He’s mindlessly her arm when she wakes up. His eyes are set on the mini plasma screen that hangs off the bunk with his head balancing on the arm he has balled up underneath. Top Chef’s playing on the screen but the television's muted with captions on---probably so he doesn’t disturb the remainder of the members on the bus.

When she shifts in his arms he smiles down at her, his full lips turned upward as his brown eyes lit with it, making the smile that tugs at her lips almost automatic.

“Hey.” He wiggles himself downward until his head is now on the set of pillows they share in the confined space.

“Hi.”

Yoomi tries to think of how to approach the topic that’s loomed over them for the past week.

They know they’re in an awkward space. They touch because it’s second nature, but something’s been building between them since his announcement, something that fizzled out the joy and energy they once had. She’s sure that everyone knows. Since the day he declared his love for one of the new dancers, citing love at first sight, the looks she receives from people has changed. She notices how cautious the band is with her, the way the management team smiles at her when she walks by—almost sympathetically, the way the crew would ask how she’s doing, as if everyone was trying to avoid her breaking down. But Yoomi’s strong, or at least she can put up a good poker face. When reality hit her, when everything crashed down on her as she entered her hotel room that night, she promised herself she wouldn’t break down.

But now it’s time to face the music, to actual talk about this girl that’s stolen his heart without trying. She reaches her hand up to cup his chin, her thumb brushing against his cheeks just to feel him. She feels the movement in his mouth as he confirms her thoughts.

“We should talk.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, her hand trailing from his cheek to the back of his neck, toying with the loose strands that decorate the nape of his neck. “You should introduce us, I feel like I’m the only person that didn’t meet her.” It’s no surprise that the rest of the band at least knows of her, they work with the dancers every day. But her job is so chaotic that she spends half her time with him and the other half traveling from one location to the next. The job is a little different from what she expected, when she signed up as his personal assistant she expected it to be more about coffee runs and wake-up calls than having meetings with potential clients---basically managing his life.

“Hmm, when we stop.” He lowers himself in the bunk once more, shifting downwards until he’s laying his head on her stomach. She turns slightly so she’s able to see the TV, darting her fingers through his hair as silence settles in the space. It’s weird really, how little was said between them, but how vast the implications are.

Moments later, when she feels her shirt sliding over her stomach she looks down from the TV, catching him just as the hem of her shirt crosses her bellybutton. Yoomi tilts her neck to the side in question, but she doesn’t raise her hand to stop him, she watches instead. His hand is warm against her stomach, she shivers at the initial contact, but when he looks up at her in question, she nods her head. He takes it as a form of approval and continues, his fingers dancing against her skin as hers card through his hair. Her eyes are set on the screen as she tries to push back thoughts of what is to come.

The worst thing is knowing that it could all be over for them. It different when she knows that the relationship won’t last, that despite the media coverage that it receives or how long she hangs around, it will all be over within a month at most. Seung-hyun’s no player, but she knows him, she knows how hard it is for him to open up to people, how hard it is for him to invest time in a relationship. But she also knows he would never declare a relationship unless it was definite, so she allows herself to enjoy their last few moments together.

“How long ‘till we get to the first stop?” He looks up from her stomach, above the swell of her s to catch her eyes.

“Last time I heard, another day?” He returns to his resting spot, now molding her hips just to have a feel for her.

--

“What would you say if I asked you to get me a drink?” She smiles down at him, watching his expression to catch just how serious the question is. It’s always been difficult for her to get a good reading on him, even with their lengthy friendship she still finds him to be a bit of an enigma. She’s learned though; she knows to search for little clues to gauge out his intentions, and when she sees that his lips are pulled upward just a bit more than usual, she knows it’s just a joke.

“Officially or unofficially?” When he doesn’t reply and all she gets out of him is a smirk, she playfully pushes at his head, watching as it hovers against her stomach for a second before landing on her skin once more.

“Tsk, tsk,” he chides as he settles into a comfortable position against her. “That’s not how to treat your boss, I should fire you, ya’ know.” She sticks her tongue out and rolls her eyes at his comment, but smiles soon enough, returning her fingers to his hair.

“You would never.” She doesn’t hear his confirmation, but she feels his lips against her skin when he confirms what she knows to be true.

“Hey, you talked to your parents lately?” Her movements stall at his question, but she quickly recovers. She knows where the conversation is headed, it’s somewhere she’d rather not go—she never wants to go.

Author's note:

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