Lips, AKA, Three times Jong Kook and Ji Hyo didn’t kiss and the one time they did.

Ratings: PG-13 near the end.

One.

“Your elbow is digging into my ribs,” she whispered harshly and winced as said elbow was shoved in her face. Honestly, supply closets were never meant to contain human beings, especially not those the size of Jong Kook, much less two human beings and a camera.

“Shhh,” he held a finger to his lips and they stiffened in anticipation as they heard the ringing of bells and feet slapping against the floors across the hallway.

“I think they’re gone,” she exhaled and he could feel her feather like breath against his face.

The single seam of light from outside the closet shone directly on her face like a moonbeam upon a petal and he was momentarily distracted by the luminance of her skin and pink of her lips. He caught her eye and leant forward. Beneath the sweat and grime, he could detect the scent of her pomegranate body lotion and she could almost feel his stubble on her cheeks, an evidence of the long day they have had.

The cameraman outside coughed lightly, a signal for them to exit the cupboard as the chasers have passed and they sprang apart despite knowing that they were not being filmed at the moment and that the footage of them exiting the cupboard together would never see the light of day. They tumbled out of the closet and he held her at the waist to steady her, arms lingering for a moment too long.

She knew something was up when he wouldn’t look at her in the eye when they met up again hours later. Instinctively backing away, she took off in a run only to be caught in less than two paces.

“I’ll buy you dinner later,” he murmurs into her ear as he swiftly caught hold of her nametag.

Really, she wasn’t even mad when he ripped off her nametag.

Two.

Their last night before heading back to Korea, everyone headed to the clubs.

“I think I’m too drunk again, Oppa. The world is spiiining.” They were in the lift on the way to their rooms when she slumped over and mumbled that into his chest. She was already slightly inebriated before they left for the final club and she had made him promise to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid like the Gangnam Style dance this time. He had made sure she hadn’t made a fool out of herself, but hadn’t kept count of her drinks. She was no lightweight, and had seemed alright when he had had enough of the loud music and insisted that they left but it seemed that the alcohol had caught up with her.

The lift came to a halt at their floor and he peered out to see if there was anyone looking.

“C’mon, lets get you into bed,” he scooped her into a bridal carry, her long legs dangling over his arms as she squirmed around to get into a more comfortable position, eventually flinging a hand over his neck.

It wasn’t the first time he had a girl in his arms like this and it definitely wasn’t the first time he had held her in his arms, yet the feel on her bare legs brushing against him aroused feelings he wasn’t ready to face yet. He tightens her hold on her and concentrates on putting one foot in front of another as her tiny dress rides up her thigh and he was touching her bare flesh. Not willing to take advantage, it took all his willpower to not rip the dress off her and ravish her in the corridor. She had trusted him to deliver her safely to her room and he would do that.

“You’re so strooong, Oppa,” she giggles into his ears, dragging out her words in a drunken slur and nuzzling into his neck.

He stiffened at the close proximity between her lips and his throat and swallows hardly. Opening her door, he carried her towards the bed and lowered her onto it gently.

 “Kiss me,” she demanded sleepily.

Looping her other arm arm around his neck she attempted to pull him onto the bed with her. He tumbles down beside her, gravity and a few drinks robbing him of his steadiness. She pouted at him and he could feel his resolve breaking. He could feel his body inching closer towards her. He leant forward.

He could feel her breath on his face.

See the individual hairs that made up her lashes.

The brown in her irises.

He wanted nothing more but to capture her lips in his.

He presses them on her forehead instead.

“You’re drunk, Ji Hyo ah,” he wanted badly to, but he knew it was a drunken request and he would never honour it even though he would have given in to her every wants.

“Probably,” she slurs before kicking her shoes off and snuggling into the blankets.

He force fed her water and hoped that she wouldn’t wake up feeling too smashed. He could see the city skyline from his spot on the end of her bed, clouds a light purple against the dark skies, buildings lighted up in a brillianc