Your head was pounding, like a little gnome or leprechaun or mischievous fairy was running around your brain with three inch cleats and a jack hammer. This kind of pain, you hadn’t felt it in a very long time. You hadn’t lost control like that since your early college years. Ugh, how pathetic.

Shoving your face deeper into your pillow, you breathed in deeply.

Wait. That was not how your pillow smelled. Did Huan buy new detergent?

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up. How did you even get home? You racked your brain for details of the night before. Piece by piece, they came back, fragmented and fuzzy.

You ordered a lot of drinks from that bartender, Luhan. You remembered going on and on about Kris and how confused you were and how you weren’t sure about getting married anymore. God, how could you dump all of that on a stranger?

Your eyes snapped open.

Kris. Kris had shown up at the bar.

.

Oh, god, why did you say any of that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Looking around, you confirmed that you were most certainly not in your own room.

All the walls were bare; the only other furniture in the room beside the bed were a dresser and a nightstand. It didn’t look like anyone occupied the room long term, but the scent embedded in the pillow case said otherwise. And you knew that smell all too well.

The door to the bedroom opened, making you scramble back into the headboard. Kris stepped inside, hair freshly wet from a shower and a towel around his shoulders. Thank god, he was dressed in a tank and jeans. Your mind was still fuzzy and didn’t need the scene of Kris in just a towel and nothing else to drive it even more insane.

“Why am I here?” you demanded. Your voice came out like a croak.

Crouching down next to the bed, Kris held out a glass of water. You took it without question to relieve your dry, itchy throat. Once the liquid was gone and settling in your empty stomach, Kris took the glass and set it on the nightstand, staying balanced on his bended knees.

“You had way too much to drink last night,” Kris chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, making your head throb more. “Yeah, I remember that part. Why am I here?” Glancing around, you added, “And where exactly is here?”

“Here is…,” Kris puckered his lips, “my bedroom.”

“What?!”

You lifted the covers, letting out a breath of relief. All of your clothes were still on, save for you shoes. Good. You didn’t do anything too stupid last night.

“I slept on the couch,” Kris clarified. “You passed out before I could get your address out of you. I figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in a car, so I just brought you here. Nothing happened, I swear.”

You believed him. The last thing you remembered was him saying that he would take you home or something like that. One thing you could count on, however, was the knowledge that Kris would never take advantage of you like that. But… “How did you know I was even there?”

Kris smirked. “Luhan. The bartender. He’s one of the brothers I was telling you about. He lives here with me and he called me to come pick you up after you told him you knew me.”

Well… .

Your eyes grew in horror. The words you’d said to Luhan over the course of a few hours bounced around you, mocking you at your lack of self-control.

Scrambling to get out of the bed, you tangled yourself up in the sheets and half fell off of the mattress. Kris caught you just in time, but that made you even more desperate to get out of this house.

Free of the sheets, you found your shoes at the foot of the bed, tugging them on quickly before grabbing your purse and hightailing it out of there.

“Wait, (y/n)!”

Kris followed you down the hall, tugging on a black t-shirt at the same time, towel long forgotten. Even you were surprised how easily your found the stairs in this foreign state. Clutching your purse to your chest, you made it to the bottom of the steps, then froze.

The staircase emptied out into the kitchen, where two people - a professor you recognized from the university and a girl you’d never seen before - were sitting at a little breakfast booth on the far side of the kitchen. Both were just staring at you. The professor was obviously holding back a laugh, making your pathetic situation even more humiliating.

“Hey, Junmyeon,” Kris greeted before placing a hand on your shoulder.

You were a complete statue, unable to move. Only Kris’ pushing was able to get your feet to stumble out of the kitchen. Thankfully, you didn’t run into anymore housemates as Kris took your hand and guided you out of the house.

While the sun was a good height in the sky, the morning air was still warming up, making the skin of your arms shrink up into goosebumps. Not giving you a chance to take in the forest scenery around you, Kris pulled you over to the detached garage, going through the side door before pressing the garage door opening mounted on the wall.

Too many cars to count were shoved into the garage and - from what you noticed outside - it wasn’t even all that were owned by the residents. Kris opened the passenger’s side door to the familiar white sports car and you hopped in without hesitation.

At first, you just sat there, still clinging to your purse as your one life preserver. Gently, Kris pulled the purse out of your grasp, placing it on the floor by your feet. Then, leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin, he grabbed the seat belt and buckled you in.

Your own breath was caught in your throat. Why did he have to get so close to you? Did he know what he was doing to you? You scolded yourself for even thinking about ending the space between you and brushing your lips against his.

Once the garage door was open enough for the car to get through, Kris sped off away from the idyllic farmhouse and through the thick forest.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Kris dug around the center console until he pulled out a small black comb. “Here. You might want this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You keep a comb in your car?”

Kris shot you a sideways glare before pulling the sun visor in front of you down. “Don’t judge. Be thankful I have it.” To emphasis his point, he flipped up the mirror and pointed at your reflection

“Oh, my god!”

The sight of you was absolutely horrendous. Your makeup had somehow moved its way from your lids to the dark circles under your eyes. As best as you could, you tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable for the public, using tissues stored in the glove box to wipe away the eyeliner that had smudged on your face.

For a good forty-five minutes, it was just silence, nothing breaking it but whatever hip hop song was currently playing on the radio. You kept your eyes trained on the pines that were blurring by. If you let them wander, they might settle on Kris’ hand that was currently resting on the gearshift.

You hadn’t realized how big his hands were; long fingers that would wind perfectly around yours. They were probably warm, too, strong and comforting. The kind of hands you wanted to hold to and never let go of.

No, no, no. Stop it.

To keep your own hands where they belonged, you tightly folded your arms across your chest, trapping your fingers in your armpits.

“There’s no need to be so tense,” Kris chuckled. “I was serious when I said nothing happened last night. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’d prefer you to remember it.”

“That’s not why I’m tense,” you mumbled. You’d hoped you’d said it soft enough so he wouldn’t hear it, but apparently it didn’t work.

Reaching out, Kris placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, flinching away from the kind gesture.

As soon as you said that, Kris removed his hand, “Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be. It’s me.”

For that, he had no response.

When the city came into view, you thought Kris might ask you what your address was, but he never did. Deeper and deeper into the city you went and still no question regarding where you lived. He couldn’t have gotten it from your driver’s license, it wasn’t up to date yet. You just hoped that he hadn’t followed you home one day and that’s how he knew.

You wanted Kris to be the good guy. And - so far - he’d proven himself to be just that.

Your head was spinning again, but this time, it wasn’t the hangover.

Huan’s face smiled at you behind your eyes. But it wasn’t as bright as it used to be. Everything was so confusing now. You didn’t want to leave this car, leave Kris’ presence. Huan’s eventual homecoming wasn’t making you happy or excited like it should have been after not seeing him for a week. Were you… were you maybe falling out of love with him?

That seemed silly. Everyone had their waxes and wanes in relationships, you just had to push through them. This was simply a rough patch. Right?

Kris turned off of the street and parked right in front of an old diner. Only a few other cars were parked along the row, signifying the lack of customers inside.

“What are we doing here?” you asked.

Kris laughed. “You just never go with the flow, do you?” Opening the door, he got out before bending back down to look at you. “It’s only food. I can hear your empty stomach from here.”

Rolling your eyes, you undid your seat belt and got out.

The middle aged waitress smiled at you two as you entered the cliche fifties themed diner. The booths were made of old, crinkly, uncomfortable vinyl that sparkled with glitter in different, retro candied colors. Elvis and old Cadillac memorabilia lined the walls in a chaotic, crooked fashion. A jukebox shoved into the far side of the diner played the hits of the decades that only a select few people knew the words to. Quite the place to pick.

The waitress showed you to a booth near the middle of the diner, placing two sticky laminated menus down before walking away to flirt with the cook who was visible through the service window.

“Don’t knock the place,” Kris sighed, flipping the menu over and over again.

“I didn’t say anything,” you insisted.

“It’s written all over your face,” he countered. He let go of the menu, letting it flutter down to the table. “I just want to make sure that you’re getting something to eat after the night you’ve had. This isn’t a date.”

Feeling a little of your guilt release the pressure it was putting on your chest, you picked up the menu happily. Pancakes sounded really good at the moment.

“When I take you on a date, it’ll be something you’ll never forget.”

Your eyes snapped up. “What? What do you mean when?”

Kris actually had the nerve to feign innocence. “I didn’t say anything.”

Tossing the menu down, you scoffed. “I can’t believe you.”

“I am pretty unbelievable,” he agreed.

You were not going to smile at that. You were not going to smile. You were not-

Crap. You were smiling.

The waitress came back, first taking your drink orders before moving on to the food.

“I’ll just have the omelette with the works,” Kris said, handing his menu over.

“And I’ll have the pancakes and eggs breakfast.” You were more than happy to hand over the syrup covered menu. At least, you hoped it was just syrup.

“If you could, mix some cinnamon to the pancakes,” Kris added.

“Of course,” the waitress beamed, shooting you a look that you didn’t quite get, but seemed to be a little bit of sweetened jealousy.

“Thanks.” Kris shot you a wink before leaning back in the booth. Then he asked, “What made you drink?”

You gaffed at his blunt question. There was no way you were going to tell the already smug as hell Kris that the constant thought of him made you get intoxicated. “I’m a legal adult. I can drink if I want to.”

Not buying it for a second, Kris leaned forward. “It’s obvious you don’t do that very often.”

“Are you saying that I’m a lightweight?” You were insulted. Back in your undergrad days, you could… well, you didn’t actually like hanging with the best of them, but you’d drank a few frat boys under the table. They may have been small bean poles, but you still did it. Apparently, your tolerance had lowered a bit after being so responsible the past year or so.

Kris shrugged. “Walking wasn’t exactly your strong suit last night.” He smirked. “Your mouth, on the other hand, was working just fine.”

“W-what do you mean?” You rattled your brain. While you remembered Kris showing up last night, you didn’t exactly remember what had occurred after that. It was still blurry, none of what was said sticking in your mind.

“Nothing.”

What a damn tease. “Kris, what did I say?”

“You told me to go away,” he sighed. “Then you hugged me and said ‘home’.”

“I was referring to my home,” you insisted, although the other obvious answer was a possibility as well. “You know, my bed, where I was expecting to wake up this morning.”

“Sure you were,” Kris mused smugly. “And that’s not my fault. You were the one who passed out before you could tell me what your address was. What else was I supposed to do?”

You opened your mouth to tell him exactly what he should have done, but nothing came out. Because there was nothing else for him to do. He did the right thing. Because he was the good guy.

“That’s what I thought.”

The waitress brought your meals and drinks to the table, ending the conversation at the moment. Cinnamon hit your nostrils and made your mouth water. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually had cinnamon pancakes. Huan never liked them and making them just for yourself seemed silly once you moved in together.

After cutting up your pancakes just how you liked them, Kris reached across the table and snatched the first bite with his fork.

“Hey!” you scolded. You swatted at his hand, trying to get him before the food could touch his tongue, but it was too late. He chewed happily, avoiding your potential hit.

For payback, you took a bite of his omelette, smiling victoriously.

“Now, that’s just not nice.” Kris reached for another bite, but this time you were able to block him.

“Get your own,” you growled.

“So territorial.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed. “I’m working on that.”

Kris shook his head. “Don’t. I like it.”

Ducking your head down, you tried to focus on the food and not your warming cheeks.

Once your plates were empty, Kris paid for the meal, refusing to let you go dutch. Back in the car, you gave him your address and headed in the right direction of your home.

“Your fiance isn’t going to be mad, is he?” Kris asked.

“He’s out of town,” you told him. “He won’t know.”

He glanced over at you. “Not going to tell him?”

“Better not to,” you admitted. “He technically asked me to not hang out with you alone anymore.”

“He really doesn’t like me, does he?” Kris guessed.

“No,” you countered. “It’s not about that. He’s just… worried. Protective.”

“And threatened.”

“He is not threatened,” you argued.

Kris shrugged. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You didn’t answer. Huan wasn’t feeling threatened, you were sure of that. Weren’t all guys a little protective? He just didn’t want anything to happen to you.

Why were you even entertaining this discussion? You’d already wrestled with yourself about this and agreed with Huan. You understood where he was coming from.

And yet, you’d been deliberately going against that agreement. Twice now.

“So, what does Huan do?” Kris asked, probably just to fill the silence. “Since he’s out of town and all?”

“He’s a sales consultant.”

“A sales consultant.” Kris’ tone was filled with mocking, fake impressiveness. “Fancy.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled. “He likes it. He’s good at it. He’s charming and approachable and energetic and-”

“And manipulative,” Kris butted in.

“He is not!” you snapped.

Kris parked right outside your place. “All salesmen and consultants are a little manipulative. They make you think a certain way so you buy into whatever nonsense they’re selling. It’s not evil, just the truth.”

Shaking your head, you clicked off your seat belt. “You are such a jerk.”

You opened the door to get out, but Kris stopped you by grabbing your hand. Your heart leapt at the contact, urging you to intertwine your fingers. It took all your strength to just keep your fingers stiff and in place.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I don’t always think before I speak.”

You smiled at him. He was impossible to stay mad at. “It’s okay. I’ll, um… I’ll see you later.”

“Promise?” he smirked.

“Yeah,” you sighed, giving in. You knew yourself well enough that you wouldn’t be able to resist anyway. “I promise.”

**

You promised. You actually said the words “I promise” when he asked to see you again. Kris was way above cloud nine. He was floating among the stars, next to the moon.

He was so close. You’d already admitted that you loved him.

Okay, so you were drunk, but wasn’t that when the truth came out? What was that phrase? Drunk tongue speaks sober thoughts? He just needed to push a little more to get you to open up even more, gently but firmly. It wouldn’t be too much longer.

Part of him still felt bad. He was pushing your fiance out of the way and the guy wasn’t really all that bad. Kris didn’t know him, but he didn’t sound like a terrible jerk. Just caught up on the wrong side of fate. Kris actually felt a bit sorry for the guy. 

Well, not that much.

As Kris drove down the road, he smiled so broadly his cheeks were beginning to ache. He hadn’t been this ecstatic in years. This happy in who knows how long. And he was actually enjoying it. Next week, he would take the next step. He just needed to see you again, to get you alone. And then, he’d be able to be with you. For good.