Request: Hello! Can I request Kai asks you out but he doesn’t speak English (you’re a foreigner)?

(A/N: So I hear internet connection in S Korea is amazing, but for the sake of this, lets just pretend that you had faulty connections. Savvy?)

Thursdays. You hated Thursdays.

They were easily your least favourite day of the week. Not quite the middle of the week nor were they the end of the week either. You often found yourself waking up, full of hope that tomorrow was your day off — but nope. You still had one day of work left. Damn Thursday.

Or maybe it was the fact you were ratty today. You had moved to Seoul only a week ago and things had already started to go wrong. First, you had lost your passport, practically having a heart attacked for an entire afternoon until you found it — hidden between your floor boards somehow. Second, your perfect job you had moved thousands of miles for wasn’t so perfect at all. You were a foreigner you knew that, people didn’t have to remind you every 3 seconds..

.. Speaking of which

You noticed a pair of guys sitting a few tables away from you, one practically boring holes into you as they stared. Something about being a foreigner yadda yadda yadda. You pretty much were used to it by now. That being said, it still grated on your nerves. Mostly because they assumed you didn’t understand a word they whispered about you, when infact you did. Well, for the most part anyway.

What were you mentally debating about before? Oh yeah, your crappy week. Third of all, your home internet connection had decided to go on the fritz. Maybe it was just you and your lack of technological skills, or maybe everything hated you this week. Either way, it left you to rely on the internet connection at a cafe close to your apartment. The world didn’t stop because you were having a bad week — emails needed to be sent, work needed to be done.

Picking up your cup of coffee, you took a experimental sip, scoring it still too hot to drink. Your phone sat infront of you on the table as your fingers danced across the screen, tapping the touch screen furiously as you tried to drone out the light chatter surrounding you.

The cafe you were in was fairly quiet, though considering it was illegally early when most should still be asleep, you weren’t too surprised. You would have been tucked up snug in your own bed if it wasn’t—

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a presence at the front of your table. You paused for a few seconds, waiting for the person to move on, hoping they were only passing — though when they still stood there, 10 seconds later, now clearing there throat as if to get your attention, you looked up.

It was one of the guys from earlier. The ones who were whispering about you so loud you could hear them from across the room. They really should practice their whispering skills, you thought.

”..Can I sit?” the male questioned in English, heavily accented might you add, pointing to a chair opposite you. You took a second to glace behind him to the table where he has previously sat, looking for the other guy you had saw him with. It was empty.

You trailed your eyes back up to the guy infront of you, a notable crease in your brow of confusion, before giving a light nod, “..sure” you said. He sat.

The other stared at you awkwardly while you tried your best to keep your attention fixed to your cellphone. Though it was hard, feeling his intense gaze on you. You were about to open your mouth to question what he wanted, before he spoke again.

“I’m Kai” he said, a shy smile on his face that didn’t quite fit. You assumed him to be one of those playboy types. Six girlfriends, one of each day of the week, with Sunday’s off for good behaviour. He also looked young, way too young to be talking to you.

Well, it wasn’t that you were old. You just felt it. Being independent did that to you. Washing your own clothes, making your own food, doing your own chores; you were a mini adult.

Legally an adult too, but anyway.

“Congratulations, you must be proud” you responded, giving him a seconds glance before drifting your sight back down to your phone. Your fingers continued their dance across the screen, tapping furiously as you sent an email to your parents, informing them that you were indeed not dead.

When they had tried calling you close to a thousand times and you made no response, their immediate fault was that you were dead. You wasn’t sure how they put two and two together and somehow started planning a funeral, but you weren’t. You were very much alive, with a guy infront of you whom seemed to be confused by your response.

You had to admit, if you were in a slightly better mood, you would have humoured this guy with more conversation. Though, you wasn’t. So you didn’t.

You took another experimental sip from your coffee; still too hot. What? Did they boil the water in the depths of hell or something? You really were ratty today.

Over a minute had passed before you glanced up at the guy infront of you again, whom switched between looking at you play with your phone and glancing awkwardly around the shop. It looked as if he was waiting desperately for his friend to come back to save him. You couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty from his expression; just because you were having a bad week, didn’t mean you had the right to be rude.

You cleared your throat, bringing his gaze back to you. You gave him your name.

The corners of his lips lifted up at that, shooting you another shy smirk. Ash, this kid. “Pretty” he commented again in English, you assumed he was talking about your name.

“Thanks” you responded in Korean. When you did, his eyes lit up, as he was surprised you knew Korean. It was the same look most people gave you when you informed them that; tada, you spoke Korean. No need to struggle to speak English to you. There was no need.

As of course, he questioned it too. You nodded.

“I do” you added. Alright, so you weren’t exactly fluent in Korean, but you got by. You knew more than the basics, though you’d never be fluent. Little things still tripped you up here and there, but like said, you got by.

For the next few minutes, the pair of you discussed light conversation as you split your attention between him — Kai — and continuing your emails. To your surprise, somehow speaking to him lifted your mood a little.

You told him about how you had moved all the way to Seoul as an international transfer to work as your dream job; just to find out you were only an assistant. Instead you got all the menial jobs, sending emails, writing emails, fetching coffee, doing everything your boss didn’t want to do. You also accidentally let slip how awful your week was going, only to have him chuckle at your unfortunate affairs.

Normally you would be insulted at having someone laugh at your troubles, but someone instead you found yourself laughing along too. It was .. strange.

In return, he told you about himself. How he was a idol in some group you hadn’t heard of, though you couldn’t help but suddenly feel slightly starstruck. Only slightly.

He was in the middle of telling you about a time his friend — Bacon or something — cried when he lost his eyeliner when your phone buzzed. It practically vibrated the whole table, causing you to jump.

It was your boss. Reality was calling for you to return.

You couldn’t help but sigh.

“Ash, I have to go” you commented, finishing off your coffee that had cooled somewhere inbetween your chattering. The other nodded, understanding, saying he probably had a schedule to be at too — that currently his friend, Kyungsoo, whom he was with earlier was covering for him. Just so he could talk to you. You smiled at him.

“Will I see you again?” it was Kai that asked the question that rang in your head. Idol or not, you were somewhat thankful that you had someone normal to speak to. Normal in the fact they didn’t gush over how you were a foreigner. Well, for longer than the preliminary conversation anyway.

You shrugged your shoulders at his question. “Maybe, maybe not” you commented, standing up from your seat and tucking your phone back in your pocket.

Suddenly, you sparked an idea.

You grabbed a napkin off the neighbouring table, retrieving a pen out of your purse and scribbling something across it that he couldn’t quite read from his seat, before folding it up and handing it to him. “Though, if fate has us cross paths again, I’ll give you my number” you added, waving him off as you left the coffee shop.

Kai watched after you, giving you a silent wave off, before remembering the napkin you had slipped him before leaving. His eyes lit up reading the scribbled writing on it;

“I’m here every morning before 7”.