“A salad? For lunch?”

She only gives him a glare. “It's still food. Besides, it's very healthy.”

They are in a small restaurant a few blocks away from the company building, she picking on the cucumbers in her salad and putting them on his plate (“but, Sica, I don't eat cucumbers either!” “just put them on the side then!”) and he feasting on an abundance of fried chicken parts before him, a bib hanging from the front of his shirt.

“Honestly, how can you not get tired of chicken? When we go out, you always order chicken,” she points out.

“No one knows how to cook chicken in the dorm,” he answers between bites.

“All the more reason you should follow my advice then,” she jokes. “Find a girlfriend, Jinki. She'll cook for you.”

His eyes light up as he chuckles. “Yeah? You should start learning how to cook chicken then.”

She throws a pickle that lands on his nose. “Ha, you wish.”

***

Practice has ended and he's exhausted. He's practiced extra hard because she was watching, and it's only very rare that she gets the time to come and see him, as she's very busy herself.

“Here, have some water.”

She presents the half-filled bottle to him, watching as sweat drips from his brown locks and his shirt clings to his damp skin. He immediately takes the drink and finishes it in one tilt, and she goes with him to a table in a corner of the room where there's a dry, cotton shirt waiting for him. He pulls up his shirt from between his shoulder blades and she turns around, away from him (and he briefly wonders, if every time she sees him do that, she feels something, like an odd, warm tingling at the pit of her stomach, perhaps, because he knows that he does).

Taemin and Minho are watching them from the opposite side of the room, not even bothering to try and hide how they're analyzing her every move. They watch as Jessica noona helps Jinki hyung into a cream-colored shirt, and then as she slides a towel on his back under his shirt, and reaches up with another one to dry his hair.

She eventually gets enough of their stares. “Why are they looking at me like that?” she inquires.

“At us,” Jinki corrects her. “Those two, always wondering if we're together or not.”

She jerks an eyebrow. “What did you tell them?”

“I always tell them, well... not yet.” he grins at her cheekily. She just rolls her eyes at him.

***

Their friendship has come a long way, ever since the day they first harmonized on that song they've recorded and sang together on countless occasions. He's come to learn even the littlest things about her, and she him. He knew she'd mumble to herself it's okay, Jessica, just let it go when she's starting to get angry. She knew he'd pick on the skin of his fingers when he's stressed.

They see each other as much as their schedules permit them to. And on the days they do not meet, they call each other, or send each other messages that are often trivial.

The moon is bright tonight.

And you are telling me this because...?

You can see the moon from your window, right?

Yes.

We're seeing the same thing right now. The same moon. Isn't that cool?

You're weird, Lee Jinki.

You still love me though.

***

He brings her to an orphanage where he regularly volunteers one day. Five- to seven-year-old children gather around her, and he looks on proudly as she sings and dances for them, smiling brightly and teaching simple dance steps to the kids enthusiastically.

“Sica unni?” asks a little girl at the front, after they sing and do the choreography of Gee in almost perfect synchronization. “You're from So Nyu Shi Dae, aren't you?”

She nods. These kids have been observant while watching television. “Yes, I am.”

A collective sound of awe filled the room.

Then a curly-haired girl with curious eyes raised her hand. “Are you married, unni?”

“Er, no, not yet...”

“You should marry Jinki oppa! He's not married either!”

She glances at Jinki and tries to hide the blush creeping in her cheeks. “Maybe.”

***

She must be really drained from their trip to the orphanage, because after exchanging a few words inside the cab on their journey back to the company building, he can feel her head bumping into his shoulder, before finally resting permanently there. He lifts the arm where her head rests on and puts it around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

He whispers her name to confirm if she's really asleep, and she just snuggles into him, one hand gripping the front of his shirt unconsciously.

He plants a soft kiss on the top of her head.

It's one of those rare moments when he could hold her. He silently thanks the heavens for the opportunity.

***

“Come on!”

The rain starts suddenly, fat, fluffy clouds looming over the park and blocking the orange streak of sunset coloring the sky. He grabs her hand and they run under the downpour, until they stand outside a bakery nearby, with the words “CLOSED” hanging from a hook in the door.

“I'm soaked,” she complains loudly, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement almost drowning her voice. “I'll probably get a scolding from Taeyeon once I get back.”

“But it was fun, right?” he laughs. “Definitely worth the scolding.”

She nods and smiles, her cheeks rising to meet the corners of her eyes. “I always have fun with you, Jinki.”

He looks at her then, her floral dress dripping wet, strands of her hair sticking to her forehead and pink cheeks, goosebumps rising from her pale skin; he looks at her and thinks, “you make me happy,” or maybe he says it aloud because she just stands their gazing at him, smile even more pronounced.

Then he grabs her (and he's pretty sure she grabs him too), but it really doesn't matter who grabs whom; they grab each other and kiss each other, and the rain pours around them, and thunder rumbles, and lightning lights the sky, but anything doesn't matter because they're kissing each other. She is pressed against the wall and he is pressed against her, and they don't care about the elements raging on because they've waited for this for too long, far too long.

***

There's a question in his head. “Jessica, what... what kind of men do you like?”

She gives him a strange look. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing, just curious,” he mumbles, cheeks starting to grow pink. “You said you like that Hollywood guy, Matt Bam―”

“―Matt Damon.”

“Matt Damon,” he repeats. “So, guys with dark, black hair, perhaps? ”

She chuckles. “Nah, I prefer brown hair. You know, the kind that falls on his eyes.”

He clears his throat. “Yeah?”

She smiles slyly. “Yeah, and he should be really good at singing and dancing, so good that I get to recommend him to star in a musical, and he gets cast even without auditioning.” She's smirking now. “He should be cute. And handsome. Someone who always makes me laugh. Someone I already sang a duet with...”

His face is redder now, almost like a tomato.

“Th-that's cool.”

***

They are kissing again, and this time, they are in her room, fully-clothed (and he's proud to say she's wearing one of his oversized shirts that reach almost up to her knees), and he had been trying to make her sleep because she's had fever during the day and she needs rest. She says she's found that kissing him somehow makes her feel better, and he's too happy to oblige.

Her hands are in his hair and his hands are bunching the fabric of her shirt and his lips are kissing all over her lips and face, traveling down to her neck, and he stops. Not now, not yet. There is a time and place for everything.

His hands touch his flushed cheeks and he presses their foreheads together. “I love you,” he whispers, eyes closed. “I've always...”

She silences him with a kiss, slow and caressing this time.

“I love you too.”

***

They're together now, but not much has to change. They do the same things they did together, only now they're together and they hold hands and kiss and get into fights and make up and value each other very much and act like they're genuinely, deeply in love.

They're at the bakery again, only this time it's sunny and it's not raining, and they're slowly biting on bread (nuts and almonds on top of hers and ham and cheese on top of his) and there's a pink lunchbox of fried chicken at the table in between them.

“Are you sure they're edible?” he teases her.

She pouts and flings a nut to his forehead. “Of course they are, you dolt!” She reaches for a chicken leg and makes it hover in front of him. “Open your mouth. Aaaaaaa ―”

He takes a large bite, chews and pretends to think it over thoughtfully. “Not bad.” He takes another bite. “How long have you been trying to make this?”

“Not too long.” She takes a bite herself. “I know it's not as good as restaurant fried chicken ―”

“It's perfect,” he grins. “The best thing I've tasted so far.”

***

She tells him that it scares her ― falling in love. Friendship was comfortable, easy, safe. She's scared she might love him too much.

“Not true,” he says. “No one could love anyone as much as I love you.”

She wants to tell him she feels the exact same way, but she knows from his smile that he gets it, he understands.

He holds her hand in his, and this time, she's not scared anymore.

Onew/Jessica ― you can't fly unless you let yourself fall