“-such a large bouquet-”

“-wearing a suit-”

“-a proposal perhaps-”

“-been here for over an hour-”

The hushed voices aren’t as discreet as their owners probably think, despite the bustle of the tables and the live piano ambience, and in any case even if they were quieter, Jongwoon had always had sharp enough ears. He pretends to ignore the pointed stares and the low murmurs of curiosity from the tables around him and the occasional waiting staff, tries not to look too forlorn as he stares unseeingly at his phone and the grey “I’ll be there at 8” bubble, the last one above the multitude of blue ones sent over the course of an hour and fifteen minutes.

He could leave. It’s well past the agreed upon time, he doesn’t need to stay, but the tiny voice that consistently repeated itself with a just five more minutes won’t hurt several times over and the pride in refusing to accept that it was futile and that this would amount to nothing glued him to the cloth covered chair, was what led to the untouched glasses of champagne and pre-ordered appetizers for company that will probably never arrive.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to wait, will the staff kick him out for being idle? Perhaps, but he’s also seen the pity-stricken expression they wear whenever they approach him with offers of a drink menu (he had refused, alcohol had never appealed to him and the champagne had been arranged before he could’ve known that it would end up only for him) or inquiries about food. They haven’t tried approaching him in the past half-hour however, and Jongwoon was beginning to miss the interruption of his troubled thoughts.

The table he’s seated at has the vantage point of being able to see straight to the entrance. Jongwoon has long stopped constantly staring at it, reverting to using his phone for the sake of looking less pitiful (and his own nerves too) but his gaze wanders back every few minutes, every time the low creak of the hinges reaches his ears. He sighs when he hears another whisper off to his left, close to the entrance, perhaps by patrons exiting the fine dining restaurant that had been a pain to reserve a table at on a saturday night. He doesn’t bother looking up to see who it is, doesn’t raise his gaze when voices drift away, but when a shadow looms over his table he is finally forced to tear his eyes away from the static text messages, and meets a pair of unfamiliar - but extremely gorgeous - eyes staring right back at him.

“Hey babe!” comes the voice of the figure standing in front of him, loud enough to be audible across the room even, and Jongwoon’s too confused to even question why this very good-looking stranger is referring to him with a form of endearment, when said man swoops down, his face pressed close to Jongwoon’s own.

“Just play along,” is the whisper that Jongwoon hears by his ear, before the man straightens back up, winking. To anyone but Jongwoon, it must’ve appeared that the man had kissed his cheek, and the pointed stares are trained back on to Jongwoon but he has bigger fish to fry, namely in the form of the stranger pulling out the chair in front of him, a “Sorry I’m so late!” once again exclaimed loud enough to be heard by several people around them.

But the man has told him to play along and Jongwoon would be lying if he said that that was the only thing that threw him off guard, and not the breathtaking charm of his new dinner partner, the refined features, the fluffy hair and the stylish wardrobe taking longer than Jongwoon would’ve liked to really process.

“Kim Heechul,” whispers the man sitting across from him, his voice soft and silky smooth. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you for dinner.”

Jongwoon hears himself say “not at all” before he has even been able to process the whole situation, but in any case he knows that it doesn’t matter, he might as well see what this leads to instead of going by his predicted agenda of moping around the streets of Seoul with a sad ice cream cone. “Kim Jongwoon.”

“Nice to meet you, Kim Jongwoon-ssi,” Heechul whispers again, grinning, and the smile only lights up his already beautiful features in an even more brilliant way and Jongwoon wonders briefly which guardian angel must have dropped down from Heaven to save him from a night of misery and solitude. 

“I already ordered some appetizers,” Jongwoon gestures to the food in front of him, grateful to have something to say that won’t lead to him tripping over his words. “Unless you’ll want something else?”

“In time,” Heechul replies, taking up a pair of chopsticks. “But first, what kinda movies do you like?”

*

Heechul, as it turns out, is eve