Magical

“Pick a card. Any card.” You roll your eyes as your good friend, Park Chanyeol, spreads a deck of cards in his hands. It’s a beautiful day and you both had decided to enjoy it by having a small lunch at the Han River.

Chanyeol is known for having a new interest every week, and this week he’s been trying his hands at magic. So, because you’re a good friend, you have been humoring him by helping him practice on you.

You pick a random card and glance at it—an eight of diamonds.

“Now what?” You ask. Meeting his gaze as he watches you so intently you gulp nervously.

“Do you have it memorized?” He asks. You nod affirmatively. “Okay. Put it back in the deck.”

You do as he orders and watch curiously as he shuffles the deck like a pro. With his attention diverted, you can’t help but stare. You notice how he has been gaining muscle lately. His biceps flex with every move he makes, a smile as soft and warm as the sun on the crown of your head adorned his face, making the six-foot giant appear years younger than he is. You wonder, not for the first time, what it would be like to be more than friends, to be something other, but shove the thought aside, not even bothering to humor the idea.

He catches your eye and winks before suddenly stilling, the smile on his face melting and his eyes widening with fear.

“What?” You ask, mimicking his position.

“There’s a bee in your hair.”

“Wha—?” You raise your arms, ready to fling them around to scare the tiny creature, but Chanyeol grabs your forearms before you can cause any damage.

“Calm down, calm down! If you move it’ll probably sting.”

“Chanyeol! Please do something!” You beg, heart ramming in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins, the flight instinct on high alert. You are deathly afraid of bees.

He slowly scoots closer to you, eyes never leaving yours as he leans in and the rhythm of your heart triples from a different kind of fear.

“Hold still,” he grumbles as he lifts a large hand to run his fingers through your hair, next to your ear and your breath catches in your throat. Once he pulls his hand away, you notice he’s now holding something, a sly smirk playing on his lips and you regain your breath as irritation blooms within you.

In his hand he holds an eight of diamonds.

“Is this your card?”