Kyungha crumples the list in her palm, but immediately feeling the harsh stare of her older brother, she uncrumples the piece of paper.

On it, Kyungsoo’s written down a meticulous list of things—tasks—that he’s put her in charge of before the wedding ceremony commences. To say the least, Kyungha is annoyed. She’s not one to lose control of her emotions. She’s the most level-headed person in her family.

For one, her mother is overly affectionate to everyone. She tends to get too emotional and take it from Kyungha, it’s simply not fun to see one’s mother cry because she’s been taken advantage of again from one of her supposed friends.

Then, there’s Kyungsoo. He can be over the top, but he shows that side around Haeeun, one of his best friends back in high school, the most. He loses his temper easily. Jongin, his significant other, is the victim of this tragedy.

She stares at the list.

Find a high chair for Haeeun.

Make sure the seating chart is correct and accounts for everyone.

Check out the wedding registry booth.

Kyungha counts each task, exasperated because there are at least a hundred. For god’s sake, it was his wedding, did he have to choose today out of all days to go completely insane? On top of that, she barely made it to his rehearsals on time.

She just came back from a two weeks medical program for the highest achieving university students (in other words, basically young adults who have no social life and have dedicated their youth to studying every minute they take a breath) that ended just a day ago, coinciding with the first day of Kyungsoo’s wedding rehearsal.

Kyungha was exhausted. She had to deal with belittling. She remembered the first time when she got to the university campus they were hosting the program at. A group of upperclassmen stopped her, asking her where her mother was. Apparently, she didn’t look like a high school senior on a college tour.

Obviously she wasn’t a high school senior, Kyungha had just graduated university merely weeks ago as the university’s youngest student. They didn’t believe that she was attending orientation for the program. One of them scoffed in her face, demanding to see proof because it was clearly impossible for a child to get into the program whereas he couldn’t.

She simply told him to bug off and maybe she disrespected him just a tiny bit. She mocked him with the words, “at least I don’t wear my IQ.”

His face turned red, and he looked like he was about to drop kick her all the way across campus. At least his friends had some sense to stop him; though, they nastily scolded him for trying to hit a little kid.

That was one downside of being extremely smart. No one—nobody—ever took her seriously. She hated feeling belittled because she was regarded as any other hormonal teenage girl.

Firstly, Kyungha was not just any little girl. She received a certificate of recognition signed by the President of the United States himself at just the age of nine. By ten, she already outsmarted most of her high school teachers. She attended university at age twelve. Throughout her years there, she helped numerous professors with their research. She practically swept most—if not all—awards during the graduation ceremony.

And now here she is, age sixteen and currently her brother’s quaint helper. Why couldn’t he just hire one? Jongin had deep pockets because of his successful career in the film industry thus far. Kyungsoo could use that to his advantage, but he was more stubborn than a mule could ever be.

He clearly told her that his relationship with Jongin would not be about money, but the purity of their love.

She scoffs. Love is purely a chemical reaction in the brain that drives ual reproduction. Kyungha thinks the notion of it is ridiculous. Why would she knowingly delegate so much of her time to another person? She could be doing better things.

She could definitely be doing better things than running around as an errand girl. But. Because Kyungsoo was family, she wasn’t going to argue with him. It was a waste of breath.

When Kyungha reaches mid-list, goes dry.

Check with the chef regarding Sehun’s allergy to shellfish.

Well, that was one thing they had in common. She miserably dials the number listed below Kyungsoo’s messy sprawl.

Before she could answer the curt hello, something—more like someone—runs right between her legs. She falls over in the most unladylike way in the history of mankind. Kyungha wants to scream—completely lose her composure right at this moment.

Her dress, a simple baby yellow silk midi dress that wrapped around her loosely—one of a kind and priceless—was designed by one of Jongin’s colleagues, specifically for her. But she didn’t care about the price tag; there was a huge tear that ran up her long legs. The huge tear did nothing for her but show off her oh-so-amazing spandex that her mother forced her into.

Kyungha turns to glare at the perpetrator, but it’s Soleil. Her anger dissolves when she sees the wide, glassy eyes of the eight-year-old. “Are you okay, Sol?” She asks, attempting to savage her dress and spare the world of her underwear.

Sol pushes herself up from the ground. “I’m s-sorry, Kyungie! I swear I was trying to run away from daddy, and—and I didn’t see you in front of me. Oh my god, mommy is going to kill me.” Then, she pauses, tilting her head fearfully at Kyungha. “Are you gonna to kill me too?”

Kyungha leans forward, getting on her knees so she’s at eye-level with the little girl. Smiling softly, she pushes the wild hair strands from Soleil’s eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Also, it’s either gonna or going to—pick one. And to answer your question, no. I don’t prefer to get my hands dirty with toddler blood.”

Soleil pouts. “I am not a toddler! I’m eight, okay?”

“Look, anyone who’s the size of a pea is a toddler to me,” she says, matter-of-factly. “Anyway, we should go look for your mom. I bet she’s freaking herself out, thinking she lost you.”

Before Soleil could reply, a tall silhouette behind the little girl catches Kyungha’s peripheral vision. She lifts her gaze to the man—Oh Sehun, to be exact.

He’s as tall as she remembered him to be, maybe even taller. “Hoonie!” Soleil gushes, rushing off toward the older man and forgetting completely about Kyungha. Kyungha guesses with a face like that, Sehun’s familiar with the effect he has on women.

She stays on the floor as much as her body screams get off the dirty floor! It wasn’t like Kyungha had a choice. She was not going to stand and flash Oh Sehun.

He basks in the attention of the doting eight-year-old and entertains her burst of questions. Kyungha doesn’t really care for his attention anyway.

She hasn’t seen him since the last time Kyungsoo and his friends gathered, exactly 3 years, 4 months, and 29 days ago. How she knew that she blamed her overactive brain.

After getting Soleil to settle down in his arms, he turns his attention to the sixteen-year-old. “Kyungha? Is that you?”

She chews on the inside of her cheeks. “Why? Do I not look like myself?” Kyungha didn’t mean to sound so sassy, but she couldn’t imagine being nice to Oh Sehun.

He laughs, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “You’re as snappy as always. I almost couldn’t recognize you. Puberty has done a number on you.”

It bothers her that she can’t disprove his statement. Puberty is the only explanation for her sudden growth spurt over the last three years. She went from 4’11 to a whopping 5’7. Kyungha’s never been bothered by it because she went to school with university students for the last four years. No one questioned her. She doubted it would be the same case if she had stayed in middle school.

But. That’s the only thing puberty left her with. She was spared from lusting over boys, unlike girls her age. Not that she cared to anyway.

Sehun reaches his hand out as he carries Soleil in one arm. She figures he was simply doing a polite gesture even though it must be an inconvenience for him. Kyungha purses her lips. “I can’t get up.”

The man frowns, seemingly lost. “I’m afraid I’m going to need more clarification than that.”

She huffs, cheeks slightly warming. “I fell and ripped my dress. If I get up, I’d be charged with public indecency.”

Sehun’s eyes widen when he finally understands. He holds out a hand in front of her as if signaling for her to sit tight. “I’ll be right back after I deliver her off to her parents.” He nudges his head to the girl in his arm.

She giggles. “Are you gonna to be my airplane?”

The man says something along the line of hold on tight. Then, he disappears down the corridor with Soleil. Kyungha stares down at the line of ripped fabric. She sighs. Kyungsoo was going to kill her.

Sehun returns faster than she expects because she’s suddenly hoisted up in mid-air. He does a slight oomph and notes, “wow, you’re so big now.”

Kyungha flushes angrily. “Let me down. I didn’t ask for you to carry me, did I? I can’t do anything about how much I weigh.” Her angry demand trickles into bitter mumbling when shyness engulfs her. Damn it, why is he still carrying her?

He clucks his tongue. “That’s clearly not what I meant.” He tosses her in the air a little. She yelps as gravity greets her in mid-air. He catches her again. “Sweetheart, you’re as light as a feather. Believe me when I say I’ve lifted heavier.” He shivers slightly, possibly recalling those memories.

Her heart does weird flips, and she suddenly can’t stop replaying the word sweetheart in her brain. She focuses on the floor because Kyungha found it impossible to look at his face. She was mortified with what was happening. “Just—just let me down,” she snaps.

Sehun disregards her tone. “I can’t think of any other way to move you without your dress opening up.” Then, he begins walking, picking up his pace. The force knocks her back against his chest. She grimaces when her face comes in contact with his brick solid chest. “Oops, sorry about that.” He doesn’t sound very sorry, but more amused.

Kyungha wants to die. So far, only one person has managed to make her feel this embarrassed. He goes by the name Oh Sehun if it wasn’t already obvious enough.

They reach the front desk of the hotel, and by the look of the receptionist’s reaction, the sight of a grown man carrying a teenage girl was not the norm. “Hey,” Sehun begins with his usual charming smile

Kyungha looks away, suddenly distracted by the buttons on his suit.

Once he explains the situation, the receptionist begins to look more understanding instead of the glancing between them skeptically (possibly deciding whether she should call child services or the police). She directs him to a private room he can use after dropping a box of some sort with them.

Sehun lets her down gently on a large lounge sofa. He opens the box, and it looks like a sewing kit to her. He scavenges in the box and lets out a triumphant aha! pulling out a needle and a knob of yellow thread.

“Can I…?” He points to her dress.

Kyungha clears awkwardly, nodding stiffly. “As long as you don’t prick me,” she adds for good measure.

Sehun laughs again, deep and throaty like he truly enjoys their conversations. “I can assure you I am not completely useless at my day job.”

Kyungha grows silent as she watches the thread and needle fly in his nimble fingers. Her leg grows warm with the occasional brush of his pinky against her thigh. Somewhere deep inside her—something unrecognizable—tingles, and it’s scaring her.

In ten minutes, he’s managed to secure the ripped fabric with the thread. “I’m sorry to say this to you, but you’re going have to scrap this dress after tonight. I tried my best, but if I’m being honest, I’m a surgeon, not a seamstress.” He pauses to stare at her dress. “I stitched it surgically,” he explains, scratching the nape of his neck sheepishly.

Kyungha stares at the stitching. He’s right. It doesn’t look like traditional stitching, but she wasn’t sure enough to assume that it was surgical stitching without his clarification. She snorts, “nerd.”

Sehun packs up the box as he says, “that’s really rich coming from you, Miss I-Graduated-University-At-16.”

Kyungha loses her composure for a second, and a smile, a smile, escapes from her lips. “You’ve definitely gotten prettier too.” But his comment sounds like he didn’t mean to say it out loud as it sounds weirdly sensual. Butterflies erupt in her stomach as she stares at him, irked.

Sehun is back to himself in a split second and it’s like she hadn’t seen that side of him. “But I didn’t notice until you smiled,” he adds cockily.

She shoots him a look of disdain. “That wasn’t a smile. I choked on vomit because you were so ugly just now.”

He laughs again, and it shakes her. There was something wrong with her. Just for a brief second, she thought he was handsome. Kyungha mentally slaps herself. Sehun was someone she was supposed to be indifferent toward. The dislike was okay, but no feelings were even better.

Kyungha gets up abruptly. “I have to go. Thank you for fixing the dress.” Her words come out robotically, but she’s already bolted out the door before he could say anything in return.

Kyungha finds an empty seat in the front reserved for family and close friends. Haeeun and Baekhyun soon join them on her left side. Little Soleil and Taeyong are in each of their respective parent’s arms.

“Hey, Kyungha. I haven’t seen you in a while. How was the program at Duke?” Haeeun asks with a pleasant smile on her face. She’s sporting a baby pink dress that drapes down her entire length. Haeeun looks stunning, eyes bright and lips red. She looks happy.

Kyungha’s never been envious of anyone in her life, but sometimes, when she looks at Haeeun, she feels a tiny prick of jealousy. Maybe because Haeeun is so comfortable in her own skin. Maybe because she has someone—Baekhyun—who cherishes her above others. Or maybe because Kyungha knows deep down she’ll never be as socially inept as Haeeun.

Haeeun and Sehun are similar in that way. They thrive in large crowds. They’re the epitome of the term “social butterfly.” Kyungha would rather avoid all of that mess.

Her eyes wander to Baekhyun who has the heart eyes for his wife.

“It was mildly engaging,” she answers with a dismissive wave of her hand, her attention back onto the pretty woman.

Haeeun snorts at her answer. “You sound like a stuck-up professor who’s written ten best-selling books and is living on caviar and ting on golden toilets.”

Baekhyun laughs incredulously. “Why was that so weirdly specific?”

“ting! ting!” Taeyong babbles, drool falling down the side of his chin.

Kyungha grimaces, and Baekhyun sighs exasperatedly. “Babe, how many times have I told you to not swear around our kids?”

Haeeun bites her lips. “Oops? But you didn’t catch me until Tae shouted it…”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “That’s not the point, .”

“!” Taeyong yells again.

Kyungha watches the couple glance around the room, mortified with the attention they’re getting because their little three-year-old is shouting profanities.

Some things really never change. The atmosphere suddenly shifts when fancy piano riffs catch the attention of everyone. Sehun is sitting on the piano bench, running his fingers through the keys and currently ignoring the wandering eyes.

She frowns. Since when did he play piano too?

“His dad forced him to,” Haeeun answers. Kyungha flinches, realizing she thought aloud. “But then again, that’s what makes him the most desired man in my year.”

Baekhyun shoots her a dirty look, and the two engage in playful banter. Kyungha tunes it out. She’s used to hearing Jongin and Kyungsoo do it all the time. Sometimes, she hears what happens after, and it’s mostly unpleasant.

Sehun plays a romantic piece, and Kyungsoo is walking down the aisle with their mother. By the end of the piece, Kyungsoo has already reached the walkway littered with flowers. Their mother is obscenely crying as she hands off her son to Jongin who smiles gratefully at the two.

She watches the two exchange vows with the help of the priest. By the time they’re told to seal their vows with a kiss, she breaks her gaze and somehow—somehow, it falls on the one person she doesn’t expect.

Sehun has a happy grin on his face as he watches the scene in front of him. He doesn’t notice Kyungha’s eyes, but she can’t seem to look away from him. Every grain in her body is telling her that she’s crazy and probably injured her head with the fall from earlier.

She sees the way he drops his gaze at the last minute to glance at the ground. There’s a shadow that falls over his eyes, but it only occurs for a split second. Then, it’s like nothing was ever wrong because Sehun’s expression falls back to normal: his cheerful, happy-going smile.

Kyungha is finally able to look away, but she can’t get it out of her brain.

The afterparty is . Kyungha is festered by Kyungsoo’s distant male friends. They make her uncomfortable with their beady eyes and easy smiles.

One of them even goes as far as to put his arm around her. She winces when his alcoholic breath blasts her in the face. He drunkenly slurs, “will you dance with me, baby?”

Kyungha can’t get out of here fast enough. She shivers. His friends grow rowdy as they cheer him on. This is why she can’t take men seriously. This is why she doesn’t believe in romance.

“Boys,” a familiar warm, husky voice interrupts the obnoxious men. She whirls her neck around to see Sehun standing across from them with a semi-threatening smile.

“Who’re you?” The guy holding her interrogates. He has to scrunch his eyes to see Sehun. Between them, it’s like watching a fight between two atoms. In other words, impossible because technically, atoms don’t touch each other. But Sehun practically towers above the sleaze bag. It’s not exactly considered a competition.

Sehun smirks, “her oppa. Can I have her back now?”

The guy sends Kyungha a dirty look as if she’d just been infected with a disease, or maybe he’d just decided that she wasn’t worth it anymore. He pushes her off of him, and she stumbles forward, but strong arms wrap around her, steadying the fall.

She watches the guy and his group of friends leave in distaste. “You can let me go now,” she says after they melt away in the crowd.

Sehun drops his hands. “You good?”

Kyungha blows a raspberry. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just making sure, sweetheart.” There it is again.

“Don’t call me that, Hoon.”

When Kyungha was little, she couldn’t pronounce Sehun and dubbed him as Hoon. He’s never corrected her, so she stuck with it. Now, it’s become a tool for her to mock him with. There was no significance; she didn’t use any formalities with him nor did she plan to either.

Sehun gives her an adoring look as if she was the cutest little thing ever. “I’m going to get a drink. Are you coming?”

She wrinkles her face. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him for more than ten minutes, but she also didn’t want to be here in the middle of the dance floor, possibly susceptible to roaming hands.

Turning her face a little, she says pointedly, “lead the way.”

Sehun stops by the bartender for a glass of whiskey. He offers to order her something, but she shoots him a look. He knows she’s clearly underage. He leans closer to her so only she can hear him. His hot breath blows against the shell of her ear, sending chills down her spine. “It'll be fine. Today’s a special day. Kyungsoo doesn’t need to know.”

The moment she takes a sip, she knew there was a reason why she never drank. It felt illegal. She felt terrible. burned. Her ears popped. Her eyes watered. Kyungha dislikes it.

Sehun had to lead her to the balcony. It’s far quieter outside and the air is warm. The moon is full tonight, illuminating the green hills and intricate flower garden on the hotel’s estate.

Sehun’s laugh rattles, low and husky when he watches her reaction. “You’re adorable, Do Kyungha.”

She ignores him, throwing back another shot. Nope, that was a mistake. “How do you drink this? It’s terrible. You have terrible taste.”

He pretends her words hurt him, tapping his chest a few times. “Darn, and here I was looking for a drinking partner.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“No, you’re Kyungha.”

“Are you drunk already?”

Sehun takes a deep breath, eyes distracted. He pushes a hand through his hair. “I just needed to get away for a second. You know what?” He moves to sit on the bench and pats the seat next to her. She reluctantly takes a seat next to him. “My girlfriend dumped me today.”

She quirks an eyebrow. It wasn’t really a surprise. He’s supposedly handsome. Of course, he would have one. She stays silent, urging him to continue.

“I’m not even affected by it. God, I’m an .” He murmurs. “I listened to her cry, but I didn’t even feel an ounce of remorse. Her apology went straight out of my other ear. , I can’t even remember her reason for it.”

Kyungha traces the line of yellow thread on her dress distractedly. “Why did you date her?”

He looks like he’s trying to figure out how to word it. He’s trying to be considerate—twist the facts in his brain.

“Tell me as it is. Don’t try to change it. It’s not like you’ll be around after today for me to judge you.”

Sehun’s shoulders appear less tense. “I wanted to kill time. Work got stressful.”

“You really are an .”

He stares at her. In the moonlight, the light reflects off of his face. His jaw is sharp, neck bundled with muscles as he’s turned to look at her. She watches the way he his lips. Clearly unnecessary. His eyelashes are long and feminine. Sehun has a nice nose—annoyingly straight and unflawed, perhaps that’s the nicest thing about him.

Speaking scientifically, he had a proportionate face, and in layman’s term, he’s a big candidate for ual reproduction.

His lips curve, bothering her that one side is more quirked than the other. “You’re not wrong.”

Silence fills the space between them. They stare at each other some more.

“Is it weird that I want to kiss you?”

Kyungha throws him an unimpressed look. “You’re drunk.”

He shrugs casually. “Maybe.”

“I’m cold. I’m leaving first,” she blurts, standing from the bench.

“Hey, wait up!”

When they reach inside, there isn’t as much space, so Kyungha is pushed back against him. Her back presses against his rock hard chest again. Once wasn’t enough, apparently.

She ignores it. The unfamiliar heat. The tiny voices that tell her she wants his body flushed against her.

Kyungha tries to play if off. He’s obviously drunk or his hormones have skyrocketed due to being alone with her. He didn't mean any of it. The words. Just like she didn’t mean for her to graze his belt buckle.

She hears the breath seize in his throat. Goosebumps flare across the surface of her skin. “Kyungha!” Her attention flies to Kyungsoo’s voice.

He waves at her with a big grin on his face. Kyungha’s never been more grateful to her obnoxious brother.

She steps away from Sehun. As far as possible. She turns back once to see his expression. Sehun’s eyes are unreadable, and they burn in her brain, following her even as she’s turned around.

It’s clear. Sehun still has that effect on her, and it makes her uneasy