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galvanizedfriend · 5 years

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This is something that I was once upon a time planning on turning into a multichapter but that I don’t think will ever happen anymore, so here’s my two cents to the Klaroline Rewind event! Caroline had a night to forget with the douchebag of the century and, a year later, she meets him again at the airport for the wedding of the best friend they unfortunately share. AU/AH, romcom-ish type of thing. Just cause I had to unwind after writing 8k words of angst.

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Caroline met The Worst Guy Ever about a year ago.

No, really. The Worst.

Men are, as a general rule, pigs. If women were to make in-depth pros-versus-cons evaluations of every guy they meet before deciding on whether to hook up with them or not, well. Let's just say the perpetuation of the human species would be seriously endangered. There's only but a handful of guys out there who are really worth any woman's time, and Caroline hasn't had the pleasure of meeting many representatives of that rare, dying breed. They're like real life unicorns. And it doesn't help that Caroline is a walking magnet for dudebros.

She doesn't know what is it about her that gets them to crawl out of sewers and holes in hell to greet her with their Hey there, gorgeous’ or Have I died and gone to heavens whenever she walks into a bar. It's probably the blonde hair. She's considered going darker a few times, but she's a natural blond, her highlights are incredible and her hair is way too pretty for her to dye it just because guys can't even bother to work on their lame pick-up lines and still expect her to have sex with them. And the sad truth is, if she's really desperate, she will.

It's exhausting to be a twenty-something single woman in the XXI century. There's the pressure of making it in this godforsaken world as an adult, there's the pressure from society's understanding that a woman of her age should be looking for serious commitment with marriage in sight, and then there's also the pressure that comes from the needs of her very horny human body. It's just too much. She really hopes to come back as a lesbian in her next life. Bisexual at the very least. Everything would be so much easier if she just didn't need men at all, not even for their parts.

But anyway. The Worst Guy. Yes, Caroline's met her fair share of jerks and idiots, so it takes something really special to leave her aghast. This guy is a king among douchebags. And that's not just her personal opinion; she's shared the story with all her friends and the friends of her friends, and all the women at her work, and even some random people at bars or parties. The collective response to her tale is always a disgusted ugh! followed by What an ass! or Please, tell me you punched that son of a bitch?. If you discount abusive, aggressive and violent men, who are criminals and not in the same category as everyday lame-ass men, he really is The Worst.

Caroline doesn't like to say she's not over it yet because it implies bestowing a level of importance to the fact that is not merited. The guy was a friend of a friend - her best friend, yes, but still only a notch above a complete stranger. She knew him for three days when the story went down and, technically, they did no more than make out for a little bit, so it's not like they had any kind of relationship going on. He's not important, just a guy who did something astoundingly douchebaggy.

The whole thing was bound to go down as a funny anecdote to be shared between girls, a Oh, you think you've had the worst hook-up ever? Hold my beer kind of story. Provided, of course, that she never had to see the guy again and could just wipe him out of her memory for good. Considering they live in different time zones, it shouldn't be too difficult.

Which is exactly why Caroline is livid to come out of the arrivals area at the Richmond airport to find him there, wearing sunglasses indoors, like the proper ass that he is and holding up a sign that says Clarisse and giving her that smug, dimpled smile that got her wanting to suck face with him the first time but now just makes her blood boil.

She is going to murder Tyler on his wedding week.

Caroline inhales deeply through her nose, plasters the most sardonic, Miss-Mystic-Falls saccharine smile she can muster on her face and braces herself for confrontation. If she puffs out her chest, throws her hair back to show a little more cleavage and has a bit of Naomi on her gait as she walks over to him, well. Who can blame her, right?

"Hello, love," he greets her in that insufferable Royal Asshole accent of his. It wouldn't surprise her at all to find out he's not even really British, that the accent is just another item on his long list of douchebaggy features. "Such a pleasure to see you again."

"That's so sweet of you, Nicholas. Too bad I can't say the same."

He laughs, the idiot. "I trust you had a pleasant flight."

"Lovely! Everything was perfect until the moment I walked out and saw you," she says, punctuating her sentence with a grin. "Please tell me Tyler is dead, because that really is the only acceptable excuse for sending you to pick me up."

"Tyler had some urgent matters that required his attention and apparently thinks I've got nothing more important to do than serve as chauffeur to his ex-girlfriends."

"And you couldn't be your disappointment-of-a-friend usual self and send someone else instead? An Uber driver would've sufficed."

"And miss the chance of surprising my lovely old friend Clarisse? Nonsense!" he says, smirking. "Tyler also reminded me that I have certain responsibilities as his best man. I was entirely unaware, but it seems being his personal slave is one of those, who would've known?"

Tyler is so dead.

"Aren't you a dear?" Caroline asks around a sigh.

"I know. Now, have you got everything you need?"

"If I'll be spending an hour in a car with you, I might need a weapon. Do you think I could buy a gun here somewhere?"

Klaus chuckles, taking her luggage as he starts walking towards the parking lot. If she didn't know any better, she'd almost believe his gentlemanly act. "I've missed you, Caroline."

"So you do know my name."

"It comes and goes," he says flippantly. "How's New York this time of the year?"

"Humid. How's hell?"

"Not the same since you left." She can't help the laughter that escapes her. His sense of humor is on point, she'll give him that. "You are sorely missed in New Orleans," he continues.

"I hardly remember New Orleans." Lie.

"I'd be more than happy to escort you down memory lane, perhaps tend to certain unfinished business," he offers in a very casual manner, but the wolfish smile on his lips leaves no doubt over his intentions.

"I believe we made a non-breakable deal about never discussing New Orleans again," Caroline reminds him as they stop by a huge black SUV. "Wow, that's a very big car. Are you trying to compensate for something?"

His smile widens, showing teeth and those damn dimples again. There should be a law against douchebags coming in such alluring packages. "Would you like to find out?"

"Sorry, I'm not that desperate yet. I'll let you know if every other human being on the planet dies, though. Then you'll be first and last on my list. Until then, we don't talk about it. In fact - here's a great idea. How about we just don't talk at all?"

"We made a deal about never telling other people. I don't see what the problem of discussing it is if it's just us girls," he says, loading her luggage into the back of the car.

"The only thing I can recall from that night is that everything was very basic, very below par, and there was not a lot to be missed there, so I really don't see the point."

"You wound me, love," he says, a frown showing behind his sunglasses.

Caroline smiles again. "Not nearly as much as I'd like to."

#klaroline #klarolinerewind #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fic #kcfic #kc fanfiction #klarolinefic #kc fandom #klaus x caroline #TVD fanfiction

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years

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Arranged Chapter Five

Description: Y/N is a struggling student in Seoul: working multiple jobs, living in a broom closet apartment, and often sacrificing her dignity for the sake of her livelihood. What happens when a handsome stranger presents her with an offer she cannot refuse at the moment she needs it most?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Word Count: 6,392

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Chaebol!Au, Company!Au, Arranged Marriage!Au

Warnings: Coarse language, although not frequently. Mentions of alcohol in this chapter.

A/N: Wow hey so here’s chapter five! I’m really glad you guys are still into this story, because I’m definitely into writing it! I’m actually posting this just before I go in to work, so I may not be back on here until later (about 5PM PST). But please send me things if you’d like! I’ll respond to them all. Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story, and for the response you guys have had to it. It really means so much to me. As usual, please feel free to message me with feedback, critique, questions, or anything you’d like! I’d really love to talk to you guys. I hope you like the chapter!

–Mercury

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen (END)

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“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” screamed Hana into my ear, her voice tinny as it came through my cell phone.

“I’m sorry.”

“And am I even invited to the wedding? What the hell?”

“You’re invited.”

“Are you even awake right now?”

“I didn’t sleep much…”

“Y/N…,” she said gently. She’d calmed down considerably as the conversation went on.

It was Wednesday, and the articles about me and Yoongi were floating around cyberspace at a speed I couldn’t keep up with. Between dodging calls from old classmates from high school and avoiding all of my social media, I hadn’t been very in touch since the articles came out. But Hana had been relentless, calling and texting and even showing up at my apartment while I was out buying groceries, leaving a sticky note on my door promising to come back later and demanding a full explanation.

So when she’d called for the thirty-first time in twenty-four hours I answered. But my mind was so far elsewhere.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you right away. I’ve been…busy,” I said, but even I could hear how flat my voice was.

She sighed. “You didn’t have to go this far, Y/N. You know I would have helped you if you would have asked,” she said softly.

“I know. But I didn’t ask.”

“You could have.”

“I made the right choice,” I said, mostly to myself. If nothing else, I wasn’t burdening my loved ones. The only one who was burdened was…

“Y/N,” said Hana again, gentler this time.

“Forget it. It’s fine.”

“Well…do you get along with him? Is he nice to you?” she asked.

I felt my face flush as I laid on my couch, staring at the ceiling as the TV droned quietly in the background. “Nice…,” I repeated, mulling it over. “Yes.”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” she asked.

After Yoongi had proclaimed his love for me, my heart had done more flips than an Olympic gymnast, and I couldn’t settle it down for the life of me. His dark eyes were focused solely on my mother as she sat across from him, shocked with her lips parted as if to speak but unable to produce the words. I could relate.

I gazed at Yoongi, my face red and hot and my vision going hazy. I tried to find any trace of insincerity in his face, in his voice, in the set of his strong jaw. But either he was a very good actor or I was a very bad judge of expressions because I saw nothing but determination. For the briefest moment, I felt a strange warmness in my stomach, and the urge to take his hand. But I pushed both feelings down as my mother began to blush and sputter a response that I couldn’t really hear.

The rest of the meeting had gone well and after Yoongi’s announcement, my mother seemed to warm up to him. She was of course not thrilled about the date of the wedding, but after speaking with Yoongi for a while, me still too shocked to contribute much, she at least seemed to trust his intentions a little more. Once we’d finished speaking, exchanging hugs on the sidewalk, my mother had hailed herself a taxi to get back to Sillim, and Yoongi had insisted upon walking me to the bus stop even though he could have easily called us both a car. He had taken my instructions of ‘acting normal and approachable’ to heart.

It was at the bus station that he finally released a heavy sigh and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry about that,” he said.

I blushed and stared up at him, clearing my throat. “What do you mean?” I’d asked.

“For saying what I said back there. About being in love with you,” he said. How odd, I’d thought, that he would apologize for saying he loves me… “It’s fine. I was surprised, but…”

“It was the only way I could think of to get your mom to trust me.”

Suddenly, my body felt ice cold. A hope that I didn’t know I’d been carrying shattered on the floor and I could only nod my head and force a smile. “It was clever of you.”

He’d chuckled at this and offered a shrug. “Clever…,” he repeated. “Well, I just don’t want to put you in a bad situation with your mother. Anything I can do to help.”

Help.

He’d done it to help me.

“Sometimes kindness is cruelty,” I said to Hana with a heavy sigh. “Anyway, I’m gonna go to the convenience store to drop off my name tag and stuff.”

“You quit?” she asked, surprise coloring and lifting her voice.

I nodded. “I did. Yoongi is offering me a job at his company.”

She was quiet. “I…I can’t help but feel weird about this whole thing,” she said.

I chuckled and shook my head. “I think that’s the normal reaction.”

“I…I didn’t really mean it when I tried to get you to marry him. I was joking,” she said.

Did she feel responsible? “Trust me, Hana, this was my decision. Nobody else.”

She was quiet a moment. “Well…do you like him at least?”

I felt my chest clench and sighed into the receiver. “I gotta go.”

“Wait, Y/N-,”

I didn’t hear the last of her sentence, since I’d ended the call and was already on my feet, padding to my dresser to grab some proper clothes. I hadn’t been lying when I said I had to get to the convenience store.

Jungkook stared at me as I deposited my name tag and t-shirt behind the counter, his eyes following my movements precisely. I hadn’t looked at him since I’d entered the store. There was far too much to explain, and if I gave him any opening, any sign that I wanted to chat, I knew he would begin to ask questions I couldn’t answer. Or at least that was what I thought.

“I…uh, I saw the articles,” he said after more than five minutes in silence, presumably the longest he’d ever stayed quiet.

I finally glanced at him as he stood beside me, still working despite the complete lack of costumers. It was nearly dinnertime, and Jungkook was nearly off the clock. This left the two of us alone, no social buffer to hep us communicate.

Back in the day when we’d first started working together, Jungkook had hardly been able to hold a conversation with me. It seemed that unknown social waters scared the guy.

Neither of us were that great at handling awkward situations.

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh as I ran a hand through my hair, turning to face him directly. “Weird, huh?”

His eyes pierced through me, but with the way I was feeling it was hard to feel intimidated. “You seem weird.”

I chuckled. “Aha,” I said. “I am weird aren’t I? I’m weird.”

“Y/N,” he said, his hand finding the crook of my elbow.

I shook him away. “Forget it. I’m just in a strange place right now. A lot of things don’t make sense to me,” I said, sighing. “No, it’s really just me that doesn’t make sense.”

At this he finally released a laugh. “We can agree on that at least. How about we go out after my shift? Grab some food, drinks maybe?” he asked.

Abysmally, I shook my head. I wanted to wallow alone for a while longer, I wanted to sit in my own melancholy thoughts and wonder why a single untrue phrase made me so sad. “I’m bad company right now, Kook.”

He smiled. “I think you’re fine company.”

“Then you have bad taste.”

“Shut up, you Negative Nancy. Let’s just go and get some lamb skewers. My treat,” he said, offering me his big hand to shake.

I smacked it away, but the longer he badgered the more tempted I became. A warm meal with an old colleague…something about the normalcy of it made me want it badly. The more I pictured it, the better it sounded. It wasn’t that I wanted to spend more time with Jungkook, or that I particularly liked lamb skewers, but a reprieve from my depressing, spiraling thoughts was horribly enticing.

I chewed on my lip for a moment as I pondered his offer before, at long last, I peered up at him through my loose hairs. “You’ll pay?”

“Sweet Caroline~,”

“BUM BUM BUM!”

“The good times never seemed so good~,”

“SO GOOD, SO GOOD, SO GOOD!”

Jungkook and I responded chorally to the girl onstage, microphone waving in her hand, the call-and-response nature of the song livening up the already rowdy crowd. Jungkook hopped at my side with the beat of that familiar song, his laugh turning to more of a giggle, his eyes disappearing with his smile. I joined him in jumping and before long, the whole crowd of pleasantly full, pleasantly drunk patrons of the skewer-and-karaoke joint was jumping with us. All of our hands swayed in the air, more and more folks finding the stage and, subsequently, being sucked into the crowd. Jungkook and I were pushed close together, me far more inebriated than him, and I stumbled a little on my feet, jostling the man next to me as he chanted with his beer.

Startled, he glanced down at me and, upon turning to see me apologizing profusely, chuckled and patted the top of my head. I jerked away from the motion slightly, knocking into Jungkook’s chest.

“Sorry, babe,” said the drunk man with a laugh.

I shook my head. “It’s fine,” I assured him, angling my body away from him nonetheless.

The gesture was innocuous enough, but somehow the idea of this stranger touching me fondly put me off. Luckily for me, Jungkook seemed to pick up on my discomfort. Unluckily for me, however, the drunk man did not.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.

I sighed and turned to him once again, resolved to tell him to back off, but Jungkook’s hand was already on my shoulder, giving the man a stern look. “Her name is none of your business. Lay off.”

I appreciated the chivalry, if that was what it was, but I didn’t need someone to take care of me. “C’mon, chaperone, let her have some fun,” teased the man. I could sense no poor intentions from him, just too much beer.

“I’m already having fun, sir. And I’m engaged,” I said with a smile, patting his shoulder like he’d patted my head and leading Jungkook by the elbow back towards our table. Back towards our drinks.

Even though my mind was present, my body seemed intent on defying me and as I neared my seat across from Jungkook, I collapsed heavily against it and the thing rocked dangerously as if it may tip. I was quick to adjust my balance, but Jungkook’s eyes were serious as he appraised me. For the second time in only a few days I was the drunker of two people, and for the second time in only a few days, I felt like I was in the care of the soberer. He read my expression, his brow heavy, and I shooed his gaze away with my hands, grabbing for my drink. I downed the rest of it before Jungkook could stop me. Unlike the last time, this round of drinking was spurred not by anxiety but by confusion and more than a little disappointment. I reeked of desperation, and so did my movements. Why was I feeling this way anyway? It wasn’t like I liked him.

“Give me your phone,” demanded Jungkook seriously.

I scoffed and held the thing even closer to my body. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but that guy is still staring at you and you’re not exactly in the right headspace to fend him off.”

“I handled myself pretty well back there.”

“What’s up with you, huh? This isn’t like you at all.”

“How would you know what’s like me and what’s not?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

He leaned forward on his elbows. “Y/N, we’ve worked together for over a year now. You’ve only ever been stable and consistent and reliable. Now, what, you’re marrying some guy you’ve never even mentioned and you’re drinking like you’ve got a death wish?” he asked. His words tumbled from his lips with a cool indifference, but his eyes were stern.

I wanted to defend myself, my decisions, my recent behavior, but he was right. I wasn’t myself. I hadn’t been myself in a while. I’d been scared and stupid. I’d made choices that the old me never would have. Choices that the old me would have scoffed at, would have chastised me for. I’d been making those choices since…since when?

Since I lost my job at the music store. That was the start of everything, wasn’t it? The pivotal moment when I lost control of my life? My feelings? That was the problem…

“I gotta go,” I said, pushing up to my feet unsteadily, my bag laying sideways on the table before I jerked it up my shoulder and began feeling my way outside in the dark restaurant.

“Wait! Stop it!” he called, scrambling after me. “He’s still looking! Y/N, he’s following you! Jesus Christ,” Jungkook mumbled, finally catching me as I ruffled my hair on the sidewalk. Rather than trying to grab me he simply took up the space by my side, his eyes darting around like a criminal. “Will you at least tell me where you’re going?”

I pulled the sleeve of my light sweater up my arm, but it kept sliding back down to my wrist. I continued to fight with it as I answered in a breath, “I’m going to the music store.”

“The music-what? Why are you going there?” he asked.

I chuckled, the sound dark against the soft light of dusk. “Mhm. That’s where it all went wrong,” I said. “That was the point of no return.”

“You’re making even less sense now.”

“No, this is the most sense I’ve made in days,” I said.

“What are you gonna do when you get there, huh?”

“I’m gonna get my job back. Get my life back,” I said, resolved as I finally got that damn sleeve to sit in the crook of my elbow where I wanted it.

I wheeled around and began down the road. We were still in Gangnam, near enough to Mr. Kim’s instrument store to get there by bus or if desperate, — which I was — by foot. Jungkook cast an uneasy look over his shoulder and groaned.

“Please, please let me call you a cab and get you home safely,” he said. “That guy is right behind us. He’s gonna follow you. Please come to your senses.”

I scoffed. “I can handle myself. I’m gonna get my job back and I’m gonna be reliable and…what did you say? Stable. I’m gonna be that girl again, okay?” I said, placing my hands on his chest and nodding my head vigorously. It was the first time I felt clear since before Yoongi said that stupid thing.

“I-I can’t leave you alone right now, so please just…just listen, okay?” he said, all the while turning over his shoulder to look at the restaurant we’d just left. I followed his eyes to find the very same man who’d patted me, drunk as a skunk and shambling our way.

“I can handle that guy, okay?” I said with a laugh. “Here, hold my things and I’ll tell him to leave us alone.” I handed him my bag, shoving it into his chest as I walked towards the man, my sleeves still perfectly rolled.

“No, no, no, no, no,” said Jungkook, following me closely and wrapping an arm around my waist, turning my body around towards the street, away from the man as he called after me.

Jungkook settled me at the bus stop only a few feet away, sitting down beside me with a heavy sigh and scrolling through his phone. “So…the music shop,” I said slowly, my voice slurring. God, did I hate how I sounded when I was drunk. Reminded me of Saturday. Reminded me of Yoongi.

Ugh.

“Yeah, yeah. Just hold on a second,” he said, still furrowing his brow at his phone. “God, why is his contact name Mr. Min?”

“Huh?” I asked. The name caused me to sit straighter and forced my mind to focus. “Why are you talking about him right now?”

“Because I’m calling him,” he said, placing the phone to his ear. It was only then that I realized that the black-and-white plastic case protecting the phone looked awfully familiar…

“No!” I shouted, scrambling over his body to fight for my phone.

He effortlessly fended me off, dismissing me entirely with only a click of his tongue. “Yes, this is Jeon Jungkook. I’m a friend of your fiancé….Yes, she’s fine. Just a little…intoxicated.”

“No, please, please give me my phone,” I begged quietly, desperate not to be heard by the man who had been stomping loudly through my thoughts for days.

“Shh,” chided Jungkook, raising a finger to his lips. “I’ll text you the address. We’re waiting at a bus stop….No, it’s no problem. I’ll wait with her….Well, there’s a man watching her. I’m worried he might be trouble if I leave. And she’s…well, she’s probably more drunk than I let on.”

“I’m not drunk! Not even drunk. Look, Kook, look at me!” I called, seizing his attention as I stood to my feet and walked in a straight line along the edge of the sidewalk in front of us, both my arms spread wide. “Look! Field sobriety test!”

“A lot more,” he murmured into the phone before ending the call and typing something furiously.

I glanced over his shoulder, back at the restaurant’s facade, and saw the man from before hooting at me, waving his arms to call me back. He didn’t approach, just continued waving madly like he had something to tell me. In his left hand something shiny caught the light. I pouted, angry with him for ruining my plan, and lifted my own left hand slowly, like I may wave back. He continued to holler at me from across the sidewalk, looking like a drunkard. Silently, I lifted only one choice finger on my left hand.

The man stopped his movements and gaped at me, pointing at his hand again. Was he trying to give me his number? Trying to talk to me again? It seemed like a dumb way to flirt with someone. And he didn’t approach, his eyes flashing between me and Jungkook. Maybe he’d been more afraid of the strong boy than he’d let on inside, perhaps he’d seen him under the streetlight and noticed the network of muscles tracing his exposed upper arm.

So, finally, he huffed and turned around, returning the greeting I’d given him before disappearing once again inside the restaurant.

“Creep,” I mumbled, looking back at Jungkook and, with a resilient glare, touched my finger to my nose, then the finger on my other hand, and then the first finger again.

He cracked a smile, unable to look at me, and turned away, laughing into his hands. “Okay, okay. I acknowledge your aptitude for sobriety tests. Just come sit down and wait now, okay?”

I furrowed my brow. “Excuse me, but why do I feel like you’re my babysitter?” I asked.

He cocked a brow. “Aren’t I?”

“No. I’m a fully grown adult.”

“Take your finger off your nose and maybe I’ll take you more seriously,” he said.

Blushing, I pulled my hand down from my face, finger and all. I sighed. I knew I was being unreasonable, but all I wanted was to get to the music store. My realization had felt imperative and urgent.

Nonetheless, I sat down beside him, a respectable distance away.

A car I’d never seen before eased up to the curb in front of where I sat with Jungkook not fifteen minutes later. And from that beautiful white sports car stepped the person in the world I wanted to see the least. Yoongi shut the driver’s side door and examined me with a sigh as I slumped against the bus stop bench. He neared us and I didn’t straighten up, following his movements with my eyes alone. I still wasn’t sure I was going to go along with him anyway. I still had an errand to run, an errand that would hopefully result in Yoongi and me parting ways forever.

“Decided to have your bachelorette party a few days early, huh?” inquired Yoongi as he approached, crouching down to see me properly. Unfortunately, that meant I could see him properly too, sitting just in front of my bare knees.

He was wearing what looked to be his casual clothes, although even the black button-down he had tucked into the same ripped black jeans from the day before looked immaculately pressed and ironed. His dark eyes examined me not with anger or frustration, but with careful precision. His hair was only slightly askew from the wind.

I used my own hair to cover my face as I slumped even more into the back of the bench, pushing Yoongi away with my knees. “It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” he asked.

I nodded. “You confused me.”

I heard the melodic sound of his chuckle and before I could wonder what he’d found funny he was helping me to my feet and wrapping a strong arm around my waist to keep me upright. Startled, I shook him away and pushed the rest of my hair from my eyes so I could see properly. I dusted off the back of my shorts and cast both Yoongi and Jungkook a glare — respectively.

“I can handle it myself,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Mm,” mumbled Jungkook, scratching his eyelid softly before raising his brows at me. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Now leave me alone. I’m allergic to 6-foot tall man-children,” I said, shoving him away by the arm.

He laughed as he stumbled to the side. “Get a vaccine,” he said with a smirk, deliberately stepping towards me.

I furrowed my brow and glared at him. “Vaccines are to prevent the thing from happening, not for after the thing already happened. How did you even pass biology?” I asked.

“You’re the one who asked for my notes last year!” he exclaimed, pointing at me.

Mortified, I glanced toward Yoongi to see if he’d heard and, of course, he was watching the discourse with a smirk and crossed arms. “I hope you step on something wet while wearing socks when you get home,” I said lowly.

Jungkook’s mouth went slack. “After all I did for you today?”

“Let’s just get you home, huh?” said Yoongi from beside me, gesturing towards his car.

I peered up at him for only a moment before I decided that anywhere was better than being stuck with Jungkook. I followed Yoongi to his car and, before hopping inside through the door Yoongi held open for me, I shot Jungkook a smirk and stuck my tongue out at him. Before he could retaliate, I was inside the car, yanking the door shut. I expected Yoongi to join me quickly, but he stood outside with Jungkook for a few moments chatting. Even though they’d never met, they looked remarkably comfortable together. Maybe I was just too drunk…

“Ready to go home?” asked Yoongi as he took up the driver’s side.

I scoffed. “I’m not going home. Take me to the instrument store,” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Nope. You’re going home.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” I said, watching the lights of the city pass outside my window. “You don’t get to decide where I go or what I do. You don’t get to decide if I speak or not. You don’t get to decide.”

“I’m driving the car. I think I do get to decide,” he said softly.

I rolled my eyes. “Then stop the car and let me out.”

“Y/N…,” he sighed. “Can’t you just cooperate?”

“No.”

He was quiet for a moment, still driving on the highway towards my apartment in Itaewon. We were already out of Gangnam. I figured I could catch the bus once he dropped me off and go to the instrument store alone. If I didn’t get my job back today, then I’d never do it. I’d never be bold enough again.

“The store is closed now,” he said from beside me.

I blinked a few times as shock ran through me. I hadn’t even thought of that. Quietly, I groaned and tilted my head back against the black leather headrest. “Dammit!”

“Why are you so insistent on going there anyway?” he asked.

I shrugged. “No reason.” An embarrassed blush spread across my cheeks.

“I’ve never seen you this determined.”

“You’ve only known me a few weeks.”

“Regardless,” he said.

I sighed and smoothed my hands over my thighs, trying to focus my mind. “I wanted to get my job back.”

“Your…your job? They fired you?” he asked.

“Yeah. After my slip-up with you, I was on thin ice. And then I messed up again,” I said. “He fired me.”

He took a deep breath. “My fault, huh?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but no. It’s me. All along it’s been me. I should take responsibility.”

“Listen, the job I’ll give you will pay much better than the instrument store, I promise,” he said, his voice soft.

I watched the dying twilight outside, Seoul colored in shades of violet, and shook my head. “It’s not about money.”

“If it’s not money, then…what is it?” he asked.

I felt like there was no way for us to understand each other on this topic.

“Nevermind.”

We arrived at my apartment after a few long minutes in silence, the radio providing a melancholy soundtrack as we drove. I was sobering up slowly, but I could still feel the lightheadedness lulling me. Yoongi seemed content enough just sitting there driving, and I took the moment of quiet to steady my thoughts. Why was I so upset with him anyway? He’d only done something kind for me.

“Well,” I said, rifling through my bag to find my keys.

“I’ll walk you up.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather you didn’t. I’m not…having the best day.”

“All the more reason to walk you up,” he said.

I sighed and, rather than fighting with him, simply shrugged and exited the car, still digging for my apartment keys. I grumbled on the sidewalk for only a moment before he was at my side and I had to stop my search to lead him up the stairs. I was resolved not to let him inside, to say a chaste goodbye at the door and send him home with a slightly drunken wave.

He followed me carefully from behind, walking a good foot behind on the sidewalk, a good step behind on the stairs. It was like he was a bodyguard and I was a movie star. But as we landed on the rooftop, plastered with chipping paint, I was reminded that neither of those things could have been further from the truth.

“You have the whole roof,” he said with a pleasant smile, taking a look at the city around us.

I blushed and resumed my search for my keys. “Yeah, it’s a penthouse after all.”

“A penthouse?”

“That’s how it was listed on the ad.”

He chuckled. “Huh.”

“Ugh!” I exhaled, turning my bag upside down to see all of its contents splayed out on the ground in front of me. I crouched beside my belongings and squinted at them, finding no key.

“Having some trouble?” he asked.

Trouble…

“That guy!” I shouted, standing to my feet with a groan. I slumped my shoulders as I remembered. He’d been waving his hands furiously, the glint of metal shining in his palm. He’d been trying to give me back my keys. “God, he must have left his things inside,” I thought aloud, trying to figure out why he hadn’t just approached and handed them to me like a normal person.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asked from my side, staring down at me with worried eyes.

“That guy at the bar. He…my keys…he had them,” I said quietly as I moped.

Yoongi exhaled in a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I’ll have someone fetch them in the morning. It’s dark. Let’s just go to my place for now,” he said, shaking his head and turning on his heel.

“Wait!” I shouted as I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Isn’t that a little…,” I hedged, unable to meet his eyes as I blushed.

He chuckled softly. “You’re my fiancé. Why would it be inappropriate for you to come to my apartment?”

“I…,” I started, then glanced over my shoulder at my cold, dark apartment, juxtaposed against the cool, dark night. I released his arm and cleared my throat. “I guess.”

Holly was quick to jump against my shins as I entered Yoongi’s apartment, a real penthouse, and kicked off my shoes in the doorway. Yoongi’s previous somberness melted away and a soft smile spread across his face as he leaned down beside Holly and gave the small dog’s curly head a rub. I walked through the doorway, taking in the impeccable place. It was all white marble, white furniture, white countertops, black blankets, black curtains that had been pushed to the sides of massive windows overlooking the whole city. Like Seoul was on display every night, just for him.

“Feel free to sit down,” he said without looking.

The living room beckoned as Yoongi cooed over Holly and I walked laboriously towards the white sofa. I tossed my bag on the furthest cushion of the couch before I collapsed against it. I curled into the black faux fur of the massive blanket which had been draped across the couch’s broad back. Holly and Yoongi were still playing by the doorway, and I was watching on from the couch in silence, laying on my side, letting the wooziness ease a little. He seemed so different than usual…

“Would you like some tea? Maybe some toast to help sober up?” asked Yoongi, finally taking note of me as I rested on his couch.

I shrugged. “Not really. I just want to sleep.”

He chuckled. “Then sleep.”

“I have a question first.”

His brows raised and he approached me, Holly on his heels. He came to a seat at my feet and I sat up straight, still wrapped up, to look at his face properly. Of course, he was devastatingly handsome. That was something I’d grown used to. But he was also softer at home than he’d been outside.

“Holly…,” I said, watching him as he hopped up onto the couch and into my lap. I smiled as I ran my fingers through his brown curls. “He’s a very important part of your life.”

Yoongi nodded and smiled as Holly curled into me, resting his head on my thigh. “He is.”

“What else is important to you?” I asked.

He thought, really pondered, for a long moment before responding. “Music is important. I suppose…not letting my parents down is important to me as well. Living up to my name.”

“Becoming CEO?” I asked.

He nodded. “My father won’t step down until I’ve proven myself,” he said with a sigh. “He wants me to prove I can commit to something. Hence the…,”

“The marriage.”

“Yes.”

“What else is important to you though? Existentially?” I asked, emboldened by the leftover soju in my veins.

He reached a hand over to my lap to rub Holly’s back fondly. “Existentially…,” he said quietly.

“What makes you feel fulfilled?”

“I wonder,” he said, taking in his breath slowly through his nose and releasing it in a sigh. “How about you, then? Is that an easy question for you to answer?”

I nodded. “I want to be a capable person. I want to take care of myself and my mother. She raised me alone and she taught me that it’s important to sustain yourself. I don’t want to rely on someone else and I want to make my own decisions,” I said.

“I see,” he said, thinking. “Then that’s why you got so upset with me the night of the party. Why you got upset when I drove you home.” He hadn’t posed his words as a question, but rather an objective statement of fact.

“It’s also why I got upset when you said you loved me,” I said, the pieces finally falling together. “I didn’t like that you just…decided to say that and then decide it was a lie. You didn’t give me a choice.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t,” I said, smoothing Holly’s hair as his eyes drooped shut. Yoongi kept watching his dog, not once raising his gaze to me. “We’re just different, that’s all.”

“I feel like I keep messing up with you.”

“I feel the same.”

Finally he looked over at me and we seemed, for a brief moment, to be on the same page. “How about we start making rules then? For our time together.”

I shrugged. “That may work.”

“Okay. You start.”

“Don’t say something that I might misunderstand. I know to you love and romance aren’t important but they’re very serious to me. Try not to shake me up,” I said.

“Okay,” he said, then smirked at me. “Don’t go drinking with other guys again,” he said.

I blushed and shook my head wildly. “No! It’s not like that between me and Jungkook. He’s hardly even a guy.”

He laughed. “I don’t mind what kind of relationship you two have. Just don’t endanger our arrangement,” he said.

My heart clenched a little. Of course. It was business between us after all. “Okay. I’ll be more careful,” I said, pursing my lips. “Consult me with decisions so we can make them together. We’re partner and partner, not employee and boss.”

He smiled at me softly before nodding his head. “Fair enough.”

“I suppose we should write these down,” I said, looking over his shoulder at my bag as it slumped against the cushion near his leg.

I reached over his lap to grab it in search of my cell phone. If I didn’t write down my rules, I’d forget them by the morning. I could become scatterbrained, especially in front of Yoongi, and being slightly inebriated didn’t help. I needed assurance that this conversation had truly happened, and accountability on both ends that we would abide by the rules.

He stiffened as my upper body hovered over his lap and, disturbed by my movements, Holly hopped off my lap and onto the floor, finding his bed near the TV. I continued to squirm my way over to my bag and I could hear Yoongi’s breath hitch in his throat. Was he perhaps nervous around girls?

I glanced up at him and saw nothing but his typical composure, the only sign of discomfort being his hands as they floated above my back while I strained on his lap. Sober, of course, I’d never have been so bold. But suddenly I was glad for the alcohol. Without it I wouldn’t have known I could even remotely affect Yoongi.

I stretched and grabbed for my bag, finally snatching it and sitting up properly, using Yoongi’s knee to prop myself up. Suddenly we were face to face, our noses inches apart, his dark eyes wide and mine matching. I felt the flush on my cheeks, felt it grow hotter and hotter, extending even towards my ears. His eyes scanned my face, his hands now thrown back against the couch like he’d been stopped by a policeman, and I saw the ghost of a blush working beneath his pale skin. I’d never been so close to him before.

I felt that familiar bubbling of wistful sadness in my stomach, the one I’d felt all day since he’d revealed that his confession had been a lie. I thought I’d made sense of it, thought I finally understood it. He’d taken my freedom — my free will, rather — and I’d been tugged along, in the throes and out again, without so much as a choice. That was what was bothering me.

But then why did I feel like a chunk of my heart was out of place?

Something still bothered me and as half of my body was draped across his lap, my arms still using his legs for support to sit upright, I had a sudden and unstoppable urge to figure it out.

All I had to do was tilt my head just slightly, lean forward the tiniest measure, and I would have my answer.

And so I did, bracing myself against his shoulder as I took in his face up close. Porcelain skin tinged pink at the cheeks, deep-set eyes blown wide staring down at me, full lips parted only slightly to reveal just a hint of white teeth, hair falling against his forehead, wind-swept here and there. I didn’t know when I’d have such a view again.

I leaned forward a little, keeping my eyes on his as his lids grew heavy. I could feel his breath against my lips, could feel a single hand on my hip, having relaxed from its previous position against the couch. I released the black strap of my bag, hearing the thing clatter to the floor, and finally closed the distance. Our lips touched, his soft and gentle against mine. I hardly moved, hardly breathed, as my lips worked against his. He didn’t pull away. It was only a moment, but it felt like eternity. The space around us was hot and charged, and his grip on my hip tightened. I’d wondered before what it may be like to kiss him, but actually doing it was different. So different. My heated cheeks grew redder.

Because, in the moment before I’d shut my eyes, I could have sworn he leaned in too.

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