Chapter XII

Wedding Bell

*This ficlet takes place after chapter 63 on TWT

—9 hours till the ceremony

No one really understands Gwiboon’s persistence in taking the family and the wedding party for breakfast at another restaurant when the hotel they’re in—The Reef—provides perfectly delicious breakfast menu. This question, however, is answered as soon as they step off the bus and onto the well-decorated front area of The Dining Room. Immediately, their crowd is ushered in and shown around.

“,” Amber mutters as soon as they reach the outdoor dining area of the restaurant. Evolving from a classic cottage, the restaurant provides an intimate, homey atmosphere and such gorgeous view that no one has anything to complain about anymore. “Damn, look at that,” she, much like the others, is ogling the unobstructed view of the sea in front of them.

“Okay I'll admit,” Jonghyun says as he pulls a chair for Younha. “It’s totally worth waking up early for,” he ignores Gwiboon’s satisfied smirk and sets for opening the menu.

“You did a lot of research for this, didn’t you?” Jinki nudges her gently, smiling affectionately. Gwiboon flips her ponytail and mouths an ‘of course’, beaming when Jinki pulls her closer to press a kiss against the side of her head. “You’re amazing, thank you.”

“I want everyone to have a good time,” she mutters, voice low and unusually composed, like she doesn’t really want anyone to hear it. Gwiboon does that a lot, especially when she’s doing good deeds for people. She basks in all the attention she can get, yes, but she doesn’t rub her niceness on other people’s faces.

“Well, a good time is had by me as long as you’re around,” he teases, trying to sound cheesy but instead sounding more sincere than anything. Gwiboon smiles back, reaching out a hand to Jinki’s torso affectionately. Next to them, Amber and Jonghyun make identical gagging noises.

“Shut up, you two, they’re getting married today,” Irene chimes, rolling her eyes. “Let them be.”

“Man, I’d kill to have a view like this at home,” Taemin mumbles, waggling his eyebrows as Gwiboon and Nicole hum in agreement. Minho turns to him, raising an eyebrow.

“We can build a house on an island somewhere. Or we can just buy—”

“If you say ‘buy an island’ I will walk the out of here, honestly,” Taemin cuts him off, opening two packets of sugar and pouring them into his cup of coffee. Minho rolls his eyes, pulling the bowl filled with packets of creamer closer for Soyou to grab and refrains himself from arguing.

“It scares me how casually you say like that, Min,” Jonghyun comments, watching Younha put stickers all over the photo she took before uploading it on her Instagram story. “I mean, it’s not that I—oh, hi, Mom! Where have you all been?”

“The tour, sweetie,” she grins, thanking Jinki as he pulls out a chair for her. “This place is magnificent, Boonnie, and their wine list is wonderful.”

“Please tell me you didn’t order wine. Mum, it’s barely 9,” Gwiboon pleads, narrowing her eyes as her mother laughs and shakes her head.

“I’m not that morally loose, you know,” she chuckles, turning to pat Jinki’s forearm and smiles at him. “Besides, I want to look like a decent human being in front of my handsome son-in-law.” Jinki blushes and grins back at her, ignoring Jonghyun’s inelegant snort.

“Oh please, Jangmi, we’ve established that you’re more than decent, already,” Jinki’s mom teases, eyes sparkling in delight as both women laugh at something only the two of them understand. Jinki narrows his eyes at his mom, who waves a hand dismissively. “We’re going shopping the day after tomorrow. A little Girls’ Day Out so we can gossip about you kids in peace.”

“Oh God,” Jonghyun groans. Gwiboon seconds the sentiment. “I’m going to behave.”

Next to Younha, their father laughs. “Yeah, right.”

—7 hours till the ceremony

Gwiboon pauses, fingers lingering over the screen of her iPod for a second before pressing the play button. Immediately, the familiar opening tune of Press Your Number starts to fill the room. She walks back to where the girls are hanging out, wiggling her eyebrows as a response to Amber’s thumbs up—an appreciation for the choice of song.

“As I was saying,” Irene starts again, sipping on her margarita. “Being ‘friends’ with Jonghyun oppa must have a lot of advantages. He’s been my boss for a while now. I know how generous he can be,” she raises an eyebrow as Younha sighs, not looking up from where she’s doodling notes onto her music sheet.

“I’m not friends with him because of the advantages,” Younha assures her evenly. “And I don’t like how you do that finger quote thingy whenever you say ‘friends’. We are friends,” she points at her with her pen, staring down Irene until she relents and drops her gaze, taking another swing of her drink.

“You seem much more than that, is all,” Gwiboon says, examining her newly-manicured nails. She requested for a simple French manicure, and is satisfied with the end result; they make her fingers look clean and dainty. “God knows Jonghyun had been in dire need for someone ‘more than friends’ for a while now.”

“Still, if he’s not ready, we shouldn’t push him, am I right?” Younha smirks knowingly at Gwiboon, who purses her lips and shakes her head, amused.

“But you admit that there’s nothing platonic about this ‘friendship’, right?” Amber pushes, laying on her stomach and pulling Gwiboon’s blanket over her torso. “You totally wanna bang Jjong?”

“There is something platonic about our friendship,” Younha corrects her, waving her pen at Amber to emphasize her point. Younha had been preparing for this as soon as the girls knock on her room and rope her into their little girls-talk time, and she’s been practicing her lines to counter their not-so-subtle attacks. She knows this is coming, after all, ever since the day she said yes to Jonghyun’s invitation. She knew what Jonghyun had been through, and she understands that while the girls are driven by innocent curiosity, Gwiboon is driven more by wariness and, perhaps, distrust. The interrogation is not unexpected, though still amusing all the same. “And of course I want to bang Jonghyun, who doesn’t?”

“Fair enough,” Soyou raises her champagne flute, preaching her words. Gwiboon makes a gagging noise. “What? He might be annoying, but there’s no denying that he’s also smokin’ hot.”

Gwiboon waves a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, whatever. Now, the most important question is—oh , I love this song,” she whips her head around to look at her iPod, which is now playing the song Move, filling the hotel room with the sensual tunes. “Damn, Taemin sounds attractive.”

“He does,” Amber agrees, bobbing her head along with the beat of the chorus. “I watched his performance once and I was like, damn boy, teach me your moves.”

“He’s really flexible,” Irene observes, on a cherry. Gwiboon wonders if she should take the alcohol away from her; a tipsy Irene is a daring Irene, and she doesn’t really want to talk about Taemin’s flexibility now because a) it feels kind of uous, and b) she would like to be able to look at either Taemin or Minho in the eyes after this. “I mean, pelvic s are one thing, but this choreography isn’t about that. I mean—”

“The body waves—” Soyou adds, doing a little body wave herself, chugging on a newly-filled champagne flute. Gwiboon sighs. “God, they should make a tape. Seriously. Taemin and Minho? , I’d watch the hell out of that.”

“Me too,” Amber nods frantically, accepting Soyou’s offer of a new glass of champagne.

“I’m pretty sure ualizing your friends is inappropriate,” Younha comments thoughtfully. “But I agree.”

“ all of you,” Gwiboon shakes her head, thanking all the Gods that the song’s finally over. “Let’s get back to our original topic.”

“Hey,” Nicole pipes in, finally emerging from where she’s painting her nails dusty blue. She blows on them for a few seconds before continuing, pointing all five fingers at Gwiboon. “You were the one who got distracted.”

“By the song, not Taemin’s pelvic flexibility,” Gwiboon argues, resisting the urge to swat her hand away if only because she might get nail polish all over her palm. “Speaking of songs, I heard you wrote a song about Jonghyun?”

For the first time since they started the conversation, Younha flushes. Gwiboon gasps and narrows her eyes while the rest of the girls perk up at this apparent reaction. “Well, it’s not—I mean, yes, he kind of inspired me, but it’s not like it’s some kind of a love song or anything.”

“Which song?” Nicole asks. “Gwiboon, which song?” she insists, already in pursuit of her phone so she can Google the lyrics.

“The Door, isn’t it?” Gwiboon smiles, wide and victorious. Younha flushes brighter. “It’s a song about you and him.”

“Ooh, I found it!” Nicole screeches, waving her phone in the air. The girls come crowding her and for the next few minutes, it’s quiet as they all read the lyrics and let it sink. Younha coughs into her hand and looks down at her music sheet once more, if only to avoid Gwiboon’s piercing gaze.

“You want to save him,” Gwiboon observes, tone unreadable. “That’s nice.”

“I’m not—” she’s stopped by a persistent set of knocks on the door, and they all look up, turning to Gwiboon. Pushing herself off the bed, Gwiboon opens the door to reveal her mother, holding a box of jewelry on one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Gwiboon immediately snatches the bottle away from her hand, putting it on top of the dresser.

“Everyone is drunk already,” Gwiboon warns her, ushering her in before closing the door. She stops at the sight of the girls cluttered on one side of the bed, while Younha sits on the other side, sending her a nervous smile.

“Hello, girls,” Jangmi sets the box on one of the end tables. “Younha-ssi, I see they’ve dragged you into joining the gang,” she observes, smiling widely though her eyes are calculating. Younha bows her head.

“Yes, Mrs. Kim. It’s kind of nice, actually, they’re all very interesting individuals,” she nods at the bunch. Gwiboon snorts at the choice of word, muttering ‘interesting’ under her breath.

“Isn’t it a little too early, though?” Jangmi asks, more to Gwiboon than anyone else. Gwiboon frowns, confusion marring her face at the sight of her mother’s serious tone. “For her to join the gang?”

Gwiboon raises an eyebrow while Younha scoots away a little, looking like she wants the bed to just swallow her up. “Anyone we like can join the gang, Mom, anytime we want to add her in. I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

“I think you do,” she replies easily, turning back to Younha. The rest of the girls straighten up, exchanging confused and wary looks as the atmosphere of the room becomes heavier by the second. “You must have earned my daughter’s trust for her to include you into her inner circle. I wonder why.”

“Oh, I’m—”

“Ma, for God’s sake,” Gwiboon protests, confusion turning into something else entirely. Jangmi doesn’t back down, however, because she moves to sit next to Younha, who has moved the music sheets she previously had on her lap onto the bed, replacing them with her intertwined fingers.

“I heard Jonghyun talking about you, as well, Younha-ssi, and believe me when I say he doesn’t talk about women much since Jaekyung,” she tells her calmly, patting Younha’s thigh in a placating gesture. Though, to a terrified Younha, it feels more patronizing than anything. “Plus I heard the girls tease you a lot, about Jonghyun, that is.”

“We’re just joking, Mrs. Kim,” Amber says diplomatically. “They’re friends, we like to tease our friends.”

“Are they, now,” she hums. “Well, I hope you have a keen eye to watch for those whom you deem ‘friends’. I don’t want to see my children disappointed once more, you see, and I—”

“Ma, that’s enough,” Gwiboon cuts her off calmly, lifting a hand when she opens to object. “We like Younha, that’s why she’s here. Regardless of what she is to Jonghyun, that’s none of our business, and that includes you. So please just… you’re scaring her,” she sighs, and Jangmi watches her for a long moment, eyes searching.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Kim,” Younha begins, clearing and meeting Jangmi’s eyes defiantly, despite the obvious distrust she emitted. “I have no intention on inflicting any kind of emotional distress on any of your children. Jonghyun is a close friend of mine, and he’s told me about his… less-than-pleasant dating history. While Gwiboon is… also a friend, albeit a tad new, and I cherish her friendship offering because she’s a delightful person and I genuinely enjoy spending time with her and the girls.”

“Please don’t take this as me not trusting my children’s judgement—”

“Sounds a lot like it, Ma, just saying,” Gwiboon raises an eyebrow when her mom turns to glare at her. She lets it go quickly, however, because debating with Gwiboon is no use.

“But surely you understand that as a mother, I just want the best for them,” she continues. Pausing, she looks around the room, where the rest of its occupants are staring at her, waiting. “These girls, you see, have been Gwiboon’s sisters for years, but I suppose, they all start somewhere. And if this is your start… well, who am I to intervene?” smiling, she pats Younha’s forearm a few times, the gesture much friendlier than before.

“I sure hope it is, Ma’am.”

Jangmi smiles again, this time a little more genuine and a lot less challenging. “Yes, well.” She nods decisively and moves to stand, opening to address Gwiboon and pauses when Younha calls her.

“I just want you to know that your son is a good man, a good friend, and I would try my best to refrain from doing anything to inflict pain on him. He deserves to be happy, after what he went through,” she offers a small smile that Jangmi slowly accepts with one of her own. For a second, she just looks at Younha, and her eyes soften, the calculating stare turn into a knowing one. Gwiboon bites on her lower lip to hold back her grin.

“So.”

“Oh, I was about to give you these; all of your bridesmaids, too,” she takes the jewelry box and opens it, showing a row of white gold necklaces with a single pearl as the pendant. The girls gasp and rush over to it.

“Cool!”

“This is for us?”

“Really?”

“Mrs. Kim, you’re the best,” Nicole coos, watching as Gwiboon lifts one of the necklaces and examines it, her grin slowly widening.

“They’re beautiful, Ma,” she pushes herself up and steps forward to hug her mom, melting into her embrace. The rest of the girls quickly follow suit, giggling and shrieking all the while. The group hug is total chaos, but it lasts a while, and Younha pulls her phone out to snap a picture of it.

“Damn, I’ve got tears for real, now,” Amber sniffs. “Now this feels like a wedding.”

“I second that,” Soyou says, rubbing her slightly reddening nose and pulls away from the hug.

Once they all take a step back and start to ooh-ing and aah-ing the necklaces and asking Younha if it looks good on them, Gwiboon pulls her mother away from the crowd and into one corner of the room, just next to the door.

“Thank you for that, Mama, really,” Gwiboon says, leaning onto the touch when Jangmi presses a palm against her cheek. “And just so you know, I think I can trust Younha. I think Jonghyun trusts Younha, too. They’re good together.”

Jangmi looks at the sincerity in her daughter’s eyes and the persuasive tone she uses and swallows her doubt. Gwiboon seems inclined in presenting a good image of Younha in front of her, and Jangmi doesn’t want to deny her that. She’s dubious, yes, because she doesn’t want to see her son in that dark, dark place for the second time, but she’s still rational enough to give Younha a chance. Her children trust Younha, that’s all the proof she needs to try to get to know Younha, too. After all, neither Gwiboon nor Jonghyun is foolish.

“She wrote him a song, too,” Gwiboon adds. “It’s kind of... deep.”

“I’m sure it is,” she breathes, smiling as she pushes a strand of hair away from Gwiboon’s eyes. Looking at Gwiboon is almost like looking at herself, although she’s far more vibrant and dynamic. Beautiful, too, no doubt. Jangmi swallows the lump growing in and pulls her little girl into another hug. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you.”

“I love you, too, Mama.”

Jangmi pulls back, wiping her eyes with the back of her index finger before grasping Gwiboon’s forearms, exhaling slowly. “You’ve got yourself a good man, Boonnie. Jinki is going to take care of you, and you of him.”

“I have, haven’t I?” she grins. “Jinki deals with my like a pro. It’s not an easy feat.” Jangmi snorts and shakes her head, amused.

“No, no it’s not.” Jangmi’s eyes linger on her daughter’s joy-filled eyes and the radiant glow around her and there’s not a single doubt in her heart that Gwiboon has made the right choice.

—5 hours till the ceremony

“You’re awake,” Minho sets his bottle of water on the table before taking a seat opposite Jinki, pulling his Vertu out of his pocket and putting it next to his bottle. Jinki reaches forward to grab the phone and examines it, pursing his lips as he takes in every line and crook of the phone.

“How much is this?” Jinki asks, flipping it around to see the features. Minho leans forward to press his thumb against the screen and watches it light up before relaxing back onto his chair and lets Jinki fiddle with it.

“Six grand,” he answers, uncapping the bottle and taking a huge swing of water, ignoring Jinki’s judging look. No one can comprehend Minho’s liking of unnecessarily expensive stuff, but he always shrugs it off as them not growing up with his parents. Money doesn’t really mean anything for Minho—he never values anything he gifts to his friends and loved ones with how much it costs; the value of a gift is how much they need it, how much they’ll cherish it. “Where’s Jonghyun?”

“Still sleeping. Younha ditched him for the girls and he’s avoiding nosy family members, so,” Jinki locks the phone and slides it back to Minho. “Kinda great that they’re getting along so well, huh?”

“Younha is pleasant to be around,” Minho notes, turning his phone around so the screen faces downward. He isn’t in the mood to deal with his piling workload, but the company isn’t going to magically run itself to the top while he’s stopping to take a breather, so he doesn’t shut his work phone off completely. Jinki narrows his eyes at him. “I have a feeling she’s going to be around a lot.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jinki says distractedly. He gestures at a waiter to come over and orders them two glasses of orange juice and ‘something to chew on’. Turning to Minho, he jerks his chin at him. “Champagne?”

“No, I—I’d rather not drink,” he waves a hand dismissively, waiting for the waiter to leave before dropping his head onto his hands.

Jinki sighs. “Alright, spill.”

“Spill w