The funny thing about meeting Bang Yongguk was that you had no idea he was a celebrity. In fact, you had no idea that he belonged to a K-Pop boy group named B.A.P., or that he was the leader, or that he was currently on hiatus while the rest of s promoted their latest album. You didn’t know that he had recently wrapped up a world tour, or that he had been in charge of producing Noir, or that he was dealing with a panic disorder.

All you knew was that he was a tall, beautifully handsome young man that came to the café every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a couple of hours, and that he had incredibly soft, undeniably sad eyes.

You watched him come and go those first few weeks in late October, greeting him cheerfully as you were expected to. The small twitch of his lips never quite became a smile. His low voice rumbled from somewhere deep within his chest, but it lacked the strength that would reassure you of his vivacity. Soon enough, you abandoned the customer service etiquette to greet him with more warmth and sincerity.

The day you asked him for his name, he paused. Something akin to surprise settled in his eyes, interrupting their gloomy existence. He held his coffee in one hand, the other reaching to take his credit card from your hand.

“Yongguk,” he’d said, his low bass making the air between you tremble. “Bang Yongguk.”

“Bang Yongguk.” You tasted his name, feeling it on your tongue and lips. You smiled at him, a small, gentle, and sincere smile. “It’s a very handsome name. It suits you.”

Yongguk had looked at you in silence for a couple of seconds before retrieving his credit card from your hands. He’d pocketed it without another word and taken his usual seat; a small round table in the corner of the café by the window.

From then on, you greeted him by name.

“Good afternoon, Yongguk. How are you today?”

His answers were always the same. “Good afternoon. I’m fine.”

“Same as last time?”

“Yes, please.”

Sometimes he would wait by the counter for his order, others, he would go and sit. Yongguk would stare out the window then, watching the people walk by. When he did this, you would quietly observe him. Some days, he had a book that would lay on the surface, forgotten. On occasion, he had a thin, leather journal that he would open but not write in; his long fingers holding a fountain pen loosely.

On those days, Yongguk would stay until the café closed, leaving only until after you gently urged him to. The sight of the chairs atop the tables, the scent of cleaning solutions that lingered on the air, always seemed to draw him out of his thoughts.

“Ah. I overstayed my welcome.”

He would gather his things and you would usher him to the door.

“Have a good night, Yongguk. Be safe getting home,” you always said. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

And that was the routine you two built around each other.

You continued to watch him from afar, wondering what he could be thinking of so deeply. The more you watched over him, the more you noticed that he carried himself in a manner that made your heart hurt.

Bang Yongguk walked around as if the entire weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

On occasion, you would stand in utter stillness and silence when he came in. He would walk over to the counter and you would simply look into his eyes.

His eyes were tenderly soft and incredibly, terribly sad. They made your heart ache whenever you gazed into them. Yongguk never looked away, always meeting your intrigued stares blink by blink, second by second.

He never smiled. His expression never lightened or softened. It remained sad, so very powerfully sad.

It wasn’t painful. Your heart didn’t break. No, it was swallowed up and engulfed in Yongguk’s eternal, unwavering, unending sadness. You have known raw fear, intense anger, lively happiness, and even crippling grief. But you had never known true sadness until you saw it in Bang Yongguk, until his soft gaze made his sadness your own.

On several occasions, after looking into them, you would slip into the breakroom and cry. You never sobbed, never screamed or threw things. You simply stood with your back pressed against the door, your hand over your mouth, tears falling in utter silence, in complete and true sadness.

One cold morning in November, you stopped by the flower shop at the corner of the block. Yongguk’s sad eyes had found their way to your dreams the night before; you had woken up feeling terribly sad and weren’t surprised to find your cheeks soaked by tears. You weren’t the kind of person to probe and prod into someone else’s life, but you could not go on watching Yongguk in his unending sadness without doing something.

That morning, you bought a single red rose from the lady at the shop. She offered to wrap it up for you, but you refused.

“At least let me remove the thorns.”

You smiled. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Honey, someone could get hurt.”

You stopped yourself from saying “He’s already hurting.”

After some more bickering, you took the single rose, thorns and all. Your coworkers looked at your curiously when you came in at your thumb.

“What happened?”

You smiled around your thumb. “Thorn.”

Aside from shaking their heads, no one questioned you about the rose. You placed it in a safe place, wrapped a Band-Aid around your thumb, and proceeded to work.

It was half-past one when Yongguk walked in. His hair had gotten longer since you’d first met him; it caught in his eyelashes as he blinked. Every step he took seemed to be weighed down by a million worries. His tall, lean figure slouched underneath his coat.

“Good afternoon, Yongguk,” you said, giving him the smile that existed because of him. “How are you today?”

“Good afternoon. I’m fine.”

“Same as last time?”

“Yes, please.”

It was the same routine, the same words, the same exchange. Except that this time, Yongguk said one more thing as you handed him his drink: “What happened to your hand?”

For a moment, you weren’t quite sure what he meant, then you remembered the paper-thin slash on your thumb.

“Aah, this?” You raised your thumb, your smile becoming a bit wider, a tad warmer. “Wait here.”

Puzzled, Yongguk stood by the counter until you returned, holding the single, budding rose in your hands. You walked around, standing before him. His size had overwhelmed you the first time you’d stood before him, but you’d grown accustomed to having to tilt your head up to look at him.

“Yongguk,” you said, offering him the rose, “this is for you.”

He stood there for a while, eyes focused on the rose. He stood so still, so quiet, for so long anyone else might have retracted their gift, laughing off their embarrassment. But you didn’t move an inch either. You continued to offer him the rose, knowing that something more profound was occupying his thoughts.

Eventually, Yongguk accepted the rose. His fingertips brushed yours, a soft whisper. You didn’t wait to be thanked, mainly because that wasn’t the reason why you were giving him a flower. Instead, you smiled at him again, that smile that Yongguk had just begun to notice with a bit more care.

That is how a new step was added to your routine.

Every morning, you would stop by the flower shop, purchase a single, red rose, and present it to Yongguk when he arrived. Sometimes, he would head over to his favorite spot, deep in thought, heavy in sadness; you would leave the rose with his order.

Neither of you ever said anything else.

Around mid-November, Yongguk’s eyes became lighter, a slight fraction of the sadness in them seemed to dissipate.

“Good afternoon, Yongguk. How are you today?”

“Good afternoon. I’m doing better.”

You perked up at his answer, lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. The genuine relief at hearing him, seeing him, feel better made your chest hurt and your eyes swell with tears.

Yongguk took in your reacting with curious surprise. You didn’t say you were glad to hear that he was doing better; you didn’t need to, it was clearly written on your face. Yongguk’s expression softened. Not enough to produce a smile, but enough that your heart throbbed in painful relief.

Knowing you were close to tears, you cleared your throat. “Same as last time?”

“Yes, please.”

He paid and took his seat. You made his drink and asked a coworker to deliver it for you. Slipping out of sight and into the breakroom, you leaned against the door, crying in relief for Yongguk.

By the time you regained your composure, Yongguk had settled into a new activity: writing. The journal he had ignored was now being used. Disguising your sob as a hiccup, you walked over, quietly leaving his rose on the other end of the table.

You didn’t notice, but Yongguk had looked up at the sight of your hand. He noticed the relief on your face, as well as the single tear that rolled down your cheek before you walked away. He noticed the smile with which you’d left the rose and how it differed from the smile with which you greeted other patrons or shared with your coworkers.

Yongguk wrote that entire day, but every so often, he would stop and observe. He no longer looked out the window. He focused his attention on you.

Yongguk learned about you through quiet observation.

He learned that you were a diligent employee, taking care of the patrons and your coworkers. He learned that you were quick on your feet, settling disputes without disrespecting anyone or allowing others to walk all over you. He learned that you were loud, but quiet, laughing alongside others, but retreating within yourself when you thought no one was looking.

Yongguk learned all of this from watching you, but he did not know anything else. Slowly, Yongguk found himself thinking of you, wondering what your dreams, hopes, and aspirations were. He wondered why you didn’t know of B.A.P. and what kind of music you liked to listen to. He wondered if you lived alone or with your parents. And, undoubtedly, Yongguk wondered if you had a boyfriend.

But one prominent fact that Yongguk did not fail to learn was how often you stayed after hours because of him. He learned this on a particularly cold and rainy night.

“Yongguk,” you said, “we’re closed now.”

Yongguk had been contemplating the rain, how the streetlights made them shimmer, how they fell from the sky in suicidal passion. Your voice had drawn him out of his thoughts, coaxing him back into reality.

He noticed the stacked up chairs, inhaled the scent of cleaning supplies.

“Ah. I overstayed my welcome.”

You gave him that smile he’d started to deem as his. You took a couple of steps towards the front door, realizing soon enough that Yongguk had not moved. He stood by his table, looking around the café.

“Where are your coworkers?”

“They went home,” you said.

“Home?” Yongguk turned his eyes on you. They had gradually grown livelier, a fact that made your stomach clench happily. “Where is your manager?”

“She went home, too.”

Yongguk’s brow furrowed. “Are you here by yourself?”

You smiled, nodding. “I’m in charge of locking up.”

“Every night?”

You hesitated. “N-no, not every night.”

That was the first time you’d seen Yongguk raise an eyebrow. Butterflies took flight in your stomach, compelling you to tell the truth.

“I-I lock up the nights you stay late.”

Yongguk’s eyes widened. “On your own?”

You did not know how to say what you were about to say without sounding creepy, so you went ahead and said it anyway.

“On the nights you stay late, I can tell you’re deep in thought. I-I didn’t know how to interrupt you at first, and it didn’t feel right to let anyone else do so. I-I guess it just ended up this way.”

“Which way?”

 “I told them that I would close up on the nights you stayed late. I’m already a key-holder anyway, so there wasn’t much of a problem.”

Yongguk rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re telling me that I’ve been keeping you late for the better part of a month now?”

You bit down on your lip.

Yongguk gave a hollow laugh. “Why didn’t you just kick me out?”

“You always seemed to be so deep in thought,” you whispered. “Whatever you’re always thinking about…I didn’t want to intrude.”

He stared at you, something like irritation swirling in his dark eyes. “At what time does the café close?”

“Eleven.”

Yongguk checked his watch. He gawked. “It’s almost 1:15!”

Shocked, you bolted into the breakroom. Hurriedly you gathered your things, doing one last check of the café before pushing Yongguk out the door.

“I’m sorry, Yongguk,” you shouted over the pouring rain. “The last bus leaves at 1:30! I didn’t mean to rush you!”

Yongguk watched you fumble around with the keys to the café, struggling to reach the lock above your head. He could see the tiny cuts on your fingers, either fresh or just healing, tattletale signs of the thorns’ unforgiving edges.

You turned to face him. There were mighty, dark circles under your eyes; Yongguk recognized them as the symbol of being overworked, of pushing yourself past your limits and then some more.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” you shouted.

“No,” Yongguk answered without thinking.

Suddenly, he found your pressing an umbrella into his hand. It was small and bright yellow.

“Don’t catch a cold!” You smiled up at him. His heart sputtered. “Have a good night, Yongguk. Be safe getting home. I’ll see you in a couple of days!”

With that, you turned around, running straight into the storm with your bag above your head. Yongguk watched you reach the bus stop just as the bus rounded the corner. He watched you, soaked to the bone, jump into the bus, and then he watched as the bus disappeared down the street with you inside it.

Feeling guilty, Yongguk considered walking out into the rain. He soon realized how selfish that would be, seeing as you had given him your own umbrella so that he might stay dry.

As he walked back to his car with a yellow umbrella over his head, Yongguk realized that he was falling in love with you.

The following morning, you fell asleep on the bus and nearly missed your stop. You jumped out, nearly losing your footing as you hopped onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, honey, you don’t look too good.” The florist looked at you with concern. “Did you stay late again last night?”

Stifling a yawn, you smiled. “May I please have a single rose?”

The florist shook her head. “It’s Thursday, love.”

After a few slow seconds, you laughed, holding your head with one hand. “Thursday, right.”

“You should call in sick and go rest. I’ve never seen you look this worn out before.”

You laughed away her worry. “I’m alright. I just need some coffee. Have a good day, auntie!”

The cold breeze made your nose and cheeks red. The winter air played with your hair, filling your lungs with icy kisses.

“Good morning everyone!”

You made your way behind the counter, saluting your manager. She rolled her eyes with a smile as you hopped into the breakroom. You took a moment to compose yourself before the start of a very long shift. Pressing your forehead against your locker, your swallowed the lump in your throat.

For some strange reason, you wanted to cry. You felt lightheaded and sensitive. Just standing by your locker had you accusing the world of being cruel. The mere thought of having to face hundreds of people ordering coffee made you want to disappear.

You were at least grateful that your manager allowed the employees to wear their own clothes instead of uniforms. In the state you were in, you would not have had the energy to change outfits without bursting into tears.

With a heavy sigh, you wrapped your long apron around your waist, giving up with a sobbing hiccup after fighting with the lumps it made on your clothes. Taking one last, deep, steadying breath, you plastered a smile on your face only to have it shatter at the sight of Yongguk waiting patiently by the counter.

Stopping a coworker that just happened to pass by, you asked what day it was.

“Thursday. Did you come in on your day off?”

“I-I’m not sure.”

His brow creased with worry. “You don’t look so good.”

Waving him off, you headed over to where Yongguk stood.

“Good morning, Yongguk. How are you?”

Yongguk didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached over the counter and pressed the back of his fingers to your cheek.

“You’re running a fever,” he stated. “I had a feeling you would catch a cold.”

Whether you truly had a fever or not, you didn’t know, for your cheeks had flushed red hot upon his touch. Because Yongguk did not only touch the back of his fingers to your cheek, he caressed it ever so gently before cupping it in the palm of his hand.

“May I take her home?” he asked your manager. “She really shouldn’t be working in this condition.”

“I’m fine, really,” you gasped. “I’m just sleepy.”

Yongguk’s eyes narrowed. “No. You are not fine.”

And without waiting for your manager’s approval, Yongguk stormed into the breakroom with you in tow. He had you open your locker, take your things, and ushered you out of the café.

“Y-Yongguk, wait.”

You coughed, gripping your coat closed. He stopped, realizing that your steps were no match for his long strides. He took you in, your flushed cheeks, the dark circles underneath your eyes, the pallid hue of your skin.

Feeling guilty and responsible, Yongguk did not object when you walked in the opposite direction. He followed behind you, keeping a watchful eye over your exhausted trek.

“Auntie, a rose please.”

Yongguk tore his eyes away from you. You’d walked a full block to the florist, cold and exhausted, to get him the rose you knew he deserved.

The florist, confused by your arrival, looked to Yongguk for answers. You coughed.

“Auntie, a rose please.”

A thorn pricked you when you took it, opening an old wound one of its sisters had left before. Yongguk looked down at you, his face unreadable.

“Yongguk,” you whispered, “this is for you.”

The world seemed to stop. Yongguk stood as still as ever, gazing down at you and your offering. You stood with your hand outstretched, thorns nicking at your skin, a hand still clasping your coat closed over your chest. The wind blew Yongguk’s coat towards you, tangled your hair behind you.

The florist stood watching with a hand over her lips, worrying that your feelings might be hurt. She had never before seen a young woman offering a man a rose. It seemed wrong and beautiful, tragic and absolutely right.

When Yongguk moved, he did not take the rose. He reached over with his long arms and tucked you in against him, holding you close in his warm embrace.

That day, Yongguk had taken you home and, upon realizing that you lived alone, proceeded to care after you through the worst of your fever. He slept on a makeshift bed at the foot of your bed, sleeping lightly, and waking with every sound you made. After a good twenty hours of sleep, you felt better than ever.

“How long have you been living alone?” Yongguk asked.

You were having lunch in a tiny restaurant down the street from your apartment complex. Yongguk sat beside you, his hand resting over yours.

“A little over a year.”

“Where are you from? What are you doing all the way in Incheon?”

You told him how you had taken a job in an academy as a foreign language instructor in Seoul, only to find out that the year-long contract they had promised you was actually only for three months. You couldn’t afford the living expenses in the capital, so you’d moved to Incheon.

“The plan was to save up enough money to go home, but I ended up really loving my job here.”

“As a barista?”

You nodded, smiling his smile. “Funny, isn’t it, how life just takes you down a different path from what you originally planned.”

Yongguk agreed. He watched you eat in silence for a few minutes before asking, “Are you happy?”

Pausing with a spoonful of soup halfway up to your mouth, you blinked at him. Redirecting your hand, you fed him, adding more side dishes as you went. Yongguk tried to keep up with you, accepting the food you gave him, but soon enough, his cheeks bulged and he could not take any more bites.

“Argh, stop!”

It was the first time he had ever raised his voice, the first time he’d become annoyed. His shout had drawn the eyes of several other patrons. You stared at him, eyes wide. Yongguk chewed, swallowing hard and clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You started laughing. At first, your laugh was tiny giggles, but it soon had you shaking, wiping tears from your eyes. You reached over, taking Yongguk’s face in between your hands, squeezing his cheeks until his lips puckered.

Smiling, you said, “Yes, I am happy. Especially now, in this moment.”

Your honesty doused him like a refreshing ocean breeze. He found himself wanting to submerge himself in the ocean that was you, to let you engulf him in your simple, beautiful way of living.

The intimacy the roses had established between you deepened as the days went by. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Yongguk would go to the café and you would present him with a rose each day.

He would smile now, a tiny thing that was not yet happy, but no longer entirely sad.

Yongguk stopped staying late. He would sit by the window for a couple of hours, write, and then leave. You knew he was leaving earlier for your sake, so you often managed to go home before it became too late.

However, you no longer took the bus. You dialed Yongguk’s number and he would be there by the time you clocked out. You would smile at the sight of him, embracing him tightly, closely.

“You worked hard today!”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that?”

You would look up at him, grinning. “You worked hard today.”

Yongguk would hold you closer, thanking you without saying anything.

You still did not know what his circumstances were, and you did not press him for information. You weren’t quite sure if you two were intimate friends or something more, but you didn’t have a need to label it. What existed between the two of you was strictly yours.

In fact, you did not know he was part of B.A.P. until you happened to see one of their performances on the wide television at work. You were in the middle of wiping down tables when the force of the song caught your attention. You looked up just in time to see a close up of Daehyun as he threw himself back in a freefall.

You became so engrossed in their performance that you did not notice the moment Yongguk walked into the shop. You didn’t even notice him come to stand beside you. You stood with your hands on the table, staring up at the screen.

“Oh, that’s cool,” you said under your breath, taking a step back and spinning in an attempt to mimic the parachuting dance move.

“That’s not how it goes,” Yongguk said.

You screamed, stumbling back into a chair. “What’s wrong with you?! You nearly killed me!”

Yongguk tried not to, but he ended up laughing. It was deep and full, creasing his cheeks, softening his expression. It was also silly and dorky. You realized then that his smile was a beautiful gummy smile.

You stared in shock.

“Sorry,” he laughed, hiding his smile behind his hand. “Really, I’m sorry.”

He helped you straighten up, trying to keep his laughter at bay and failing. Your cheeks flushed, not because you were embarrassed that he’d seen your flimsy attempt at dancing, but because his laughter was everything and more than you’d ever imagined.

“How long were you standing there?”

“Since Zelo’s dance break.”

You blinked. “Who?”

That only made him start laughing all over again. He took your cheeks in his hands, pinching them softly.

“You’re too cute.”

“Who’s Zelo?”

Yongguk nearly lost it again.

Later that same day, you and Yongguk where in your apartment making dinner. Unconsciously, you kept humming Skydive, much to Yongguk’s amusement.

“You seem to like that song.”

“It’s catchy.” You stole the piece of strawberry he was about to eat. “I can’t remember the name of the song or the group, though.”

Yongguk’s shoulders shook from withheld laughter. “Skydive by B.A.P.”

You looked it up and downloaded it. “If I stream it, it’s good right?”

“You’re not big on K-Pop,” he laughed.

“I know some songs,” you pouted, “I kind of like that new group…Seventeen? I think that’s their name?”

Yongguk smiled again. His gummy smile was honest, reaching his eyes and making them sparkle. You didn’t know what it was that made him so happy, but you wanted him to continue smiling forever.

“You should watch B.A.P.’s music video.”

“The one for Skydive?”

He thought for a moment. “No, that one’s a little too dark to begin with. Try Feel So Good.”

“Okay. Feel So Good, you said?”

You leaned against the counter. “Oh, this looks funky.”

Yongguk moved to stand beside you, throwing his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close against him. You settled into his side, resting your head on his chest. You could feel him shaking with silent giggles.

Twelve seconds in, you screamed.

“Yongguk! T-that was Yongguk!”

Yongguk lost it. He laughed so hard he ended up on the ground. Worried that he might stop breathing, you knelt down beside him, trying your best to calm him down while Feel So Good played in the background.

And that’s how you found out that Bang Yongguk was the leader of B.A.P. The revelation of his identity as an idol opened the door for conversations that you never imagined you would share.

Nestled in his arms on the sofa, with a blanket wrapped around you both, your back to his chest, he told you about his years as a trainee, of his project with Zelo, and of how they lost a member before their official debut that left them all feeling confused and a little more than sad.

He shared the memories of debut, the hardships of being an idol, the loneliness of being a leader. Yongguk elaborated on the close bonds he’d made with s, his friends, his brothers. When he said he would love no one more or better than s, you believed him. And you were glad that he could love someone that deeply.

As the night grew old, you learned more about who Bang Yongguk was as a person and as a celebrity. You soon realized how one influenced the other, and understood that whatever he was dealing with now had a lot to do with the stress and struggles he’d been facing from an early age.

“Panic disorder,” he sighed, “that’s what I was diagnosed with in October.”

“Is that why you’re not with your members right now?”

“Mm.” He paused. “We decided it was best for me to get treatment. The members are working hard.”

You laced your fingers through his slowly then brought his hand up to your lips, kissing it softly. He hadn’t said it, but you’d heard it anyway, the deep guilt of missing out during promotions, of leaving his group for the sake of getting better.

You didn’t know much about panic disorders, however you did know a thing or two about taking on too much all at once. Nothing in comparison to his struggles, you could never match up to that, but you knew that working harder than anyone else sometimes left you feeling underappreciated and nervous.

Something told you that there was not much you could do for Bang Yongguk’s condition. Panic disorders were something best left to psychiatrists. You also knew that Yongguk did not expect you to magically cure him from his disorder.

No, you both had a solid head on your shoulders that comprehended the reality and gravity of the situation. All you could do was encourage him as best as you could.

You turned around, facing him. The proximity made your heart race, you felt your palms become clammy.

“Bang Yongguk.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“H-huh?”

“Yes or no, you have three seconds to answer. One!”

“Are you serious?”

“Two!”

“Yes!” He hugged you close. “Yes, I do!”

“Oh my gosh,” you giggled, “I’m dating a K-Pop idol!”

Yongguk groaned. “Shut up.”

“So can I watch Skydive now?”

“Sure. But I shoot people and die in that MV.”

“You what?!”

Yongguk laughed and smiled and laughed, and you fell deeper and deeper in love with this beautiful, broken, courageous man.

Dating Bang Yongguk consisted of spontaneous trips to the beach, daring each other to go into the cold winter ocean and chasing one another across the sand. Yongguk wasn’t very fast or nimble despite his long legs. He spent more time laughing and looking over his shoulder than he did running.

It consisted of you taking a well-deserved, well-earned sabbatical to spend more time with him. Following him around Incheon at any hour, learning about him and his interests, and eventually teasing him out of his revolutionary way of thinking had become a daily occurrence.

You loved listening to Yongguk, but his passion sometimes threatened his state of mind. You learned to identify the subtle changes in his demeanor, the too fervent way of speaking, the sudden hitch in his breathing, and the jittering of his hands. Yongguk had clued you in on these warning sings, and you were ever so careful and gentle when steering him away from whatever might trigger him.

Usually, a tiny, teasing word, look, or touch would distract him long enough for him to regain his composure. It wasn’t perfect, and he would sometimes have to remove himself from your surroundings in order to better deal with it on his own, but it was something, however small, that helped.

Dating Bang Yongguk also included early morning dates and late night movies. It was visiting museums that the world seemed to forget, volunteering at the animal shelter, visiting the senior center, and delivering coal to the old neighborhoods.

You never imagined that dating someone like Yongguk would open your eyes to what really mattered in life. Your heart softened, warming and loving a lot quicker, a lot deeper. Every stranger you walked by on the street had their own struggles, their own demons.

“Be careful,” Yongguk warned after a visit to the animal shelter, “caring is good, but remember that there is such a thing as caring too much.”

He caressed your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. You looked up at him, nodding your understanding.

Dating Bang Yongguk was all of this and more, but loving Bang Yongguk was a different matter altogether.

Loving Yongguk was looking into his eyes as he spoke, drowning in the bass that was his voice. It was reaching over to touch his face lightly with gentle fingertips to reassure yourself that he existed, that he was indeed sitting before you. It was melting at the sight of his smile, your heart swelling at the tenderness in which he gazed at you.

Loving him was gifting him a rose every day until he begged you not to and still doing it anyway. It was hand sewing him a tiny Tigger that smelled of roses and that he could carry around in his pocket. Loving Yongguk was watching over his sleep when he dosed off in your apartment and staying with him on the phone as he made his way home on late nights.

Loving Bang Yongguk was understanding that come the New Year, he would not be around anymore.

Each day, Yongguk grew stronger, better. When he told you that he would be meeting with s and that he would like for you to meet them if possible, you sensed the beginning of the end.

Meeting B.A.P. was everything you expected it to be. You spent a good hour marveling at Himchan and Daehyun and Youngjae and Jongup and Zelo’s unparalleled good looks. It was almost unfair how handsome they all were.

None of them seemed to be surprised by your presence. On the contrary, they appeared to be completely aware of what had been going on with their leader while he was on hiatus.

“You’re really pretty,” Daehyun complimented. He tapped your nose with a finger. “Your nose is cute.”

At the lack of reaction from both you and Yongguk, he whined until Yongguk repeated his action. Hearing the compliment coming from Yongguk made you squishy inside. Your blush satisfied B.A.P. enough for a while.

The members prepared a late Christmas party at your place, exchanging gifts and filling in Yongguk on the promotion period’s events. Youngjae had apparently torn his pants in the waiting room while playing twister against Jongup and had almost gone on stage with a tear right down the middle.

They talked about how fervently BABYz continued to support them, and how the whistles they had launched during their last tour had replaced most of the shouting in fan chants.

“Whistles?” You tilted your head, taking a bite from the pizza the boys had purchased.

“We came up with the idea of giving our fans whistles,” Jongup said with a shy smile.

“They can use them instead of screaming,” continued Daehyun. “That way they won’t damage their voices.”

You weren’t a BABY, but you still found the thought very heartwarming.

“Noona,” Zelo leaned in close. He was long and childish, his eyes gleaming with curiosity that border lined on mischief. “Have you seen our music videos? Has Yongguk hyung given you a copy of all of our albums? Noona, are you our fan?”

Shaking your head, you said, “I didn’t even know who Yongguk was.”

The members laughed until Himchan pointed out that if she didn’t know Bang Yongguk, she didn’t know the rest of B.A.P. either. The members’ teasing laughter died instantaneously.

Suddenly, you found yourself being instructed on everything and anything B.A.P. Their enthusiasm made you dizzy, but it was fun. Between the pizza, fried chicken, cake, and drinks, the evening passed quickly, happily.

During a game, Himchan and you were both simultaneously eliminated, leaving the others to battle out who the best was. Himchan started to clean up the mess around the table. You joined him without asking or saying anything.

“How is he doing?”

Himchan’s question weighted so much, you were almost knocked off your feet by the solemnity in which he’d made it. You looked up at him, realizing how his face revealed the struggles of his life when he worried hard for long enough.

“He’s doing better,” you replied, setting the dishes in the sink. Himchan ran the water. “Some days are better than others, but he says that his psychiatrist is considering getting him off his medication soon, or at least lowering the dosage.”

Himchan rinsed as you washed. “He told me he started composing again. Do you know how long that’s been going on?”

You shook your head. If there was something in Bang Yongguk’s life that you never intruded in it was his treatment and therapy sessions with his doctor and his role as a musician. Those were two things that you never forced your way into, giving him his space while quietly supporting him from the sidelines.

“He’ll return to Seoul soon if that’s the case.”

“I know. But you’ll take care of him.”

Himchan peered at you curiously. “You sound so sure about that.”

“I am.” You looked up at him. “Yongguk talked a lot about you. He talked about all of you a lot. With you there, I know he’ll be okay.”

You held Himchan’s unreadable gaze until you felt Yongguk wrap his arms around you. You placed your hands over his forearms, looking over your shoulder and up at him.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“How handsome I am,” said Himchan.

Yongguk looked surprised. “Is that true?”

“Maybe,” you teased.

“Hey,” he tried to pull back; you held him in place. “That’s not funny.”

Laughing softly, you turned around to face him. Yongguk noticed the shift in your demeanor, his pouty expression vanishing; a solemn shadow overtaking his features.

Softly, slowly, you took his face in your hands, thumbs caressing his soft cheeks. You weren’t about to memorize his face, no, that was only for those people that feared never seeing one another again. You and Yongguk would meet again, you were certain of it.

Yongguk placed one hand over yours, cupping your cheek with the other. You leaned into his palm for a moment before gently drawing him down as you stood on your tip toes. His lips were soft, warm, and familiar.

Yongguk traded your cheek and hands for your waist, wrapping his arms around it securely, lifting you up to kiss you better. You continued to hold his face for a while longer before you wound your arms around his neck.

Neither of you heard the B.A.P. members hooting and cheering their leader on. When Himchan showed you a near perfectly captured photo of your kiss, you blushed so hard Zelo teased you for looking like Shishimato. Yongguk could not have been any more pleased at how the photo turned out, he was even happier after Zelo’s Shishimato comment.

“We should definitely get her a Shishimato,” Daehyun said between laughs, “for when Yongguk hyung is away.”

“One that’s the same size as hyung,” Jongup added in a soft whisper.

His suggestion set off another wave of uproar.

“We should add a recording in Yongguk hyung’s voice that says ‘Oppa loves you’ every time she hugs it!” Youngjae roared at his own joke.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “He’s not my oppa though.”

That stilled them in a split second. Even Yongguk’s smile seemed to falter. It was your turn to grin.

“I’m older than Yonggukie by eighteen months.”

This time, Yongguk was the one that turned red as the members cackled at the unexpected turn of events. You wound your arms around his torso, smiling at him with a wink. After a brief pause, Yongguk returned your embrace with his gummy smile in place.

Both of you fell deeper in love and the members opened up their hearts for you, loving you for loving their leader.

In early January, Yongguk walked through the doors of the café.

“Good afternoon, Yongguk. How are you today?”

Yongguk’s eyes sparkled, beautifully alive. His gummy smile was so contagious that you found yourself laughing.

“Can I steal you for a couple of minutes?”

You slipped away, ignoring how your manager shook her head, a smile on her face.

Yongguk lead you into the breakroom, pinning you against the door and kissing you senseless until you had to beg for air. He peppered your face with kisses. You understood what he was trying to tell you.

“When do you leave?”

“Tonight.”

“So soon?”

“I have a lot of work to do.”

Yongguk was not apologizing, neither were you asking for an apology.

“Send me an autographed copy of B.A.P.’s new album.”

Yongguk’s smile grew so wide you thought his face would tear in two. Then he was kissing you again, leaving you weak in the knees and feeling hot all over.

Without warning, he trailed a hand down your neck, pushing your hair back and out of the way. After a series of soft , Yongguk bit you in a way that nearly made you scream.

“It won’t leave a mark,” he grinned. “Try to remember that sensation until I come back.”

With that, he left you in the breakroom, a hand over your neck, your head and body amess.

Life without Bang Yongguk beside you made way for positive changes. You applied at an online university, returning to your original plan. You weren’t worried about starting late or picking up where you left off. You had a new goal in mind and you would not stop until you reached it.

Your days were soon filled by a new routine. Work, school work, and studying. Sometimes, you would go out to a movie on your own. Every once in a while, you would go hang out with friends just for a change of pace.

On the days that you really missed him, you would make your way to the beach. Staring at the ocean for hours until you were too cold to stay out any longer. Those nights were the hardest, but not impossible to live through.

Yongguk and you kept steady conversations going through messages. If you had a rough day, it was enough to type out a long message complaining about the little things that upset you only to have him send you a cute selfie that cheered you right up.

Thrice a week, Yongguk would call you, always late at night and always when he knew you wouldn’t have the morning shift at the café.

On one of those said nights, you detected the strain in Yongguk’s voice, an attempt to sound cheerful. You sat up in bed, worried.

“Yongguk? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he gave a hollow laugh. “What did you do today?”

“Not much,” you said, “but I think I’m about to get in a cab and go to Seoul.”

Alarmed, Yongguk begged you to stay put. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Sighing, he caved. “We’ve been talking with the company and…”

Every muscle in your body tensed. You never liked what you heard about TS Entertainment. “And?”

“The members all think this is a good idea, so…we were thinking…”

You gripped the life-sized Shishimato Zelo and Daehyun had sent you a week after Yongguk returned to Seoul. You your lips nervously.

Yongguk exhaled. “We were thinking on having another tour.”

You laughed, relaxing. “Oh! That’s it?”

“That’s it? Sweetheart, I won’t be seeing you for the better part of the year.”

You shrugged, holding Shishimato closer. “But you’ll call me. And you’ll bring back some souvenirs. And then you’ll give me a whole day of your time when you come back.”

“Just one day?”

“I’m happy with just a day.”

There was a long pause before Yongguk said, “I’m not.”

Your heart melted in happiness at his words. “I’ll be cheering you on, Yongguk. Every step of the way.”

A couple of weeks later, there was a package waiting for you at home. You recognized Yongguk’s handwriting and grinned like an idiot.

Inside was a copy of every single B.A.P. album released to date. The members had taken their time in autographing each album, leaving silly and sweet messages in each; commenting about their hairstyles and how some eras were part of a “dark past.”

Smaller, more reasonable sized matoki resided inside, each holding a letter that promised you that they would take care of each other and Yongguk. You teared up at the sincerity in which the boys had accepted you and the tenderness in which their friendship loved you.

At the bottom of the box, wrapped in solid red, was a book-like package. Curious, you turned it over and found an envelope taped on the back. You opened it, reading the message left inside.

For all of those days in which you smiled only for me, for the countless moments filled with nothing but honest warmth and support. For the roses you kept gifting me with to remind me of the beauty that is life and teaching me a new aspect of the soft, fervent strength that is love—Thank you.  

Happy tears caressed your cheeks. You kissed the message with a smile, unwrapping Yongguk’s gift to you.

In your hands you held a thin, glimmering white booklet that was B.A.P.’s new single album. You were proud of Yongguk’s hard work, but it was the title written in caps laced in red on the cover that made your heart swell.

This copy had no signatures. Instead, it had a single message written on the cover page that merged with the title: All it took was a single ROSE.

Hugging the album to your chest, you cried happily, thanking the heavens for the beautiful existence that was Bang Yongguk.