the pocket of his bomber jacket that still hung on the wall hook.

“That’s all,” Seungcheol finished, “I just got a little carried away and completely forgot about Vernon,” he abruptly stopped, “Vernon! Shit! Did he get home alright?”

She glanced back at Vernon who flashed a small smile at her from across the living room.

“Well,” she lingered.

“It’s okay, just tell me when I get there. I’m coming up now,” he said cheerfully and dropped the call.”

“Wait--”

Get there? Oh crap. Her best friend had a key to her apartment, of course. What would he want at this hour? Couldn’t he just call me as always? She thought.

The sudden noise of a key turning startled Vernon just as much as it startled her. They exchanged wide-eyed looks and she reluctantly made her way to the door.

Just as she thought he would, Seungcheol froze when he saw Vernon in her apartment. After a moment, he gave her the most accusing wide grin and he pushed past her to stand between her and Vernon, who uneasily sat back on the couch. Seungcheol looked back and forth between them as if fishing for words to say.

She hoped he wouldn’t find them and glared at him with denial in her eyes. No, Cheol this is so not what you think it is, she told him mentally.

“Vernon!” he finally said with a grin and greeted the boy. “Wait, are you two..?” He was gesturing with his hands in a way that made her want to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide.

Vernon scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment and she slapped Seungcheol’s shoulder, “Cheol,” she barked, “really?”

“That’s true you haven’t had a guy over since you broke up wi--”

“CHEOL!” She practically shrieked. Unbeknownst to her, Vernon tilted his head to the side, as if curious.

“Well, it’s about time,” Seungcheol protested.

She threw her hands in the air and muttered, “you try to do a nice thing--I don’t know why I bother.” Exasperated, she gave Cheol another look and he gasped as if he was remembering that he was not actually there to mortify her, and made his way to her bedroom.

“Jacket! I forgot my jacket here the other time!”

Vernon, surprised, realized just how familiar Seungcheol with her place. He seemed to stroll around like he owned the place. But what he didn’t know was that though they didn’t live together, Seungcheol would often spend weekdays watching movies here and just lazing on her couch.

Vernon couldn’t help but wonder if there was something between them. Unaware of what the sudden feeling in his gut was, his eyes darkened with jealousy.

Seungcheol came out of the bedroom, with his jacket in hand and beckoned to Vernon, “Let’s go then, if you two are done,” he mockingly grinned at her expected angry expression, “we’ve got things to do.”

Vernon snapped out of it and nodded in agreement. He quickly got up and flashed a polite, more reserved smile in her direction. She hesitated at the change, but returned it and gave a slight wave of her hand as both went out the door.

Before she closed the door, Seungcheol leaned in and said in a lower tone, “Do me a favor, come to the club an hour earlier tonight. I’ve got something to show you.”

Not having a single idea what it could be, she hastily agreed to get him out of her apartment and shut the door.

Tonight she wore her black ripped skinny jeans and a striped crop top with long sleeves. It was exactly an hour before opening time and Seungcheol was on stage, fiddling with the mics. For some reason, there were two of them.

She still didn’t understand why until Vernon came in through the doors. Were they practicing something? If so, why did she have to sacrifice another hour of her free time to be here? Making herself comfortable at her usual spot at the bar counter, she gave Cheol half a wave signaling that he had her attention.

He smiled and spoke through the mic, “Thanks for coming, boss.” He tapped both mics with his finger, but instead of staying on stage like she guessed he would, he strolled over to her and stood right behind her.

“You gonna sing from here now?” she joked.

He shushed her, cupping her ears and turning her head to the stage, “Just listen.”

The music started up and Vernon pulled the mic from its stand. His cap was off, letting his brown locks bounce freely as he bopped his head to the beat. He took a breath and started rapping.

Lean on me Lean on me

If I am in your heart If I am really in your heart Wherever you are I will follow you

Even if we’re so busy That we can’t see each other often If we get drunk on each other and fall asleep In the dreams, don’t hesitate Lean on me

We are doing well So have strength Even if you wake up from your dreams If I’m really in your heart Wherever you are I’ll be there

As the words left his lips, hers parted in awe. She couldn’t believe how talented he really was. The fact that he wrote these lyrics himself was impressive, but that was not just it. The way he carried himself on stage was incredible. He was the complete opposite of the shy, polite boy that she met less than a day ago. On stage, he was a confident, charismatic young man.

When he stopped, he pushed his hair back with his fingers and humbly smiled, bowing his head.

Seungcheol started clapping at a ridiculously fast pace, but she could only nod in agreement.

She turned to face Seungcheol, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Hire him,” he said simply.

“What?” she snapped. “You know I can’t do that, for a multitude of reasons.”

“Those being?” he shrugged.

She glared at him, “You know more than well that I do not own the club. And he’s only nineteen! Uncle would kill me.”

“No, uncle will listen to you,” he protested.

As they distractedly whispered to each other, Vernon got off the stage and walked over to them, ceasing the whispers.

The three of them exchanged little smiles. She and Seungcheol looked like concerned parents talking about their only child. Vernon seemed relatively unphased and like he wasn’t really waiting for any kind of opinion or answer. She wondered if Seungcheol told him about his hiring plans.

What confused her most was why Cheol would let anyone rap beside him on his stage. She thought about it all night, and then remembered that he would be going back to Korea next year, which was very soon.

Seungcheol had moved to New York with her that one summer, dropping out of school as well to be there for her. Somehow, he never really left and decided to stay with her for a year. Just one year, he said, for reasons he changed each time, but she knew it was until he was convinced that she was truly okay.

Faster than she liked, her time with the last person on the earth who could actually bring a genuine smile to her lips, was coming to an end. She realized that even though he was leaving, he was still trying to look out for her. A part of her wished she could ask him to stay, but she knew he would, and after all he had done for her, she owed it to him to at least pretend she was okay, which sadly, she wasn’t.

The sun was slowly rising once again as she stood at the club’s entrance, with her knuckles curled up in the pockets of her navy coat.

She didn’t just wait for Vernon this time, but Seungcheol as well. Vernon walked out first. The wind blew his hair all over the place and she could clearly see that he regretted not wearing a cap today.

Seungcheol came right behind him, with much more enthusiasm. He wrapped his arms around both their shoulders and they started crossing the road.

The walk to the bus stop was shorter than expected, with small talk, most of which was from Seungcheol, here and there. He talked about going back to SOPA and how he’d miss rapping on the club’s stage. His tone wasn’t sad in any way. Honestly, it never was. Seungcheol was always the positive type, keeping the atmosphere far from gloomy.

Vernon, though, was a little too quiet, forcing a laugh every once in awhile. Seungcheol didn’t seem to notice and kept chattering on about anything and everything, not leaving her any time to interject and ask Vernon what was on his mind.

Once they finally got to the bus stop, Seungcheol gave her a hug and whispered in her ear, “Hire him.”

She gave him another one of her glares and waved goodbye.

“You okay?” she asked Vernon, who had sat heavily on the same bench she saw him on last night, as soon as Seungcheol was out of sight.

She walked over and sat down next to him. This time, she decided, she would wait for the bus to come.

His face lit up, almost like there wasn’t a hint of worry in his heart, but that wasn’t the case. She could somehow tell, which surprised him.

“I’m good,” he lied with an unconvincing smile.

“Then why were you so quiet all the way? Is it because I didn’t hire you right away?” she asked.

His eyes widened and he shook his head a couple of times, “No! Nonono! That’s not it! I promise.”

“Look,” she started, making sure her tone wasn’t too harsh or overly sweet, “You’re so talented, why would you want to waste your time rapping at a club like that? Why don’t you just get on a plane and go live your dream?” She made a lot of hand gestures while she said those things. It was a mystery to her why he’d waste his time like that.

He silently looked at her and then said, “Well, I'm kind of a few dollars short...” He paused, “Few thousand actually.”

All she could blurt out was, “Oh. I see.” He could make it seem like a joke. Somehow that boy always had a smile on his face, no matter how serious the subject was. He was always so positive about things, it was astounding. But after tonight, she knew there was more to that smile than it seemed and despite herself, she was intrigued.

In a few awkward moments of silence, he finally decided to ask her what was bothering him the entire day.

He blurted,“So, are you and Cheol...?”

She immediately understood what he meant and the entire night flashed before her eyes.

“Oh! No! Nononono,” she laughed. “Cheol and I aren’t like that. We grew up together. I guess we give off that vibe sometimes because we have known each other so long and even work together, but no, we’re not a couple. And we never have been.”

She could see the relief wash over him like a cold bucket of water pouring over his head. At the same time, she wondered if he thought she was afraid he’d “outshine” her “boyfriend” on stage. That was clearly not the case in her head.

“Ah, I see,” he nodded awkwardly, catching a quick glance at her and then glancing away.

It was cute that he thought Seungcheol and her were a thing. It was even cuter than he cared at all.

The bus pulled over just in time. They both got up at the same time and exchanged casual goodbyes.

As he took that one step to get into the bus, she grabbed him by his sleeve. “Hey, you know what? You’re hired,” she heard herself say, with shock. She couldn’t believe she’d just hired him! Her Uncle would kill her! There was something about this boy that was always making her do unexpected things!

He turned around and grabbed her hand with the both of his. He shook it a couple of times, thanking her more times than she could count. That’s what finally made her chuckle and as the bus driver called Vernon in, he finally had to let go.

As soon as the bus took off, she crossed the road and continued making her way to her apartment as usual. To her surprise, she couldn’t seem to control the smile that tickled her face. She rubbed her hands together over and over again. Her cheeks burned crimson.

It wasn’t because of the cold, and this time she turned around.

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