Baekhyun

I killed the engine and pulled the shades off my face, setting it on the dashboard. My eyes shifted to the rearview mirror. Raking a hand through my hair, I put each piece of hairsprayed hair back in place and checked the condition of the black lining that rimmed each eye. Sure, most other guys would have beat me senseless for even thinking of utilizing the irreligious tools of the female colony, but they were uneducated fools. They were much too blinded by their overpowering testosterone to realise that sometimes make-up gave that extra kick that got the ladies just a little bewitched.

(The cliché dramas that the brat always made me watch taught me one thing, at least: Eyeliner made me look hot).

I locked the car, taking one pointed leather shoe step at a time toward her apartment. The maroon suit clung to my body, and my hand came up to adjust the black lapels that rested on the blazer. Undoing the top button of the black dress shirt beneath the blazer, I took a gulp of air, suddenly feeling the jitters creep up. Today was the day of the big gala, held at the Lé Gracieux downtown. Media representatives were already lined up outside the building, thirsting for a glimpse of the star studded guest list. Tycoons from all around were set to make an appearance, and even some renowned celebrities, all for the celebration of Lucem’s 30th Anniversary Annual Gala.

The problem wasn’t the sheer grandeur of the gala. It wasn’t the first event I’ve attended as CEO of the empire, so the opulence didn’t bother me all that much. I just had to do my usual rounds of mindless chatter, speeches, photo taking, and maybe even some light dancing.

(It was just my first time ever bringing a date to one).

I didn’t bother with the door bell, as I would have any other time. I punched the code on the keypad and let myself in, bracing myself for the overpowering scents of flowers and champagne scented perfume and a frantic girl running around the apartment in search of the right earrings to don. But all I got was a stale wave of cold air and an almost lifeless body laying atop the sofa, a leg thrown over the headrest and an arm hanging off the edge. The only indication of stimuli from her was the musical laughter that erupted from her lips as I shut the door with a kick. She reared her head up from the cushion, whipping her head to check the clock hanging from her wall before making a move of getting up. She clutched the phone to her ear, and burst out in a wide smile as she made her way to the bedroom, a light bounce in her step.

It didn’t take an idiot to tell me that the person on the phone was Chanyeol, the giant that had come to sweep her off her feet in the course of the few weeks since they had first met. I had my doubts about the guy, as all friends do with a potential partner, but I chose to keep it to myself. I didn’t want to intrude on her happiness. After all, that was all I could do—watch her from afar, and be there to catch her if she ever fell, until Chanyeol could finally take my place.

I plopped myself on the couch and dug my phone out from my pocket. Swiping the screen, my thumb hovered over the familiar contact name. The last message on the chat was a simple good night I had sent the previous night, which she had so sweetly reciprocated. Just the memory of her sitting opposite me, sipping on red wine and chatting about pretty much anything left a fire alight in my veins and a suspiciously familiar feeling enclosing around my heart. Finally pressing down on the screen, I attempted to contain the thrill that ran through my body when her status showed online.

“Hey nerd”

“Hey idiot”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working right about now? Or are you fooling around during working hours?”

“And aren’t you supposed to be entertaining your guests at the gala and busy being pretentious?”

“……Touche. Well played, miss.”

“Oh dear sir, your game is just a little too weak :)”

She’s just too perfect, I found myself reciting over and over again in my head as the banter went on. Funny how just a few words from her could get me smiling like a kid on Christmas day. If I could jump into my screen, I’m pretty sure I would’ve with the way I was bent over my phone, bating my breath while waiting for her response. I didn’t notice the sound of her feet patting on the carpet and towards me until the scent of orchids seduced my senses, making me look up, only to be rendered speechless.

There she stood, like something straight out of those mystical TV shows she used to be obsessed with. The elegant opulence of the dress paled in comparison to her; the faint blush on her cheeks and the black hair that twisted just above her nape and the glow of her skin. She was so ethereal, and I was going to be seen with this creature. Me. Plain ‘ol Byun Baekhyun.

(And not Chanyeol).

But her doe eyes, though perfectly highlighted with smoky shades of wine and black, looked so sad. She never diverted her gaze from the floor just by my feet, and I couldn’t help the urge to get up and hug her. And so I did.

What kind of beauty would look so broken on a night so bright?

“You okay?”

That seemed to snap her out of her daze, and I felt her nod against the material of the blazer. I kept my hands on her shoulder and held her out at arm’s length, letting my eyes wander and drinking her in.

“You’re beautiful,” the words tumbled out of my mouth, and before I could take it back and spit something more witty and clever, she looked up at me and smiled that smile that made think that I should pull some strings and get her as the poster girl for Colgate. She shook her head softly, that smile still etched on her lips and she slapped my chest softly, the heat from her fingers seeping through the layers and lingering under my skin.

“You don’t look too bad for a CEO,” There it was. She was back.

“But I bet you didn’t put on a tie because you still can’t figure out how to tie one on your own. Freakin’ amateur.”

Yup, she was back to herself, alright.

I rolled my eyes, making a show of it that resulted in a savage shove. She picked up her clutch and strutted out the door, yelling a “hurry the up, you slow piece of flat ” as she disappeared down the hallway. I chuckled and followed after her, pulling the door close behind me and running for the lift doors that were quickly closing. (She had kept her finger on the close button).