Summary:

Logan and Su Ryeon take a clandestine ride along the streets of Seoul. Amidst the frenzy of their schedules and the looming pressure of the award ceremony, they steal moments together in Su Ryeon's car.

The city is sprawled before Logan, a maze of concrete and steel aglow with the neon lights of street signs and billboards. His assistant has stayed behind to lock the final details of the fit, while Logan waits on the sidewalk for the company ride. Scanning for the boxy black SUV, he jumps up when tires screech and a forest green Lexus stops right in front of him. 

He pulls the hat down to cover his eyes and gets ready to escape what’s likely giggling fans with phone cameras. Before his escape plan is put to action, the window rolls down, revealing the smile he so dearly missed. 

“Get in.” Su Ryeon lowers her glasses, eyes sparkling naughtily. 

She doesn’t need to say it twice. Before the click of his seatbelt, she is pulling him in for a kiss. Tasting of mint and mischief, he nibs her lower lip playfully. But in the chaos of the awards week, they’ve barely exchanged more than hellos since their night in her studio, a week without her making the slay of her lips ravenous, his tongue tracing the seams, feeling the heat, until a moan escapes her-

A horn blasts and they break away from each other. 

They exchange a look which should have been ridden with guilt, not delight, and they burst out laughing. She hits the gas, propelling them into the night. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of a private ride?”
 

She tears her eyes from the road, neon city lights casting dancing shadows across her face, and gives him a side glance. 

“I wanted to see my boyfriend, even if it's just for the ten-minute ride to the office."

“What?”

“We have ten minutes to the studio, a little more if there’s traffic. Why not spend this time with you, so I told the driver I would pick you-”

“Boyfriend?” He keeps his expression purposefully blank, only a corner of mouth daring to curve upwards. 

They’ve never had this discussion, with her everything has been out of place and he doesn’t regret one bit. Not that he can resist a chance to . 

“Isn’t that what you are?” she asks incredulously. 

The word is accurate yet too small to encompass his feelings for her. 

“For now,” he replies mysteriously.

"Don't sass your driver, mister, they might kick you out of a moving car."

“I don’t remember asking you.”

They have been tangled in a web of intimacy, dense and inescapable. They've never been preoccupied with labels, but that doesn't mean he doesn't intend to broach the subject, when the time is right. But it’s not the label of boyfriend he’s aiming for. 

“You should, then, or you’ll miss your chance.”

“Now that we’re talking about it-”

“You brought it up.”

“-I have to say, I don’t mind being asked either.” He drops his voice lower, conspiratorially, “But do it secretly cause my agency CEO will kill me if she finds out.” He leans in closer to her ear, and without warning he nibbles on the lobe.

A hearty laugh comes off her, filling the space between them. “She could be persuaded.” She pushes his shoulder away, a satisfied smirk dancing on his lips as he realizes his mouth might be a hazard to her driving.

“How was your day?”

He smiles, the peaks of domesticity tugging at his heart. He’s been in countless What I Do In A Day interview segments, but never had someone ask him about the mundane things. “Fitting for the awards ceremony, photoshoot, instagram reels. I sent a video to the store owner’s daughter. She looked delighted. And I worked on a new song about… you’ll see. Though I don’t know how it ends.”

The starry blanket covers the sky above them. They can’t see the stars from Seoul, but they know they’re there, twinkling their cosmic melody. 

Su Ryeon keeps one hand on the wheel as they talk more. The city lights blend together in a beaded string. On a red light, they see a huge billboard of his face, advertising a night cream. He glances up and winces, not recognising his airbrushed profile, as if someone painted his face from memory, without etching its imperfections. 

He remembers that campaign. He fidgeted in a studio for hours, repeating lines about collagen and cell-renewal while applying the creamy product on his face, a young PD rushing to wipe it out after every take. He didn't get a break to eat until the director got the result she wanted. Post-production still smothered his face with filters, contradicting the very purpose of the cream.

Whoever thought beauty is effortless should spend a day in his shoes. 

"You're everywhere," she teases, craning her neck to look at his ad.

He has been around the world, in a way. They have done two world tours, and interviews in foreign media. Yet, it's not just their physical presence that spans continents. Malaysian teens have his picture on their lock screen. Podcasters from Brazil have been saying his name. A part of him is in all the people his music reaches. 

And yet none of those people reach him. 

"Nothing beats being here." He angles his torso towards her, cursing the damn seatbelt pulling him back. He loosens it, the proverbial leash keeping him in place. After her hand changes gears, he snatches it. 

"What's happening?" She asks, still watching the road. 

How can he tell her about his irrational fears that something bad is going to happen? She's been sweet and comforting, doing her best to put his mind at ease. Yet he still feels they're on borrowed time. The awards loom a week away, and despite practicing all day, despite higher ups’ assurances that winning isn’t what matters, he braces for the worst.

Just when he's at his most content, that's when misery seems to strike, and right now, he's never been happier.

"Nothing. I just love being with you like this.” His thumb circles her wrist softly and the corners of draw a shy smile. 

"We're not doing anything."

He nods and she gets it. The club the team went to was amazing, singing and dancing, but they don't need entertainment to have a good time. Just being with Su Ryeon, driving through the vastness of the city road, side by side. 

He drags his thumb across hers. The action is small but grounding. He loves the feel of her warm palm in his.

It prompts him to consider the future. Despite his reservations, he allows himself to entertain visions of them in moments like this—children squabbling in the backseat over fishing trips before camping, a tent secured to the car with his hand intertwined with hers.

Turning to her, he forcefully pulls his thoughts away from a future that may never come. 

"I didn't know you're enjoying driving so much.” He remarks. She's in her element, commanding the car like another limb. 

"I wish it wasn't expected for executives to have drivers. I like Mr Bong, but I love driving myself.”

"Long distances?"

"Anywhere. Sitting behind the wheel, it's liberating. I'm completely present in the moment, with no distractions. When I am in the passenger seat, I'm checking my emails and working.  I find myself checking your rankings and brainstorming the next ad campaign. But when my hands steer the wheel, there's no space for thoughts. It's like painting landscapes, only now I'm moving through them. Akin to what hiking does for you.”

The same hands that craft intricate sketches now guide them along the winding road ahead.

"Are you driving your kids around?" He seizes the opportunity to delve into the aspect of her life he's not a part of.

"No. We have someone to take them to the academy and back.” Her eyes sadden and without thinking, he squeezes her hand in encouragement. “I don't know if they'd like me that way.”

Like a person besides a mother, she means. 

"I like you when you're passionate." He squeezes her knee and she presses the gas further, engine humming. 

Her eyes glint. "I was a little above their age when I drove for the first time," she confesses. 

"How scandalous, Ms Shim." 

"I was in the US for the summer. My friend was a senior, she had her mom’s red convertible and used it to pick up boys."

"Did you?" he teases, more invested in the story than he has any right to be. 

"I didn't really care about that. I was in summer business school in Boston, but it was the first time I tasted true freedom. I learned to drive and took my friends on road trips. We hit the road with no particular destination in mind, just the open highway stretching before us."

"I've never gone on a road trip. Or have college friends. Or drove without direction." He ponders. "But now your life is the exact opposite. Work, parenting, schedule. Do you miss the unexpected?"

“I don’t miss aimless youth. But there’s a freedom that comes from people not depending on you. I don’t have that anymore.” 

“Do you miss surprises?”

"I have you for that."

He chuckles. They are on the bridge, road lights surrounding them, with the dark outline of the river painting the horizon ahead.

“Was I a surprise?” he teases. 

"You weren't part of my plan. You're everything I was trying to avoid."

"You were trying to avoid me?"

"Not just you. Handsome musicians. Clients. Charming pretty boys." Before he inquires which category he falls under, she answers. “You’re all of the above. The triad of trouble.”

“Triad of Trouble” he scratches his chin. “This should be our slogan.”

“I’ll let marketing know.”

“I wasn't factoring for you either. I had my career mapped out. Three more years as an idol, five years of going solo, then transitioning into acting. I'd make a handful of melos where people would criticize my acting, then an action thriller to shut them up. After proving my fanbase can follow me, some day they’d offer me the ultimate dream: vlog shows, just me camping with a camera.”

“Is that what you want to do?” She asks genuinely. 

“Now, not so much.”

“Why?” A tiny word, a plea for a question he can’t answer. How can he tell her that the plans he’d made to extend his fame don’t excite him anymore. He used to crave the spotlight, yearning to bask in its glow in all its forms. Now it feels more like an interrogation lamp glaring in his face.

He craves a simpler life. Quieter, where he can hear the music in his head and look at his face only in the mirror. 

Fame is a highway and he can’t find the exit. 

“How long before they start calling?”

She glances at her phone, where the calendar app is open over a picture of her twins. “Twenty minutes, tops.”

“Pull over.”

She wants to question him, but finds a quiet side area. As the car slams to a stop, Logan releases her seatbelt and pulls her onto his lap. It's an awkward adjustment at first, their bodies navigating the confined space until they find a more comfortable position. Su Ryeon gasps in surprise, but soon relaxes into his embrace, allowing him to guide her into straddling his waist.

His hands lock on the small of her back, anchoring her in place, the weight of her oddly comforting. The cramped space doesn't allow for movement, but he doesn’t attempt to swift anyway, only drawing her closer until their foreheads touch.

This is what the song sounds like in his head, a soft piano melody, bare. 

She pulls back, her gaze meeting his. Though words fail him, perhaps his expression conveys everything, because her fingers trace along his jawline before pulling him into a kiss. It's a languid, sensual, devoid of urgency, filled with the simple pleasure of their lips gliding along each other.

There’s silence after that, as they remain entwined with each other, breathing in sync. The world outside their cocoon of love bursts with noise and they’ll soon have to rejoin the rat race, but for now there’s only the two of them together. Another stolen moment in the night. 

-----

Author's Notes: 

-Next chapter is a big one. I mean, unmissable.

-I will release the idol x CEO story as a separate one, so that it will be in one place. How does this sound?

-Next update is the museum AU

-I am so grateful for the readers who have stuck with me, for the love and the comments. love ya"