A/N: Hey, I'm updating again. This chapter is a bit shorter. I'm sorry. By the way, have you noticed that this story has a comment bonus? I didn't really know what it was, but apparently it means that this fanfic is underappreciated haha Well anyways, thank you for reading and I hope you're having a good day

Unedited*

When your parents stumble into the house, bickering over something, you throw Bambam another quick glance. As expected, and although you told him not to be, he still seems nervous. Nervous, because he's meeting your parents for the first time. Nervous, because he probably wants them to have a good impression of him.

You would probably be the same way. Nervous. As nervous as Bambam. Who are you kidding, you would probably be worse. Anxious to the point of breaking out in a sweat.

You smile at Bambam, a smile that you hope is reassuring, and then bend down to get the sieve for the noodles out of a cupboard.

“We'll just rinse the noodles and then we can bring it over, ok?”, you look up at Bambam as you're getting the sieve. He turns to you and you want to laugh at how cute he looks, being shy like that.

“Sure”, he mutters, rubbing his neck with his hand. A habit, you noticed, he tends to do when he's feeling nervous. His eyes are on you.

“You really don't have to be afraid”, you say, straightening up again. The chattering of your parents can be heard from the living room and you're sure they're going to arrive in the kitchen soon, just to check on you and Bambam. Your mom would probably love to catch you in a compromising situation, love to tease you with it for the rest of your life, you the shy homebody who is finally having a friend over. A friend who is a boy at that.

“I just hope they're going to like me. I want them to trust me with you.” Bambam looks at you, his bright eyes suddenly seeming concerned. His eyebrows are drawn together in a light frown. Somehow, he seems like a little boy, not like the respectable and confident men he so often is in front of clerks and waiters.

You blush at his words though, looking at the floor for a second as if it could make the red on your cheeks go away. Then you quickly get the pot with the noodles, busying yourself with rinsing them.

“Anyways”, you mumble trying to change the subject. “My mom is gonna be delighted that I've finally brought someone over.”

Bambam lightly chuckles at that. “I'm sure you weren't that bad”, he says, knowing about your introverted nature. “Can I help you?”, he then offers, gesturing to the sieve.

You shake your head distractedly continuing you task. “It's fine”, you say, pouring the noodles into the sieve. The steam ascends and hits your face. You shut your eyes for a moment.

“You haven't seen me in middle school”, you say. “During summer vacation I didn't leave the house for weeks.”

And you're not lying. Actually, even now, you're not much better. That's what's so good about Bambam. His mere presence forces you out of your comfort zone, out of your shell, your little comfortable cocoon that you had wrapped yourself in.

Now, you're going to ice cream parlours, looking at the stars, going dancing... And to think that it all started with your parents sending you to a party with your sister. To think that this single event, this single party made you meet Bambam. To think that this single event changed the trajectory of your life so dramatically and immensely.

Life is funny sometimes.

“Juyeon, you in here?” Your mother bursts into the kitchen, full of energy even after working the entire day.

Your father is right behind her, his eyes spotting Bambam as soon as they enter the room.

He quickly scans him, taking in Bambam's blond hair, his luxurious clothes. “And you brought a handsome gentleman as well”, he appraises.

Bambam extends his hands.”Hello, Mrs and Mr Park”, he says. “It's a pleasure to meet you. Please call me Bambam.”

They shake hands, with your mom holding Bambam's hand a little longer and telling him to call them by her first name instead. Immediately, you can tell that they both like him.

As your father jokes about Bambam having to help him dye his already graying hair, you carry the pasta over to the dining room. As Bambam sees you, he quickly goes to help you, carrying the pot with the sauce.

“It smells delicious”, your mother remarks, inhaling deeply. She gives you a tender smile. Then she raises her eyebrows. “But where is your sister? I thought she had a boy over as well?”

You put the pot with the pasta down, staring at the wooden table. “They are in her room”, you say, putting on a smile. “Just putting away the books.”

Your mother frowns at your statement. “She didn't help you?”, she asks.

You shake your head. “You know how Suyeon is in the kitchen.”

Your conversation is interrupted when Suyeon and Mark finally come down the stairs, your sister greeting your parents.

“Hi”, she says, turning behind her to push Mark forward with great enthusiasm. “Mark – my parents, my parents – Mark.”

You cringe at that introduction.

Yet despite that cringeworthy introduction, your parents manage to smile at Mark.

**

When you're done eating, all the dishes are in the dishwasher, all the conversations have slowly ended, you and Bambam are sitting on the porch. You were able to see it in his smile: the way his lips crinkled when your dad told a joke, the way his eyes lit up during the dinner.

He enjoyed it. He enjoyed spending time with your family.

And it made you feel immensely happy.

“It was almost like a double date, wasn't it?”, Bambam asks, staring at you. The shimmer in his eyes is still there. The gleam. The sparkle. You can feel his affection, his adoration for your quirky parents. For you.

You look at your feet, hearing the wind whistling, feeling it swirling through your hair. Why are you feeling so emotional all of a sudden? Why did a simple dinner make you so emotional?

Squeezing your eyes shut for a second, you reach out blindly for Bambam's hand. His fingers find yours. Softly, gently. The warmth has become so familiar at this point.

“It was”, you mumble, caressing the back of his hand with your thumb. Why are you talking at all? Is it because there's something else you want to ask?

Do you want to stay a bit longer?

Or: Can you come back again soon?

When will I see you again.

Those kind of questions.

You inhale deeply and open your eyes. There is no use in what if's. In hypothetical scenarios. There's no use in imagining things in your head. If you want something to happen, you have to do something for it.

Cautiously, you start leaning in. A curious child, young and inexperienced, eager to explore, yet at the same time, scared and anxious.

You look at Bambam's lips. Pale pink. You wonder if they feel as soft as they look.

You feel his eyes on you, feel the way he, too, is leaning in closer and closer until his forehead is pressed against yours. His hair tickles you, but you barely notice it, too absorbed by

his bright eyes, his long lashes that leave feathery shadows on his cheeks.

Shut.

Your magical moment is interrupted by the sound of the front door being shut.

Surprised, you and Bambam jump apart, your hand leaving his, his forehead leaving yours. You look up at where the sound has come from and are faced with Mark.

Mark who looks at the scene of you and Bambam with obvious disdain, his eyebrows scrunched together. No words leave his mouth.

You scramble away from Bambam. “Mark”, you say, feeling bad. It hasn't been too long since you realized he likes you. He liked you. Present tense? Past tense? You're confused. Does he still like you?

Seeing you with Bambam like this, no matter if he likes or liked you, it would hurt him, wouldn't it?

You throw Bambam an apologetic glance and then stand up, straighten up and dust your skirt off. Show some manners, you remind yourself. Ettiquette. Don't be mean.

“I- I hope you liked the dinner”, you stutter towards Mark. Then you force a smile. You're pretty sure that it looks like a grimace, but you don't really care at this point. You flatten your dishevelled hair with one hand and extend the other.

Extending a hand. An offering of peace. An apology. Reaching out. Whatever it might be, you want to be on good terms with Mark. You're not good at conflicts, arguments, at being insulted, ignored or scolded. Yo look up at the person who now seems to be dating your sister.

Yet, again, you don't get the reaction you want. Letting out a quiet scoff, a sound so quiet you almost don't hear it, Mark turns away from you.

Turns away from your peace offering.

Turns away from what you've thought would be a new beginning.

He has rejected you, you realize, has rejected your attempt at reconciliation. And with that realization, you can only stare at him quietly as he walks to his car.

“Are you ok?”, Bambam finally asks. You turn to him with a sheepish look on your face, embarrassed all of a sudden. What did you think Mark would do? “You don't look too well.”

He stands up too and when he has straightened up, he comes closer, pressing his hand against your forehead. Memories of moments before appear in your head and you quickly grab his wrist.

“It's... It's ok”, you say, letting go after Bambam slowly retracts his hand. The wind seems stronger now. Colder. “I don't think- I don't think I was being a good host to Mark.”

It's something you made up. Again. Is lying to Bambam becoming a habit?

“I- I think it's better if you go now”, you suggest, pushing your thoughts aside. Pushing all thoughts aside.

Bambam looks at you. He's so perceptive. He probably knows it all already. But that's the thing. He doesn't call you out on it. Doesn't scold you, doesn't chastise you. Just smiles and opens his arms widely.

“Can you at least give me one more hug?”

You nod and then it happens. Bambam's arm enveloping you once again. Feeling so familiar. So sweet. So comforting. You relish in in all. The familiarity, the sweetness, the comfort. And somehow, all the guilt you've been feeling dissipates.

Almost magically.

**

When Bambam is gone, his car long disappeared in the darkness, you still stand outside for a moment, shivering. Goosebumps have spread on your arms. Little, tiny goosebumps that cover your skin. Are they just there cause it's cold or a they proof of the effect Bambam has on you, even when he's been gone? Shrugging, you turn around, deciding that the thought is not worth elaborating.

With Bambam being gone, there is one more thing you want to do. You've been wanting to do after your conversation with him.

You want to ask your parents about the trip to Thailand. The trip to Thailand with Bambam where you would meet his family. Where you... are going to meet his family?

Somehow, it still feels odd talking about the prospect of a shared vacation with him. Like something unreal. Something that is never going to become real.

You let out a sigh and enter the house with your key.

When you head back inside, you can hear your parents bickering in the living room. You put on a smile, pretending to be all that. Brazen. Fearless. Brave.

“Mom? Dad?”, you ask upon entering. At the sound of your voice they look up. “Can...” You hesitate for a moment, then stop completely, taking a deep breath. “Can I go to Thailand with Bambam?”

**

You pick up the phone after your conversation. Your cell phone, of course. But when you hold the device in your hands, you realize something.

It's the first time you are calling Bambam. You are making the first move. You are being proactive. Then you quickly press his contact.

He picks up immediately.

“They said yes”, you whisper into the phone, not bothering with a greeting. “They really said yes.”

“You asked them? That is so amazing.” Bambam lets out an embarrassed laugh. “I'm glad that they trust me.”

“Yeah”, you say, nodding even though he won't be able to see it. “They do. I mean, they do trust you.”

And it's true. Because your parents are always meeting new clients, new people, they have developed an eye for it. For judging a person's character solely based upon a few minute long conversation. It's amazing, really, and a skill that you would like to have as well.

“That's great news. I'm sure my mom is gonna be so happy to hear that and my grandparents, too... They will love you.”

You your lips then you let out a small uncertain sound. “Hm...”, you ponder, “Do they speak Korean?”

You get a bit nervous at the thought of having a language barrier, a thought that before hadn't crossed your mind, simply because Bambam is so fluent in Korean that most of the time it doesn't feel like talking to someone who isn't a native Korean speaker.

Picking up on your nervousness, he lets out a small giggle. “Don't worry about it, my mom knows Korean and my grandparents both speak English. If everything fails, you still have me to be your interpreter.”

You blush at his words, feeling a bit silly. Of course his family is educated and multilingual.

Still, the thought of speaking English makes you a bit nervous. You do study, a lot actually, but regarding English, you've always felt more comfortable in the confines of a classroom. You don't want to be forced tp start playing an involuntary game of charade with Bambam's family just because they are not able to understand your pitiful English.

“It makes me nervous”, you confess sheepishly. “They are not super strict, are they?”

“No, no”, Bambam bursts out. “Not at all. My mom is the sweetest woman in the world and my grandparents, too. Wait, they aren't women. I mean, my grandma is, but my grandpa isn't a woman...”

He stops for a second to catch his breath. Then you hear him laughing with embarrassment on the other side of the line. A sound, a mere laugh that makes your anxiousness fade away, that makes your fear seem silly. As if often does.

“Sorry, I'm just really happy right now. What I'm trying to say is, don't be afraid of them. They are really nice people. Beware of my cousins, though, especially the younger one.” His laugh turns into a chuckle. “He just turned ten and he's a rascal. He really is.”

You, too, laugh at that. “Oh, I have my experience with that”, you admit. “Suyeon used to play so many pranks on me when we were younger. She was really cheeky.”

“I can imagine that”, Bambam confesses. “But I bet you were quick to notice it and not fall into her trap, weren't you?”

“Hm... Sometimes”, you say. “But once she did something really serious and my parents scolded her so much. They still bring it up sometimes...”

And with that, you delve into an old childhood story, recounting the tale of how Suyeon made you climb onto a tall tree.

It's only when you're done conversing with Bambam, with your cellphone lying on your nightstand and your lights out, that you realize something. A realization that hits you.

Although Bambam talked lots and lots about his mom and his grandma and his grandpa and cousins, he never once mentioned someone else.

His father.