“So what makes you think you’re worthy of dating my daughter?”

“DAD!”

Jung Hyesung is not an easy man to please, as you can see. My father is a very straightforward person. Chanyeol and I had finally made it to the fancy- restaurant my father made reservations at. As soon as introductions were exchanged and we had all taken our seats (my father on one side and Chanyeol and I on the opposite), my father went straight for the interrogation even before Chanyeol could touch the Mozzarella sticks. Chanyeol looked like he was choking on spit where he was seated next to me.

“Hyemi, darling,” He started, “I’m just cutting it straight to the point. What’s the point in dillydallying? This is what he wanted to meet me for, isn’t it?”

“That’s not the point!” I argued, looking at him incredulously.

“Then what is the point, sweetheart?”

“Chanyeol is here, taking time from his extremely busy schedule to meet you. Not to be interrogated like a murder suspect!”

“Well he might as well be one if he wants to date you.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chanyeol cleared his throat next to me, reminding my father and I that he was still there.

“Chanyeol, it’s okay. You totally don’t have to answer—“

“No, no, Hyemi, it’s okay.” He said, effectively making me shut up.

I could see the tension in Chanyeol’s face. In the six months we’re been ‘together’, we had only spent less than twenty-four hours together. But in the numerous Skype calls and ‘video dates’ we’ve had, I had already picked up on a few of Chanyeol’s quirks. Some of them were small and cute, like the way his eyes lit up and his eyebrows would raise when he had an idea, or the way he looked down at his little notebook of self composed lyrics as I silently watched him from the other end of the call, I especially loved watching him when he’d fall asleep while we were in the middle of a call. Some might think it would be rude that he’d fall asleep or creepy that I watched him fall asleep. But there was just something about the way the creases in his eyebrows would smooth out, and the way his eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks, and how I fantasized about falling asleep with my head resting on his chest, the steady murmur of his heart dragging me to dreamland.

But I knew of the bad as well as I knew the good. And this was the look he’d usually have when he was about to make an argument.

“It’s okay, Mr. Jung. I’ll answer all your questions as honestly as possible.” He said, a determined look on his face.

“Chanyeol, I swear to God, you don’t have to. I’m so sorry he did this—“

“Hyemi, let the boy speak.” My father cut off, giving me a pointed look before giving Chanyeol his undivided attention, “Alright, Mr. Park, let’s cut to the chase—what are your intentions with my daughter?”

My jaw dropped to the floor.

“DAD!”

“Hyemi, I am just asking a decent question! Now let the boy talk.” My father responded. I could only slap my palm over my face in attempt to hide how embarrassed I was.

Chanyeol was obviously taken aback by the blunt question, but tried to act as composed as he could be, “Well, sir, my only intentions as of right now is to get to know your daughter better and be a good boyfriend.”

“And in the future, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol’s eyes were the size of the dinner platter set on our table.

“T-t-the future?” Chanyeol managed to sputter out.

“Yes, Mr. Park. The future. You date my daughter and then what?” My father deadpanned.

“Dad, I think that’s a bit of s stretch. The future? Really? He’s twenty-one. We have a lot of time to discuss the future. Can’t you just ask him about his job or something normal dads ask their daughter’s boyfriends?” I pleaded.

It was a pretty stupid idea too, considering I told him to ask about Chanyeol’s job, which was probably the biggest hindrance in our relationship.

“Alright, fine. We’ll talk about his job.” My father agreed, raising his hands up in surrender. “Mr. Park, how do you propose you will be able to maintain this relationship with my daughter when you are off in South Korea promoting your music, or in an airplane to God-knows-where at God-knows-what time? How are you supposed to be in a healthy relationship when you’ve spent only, what, a day and a half together since you’ve met? And speaking of the night you two met, how it is healthy for my daughter to be slandered on the Internet as some sort of groupie simply because she was seen hanging off your arm, Mr. Park? How exactly do you think I can deem you worthy of being in a relationship with Hyemi when you’re off performing in front of thousands of girls, ready to throw themselves onto you on a daily basis while my daughter is all the way in Tokyo.”

I was speechless at my father’s tactless jab at Chanyeol’s job, and everything I knew Chanyeol was insecure about regarding our relationship. We both knew very well going into this that his job played a crucial role, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt when someone brought it up.

“Dad, I can’t—“

“All due respect sir, but I agree with you. I don’t deserve to be with your daughter. She deserves someone smart, and kind and has a stable job, and most of all, someone who can offer her protection and constancy. Not the physical kind, because God knows Hyemi is more than capable at protecting herself. But protection in a way that she’ll never be dragged into messes like the one I caused just hours after knowing her. I can’t and maybe never will be able to offer her constancy with the life I’m living, in the occupation that I’m in.

“But I hope you can see sir, though I may not be a in grad school to become a lawyer or a businessman, nor will I always be around for her when she needs me, and sometimes I can be a , I care about your daughter. Very much. And I know that may not mean much to you or her in the long haul, but it is all I can give her as of the moment. My job may take me places far from her, but despite the distance, I am willing to give her my time whenever I can.”

Underneath the table, my hand sought out Chanyeol’s. He grasped my hand in an instant, his palms clammy and a little bit damp, but he intertwined our fingers in a heartbeat. He took a glance at me for a moment before he spoke up again, “The only constancy I can give her, sir, or you for that matter, is that there isn’t a moment of every day that I don’t think about your daughter and how I can become, hopefully, one day someone who is worthy of even just a second of her time.”

The table was quiet and the noise of the rest of the restaurant was tuned out. My chest had tightened halfway through Chanyeol’s spiel, but the end left me completely speechless.

Chanyeol bit his lip nervously as he took hold of his wine glass and downed its contents in one go.  He put it down heavily on the table before he ran his free hand through his hair. He let go of my hand suddenly and stood up from the table. “Excuse me,” He said, “I think I need to go to the men’s room, and uh… maybe hang myself with my bowtie. Uh yeah. Okay. Cool. Be right back."

I moved to stand but he laid a hand on my shoulder, motioning for me to stay in my seat.

My father and I watched him trip over his own feet and nearly crash into a waiter with a tray full of entrées before he disappeared down the hall where the restrooms were located.

I turned to my dad to berate him, but he spoke up before I could even get a word in, “He’s a bit of an idiot, isn’t he?” he asked.

“Hhhmmh, yeah.” I agreed.

"He makes you happy?"

"I'm never not smiling when it's him we're talking about."

“And you…care about him?” He prodded.

“Like crazy.”

“That’s good. I like the boy.”

I nodded, in a bit of a haze, “Wait—what?”

Author's Note

THIS WAS SO FULL OF CHEESE I HATE MYSELF. I cried like a baby writing Chanyeol's little spiel because huhuhuh imagine someone saying all that about you to your father oh my god. I hope you guys liked it. Leave me a comment or something weeeee.

xx, Belle