Foolish, foolish girl.

 

How could she have slipped up?

 

She was an idol, for god's sake. Image was the key to thriving and now she potentially screwed over both of them. Hands clawed at her mess of brown hair, current appearance the least of her worries. What would a chic look do for her now?

She slammed her head back, anxiety and agony devouring her whole. However, he intercepted her self-inflictment, his hand cradling her head, so gently she wanted to cry her heart out.

 

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." It became a mantra, flitting past her pale lips as she covered her face in shame. Even in her desperate need for a sign of assurance, he could not present her a smile. He wasn't even sure it would dispel her of her misery. And so, he merely pushed away her arms, adjusted her and embraced her, his head resting on her trembling shoulder.

 

"I'm so sorry." 

 

"It's alright. I never liked hiding. I never liked keeping secrets." He whispered, his voice rumbling through her body - almost soothingly. Almost.

 

She grasped onto his shoulders, an attempt to pry him off, to save him from the impending doom he was sure to face because of her slip-up. Chaerin had been so careful the past-year since they started this relationship, but it was so damned tedious to conceal their identities, to never publicly express their match, to even find a time to meet up. She just had to convince him to have a simple date with a heavy reduction of disguise to finally experience and relish in the idea that the world acknowledged their existence and would not stand against them. 

 

It had all gone untroubled, effortlessly, until she tore off what little concealment she had and brought her companion down for a fierce kiss, something she had been craving to do. She felt free, elated upon the idea that they were average citizens, that no one would scorn for being together. 

 

Of course, being an idol isn't exactly average.

 

She wasn't surprised to find a papparazzo jump before them, and snap a quick shot, so she was not quite sure why she still stared at him horrified.

 

"Do not push me away." He hissed, clutching her writhing form closer to him. 

 

"Let go." Her voice was rough, ragged from her cries. "Maybe I can fix this. I can at least save you-!" He roughly silenced her with his lips, surely bruising them, but it just did not matter. He couldn't lose her, this was the only way to convey his sentiments for her. She tried to twist away, to detach herself from his harsh kisses - she found herself incapable of turning away from the passion he oozed. His hold on her tightened and she reciprocated his passion, allowing him to empty her thoughts of their predicament.

 

When he left her swollen lips, it was for a great need of air. He lowered his to rest against her forehead.

"Would you deny me to the world?"

"Don't."

"Would you act as if I didn't mean anything to you?"

"Stop."

"Would you?"

"No," She croaked, "Never."

"We'll get through this. If they cannot accept this that is for them to deal with."

 

"I'm so sorry. For being reckless. For all that has happened."

A smile teased the corner of his lips.

"I wouldn't have you any other way."

 

"Are you ready to face them?" She sniffled.

His hand slipped into hers, his hold tight and firm. 

"As long as you're with me."

"You can be so cheesy." She managed to roll her eyes and he brightened at her slipping sadness.

She followed him as he led her towards the door, the sea of onlookers on the other side, ready to criticize or praise. Her heart pounded in her chest, but his grip on her hand comforted her just enough to nod her head and walk out into the world.