Title: Black and Gold (1/?)
Pairing/s: Luda/Dawon, OT13 and a lot of side pairings
Summary: (cra!au) Nam Dawon is the youngest daughter of one of the largest conglomerates in the country and Lee Luda is... well, nobody knows who Lee Luda is.

Or alternatively, fragments of the lives of the mega rich.

Varied perspectives. A compilation of interlinked drabbles. A lot of things here are exaggerated. Inspired by WJSN’s expensive looks and Kevin Kwan’s Crazy Rich Asians trilogy.

A/N: hello yes i know i haven’t updated in so long. i’ve been very busy and… will continue to be until the end of june 2019.

for this cra!verse: this is a little side project i've been thinking about since last year because who doesn't love drama? i’m not sure how long (or how short) this is gonna be but i got this plotted (and re-plotted) a long time ago with the rest of my fics so dw. it’s just a matter of churning out all these writing juices. with that said, the next chapters of come as you are will be the next parts of black and gold (give sam sparro's black and gold a listen too).

Her heart is the empty room in Apgujeong with walls toasted from the summer heat.

Before, she had lingered in the gentle touches and tender kisses, Dawon’s breath against her neck, the scents that stuck on their clothes; sometimes lavender or chamomile or some other flowery scent Luda doesn’t have a name for.

Now, the sun catches onto them, onto Dawon, her eyes a translucent brown, her face suffused by the light. Once radiant like the golden hour, like the warmth of light captured by the in-betweens. Luda leans against the wall, head tipped back. Her tears have dried up. She watches Dawon make her way around the shards of glass, fragments reflecting the sunset over her broken expression.

The words bounce off the walls across the empty room and hollow out Luda’s chest one last time.

“I never wanted anything but you.”

–

SJY

The first Saturday of 2019 begins with Son Juyeon sputtering a mouthful of water all over the Palissandro marble coffee table. She clambers to the Bösendorfer grand piano in the living room. “Can you say that again?” she asks, wiping the sides of .

Dawon’s fingers glide over the piano keys. When the last note flows into the afternoon, she’s smiling from ear-to-ear. “I have a girlfriend.”

Yeonjung stares out as if the words do not make sense.

Color drains from Dayoung’s face. “Oh my god, unnie. Since when?”

“Just a couple of days ago.”

“No way. Could it be… Is it…” Juyeon blanches. “Please don’t tell me it’s Lee Luda.”

“It’s Lee Luda. Why are you acting like it’s a surprise? I already told you about her,” Dawon replies.

“You just met each other last month. We didn’t think it was that serious,” Juyeon says, her eyes darting from Dayoung to Yeonjung and back.

This couldn’t be real. No. Not a chance. There’s no logical explanation that makes any sense. Because the way Dawon put it, Lee Luda works an eight-hour nine-to-six job as a mobile developer in Lexon and has a house that has twelve years for mortgage—working-class with a meager number of zeroes in her bank account.

Somebody like Lee Luda, like that, couldn’t possibly be with somebody like Nam Dawon. That would be like trying to mix oil with water.

When Dawon told Juyeon about Luda, she wasn’t taken aback at first. Even the greatest people make the stupidest mistakes, like one of their friends, the superstar actress Kim Jiyeon, who dated too many inconspicuous gold-diggers until she finally (and unexpectedly) found her match in someone who has no real concept of money. But that was a month ago, and Juyeon didn't expect Dawon was dead serious about Lee Luda.

Too serious.

“I know you’re not the type to make rash decisions but let’s face the facts,” Juyeon holds the side of Dawon’s arms and looks at her straight in the eye. “Lee Luda is a nobody. Most of her Instagram pictures are captionless shots of her dog and three selfies. You even said her mother owns a thrift store in Myeongdeong.”

Dawon laughs it off, saying, “I’m not dating her for her money.”

At the absence of a punchline, Dayoung dramatically falls back on a lounge chair. “Unnie, you’re not just some daughter of a business mogul,” she stresses, with a chastising voice you’d use to a three-year old who never listens. “You are Nam Dawon. Nam. Da. Won. Won. Yeonjung, remind me what KRW means.”

“Uh, KRW? The Korean Won?” Yeonjung answers, biting her nails.

“Exactly!” Dayoung slams a palm on the marble coffee table. “In this dog-eat-dog society, you either have money or you don’t. Dawon unnie, you and Lee Luda would be like Romeo and Juliet. Augustus and Hazel. Katniss and Peeta.”

“Okay, this is just ridiculous. You’re acting like it’s the end of the world,” Dawon sighs.

“We’re not saying you shouldn’t be with Lee Luda. We have absolutely nothing against you and happiness,” Juyeon adds, “but you don’t have to rub it in everyone’s faces. You’ve always been careful of your reputation. Why be careless now? Unnie, you could’ve at least let us meet her first.”

“And what? Convince me otherwise?” Dawon sits straight, arms languidly dancing over the piano keys again. “I already made my decision. I’ll let you meet her soon.”

Juyeon prods her for something else, but Dawon lets the music answer her. In theory, the repercussions of giving Dawon’s hand to a nobody like Lee Luda might be nothing but an ant-bite to the rest of their friends, but the damage among the likes of her, whose businesses thrive on the sole fact that she runs the same circles as Nam Dawon, one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the peninsula—to simply allow her and Lee Luda to happen would be committing financial suicide.

God help us, Juyeon could only think as she runs the numbers in her head. N&D Holdings, JP&T Financial, the DK Group, and Schwan’s—if one of them takes the smallest step back… God help us all.

-

LYR

Lee Yeoreum walks out of a conference room in a crisp navy blue suit flanked by a tall woman and a couple of suited bodyguards holding several paper bags.

“Prepare a performance summary and send it to Mr. Choi as soon as possible,” she tells Ms. Kang, her secretary, on their way to the elevator. It’s only when the doors slide close does she allow herself to relax. She takes her suit off and gives it to her secretary. “Lunch now, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am. You’re just in time. Ms. Im Dayoung is waiting for you in the lobby,” Ms. Kang readies the paper bags. “Your next schedule is a private function in Beijing three days from now. Ms. Wu Xuan Yi is confirmed to attend.”

“M’kay. Anything else?” Yeoreum s a couple from her white button down dress shirt, folds her sleeves an inch down her elbow, and ties her hair in a high-ponytail in a practiced sweep.

“We have confirmation that you landed a spot in 30 Under 30 Asia in retail.”

A smile lights up Yeoreum’s face. She never aimed for public recognition but this could mean her hardwork was paying off. “Have you told my grandfather yet?”

“No. I was under the impression that you would want to tell him yourself.” Ms. Kang holds out an open case of Cutler and Gross aviator sunglasses on one hand and a pair of Guiseppe Zanotti flat sandals on the other.

“Great. I'll call him later,” Yeoreum beams. Her grandpa is going to be so happy when he hears it. She takes her heels off and slips on her sandals and sunglasses as the elevator opens up at the lobby. Catching a glimpse of a familiar silver car outside, she waves her secretary and body guards away.

Sitting behind the steering wheel of a vintage 1957 Inca-silver Chevrolet Corvette convertible is her favorite person in the world wearing a beige floral print dress and gigantic Gucci sunglasses.

“I thought you’re okay with the red?” Yeoreum asks as she climbs in, mildly surprised at the cream-colored