The throbbing pain behind your closed eyelids pulls you into consciousness. 

“.” You groan, the dull ache a repetitive knock at your noggin. You definitely went a bit overboard last night.

It takes some effort, but you get your eyes to open, squinting against the brightness that shines through the floor to ceiling windows. You roll onto your side and get a good glimpse of your surroundings. The walls are unfamiliar, as is the mattress you rest upon. It’s way nicer than the ridiculously overpriced–and yet still hard as rocks–one in your cramped Seoul bedroom.

What the did you get yourself into last night?!

You shoot right up, ignoring the way your head nearly implodes from the action. You can feel it—panic, regret, fear—begin to settle into your chest. Right before you are about to have a full fledged panic attack, you glance down and see you’re draped in an emerald dress, and the night before comes rushing back to you.

“Oh, thank god,” you say, tumbling back into the cloud-like mattress in relief. You are in a fancy hotel for your friend’s wedding, not some random one-night stands.

Crisis averted.

Your stomach rumbles and that’s your sign to get out of bed. It takes some effort, but you’re able to head over to the bathroom and rid yourself of all the toxicity bubbling up in your gut, shower, brush your teeth, and head out to the living area of the giant suite, feeling and looking less like a zombie. 

The curtains that block out the wall of windows are pulled all the way back, revealing your beautiful view of golden sands and calm ocean. You take in the sun, guessing it's around mid-morning. That’s good, you think, you haven’t wasted the day away.

At the kitchenette is the dynamic sister duo. Seulgi is making coffee, while Yerim sits on a stool at the island.

“Look who’s alive,” Seulgi says once she notices you. “We just finished making coffee and I know you need some.”

You merely grunt, gaining giggles from the pair.

You plop beside Yerim, who is already dolled up, nibbling on an orange slice.

“When did you get here?” You ask her. Seulgi sets a mug the color of robin’s eggs in front of you. It’s filled to the brim with sloshing dark coffee. You watch in disdain as a bit spills over the edge of the glass, splattering onto the counter. Internally you sigh. She poured too much, restricting you from adding any sweetener or creamer into it. There is no way to avoid the bitter taste. You fight the urge to glare at your best friend, having a suspicion she is punishing you for something. Whatever the reason is most likely deserved, so instead of complaining, you drop your head to the cup and hesitantly slurp some off the top. Oh, it’s bitter all right. Your jaw smarts as the strong flavor coats your tongue and burns your nose.

Yerim is watching you, judgment clearly written on her pretty face. You think it’s because of your lack of table manners, but then she opens . “Girl, you were the one who let me in.”

“Huh,” is your smart reply, your mind starts whirling like an ancient computer. Nope, you got nothing. You work up the courage to lift the cursed mug to your lips, taking a few sacrificial gulps. 

“Makes sense you don’t remember,” Yerim continues. “You were pretty lit when you came back to your room.”

You wince. “Was I that bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Yerim reassures, overlapping Seulgi’s, “a nightmare.”

You glare at Seulgi. “You’re not draped in death this morning. Which leads me to believe you were faking!”

“Now, Sweetie.” Her back is facing you as she rinses off some dishes, but she stops and slowly turns to face you. She leans her back against the counter, confidence oozing off her. Smirking mischievously, she says,  “you know I never fake anything.”

You narrow your eyes accusingly and she laughs before completely changing the subject. “I brought some Morning Care if you need it. You don’t look like you’re doing too well.”

You wave off her offer. “I just need to eat. Are they still serving breakfast?”

“They are.”

You get up, purposely abandoning your coffee as you grab your phone and wallet and head down to the food hall with a wave.

The overwhelming aroma of food has you salivating the moment you exit the elevator, this is truly going to be the cure to your hangover. Food and sun, the best medicine, and you are only one step closer to the beach.

You join the decently sized line and play on your phone to kill time, tuning out everything around you.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Your shoulders stiffen at the sound. You slowly turn around to verify that the person who spoke is who you think it is.

It’s none other than Park Chanyeol.

Why are you being punished like this? Of all the people that could be behind you in this line, it has to be him? He’s grinning boyishly at you, fluffy golden hair sitting flatly across his forehead. The too tight black shirt he’s wearing hugs his firm figure tauntingly, bottom half covered by a pair of old khaki shorts and black sandals.

You process all of this in only a couple seconds. Quickly, you face in front of you again, not even daring to say a word. It’s more for your safety than his. There’s no telling what will happen if you look at him for too long, and you don’t want to risk anything. You really want to be on your best behavior this weekend.

“Ouch,” he says. He misinterprets your silence as you being standoffish instead of what you’re really doing–fighting for your damn life! “That’s cold. Even for you.”

Well, let him think this way about you. It might make it easier to pretend he isn’t here if he thinks you want nothing to do with him anymore.

God, how you wish you actually did.

“We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other in the next few days,” he continues despite speaking to your back. “It’s going to be hard to keep ignoring me like this.”

“Won’t stop me from trying,” you finally crack to say.

“But I’m so charming.”

You roll your eyes. The line moves and you swear he takes a bigger step to be closer to you. His heat at your back is noticeably warmer. 

“I’ll wear you down eventually.” The threat is said softly, as though he’s speaking to himself. It sends a thrill of chills down your back.

You don’t like this. 

“And why in god’s name would you want to do that?”

“Because I miss your laugh.”

He says it nonchalantly, casually, as though what just left his mouth isn't as big of a deal as it truly is. You’re bombarded by a bunch of conflicting emotions. Excitement, elation, pleasure. But also dread, shame, and embarrassment. The opposing feelings tear at your center, at your heart, ripping you open agonizingly so.

You refuse to let him see this though. Refuse to give him the power of knowing he still has such a strong effect on you, so you shove your pain into the back of your mind. Ignoring the way your body seems to scream, you straighten your shoulders, feigning pride.

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like that very much.”

There. Hopefully bringing up Yerim will cause him to remember where he is.

“Please,” he replies with a scoff. “We already had this conversation last night.”

“I–what?” That’s enough to have you spinning around to finally face him full on. He is the poster child of unbothered, a little too relaxed for someone who just told a lie.

He takes in your shocked expression incredulously before realization dawns on him. He barks out a joyous laugh that sets your teeth on edge. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember?”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, what game was this dude playing? His grin grows wicked as he gives you a deliberate once over, eyes raking your form almost primal, and you have to force the shivers his gaze brings to evaporate before they give you away. He notices anyway. At least, you think he does. There’s a glint of pride now sparkling inside his rather large orbs. Then again, he is also a competitive , and knows the he currently has the upper hand over you in the conversation. “You came knocking on my door like the police.”

“Bull.”

He gives you a what-can-I-say shrug and shoves his veiny hands deep into the front pockets of his khakis. “You really weren’t too happy about me bringing a date.

“Now I know you’re lying,” you say, but even you can hear the doubt wobbling your voice. Internally, you are begging your brain to be useful for once. To give you some inside to confirm his outlandish claims. Unfortunately, you tend to black out anything that happens an hour or so before you fall asleep while intoxicated. No matter how much you drink, it all disappears once you doze off. It’s very possible that drunk you might have let the bitterness get the best of her. Nausea rolls your stomach. The mere idea of y