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2AM.

Sehun couldn’t sleep. Softly rotating onto his side, he peered over at Namjoo, sound asleep and unbothered. Tucked securely beneath the blanket. Meaninglessly reaching over he fixated the blanket over her. Namjoo didn’t budge.

The side of his face sunk into the pillow that smelled exactly like her. Wide awake he watched her dream. Pretty things. Happy things.

Reaching over again he air traced the slope of her nose to where it dipped down to her lips. Dropping his hand lightly between crevasse between their bodies he lay quietly.

Earlier during dinner preparation Namjoo had, more than once, looked at him with something in her eyes. Like she needed to pop a question but couldn’t will herself to. Sending herself into a chronicle of silent conflict without having said a word.

Maybe it was work. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was her parents. He was guilty in that corner, but he didn’t have the guts to say.

In the end saying nothing at all.

So very cowardly.

They had planned eagerly for tonight. Sehun had promised to put aside all problems, but even as they prepared for bed and made out the heat was not there. Namjoo was distracted. She couldn’t want him the passion clouded way she frequently did. They crept in bed without making love. Without much talk. Trapped in their own bubbles. Miraculously, Namjoo managed to fall asleep and stay asleep.

He was sorry, wished he could say it. Meeting her parents was the least favorable thing he desired. Sehun didn’t fear Kiwan. He didn’t oppose the idea of Namjoo meeting his parents. Aware getting that out of the way soothed her wonders about his family and she’d have less to say in regards about them. He could still come out unscathed and appear like the regular successful man in her eyes.

But Namjoo’s parents was a foreign sect he didn’t want to approach.

Namjoo’s parents were on a pedestal he was not yet ready to touch. He could not yet make that climb to shake their hands and talk smoothly about himself like with Kiwan. Namjoo’s mom and dad…the sound of their names made him coil in fright.

What would a man like him be doing with their daughter?

Looking at Namjoo made his heart ache yet also wholesome.

Sehun did love her.

She was everything to him.

To lose her was as good as losing his life.

She was the sunshine. She was the rainbow after rain. She was the clear blue sky on a warm, sunny day.

Namjoo was his lifeline.

Because the first time he saw her, she radiated happiness like no other. So she was his special person.

To be allowed into her space was such a privilege he still had to wrap around his head.

He wanted to be good.

He wanted to be the perfect man for her.

He wanted it to stay like this forever.

Sehun couldn’t close his eyes; turn away, try to sleep. As a last resort he drew his hands over his eyes creating an illusionary darkness. Telling himself Namjoo would still be there when he awoke, but the anxiety couldn’t stop shaking through him try as he may.

Namjoo was gone at the first sunlight. The bedside empty. First sitting up with a jolt so fast his heart stampeded inside his chest. Seeking her bedroom for her. Blood rushed in his ears. Spinning round and round, beating his eardrums senseless. Sounding like angry waves slamming against windows.

Sehun’s breathing hitched and was halfway up onto his knees when he recognized pots and pans banging in the kitchen. He strained to listen harder soon recognizing movement outside the bedroom. Finally flinging the blanket aside he crept toward the door left ajar and poked his head out. Across the bedroom the bathroom door was shut. At an angle from where he stood Namjoo was visible in the kitchen.

Shaking off the unsteady row of fear, he stepped out. Approaching Namjoo who coolly pretended she hadn’t seen him. Combing a finger through her hair he leaned forward peeking into her face happily. Seeing her calmed the roaring ocean in his chest.

“You woke up without me.” He stated as if it shouldn’t have happened.

“Did you wash up?” Namjoo asked without bothering to look at him.

Sehun pouted. “At least look at me.”

Raising a brow her eyes cut toward him uninterested. “What?”

“Nothing.” Satisfied he said, “I’ll go wash up now.”

He scrubbed his face, brushed his teeth, and relieved himself before hurrying out to find Namjoo stirring something at the stove. Back hugging her he planted his cheek against hers. Content washed through him. Love igniting like giant orange red flames.

He loved her.

He loved her.

He loved her.

So, so, so much.

All his dreams come true existed in her.

Eyeing the orange broth, he asked, “Is it spicy?”

“Would I do that to you?”

“I feel you would.”

Sehun yelped after receiving the blow of her pointed elbow. Dancing among emotions of pure bliss he spun away to gather plates and bowls. Setting the table while Namjoo finished cooking. Sehun wiped the table, filled glasses with water, and hovered around Namjoo like a bumblebee attracted to sweet flowers.

“Want to go hiking later?” Sehun wondered.

“Why not,” Namjoo asked.

It was what they did after cleaning up the dishes after breakfast. They set out in his car toward a hiking park overgrown with wild foliage. Deep green trees densely enveloped them as they started up the slope cleared for people of nature. Cicadas trilled, squirrels chased each other up trees, sunlight streamed through gaps in tree leaves. They caught glimpses of bright yellow light every step of the way.

A warm day. They were accompanied by other hikers. Every one basking in the beauty of the outdoors. Getting their exercise, breathing the fresh breezy air, enjoying the wind combing past, allowing nature to cleanse the sky from the clog of the city. The earthly smell calming every tense nerve that had disrupted Sehun the previous night. His soul clear of the fear snaking through him early in the morning.

Waiting for Namjoo he held his hand out for her. Gripping her fingers as they completed the hike up. Coming to rest on a slab of coarse bumpy rock at the crest of the hill. Under the beating sun they were no longer protected by the generous shade of the woods. Unscrewing the lid of his Contigo water bottle he handed it to Namjoo giving her the first honor.

“It’s cool,” she gasped after a long sip.

Taking it back from her he raised it. “Keeps water temperature for twelve hours. Technology.”

Namjoo swiped at him. Chuckling Sehun took a sip.

“Sehun,” Namjoo called. She seemed dazed glancing at the mountains, the pine trees in the distance resembling faint shadows. Turning to him her face presented a worried frown, “I saw your mom.”

The earlier amusement dissipated from his face. “What?”

Darting her eyes lower, she admitted, “She was with a man who wasn’t your father.” Lifting her head up, she hurriedly apologized, “I’m so sorry. I should have told you earlier. I just…I didn’t know how to. I just feel like it’s swallowing me up and I…”

“It’s ok.” Sehun turned away. Solemnly explaining, “Mom’s been married before.”

“Oh…” Namjoo’s tone dropped. Then as if enlightened, her tone went up, “I see. I’m sorry, I…”

Firmly smiling, he rubbed her shoulder, “You were worried.”

Leaning on his shoulder Namjoo finally relaxed. That night they made love, but as Namjoo drifted off he, once more, lay wide awake.

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Normalcy fell back in step. Namjoo’s life became a nice flow of lovely days. Sehun’s schedule piled up. Turned out the women’s debut line was successful and suddenly he had more on his plate than usual. While Sehun turned to his duties Namjoo focused on looking for other jobs to jumpstart her career. She hadn’t relayed Sehun this. He’d been busy and on their phone calls they were too busy flirting.

The time with Sehun was majorly focused on them. Nothing else was important. When Sehun finally returned after four long days away they spent an evening on his sixth floor. Curled up in his connected suite watching movies. Calling it a night in his bed where they slept spooning.

Once the sun hit the paned windows Namjoo jolted up. Immediately aware she was not at home. Beside her Sehun tiredly moaned flipping onto his back.

Slapping his chest, she panicked, “Wake up. Wake up! It’s nine!”

Sehun’s eyes fluttered open. Alert, “What?”

“I said it’s nine!” Heart madly rushing Namjoo scooted off the bed. Spinning in a frantic circle. “My clothes!”

Sitting up now and in a slight daze, Sehun, hair messily ruffled, asked, “What about your clothes?”

“I can’t go to work looking like this!” Namjoo freaked.

Half-smiling, Sehun closed his eyes and yawned, “What’s wrong with that?”

Namjoo’s voice rose in heights of damnation, “I’m too old to be doing the walk of shame, Sehun!”

He shortly laughed and Namjoo nearly snapped at him. “Don’t worry. We didn’t even do it.” Sliding off the bed he calmly stood. Pecking her forehead, he assured, “You don’t even smell like me.” Granting her another one of his perfectly charming grins, he urged gesturing with a nod of his head, “Take a shower. There’s a spare toothbrush behind the mirror I haven’t used.”

Frowning, Namjoo watched him pick up his blazer from the arm of the couch. Groaning from the bottom of Namjoo swiveled and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Thinking the entire time: her stupid boyfriend just didn’t understand.

Sehun’s bathroom was standard. Surprisingly not very luxurious but an upgrade from her teeny bathroom at her apartment. Stripping Namjoo stepped into the shower and began scrubbing. By the time she turned the shower off there was a knock at the door.

Snagging the thick towel hanging off a silver bar Namjoo wrapped it around her. A blue bag crackled before her. On the other side Sehun smiled.

“What is it?” Namjoo asked.

“Clothes.” He answered.

That morning’s frustration transitioned into quicksand. Namjoo peeked inside to ascertain the truth for herself.

Landing back on her soles, she muttered, “You’re so fast.”

“There’s a gallery out front,” Sehun stated. Wrapping an arm around her he pulled her toward him. His lips brushed against her jawline enticingly. “Now you’re making me wish we would've done it last night.”

Namjoo giggled into his shoulder when he began nibbling her pulse. “Stop.” She felt his mouth go wet and went a little weak. Kind of pleading and begging for him to continue. “Sehun.”

His warm breath slid across her cheek when he withdrew. “Don’t wear your hair up.”

Touching her neck, she scowled at him. “You did it again.”

Sheepishly smiling, he declared, “You look hot when you put your hair up. It makes me jealous if other men and women see you the same way.”

“Women,” Namjoo scoffed.

Playfully pushing her away he jammed the bag into her hand and stepped past into the bathroom. “Hurry up and take the towel off. I’m going to need it after I shower.”

“What about your clothes?” she wondered.

“I have a closet here,” he reminded.

“Oh…” Namjoo muttered embarrassed scratching her ear. Sehun laughed amused as he closed the door.

After showering and dressing he rode the elevator with her to the seventh floor. Hotly bidding her goodbye with a kiss before going back down to his office. Perks of having a CEO for a boyfriend, it didn’t matter if she was absent from work early in the morning.

As perfect as things were Namjoo forgot about the matter of her parents until her mother called, nagging.

“Well, tell him to make time, Namjoo!” her mother lectured her ear off. “I don’t care how busy he is this weekend. He’s always going to be busy here and then. I want him to make time for your father and I. Does he think we’re a joke? Tell him to show us some respect!”

Namjoo groaned, irritated. “I know, mom, but…”

“Tell him,” her mother demanded. “A man is only as good as his words, Namjoo. I don’t care how handsome he is, but if he won’t show up to meet his girlfriend’s parents something must be wrong with him. If he doesn’t love you enough to even give your father and mother a greeting face to face, then he has no place being with you.”

“You can’t say that!” Namjoo argued. “You don’t even know him.”

“And you know him so well,” her mother mocked.

“I…” Namjoo hesitated for a partial second then continued more adamantly, “I do!”

“Then I’ll wait for your call.” Her mother had the last word before hanging up.

Slamming the phone down on her desk Namjoo dropped her head into her hands. Getting through to her mother was like talking to a wall. It had to be one way or no way.

Huffing Namjoo glared at her computer screen.

She waited the weekend out. Sehun was out of town, so she was by herself. Besides waiting for a phone call, Namjoo had cleaned her home. Sweeping and dusting. Doing her laundry and while waiting for her clothes to finishing washing she’d played games on her phone. Then she was at the grocery store. To buy snacks, an essential.

Namjoo had debated calling Kiwan then decided against it. After he’d tattled to her mother, he must figure she was upset, so he was staying a distance from her. Then let him she hissed.

Tossing a bag of chips into her basket Namjoo continued browsing the snack aisle. As if it was a calling sign, she glanced ahead of her. Sighting a familiar face.

Sehun’s father. Dressed like a professor. A knitted sweater with some buttoned shirt underneath. Two white collars popped out at his neck. His pants gray and ironed. He was solo tonight.

Brightening, Namjoo scurried toward him. “Hello.”

The man shot to attention as quick as an impala. At first, he stared at her quietly. His gaze searching his memory for recognition.

“It’s me,” Namjoo said, “I’m Namjoo. We had lunch with Sehun a while back.”

“Oh…oh!” the man’s head nodded back. “Right. Right.”

Then awkwardly glanced away appearing uncomfortable.

Feeling horrible for interrupting him, Namjoo tried, “I’m sorry, you must be busy.” Before backing away, she kindly said, “Please tell mother I said hi and I’m sorry for spooking her last time. Please stay healthy.”

Namjoo began pivoting away. Maybe she was coming off too eagerly and that was off putting. God, that must look so bad on her part. Next time she should just mind her own business until approached first. Why was she getting ahead of herself?

“Miss?” Sehun’s father called out.

Namjoo expectantly turned back around. Half an hour later she entered a quiet apartment in a normal neighborhood. A way down the street an elementary school stretched across the lot. Streets were poorly cracked but not dangerous enough to cause a flat tire or cause a pedestrian to break their ankle.

The building was modest although not newly brandished yet it was in good condition. The stairwells still held. Lights flooded the corridors. They weren’t blinking or in need of changing. The doors weren’t updated to keypads and still required a key. Children’s voices flowed downstairs from upstairs. Somewhere along the way a children’s movie was playing. Apparently, the walls weren’t conveniently thick.

Sehun’s father’s house wasn’t upscale. Just a standard civilian’s. Something a normal citizen like her could afford with a paycheck that came in every two weeks.

The automatic sensor lights blasted on when the door opened and Namjoo stepped inside. A pair of terribly worn leather shoes had been pushed to one side. A pair of female oxfords collected to another side. The man slipped off his chukka shoes once possessing a sleek shiny sheen. Now it was dull and weary.

Slipping out of her shoes Namjoo politely stepped into a living room a similar size to her’s. A plaid couch leaned against the wall nearest her. The television on the opposite end. A mess of DVDs ranging from martial arts to romance and comedy lay in a bundled unorganized mess below the TV stand.

A small kitchen opened up on her left. The kitchen table awkwardly placed halfway inside the cooking area, the other half divulging the living room. And on the walls were not pictures displaying Sehun’s smarts or school certificates. None of his spoken countryside life could be found here.

There were photographs of a familiar man standing proudly in front of a group of students. Each one of them in identical wear. Matching jackets. Matching sweats. Several of these pictures spaced across the wall.

That man was standing with her in person.

Namjoo’s attention turned to an opening doorway, where, not Sehun’s mother, but a very frail woman stepped out of a bedroom.

“Who is it, honey?” the woman asked. Her frizzled hair was as dull and weary as the man’s chukka shoes. Health having taken away its strength to shine beautifully.

Namjoo politely offered a nod in greeting.

“Oh, what are you doing?” the woman scolded limping into the kitchen. “Get her a glass of water.”

Hurrying to aid her, the man grasped her arm at the fridge when she attempted to lift the jug of water inside. “Let me do it. What are you doing up?”

Smiling heartwarmingly, the woman said, “I just cooked some corn pancakes earlier. Please have some. They’re delicious.”

Unable to find the words, Namjoo gripped her hands in front of her and nodded. The man, Sehun’s father, helped her back into the bedroom. Gently and patiently holding her arm the entire way. Once the door closed and the man looked at her Namjoo wasn’t so sure she should have agreed to come.

“Please, sit.”

***spinoff into the next half! We preparing for angst now & Sehun's long awaited story