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The boy is insufferable.

Insufferable doesn’t seem to cut it, but you just huff. All you want to do is head to your next class, praying that you won’t be late again, but of course this boy just has to drag you back and demand something of you that you cannot fulfill.

The boy shoulders his backpack and stares down at you from his great height. Arms crossed in front of his chest and a slight pout playing upon his lips, he raises an eyebrow. His voice has a lilt in it at the end that, truth be told, makes you want to rip your hair out.

“You’re going to pay me back, right?”

You sigh. It’s eight o’clock in the morning and you don’t have the energy to deal with boys that are clearly filthy rich, yet insist on teasing you into impossible tasks.

For the millionth time that morning, you curse at yourself. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

---

You were already late and you were already flustered, bursting into class the first day of the new school year. You were a mess: a thrown on sweatshirt and ripped up jeans, your stationery items flung into your backpack without bothering to even zip it up. Your hair looked like a rat’s nest, which it technically was, seeing as how you hadn’t even had the chance to brush it the second you realized you had about fifteen minutes to get to first period, which was conveniently on the other side of campus entirely.

You quickly found a seat and sat down, not minding the snickers and stares of other students. Hurriedly, not wanting to miss another word of the professor’s lecture, you pulled out your laptop. In your haste, you didn’t notice the boy sitting next to you, elegant fingers flying over the keys of his own computer and taking notes diligently. Every once in awhile, he reached over to his Starbucks and took a sip, then continued in his ministrations.

Yup. Didn’t notice at all—you had better things to do than stare at the boy next to you taking notes.

But oh, how you wish that you had noticed. Because like the idiot you were, you had placed your computer on your desk and fiddled with your charger, plugging it into your laptop and so, soconveniently—

Knocked your fingers against the boy’s damned Starbucks.

You could only watch in horror as the paper lid came off completely, the cup falling to its side and its contents spilling onto the boy’s computer in a wash of brown coffee.

It was as if you were in a trance, completely turned to stone. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as you watched the boy’s laptop screen flicker once, twice, and then shut down completely in a fearful pitch black.

The boy froze.

His hands were covered in sticky coffee and his computer had just crashed and his notes, so carefully taken, were gone forever in the abyss of the internet.

And then his jaw set and he let out a low exhale, his eyes turning towards you.

If you had thought the professor’s stare to be terrifying, than this boy’s glare was birthed from the pits of hell.

.

---

All the while, Kim Seokjin is chuckling to himself.

He doesn’t dare do it in front of you, of course. He has a front to keep up, and sudden laughter after acting angry is probably not the best way to set his swell plan into motion.

So Seokjin plays petty pretty boy, making it nearly impossible for you to escape from him.

Yes, he thinks to himself, finally.

“Look,” you say with a sigh. “I’m really, really sorry about your computer, but I just don’t have the money to pay for it. If there’s any way that I can make up for it, I will happily—”

“There is,” Seokjin says, matter-of-factly. He has to admit, perhaps a bit of his haughtiness isn’tcompletely faked. He’s got you right in the palm of his hand, and what Kim Seokjin wants, Kim Seokjin gets.

He smirks a smirk so “bad boy”, it would make Jeon Jungkook proud.

“Excuse me?” You your lips, more than a little bit regretting what you had said just a few seconds earlier. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been that willing to repay this guy for his fancy laptop.

This is it, you think to yourself. He’s going to make me his buddy, or something of the sort. It’s inevitable. The end has come.

“There is a way for you to repay me,” Seokjin repeats. Just because he knows that it’ll frustrate you, and if there’s one thing that he loves, it’s seeing you all cute and flustered.

“What?” you say, deadpan.

“Come work for me,” Seokjin responds easily, unable to hold back his smile. He knows that he’s handsome and that girls would kill to have him for a night, and Seokjin isn’t dumb—he knows how to put his assets to use. A smile like that? You should be a bit more lenient, now.

, why does his smile have to be so princely? You scream at yourself in your mind. There’s no way that you can fall into this pit of stupid rich playboy. You refuse to let yourself downgrade to such a standard—you aren’t meant to be a plaything for the rich aristocrats of this school, you are meant to fulfill your years of education, graduate, and then get the hell out of here so you can do what you want to do for the rest of your life and then forget about the rich aristocrats of this damned place.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snap. “Could you please just tell me how to repay you? I’m not dumb, okay? You obviously know that I can’t pay for something like that, and you’re just playing around with me.”

Seokjin flinches. Is that what she really thinks? Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken to Taehyung’s “play it cool” advice to heart. Because while Seokjin’s rich, he’s definitely not like the other kids.

No, he’s never been like the other kids.

Seokjin has to admit…

He’s not quite sure what he should do.

Seokjin falters for a second—then quickly catches himself. He doesn’t know what to do. He can either keep up this cocky charade, or maybe he could…

“My mother owns a cafe not too far from the campus. You can come work as a barista—that’s how you’ll repay me,” he explains, voice a bit lower, words a bit kinder. He uncrosses his arms and lets them hang by his sides.

You want to slap yourself across the face, but at the same time, you know that if you don’t repay this guy, Lord knows what sort of thing might happen. Whether it be you racked with guilt, or him have his family hate yours for generations to come, you have to do this.

You have to…

You shudder.

Be a barista.

“Fine,” you sigh. Life is so dumb.

“When do I start work?”

---

You do your best to put on a good face, you swear.

You show up on time (thank God), and you look half decent, if you do say so yourself.

The cafe is a fairly tame place after your classes—you assume that the morning rush has already more than passed. Making your way to the front counter, you are greeted by a girl who smiles and asks, “How can I help you today?”

She’s a bit too bubbly for you, hair dyed silver with a light pastel pink at the ends. Her cheeks puff up when she speaks, and you have to admit, Okay, she’s pretty cute.

“I’m here to see… Kim Seokjin?”

The name is stuffy in your mouth, but you force it out of your mouth. You can still remember the guy’s attitude, remember the way he winked at you.

“Just ask for me,” he had said. “The girl will know.”

Well, you were asking for him, alright.

The girl’s eyes light up at your words, and you swear that you hear a slight squeal in her voice when she speaks. “Oh, you’re that girl!”

…That girl?

You chuckle awkwardly, not quite sure what you’re supposed to say to that. “Yeah, I’m the one who spilled coffee all over his laptop. Is he… is he here?”

The girl gives you a mischievous smile, but responds normally. Though a part of you would like to ask why she’s acting in such a manner, you can’t bring yourself to care so much. All you want to do is start working, at this point.

“Yeah, I’ll go and grab him.”

She skips off, and a sigh escapes you almost immediately after she leaves. While she’s away, you take the time to actually take a look at this cafe. It isn’t the worst place it work at, you decide. In fact, it’s quite nice. There are really cute wooden furnishings and checkered tablecloths and wispy curtains with lots and lots of windows. Around the beams above are leafy plant vines hanging down alongside Christmas light captured in glass Mason jars.

…It could be worse.

---

Seokjin’s work is rudely interrupted by the sound of Lily bursting into the office. Her voice is too loud, and her personality is much, much louder.

“Jin!”

It’s been a few months since their parents got married, and Seokjin still can’t get used to the fact that he has a sibling now. Things like this can happen now—a crazy girl with pink hair can burst into his room without any other warning now.

Seokjin’s little step-sister is a character, truly. Lily stops in front of his desk.

“Your ‘friend’ is here,” she sing-songs, more than pleased with herself, as if she had gotten you to work here at the cafe all by herself. Flipping her pink and silver hair over her shoulder (Seokjin reminds himself to ask her where she got it done), Lily leans over the desk.

“Aren’t you going?” she says. A waggle of her eyebrows. A blink of her eyes, huge and round and expectant.

“She’s here?” Seokjin looks up, the pen in his hand pausing. He gives his step-sister a hard look. “You’re not messing with me just because of what I told you earlier, right?”

“No, I’m not!” Lily is practically shrieking in his ear by now—Seokjin doesn’t understand how her boyfriend can handle it. “She’s really here! Go, go, go!”

In a flash, Lily is on the other side of the room and pulling Seokjin out of his chair, throwing his pen aside and fixing his bangs so that he doesn’t look too much like the nerdy, never-sees-the-light-of-day brother that he usually does. Lily might not remember how to solve logarithms, but she knows how to work with hair.

All the while, Seokjin’s heart is attempting to do backflips in his stomach. He can already feel his face growing hot and hands growing sweaty in nervousness. Yes, he managed to get you a job at the cafe, but can Seokjin really go through with this? What if you don’t like him? What if you think that he’s weird or something equally as embarrassing?

There’s a light pat to his cheek—Lily, slightly, sorta-kinda slapping him out of it.

“Stop sweating so much,” she admonishes.

“Jin, you’re gonna do just fine.”

---

Seokjin sneakily makes his way to you.

You’re turned away from him, staring out the huge windows. Just… thinking. The new school semester has you in a contemplative mood—a mood that tosses and turns and threatens to melt under the hot summer sun.

Kim Seokjin…

You shake your head firmly. This is not a time for stupid thoughts. You need to stop yourself before—

“Thinking of me?”

The startled look on your face is priceless. His voice is so sweet and melts you on the inside, and to have him lean over right next to your ear—

Jesus, she’s so cute, Seokjin thinks to himself. Your eyes widen as if you are Bambi’s human rival and your lips part into an ‘o’. You sharply turn towards Seokjin, and you suddenly can’t decide if you want to hit him for scaring you or just stay quiet because you really don’t know what’ll leave your mouth if it opens for even a second.

You just freeze, very much so in the way you did this morning.

Wow, he’s handsome.

He’s changed out of his school attire, swapped his hoodie and sweatpants for a crisp dress shirt tucked into fitted jeans. His hair is curled in the at the edges, plump lips pulled into a smile at seeing you in the cafe.

Hurriedly, before he can notice you gawking at him (he does), you stutter out, “I-I’m here to work, Seokjin.”

“I know,” he responds easily.

“I-Is—” You clear your throat and slap yourself mentally, trying to get it together. “Is your mom here? She’s the boss, right?”

“She is,” Seokjin admits with a lilt, “but she’s off on a business trip right now. So it’s mostly me in charge.”

There, you tell yourself. There is no way that you can possibly even like this guy—you would be liking your boss (though you are surprised that he even works in the first place). And everybody knows that’s just a big, fat no-no.

But the way that his eyes don’t leave yours, and the way that he laughs and smiles as you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into conversation with him…

He’s making it quite hard.

“I’ll get you started, how about that?” He slides a hand across your shoulders, leading you behind the counter. “I am your mentor, after all.”

“You are?”

“Of course,” Seokjin happily says. He silently thanks God that his step-mom is on a business trip right now. “I don’t usually do barista work, but I’ll have you shadow me for at least a few days. So make sure you behave, alright?” He leans down, so close, too close—

You swear to God that your noses are nearly touching.

“My eyes are only on you.”

Flustered beyond belief, you know for a fact that you look like a ripe tomato. Your mind kicks into overdrive—You’re just thinking things, there’s no way that there could be a double meaning to thatand He’s your boss he’s your boss he’s your boss goddamnit! What kind of boss flirts with their employee?

And yet somehow you can’t settle your heart down no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you force yourself to hate Kim Seokjin and his stupidly nice face and stupidly (surprisingly) nice personality. He’s still a rich preppy boy, albeit… a nice, rich preppy boy.

You’ll give him that much.

But you find it hard—as he turns pulls out a new apron for you, an espresso brown. It’s like he’s so proud of you, a new initiate coming under his wing. He loops the apron around your neck, gently turns you around so that he can tie it with a neat bow at the back. His touch is warm and he smells like some sort of splendid blend of coffee and tea and it’s like there’s a war raging inside of you, fighting it. Fighting it.

“I’m expecting quite a nice laptop once you’ve repaid your debt,” he says. “I’m sure that you’ll live up to those expectations quite nicely.”

And then the moment shatters.

You turn around and glare at Kim Seokjin.

That’s right, you remember. You’re only here for his stupid laptop. He’s probably only playing you so that he can get some nice Apple computer once this is all over. Well, he’ll have to settle for a goddamn Chromebook or something.

You roughly pull the string at the back of your apron, huffing and retying it sloppily by yourself. Seokjin can only stare at you, frozen in shock.

“…Did I say something?” he asks.

He’s just toying around with you, you tell yourself, ignoring the wrench in your gut. He’s not actuallysincere.

“Just show me how to make the damn coffee, Seokjin,” you snap.

And Seokjin doesn’t understand what went wrong.

---

Days pass, and then weeks.

Months.

You settle into your job at the cafe, keeping your head down and your heart closed off, never for a moment letting yourself linger upon the thought of Kim Seokjin. He’s your boss, you chant to yourself. It becomes your mantra.

He’s your boss.

You eventually meet Seokjin’s stepmom—the actual owner of the quaint cafe, whom everybody calls Aunt Josie, for some reason. She’s sophisticated and elegant and everything that you aren’t, coming in to work always with her hair done up and lips painted the color of a rose in a bloom. She smiles warmly when her employees do well, her eyes grow cold when the staff disappoint her.

Again, you comfort yourself.

It could be worse.

You learn how to make drinks, help customers, work with the other baristas. The only difference between you and them is that they are actually earning money—you, you’re just paying off the mistake of ignoring your alarm clock and being not coordinated.

Kim Seokjin is popular with the ladies, you learn. And you shouldn’t be surprised. You chide yourself for the stupid sour feeling you get in your chest whenever he’s taking orders, and the girls eye him like he’s some sort of meal for the taking. He’s your boss, you tell yourself over and over again. There should be no rush of the blood when you see him. There should be no hasty running to the bathroom to make sure you look alright whenever he comes into the cafe, ready for work.

He’s your boss.

The funny thing is, Kim Seokjin knows of your mantra. He’s got eyes and he’s got ears, and he’s an observer. He knows how you race off to the restroom and you come back looking even more beautiful than you already did earlier, knows how you sometimes slow down on your walks to the backroom just to catch a glimpse of him in his office, working with his stepmom.

He hears you whispering the words, “He’s your boss” on multiple occasions.

Gosh, you’re adorable.

Kim Seokjin is more than aware of the fight that you have going on inside of you, but nothing is incentive enough for him to stop teasing you. He wants you to like him. He wants to push you over that precipice.

So he always compliments you when you come back from the restroom, and he always looks up to meet your eyes when you pass by the office. He drops hints here and there and maybe, just maybe, sometimes forces you into punishments just so that he can spend a little more time with you after work, alone.

“I didn’t move the ingredients, okay?” you say, about to pull your hair out. “I have no idea how they even got on the shelf! You don’t think I know they’re supposed to be in the cooler? I probably work out here more than you do!”

Seokjin crosses his arms in front of his chest. He’s got you cornered in the backroom, accusing you of something that he knows you didn’t do (because he was the one who did it).

“Oh?” Seokjin puts a hand on the wall, effectively pressing you up against it. He his head to the side. “Does that sound like you’re questioning my authority?”

You take a deep breath, because you know you shouldn’t fall for his smoldering handsome looks—you need to focus on getting out of punishment. You can’t stay after, not today. You need to work on your assignments and so many things are due tomorrow—

“No, I’m not,” you sigh. You stare right at Mr. Kim Seokjin, refusing to back down. “But I’m not admitting to some stupid punishment that I didn’t do, either.”

Seokjin purses his lips for second, focusing his gaze elsewhere so you have the opportunity to stare at him without shame the way that he knows you do whenever you think that he’s not looking.

“Fine,” he relents. He’s got what he’s needed, anyway.

Seokjin stands back up, lets you go free.

“I’ll take my search elsewhere.”

---

“! ,” you whisper-scream, digging through your bag for the fifth time.

It’s dark outside, and you have to lock up the cafe. Which you have effectively done, but—

“Where the are my keys?”

The keys to your apartment.

Which you need in order to go home.

Everybody else has gone and you are the last one at the cafe. It’s cold outside, wind blowing like crazy, and there is a zero percent chance that you are walking out there, only to go home without the keys to get into your home.

Frustrated beyond belief, you take you bag and flip the whole entire thing over, dumping the contents onto a random table in the cafe. Books and papers and pens all spill out, but—

No keys.

You take a deep breath.

Okay, you chide yourself. It’s okay. You’ll find them. They have to be somewhere in the cafe, right? Where do you usually put them when you’re working?

In your apron.

You nearly sprint towards the back room, where all of the employees’ aprons hang on the rack. But as you round the corner of the hallway, you bump into something.

Someone.

You look up, scared out of your mind.

“Kim Seokjin!” you screech. Your brain goes blank; your cheeks turn red. “I-I thought you went home?”

He’s got his hands behind his back, looking down at you from his advantage point. A smile plays over his lips.

He’s your boss, you remind yourself for the millionth time.

“I just finished up some reports for my stepmother,” Seokjin says. “Are you about to go home?”

He doesn’t actually care about you, you remind yourself. He’s just being a good boss.

“Y-Yeah,” you mutter. Your gaze falls to his shoes. Shiny, just like the glossy wood flooring. “I’m looking for my keys.”

“Oh, these?”

A familiar clinking sound fills your ears. Your head snaps up, and there they are—your keys, right in the hand of Kim Seokjin. They hang there, pink puffball attached and all.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Those.”

“I found these on the floor of the backroom,” Seokjin lies.

Knowing that you had a habit of placing your keys in your apron, Seokjin wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t think of any other way to keep you with him longer. And so he had moved the ingredients from the cooler to the backroom, captured you, and very casually, was able to slyly pickpocket them up and out from right under your nose.

It was one of his stealthier moments, Seokjin will admit.

He places the keys in the palm of your hand. Finally, he’s got you here. All to himself. Alone—nobody else in sight.

Finally.

For what seems to be the billionth time, Seokjin curses himself for not having the balls to just ask you out straight up. He has to use these weird sneaky, manipulative-y methods: faint touches and one second glances and apparently, key stealing.

Because that’s what all girls want in a boyfriend: a thief, too.

“Thank you,” you say.

You quickly turn on your heel, hand strangling the puffball on your keychain and so ready to be out of the cafe for the rest of the evening.

But…

You stop.

…Do you really want to do this?

Turning around slightly, you hesitantly, so tentatively, acute of every breath you take, every beat of your heart—

“It’s cold outside,” you say quietly.

You pray that he understands what you mean. You pray that of all people, Kim Seokjin will know what you want and what you are asking for.

It’s cold outside.

The words make Seokjin’s skin tickle, heart prickling at an insane pace.

He’s never been more grateful for cold weather.

He can’t take his eyes off of you, dressed in your jeans and sweater and Converse. You’re so stunning to him in every single way possible, from the way that your eyes secretly light up whenever you see him, to the rough words you spit at him whenever he accuses you of things that you haven’t ever done.

It’s cold outside, he thinks to himself, already giddy with excitement.

Kim Seokjin clears his throat.

“Would you…”

You’re not the only one who’s shy.

“Maybe you’d want to stay?”

---

There’s a crack as Seokjin flips on his lighter.

You look up from your table. You’re sitting by one of the very many windows of the cafe, your textbooks and papers and laptop sprawled out in front of you. Seokjin has done the same, sans laptop. You’ve watched him scribble notes by hand for the past few months, and you have to say, your heart pains every time that you do so. The professor speaks fast and doesn’t let up no matter what—you can’t believe how much work Seokjin has to go through in order to just complete one class period of notes.

But he somehow seems to be completely fine. In fact, he seems to be silently praising himself for his romantic sense. Seokjin takes the candles from the counter that smell like toasted marshmallows and the scent of pumpkin spice and places them along the windowsill next to you. One click of the lighter, and the room is bathed in a warm golden glow.

For the most part, the two of you are quiet. A part of you thinks that the silence is a tad awkward, but at the same time, something about it just feels…

Comfortable.

You hear Seokjin clattering around behind the bar, and in a matter of minutes,  you hear him.

“Here.”

The cup of hot chocolate that he places in front of you is loaded with whipped cream and sprinkled with cocoa, just the way that you like it. And he even used that one particular saucer and cup set that you like the most—the one with the pink flower designs on it.  

If Kim Seokjin is handsome during the day, he’s absolutely stunning at night. He seems to emit this soft aura that makes your insides flutter, makes your mind fog up and grow dreamy.

He stands in front of you, apron laced over his usual work clothes. When he looks like this, young and fresh and nothing like the guy who writes up reports in his office, you can almost believe that he isn’t your boss.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, unable to keep a smile from creeping on your lips.

Kim Seokjin sees the way your face secretly lights up, eyes scanning over the drink that he’s made you. It’s been more than obvious, the way that you so blatantly try to hide your feelings. And to be honest…

Seokjin is tired of it.

He’s wasted days and wasted weeks and wasted months—he’s tired of waiting. He want to have you in his arms, he wants to be able to kiss you and caress you freely without any lingering, no hesitation.

He can see it. He can see your emotions playing across you face: surprise, appreciation, and then, rejection.

You glance up at Seokjin, the words already leaving your mouth.

“Seokjin, I can’t—”

“Just drink it.”

Your eyes jump up to his. You’ve never heard Seokjin so firm. No questions asked.

“I made it for you,” he explains, voice softening, like velvet. “It would be rude not to.”

Seokjin sits back down in his seats. He doesn’t try anything more, just pretends that nothing is wrong, that this is normal. Truth be told—he’s scared.

And you are, too.

You use this excuse of “he’s your boss” to reject your feelings, but you know that even if he wasn’t your superior, you would still be in this same position regardless, buoying back and forth. It’s terrifying, how much you like him. The way he smiles at his customers and his concentration when he’s at work. When he teases you and says “Good morning!” or even when he so much as looks at you—all of it.

All of it scares you.

You stare at the hot chocolate and wonder what in the world you are going to do.

There’s the sound of Seokjin’s pencil scratching along the paper, and then it stops.

“It was my mother’s, you know.”

“Your…”

You look up from the hot chocolate.

“…Mother’s?”

A sort of sad, pained smile appears. Seokjin’s eyes, which are usually so warm and melting, tighten with an emotion that you can’t seem to identify.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. He reaches over, fingers the pink petals painted upon the china.

“My late mother’s.”

You gulp, hearing his words. It dredges up things. Things you always think that you’re over with, but every time something related to the word “mom” comes up, it just all comes rushing back to you.

Your eyes flutter shut.

“Oh.”

Not quite sure what to say, you weakly offer, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, glances up at you then back down again. “Don’t be. Josie’s been pretty good to me. Besides, I’m past it. My mother’s in a better place now.”

So is mine.

Something clogs your throat, but you don’t know what. You had known that Aunt Josie was Seokjin’s stepmom, but had always thought that his original parents had divorced. Not… this.

Definitely not this.

And then it occurs to you—

Seokjin made this drink for you. He chose this set in particular… for you.

“I can’t drink this,” you whisper. Suddenly your energy to fight has left you, leaving you fragile and able to shatter in a matter of seconds. Your voice is weak and your head is light and the fact that the person you want the most is right in front of you makes everything all that much harder to resist. To not trust. To not hopelessly fall in love with, only to have everything break apart.

His gaze is unwavering.

“Why not?”

“This was your mother’s, Seokjin! And you barely even know me. I shouldn’t be—I don’t think that I—”

You go to push the drink away, to slide it far from you before you do something you might regret.

There’s a hand on yours suddenly, fingers huge and grip, tight.

Seokjin bites his lower lip. Looks at you dead straight in the eyes.   

“I want you to.”

How can he trust me this much? you think to yourself. This can’t be right. Something’s missing.

…There must be something you don’t know.  

“Why?”

Your eyes are beginning to gloss over, and you curse yourself for being so emotional.

“Why are you like this?” you ask.

Seokjin’s mom…

Your mom.

Seokjin wants to sob, seeing you like this. Because he knows full well why he’s like this, why he’s already so obsessed with you. He knows why you fill his mind constantly day after day, why he can’t help but gravitate towards you even if the two of you are in a room full of other people.

He knows, but you don’t.

You stare at the hot chocolate and all you want to do is cry.

Seokjin’s hold on your wrist softens, until he laces his fingers around yours, practically swallowing your hand up in his.

“Our mothers…”

He clears his throat quickly, before anything can build up.

“Our mothers were best friends, you know.”

Your eyes widen, hearing that from none other than Kim Seokjin. What in the world is he saying? What does he even know about your mom? He knows nothing of her, so he shouldn’t be the one pretending that he knows all about you and your family when—

“I went to her funeral, too.”

You stare at Kim Seokjin.

“W-what?”

Your lower lip trembles. You squeeze his hand, so tight that your knuckles go white and it’s like you can feel the blood pulsing throughout your veins, right underneath the skin and flesh.

“You…”

Shaky breaths and teary eyes and a sense of disbelief, a sense of I don’t want to believe, but one look at Kim Seokjin and you know that he’s telling the truth because he’s crying, too.

“You went to my mother’s funeral?”

Not even a whisper.

A hair over your breath.

Seokjin nods.

“When I was younger. You probably don’t remember, but we went always went to your family parties. Mostly um, holidays. Christmas, Thanksgiving. Halloweens too, if we were lucky. And I-I remembered you the most; I thought you were so cute and I had the biggest crush on you. When my own mom died, and my father got remarried and he—he told me that you would be here, too—” He takes a deep breath, rests his forehead against his hand and yours, intertwined together. “I thought of you the most.”

It suddenly overcomes you—the memory of a boy. You don’t remember who he is exactly, but he’s there, alright. You remember asking your father why some random child was at your mother’s funeral—you didn’t want to share you mom with anybody else, after all—and he couldn’t even respond. All he could was cry.

And then another recollection—

---

“What are you supposed to be?”

The boy gave you an pouty look despite the slight pink in his cheeks. Adjusting his fake moustache so he wouldn’t be eating the drooping corners, the boy harrumphed, “I’m Mario! Can’t you tell?”

You looked up and down the boy’s costume: black shoes, blue overalls, white gloves. He was older than you, but he sure didn’t act like it.

“Well,” you responded with more than a haughty tone to your voice, “I’m Princess Peach. And I don’t see you saving me, so how could I even tell in the first place?”

You glared in the direction of the kitchen, where the mommies and daddies were all eating and laughing amidst the various Halloween decorations hung up across the walls of your home. Mommy wouldn’t let you go trick or treating, and you were in a sour mood.

You glanced at the boy, who had the roundest eyes you had ever seen.

He stared back at you with zero shame.

With a quick intake of breath, you returned your gaze back to the kitchen, a pout upon your lips.

“Well,” the boy said slowly, “what do you need saving from? You look fine.”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and turned towards the Mario in front of you. The pink skirt of your dress swished back and forth with your movement.

“I want to go trick or treating,” you declared. “You will save me from this party. Do you understand?”

His eyes lit up at the words “trick or treating”. What kid didn’t love candy? And so this Mario, whom you had barely even known, oh-so proudly responded with a firm, “Understood.”

---

That boy was Kim Seokjin, alright.

It’s hard to process the fact that out of all people, Kim Seokjin is crying. Actual tears running down his face. You suddenly think of how tough he’s had it, to have a mother and then not have a mother and then all of sudden, he’s been uprooted from his hometown and shipped over to this new place just because his father wants to be with his new wife, and he suggest that Seokjin do the same, too.

You think of your own mother, too. The fleeting touches and her smile like sunshine and how even until the very end, her capacity of love for you was infinite, was endless.

Your own tears begin to fall, and you can’t help but press your forehead against Seokjin’s, your hands in between the both of you. You just sit there for a minute, or maybe thirty, wind howling outside but inside, it’s warm. It’s loving. It’s sad and it’s depressing but at the same time, maybe it’s not as bad as you make it out to be.

Because you have each other.

Slowly, you detach yourself. Seokjin misses your touch immediately, but then he freezes.

Just watches.

Watches you gingerly wrap your hands around the hot chocolate that he made especially for you.

Watches as you bring it up to your lips, your eyes catching a glimpse of Seokjin behind the top of the whipped cream atop your drink.

The hot chocolate is still warm, the whip on top hitting the most perfect spot. It is a comforting drink, after all.

And with a comforting person with you as well, what more could you ask for?

Seokjin’s heart pounds as he just watches you. He can’t tear his eyes away from you. That cup that belonged to his mother… he gave to you.

You don’t know it, but Kim Seokjin has given his heart to you, too.

You’ve got whipped cream right across your upper lip, and you reach to wipe it away when the warm touch of somebody else is already one step ahead of you.

Kim Seokjin leans over the table. His breath fans across your cheeks and he can smell the hot chocolate scent that wraps itself around you and he’s…

He’s absolutely intoxicated.

With one firm movement, he uses his thumb to wipe the whipped cream off of your lip. His touch is gentle, not too soft as to make you feel like a china doll, but just enough to let you know that he cares. He cares about you; he cares for you.

Your gaze drowns in his melting eyes and you suddenly realize just how close he is. Broad shoulders and loving looks and those full lips, enveloping you in the form of a beautiful boy named Kim Seokjin.

You don’t recoil, and you don’t flinch.

Not as he places a forefinger and thumb on your chin, tilting your head to look up at him.

Not as his eyes wander down to your lips, asking that silent question.

And you don’t feel a bit of fear as you lean upwards, softly, softly pressing your lips against his.

You taste like chocolate and Kim Seokjin tastes like love. He’s the epitome of your Prince Charming, and you are his princess. Lips moving against yours, sensual and romantic and everything in between, you swear that fireworks are bursting in your heart. You can’t help yourself, you press harder. You want more. More of him.

Only him.

When you finally break apart, Kim Seokjin is internally soaring. It’s everything he imagined it to be and more.

It was perfect.

Perfect perfect perfect perfect perfect.

Just like you.

---

“So…”

You hear a sly voice behind you, and lo and behold, Lily sidles up next to you. She grins widely, and immediately you know that she’s up to no good.

But then again, that’s how she usually is.

“How are things with Jin?”

Her question makes you stutter and your face go red. It’s only been a week since the Incident, as you’re calling it, and it seems that you cannot escape any questions no matter where you go. You have already been swarmed by a group of Jin’s closest friends, a rowdy bunch of six, earlier in the week. After that, Aunt Josie had taken you into her office, thankfully being anything but against your relationship, as long as you two remained professional in the workplace.

“It’s the least I can do for Seokjin,” she had said, patting your hand affectionately. “I’m sure your mothers would have wanted this to happen, regardless. It isn’t my place to interfere.”

And now, Lily.

Through the months, you’ve gotten to know Lily quite well, working alongside her in the cafe. You learned that she’s loud and boisterous and gets her hair dyed constantly. You learned about her boyfriend, a tall, gangly boy named Park Chanyeol. But one of those key points that you learned about Lily is that she cares about her stepbrother very, very, borderline too much.

She’s caught you in the backroom, putting on your apron. Giggling, she wags a finger at you as if she’s your senior, though you know that she’s anything but.

“Y'all haven’t been doing anything you shouldn’t be, have y'all?”

You sigh, but you’re powerless to stop the cheesy smile that spreads across your face.

“It’s fine, Lily.”

“‘Fine’?”

She leans in closer, and you purposely direct your eyes anywhere else but her teasing looks.

“Just ‘fine’?”

She looks.

Your turn.

“What about fantastic? Amazing? Terrific?”

Lily grins.

“Because that’s all Jin will tell me about every day. It’s actually starting to get a little annoying, you know.”

“Is that so?” you say as nonchalantly as you could despite the warmth flooding your cheeks. You tie your hair up into a low ponytail, keeping yourself busy or else you would end up embarrassing yourself in two seconds flat.

“Very much so,” Lily chirps. She’s about to lean in and say something else when the door bursts open.

“Speak of the devil!” Lily exclaims. She eyes you and Seokjin with a cheesy, greasy look. “Alright, I’m heading out, you two. Make sure to use protection okaybye!”

She’s gone in a flash.

Seokjin sighs, shaking his head, but a smile is on his face and not a frown. He walks over to you, running his hands down your arms.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you respond weakly. You’re still getting used to this whole relationship thing, and though you try to put up strong front, every time Seokjin enters the room, your heart plays hopscotch.

Seokjin joins your hands together, his heart skipping left and right alongside yours. The pink of his lips matches his cheeks. He’s so happy. He’s such a sap.

“So I was looking through the performance sheets this week,” Seokjin begins. There’s a glint in his eyes as he speaks, playful and never leaving yours.

“Yeah?”

“It seems like you’ve been doing quite poorly,” he says matter-of-factly, a lilt at the end of his sentence, as if he isn’t completely making this up. He puts up a faux stern look, and in an instant, you can see what he’s up to. And you have to say, you’re not exactly complaining.

“I’m gonna need you to stay after your shift ends to discuss this.”

And when he gives you that look, there’s no other way to explain it:

Kim Seokjin is drop-dead gorgeous, -dropping hot.

“I understand, Sir,” you respond, leaving his grasp and choosing to place your palms upon his chest. Seokjin breathes deeply, just barely holding in a low groan.

, he thinks to himself. Week One and we’re already like this.

You reach up on your tiptoes, enjoying just how tight you’ve got Kim Seokjin wrapped around your finger. Whispering in low tones, your words caress his earlobe oh-so faintly.

“I’ll definitely make sure to be there.”

---

Your shift could not have passed by any slower.

Ignoring Lily’s teasing about you checking the clock every ten seconds, the minute it’s time for you to close up, you race to the backroom and fling your apron off. Check your hair. Check your face.

Breathe deeply.

It’s when you’re locking the doors when you feel movement behind you. Lily went home for the day, and Aunt Josie is long gone.

Your hand is still on the key as Seokjin slides his arms around you, wrapping tightly against your stomach. He leans a bit forward to peck you on the cheek, and immediately your face turns red-hot. Kim Seokjin smells delightful, a mix of musk and also something that reminds you of gingerbread, but when he adds in hugs and kisses? It might as well be Christmas for you.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs, rocking the two of you side by side.

You stare out at the open street. It’s Sunday, which means closing earlier than usual. It’s actually still light out, for a change, the warm sun a contrast against the cooler weather.

“Things.”

There’s a pause from Seokjin.

“Do you want to take a walk?”

He must have noticed the way you were just gazing outside. Damn, he’s quick.

“Sure,” you smile. You pucker up your lips, even though a part of you is slightly embarrassed. But your heart aches with the need for attention, and Kim Seokjin knows this.

Which is why he more than fulfills your silent request.

---

Hands swinging back and forth between the two of you, you hum a small tune to yourself.

The fall weather is more than perfect for a walk outside: the bright sun beginning its descent downwards without a cloud in sight, the cool weather with a tinge of chill, like a reminder that winter is right around the corner. Trees line the street that you walk along, leaves turning the most gorgeous burnt auburn and falling wistfully to the ground. You breathe in the fresh air, unable to stop yourself from grinning widely and giggling, stomping on leaves with Seokjin together just to hear that satisfying crunch crunch crunch with every step that you take.

You skip around and you babble with Seokjin, a large change from the way you were earlier, pouty and waiting for the clock to finally hit five in the evening.

Seokjin’s dashing, as usual. He’s paired a light black turtleneck tucked into his jeans with a long peacoat on top and a scarf wrapped around his neck. His hair is swept to the side like the autumn wind ran its fingers through the strands. He smiles, happy to see you so content. It’s not like the past—if he had tried to take a walk with you a few months ago, you would probably have chewed his out and succeeded in only making him fall for you even deeper than he already had.

The street is lined with little shops here and there, and though you feel slightly guilty, Seokjin encourages you to head on in. Gotta get a headstart on that Christmas shopping, he reminds you cheekily.

“Are you getting anything for me?” he asks you, eyebrows raised, eyes expectant.

“Not with that attitude you aren’t,” you grumble. “Besides, I don’t have any money.”

“Then what about with this attitude?”

Kim Seokjin unabashedly pulls you towards him, sneaking a hand around your waist. There it is again! Charming, princely. That teasing look as he leans forward, making it the hardest thing in the world to not stare at either his eyes, or his lips.

“Am I getting anything now?” he whispers.

He leans in closer.

Closer.

Closer!

“Maybe,” you mutter, turning away before you accidently end up making out with him in public. There aren’t that many people out right now, but still.

He doesn’t take his hand off of you, just strides alongside you, closer now. That’s all he needs, just wants to be in the proximity of you and only you.

“Do you want to sit?” he asks, gesturing to a bench on the sidewalk.

You glance over at him suddenly. There’s a change in the way he speaks now, the way that he walks. It’s not the same playful Kim Seokjin that he was earlier—now, it’s a bit more serious, a bit less Do you want to? and more I need you to.  

It’s peculiar, but you comply, regardless.

Once both of you have settled down, Seokjin setting his backpack to the side, he begins.

“I need to tell you something.”

Ah, those dreadful words.

Still, you face him and smile.

“What’s up?”

Seokjin his lips nervously. He speaks softly, in slow tones, as if afraid that any minute you’ll unleash your inner wrath and start screaming at him. Actions just as slow as the way he speaks, Seokjin pulls his backpack onto his lap and s it.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m one of those guys that are going to manipulate you,” he says quietly. “And I understand if you’re mad at me, too.”

“What are you even talking about, Seokjin?”

You stare at him for a minute.

He stares back.

“Look,” he sighs. Gulps. “You… you don’t have to work at the cafe anymore, alright?”

It’s like your breathing and your brain both short circuit.

What?

“A-are you firing me?” In a matter of seconds, your voice is thick and you’re fighting so hard to keep your eyes from glossing over. You knew it. You knew it—he doesn’t want this anymore. This relationship means nothing to him, doesn’t it? You were wrong about him, this is what happens when you actually take a goddamn ing chance just for once—

“Why are you doing this?”

“No no no!” Seokjin rushes, ping his backpack quickly and from the looks of it, he’s pulling out something that resembles—

…A laptop?

“I mean that you don’t have to pay me back anymore!” Seokjin blurts out. “Look baby, I never even actually took your paycheck to pay for a new computer, it’s all right here, I kept it for you—”

He shoves a wad of cash into your lap and all you can do is stare.

“I just wanted an excuse to see you every day,” he breathes. Goddamnit, he started this conversation badly and he admits it. But he can’t have you cry. Gosh, he can’t have you cry—not over him, not over anything.

“It was selfish of me, I know! And I should have been honest with you when I went to go and buy a new laptop myself, but I couldn’t help but just…”

Seokjin runs a hand through his hair.

“I just wanted you to be mine.”

It takes a few minutes for you to process what he’s saying. You stare at the laptop in his backpack.

Stare at the cash in your hands.

Stare at Seokjin.

He gulps, cursing himself in his mind a million times over.

This is it. She’s going to break up with me for being such a dumb , isn’t she? Just ing fantastic, Seokjin. Good going, man.

“…So you forced me into a job to buy you a new computer?”

Seokjin nods.

“…And then went and bought a laptop yourself?”

Seokjin nods.

“…And you didn’t think to let me know that I was off the hook?”

Sighing, Seokjin nods again.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You bite your lower lip.

“It was stupid of me, I know. And I get it, if you want to leave now. Better get this out of the way now, rather than later.”

Seokjin can only watch as you seem to contemplate everything deeply in your mind. You finger the cash in your hands, a huge, thick wad of money. Seokjin didn’t even want to transfer it to your account—he wanted to have something to show you. Wanted to have a substantial something in order to prove to you that No, it wasn’t like he made you slave away and then took your money just for his desires only.

When you speak again, Seokjin can barely believe that you’ve said anything at all.

“I guess I have money to buy presents now, after all.”

Your voice is teeny tiny, but it gives Seokjin a mini firework-sized burst of hope.

You glance up at Seokjin.

“So, um…”

“What do you want?”

Relief floods through Kim Seokjin and unfreezes the blood throughout his veins, bringing life back into him. He moves his computer away to the side, not caring about the money, not caring about the laptop, not caring about anything except for you.

His heart beats at an insanely fast pace.

And still, regardless of everything, so does yours.

The autumn wind grazes against your cheeks as Kim Seokjin takes off of his scarf, warm and fluffy, and wraps it around your neck. He scoots in closer, hands still on the ends of the fabric.

Pulling you in.

His scarf smells like him, warm coffee and chocolate and everything nice and—

In one smooth motion, he’s got you right up next to him and all of sudden, his lips are on yours.

They move with a tenderness that you have never felt before. You can tell from the trembling of his lips and the slight intakes of breath, that for those few minutes when you were thinking, Kim Seokjin was scared.

Scared of losing you.

The thought of that even happening makes you press all the harder against his lips. They’re so plump and full, and even in this cooler weather Kim Seokjin is like your personal heater becausegosh, he’s so warm. He drops the scarf and chooses to cradle the back of your head instead, lips working their magic to keep you toasty inside and out.

You’re not going to lose me.

When he finally pulls away, fingertips trailing your cheekbones, he just rests his forehead against yours for a second.

And after a successful sneak attack of pecking your lips once again, Kim Seokjin smiles.

“Baby, all I want is you.”