For the zillionth time today I reach for Chanyeol’s cellphone only to find myself listening to ceaseless dial tone ringing to its extremity before a particularly peculiar woman lullabies me with ‘the number you are calling is out of service’ and some yadda-yadda stuff I can’t even recall.

“Where are you?” I ask myself looking while trying another round, and each time I do, I sincerely hope he would pick up and greet me with his voice. Yet not every dream or wish shall be granted and I find my every call are those unapproved ones. I sigh and sit back on the cushions gazing at my green tea latte embossed with droplets of water from hours of waiting.

The other day he texted me to meet him at the very place yet the next day I can’t even get a hold of him as if Chanyeol had somehow disappear.

I drink my surrounding and see scenarios of what I could’ve been doing, there are couples everywhere; drinking lattes while chit-chatting, taking pictures together only to delete it seconds later because the girl thinks she looks fat, holding hand as the boy kisses his girl’s forehead, and my favorite one—a fight. Not that I support others’ hardships, I just love seeing couples being cruelly honest, because when the fight’s over, there really is nothing more than what had dragged them into it; one’s love to the other one.

But to even have a fight you have got to have an opponent and in my case there really is nothing to go against beside my green tea latte, which has been melting.

Chanyeol better be here soon for his own good.

“Seohae!” deep bass shouts my name and I turn my gaze around to see the source. I’m no longer surprised finding the most wanted fugitive of my day dressed in his used Cheap Monday jeans and Topman sweater with an addition of guilt coloring his eyes, well, he have kept me waiting for no less than two hours. He should feel guilty.

I steal a glance at him before returning at my green tea latte, not even bothering to establish any signs of acknowledging his presence and finally take my first sip of creamy iced drink after purchasing it nearly two hours ago.

“Have you been waiting?” Chanyeol pull the chair across then sit facing my face, and even though both of us are sitting he towers over me unquestionably “Seohae?”

I nod.

“I’m so sorry, I-uh... I couldn’t decide on what to wear so—“ both of us eyes his choice of clothing and my inner quarrels with the thought of him lying “—yeah, I’m late, sorry”

I look away, from his eyes, from his emanating guilt.

“But you’re not mad are you?”

I stills for mere couple of seconds thinking for an answer, not for the right one or for the good one yet for the one that would come out in all honesty and mirror my bitter pill. Two hours is not a short period of time especially when the expected is somehow invisible from every kind of contact.

I look into Chanyeol’s eyes and nod.

“Oh” he ogle me with his gorgeous, round eyes and look down “I’m sorry, Seohae, I didn’t mean to” apologizing as if we were children to begin with and he had just been caught red handed pick pocketing a lollipop.

If it wasn’t because of the anger boiling inside I’d squish the apples of his cheeks right away, telling him how perpetually lovely he is and that he is unbelievably gorgeous—there’s just no other man for me but him. And I wonder whether I’m the only woman for him and no other. The thought sickens my feelings, I shouldn’t have gone far within my personal thoughts.

Chanyeol slide over a piece of tissue paper and I eye the piece absentmindedly. There are poorly written words that jumble into the unspeakable.

Sorry :(

I look at him and am begging to myself. Dear pride, can I be not mad at him and forgive him this second? This man before me is too adorable not to be forgiven for. My inner shake her head reminiscing two hours of servile expectation.

Chanyeol grabs the tissue and write more than just one word, this time he offers me a sentence.

I lied about the clothes too, I’m sorry :(

I look at him and see more than just guilt coloring him. His eyes speak of the unspoken and I know he’s been meaning to ask for anything that he could do to make me feel better. Chanyeol takes the tissue and write more on its flip side.

Is there anything that I can do to make you feel better?

I giggle and place my hands on his cheek, my fingertips ache for his skin and I can’t hold back the desire any moment longer. I squish his cheeks “It’s okay, Chanyeol, it’s okay” can one actually stay mad with this man? Because I don’t have ability to do so.

Chanyeol smiles his radiant smile, the one which worth is equal to priceless, the one that doesn’t only stretch his lips but also let his opponent mirror him, the one that I entitle as his happy virus.

I smile at him and question with the absence of impatience and anger “what took you so long?”

Chanyeol grab the tissue as if refusing to speak, he writes more than prior love letters.

I bought you a present before I came here and I had a hard time deciding.

I look at him “what present?” and Chanyeol grab another tissue to continue his story.

I can’t show you now

As Chanyeol slide the tissue to me I instinctively question further “but why?” and with the help of another tissue Chanyeol replies.

I don’t know whether you’d like it or not

I smile and look into his eyes. I cup his cheeks and begin reasoning “Chanyeol, you made me wait for two hours and lied about why you came late when you were actually buying something for me which you can’t show because you don’t know whether I’d like it or not. You hesitated enough, baby, and I’m not even mad at you anymore”

He takes the tissue and jumbles more letters into sayings.

Now, I’m nervous says him.

I rise from my chair and capture his lips for a subtle kiss that wring every reason I had to stay mad at him. His lips feels perfect on mine as if each curves on me is the one piece of puzzle only he can solve “Still nervous?” but Chanyeol writes even more.

twice than ever.

I grab the tissue and take my own pen asking him are you gonna talk eventually? And slide the tissue for his answer.

Yes.

I write more.  And what would you say if I told you that I’m not mad anymore?

Chanyeol grab the tissue and crumbles the piece of communicating device we’ve been using before throwing it down to the floor ever so carelessly. I look at him in partial disbelief and shock yet he engages our eyes with everything other than poignancy.

“I’d say—“ Chanyeol grab  a particular velvet box from within his jacket and pull its lid up so I can see the one thing that had him nervous to even begin everything with, something that has me run tears down my cheek ceaselessly  “—marry me?” Chanyeol ask.

“Seohae, I have screwed things up so many times that I wouldn’t need anyone’s help to create chaos out of everything. But even though I’ve turned things bad there’s still someone who would forgive me because she knows I didn’t mean it, well, most of it”

I giggle

“She loves me because I’m a trouble” Chanyeol takes my hand.

“She loves me because I’m imperfect” He rest the ring encircling my wedding finger.

“She loves me because I’m human” he kisses the back of my hand, letting his lips graze upon my surface.

“She loves me for who I am” Chanyeol look into my eyes and I can never avoid his perpetually enchanting eyes. Eyes that have me bending down on my knees.

“And I love her because she’s the one I’d love to spend the rest of my life with”

I look into his eyes and find the one thing everybody in this whole wide world spent immeasurable time of searching; a soul mate.

“Marry me, Seohae?”

I cry “yes, Chanyeol, yes” of course I do.

He has already encircled the ring, anyway.