the color of you ↷ n. jaemin & l. mark

two

"So," he trailed off, with a prominent vocal fry in the way he spoke. He cleared his throat and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. "Introduction to Fashion Design, huh?" he asked.

His eyes were colored brown, so dark that they almost looked like an abyss you could get lost in. His nose was sharp, placed right in the center of his face, balancing every single one of his other features. His completely non-bumpy nose bridge led down to his lips, not thin but not full, stretched in an unreadable, Mona Lisa-like smirk that you couldn't interpret. His jawline was forming a perfect triangular symmetry, connecting all his characteristics together in harmonious ways. You looked back into his eyes to finally notice the thick, expressive eyebrows framing every single detail on his face, slightly lifted due to the question he asked you seconds ago. His hair was short and bleached to a whitish platinum blonde color, neatly styled in a way that his bangs were parted to the sides of his forehead, split in an almost mathematical manner. You tried to find a flaw, something that didn't fit with the rest of his facial features, but your attempts were in vain. He was perfect.

He was in fact gorgeous. Where the hell was he hidden all this time? Maybe you should have been coming to the library more often when Yerim and Jisung asked you to.

You realized you were now staring at him, because he chuckled, smirk lifting upwards to show his ironic and teasing intention hidden behind it, eyes glimmering and brows going even higher. You also failed to notice that he was now leaning towards you, as he rested his arm on the shelf behind you, the one right above your head. "Staring much, kitten?" the teasing tone now obvious in his voice.

You gulped and dragged your eyes along his body, fully taking a look of his entire figure. He was taller than you, and he seemed quite buff under the hoodie and sweatpants he was wearing. The broadness of his shoulders and sturdiness of his stance betrayed his athletic physique. You tried to keep eye contact with him, smiling in an attempt to return the teasing attitude he had. "Are you flirting, Mr. buff guy?" you provoked him, laughing at the intentional choice of the teasing nickname. And you had no idea how you could master to give off such an attitude when you had such a good-looking guy standing inches away from you.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes playfully at your witty comment, looking right into your eyes, The fooling smirk he had plastered across his lips earlier was now replaced by a smile, a genuine one that hinted some interest. "You're fun, I like you," he said.

"Do you mean fun or funny?" you kept toying with him as he seemed to like it. "So you're amusing, too" he said, but his voice implied that this comment wasn't addressed to you, rather it was an observation he voiced out loud.

"Well, you seem amused so I won't deny it," you said and he laughed out of embarrassment. His laugh probably came out louder than what he intended, because someone from the corridor behind you shushed him, reminding him of what this place was. So he wasn't that hard to read, after all. "Why do you need this huge ass book, anyway?" he changed the subject, tossing the conversation to you.

"Well, as you can see I study fashion design," you said, "and I am currently suffering from a severe designer's block so maybe this book will help me".

"I've written some articles on fashion," he said nonchalantly. "I can send you some of them, if you want. You might get some inspiration," he added.

"You? Articles? About fashion?" you asked him in disbelief and he responded with one of his annoying chuckles he gave you earlier. "I study journalism, kitten. Writing magazine articles is part of the job, so I was assigned some fashion bits at some point," he said.

"Now I'm amused," you confessed honestly, raising your eyebrows. This was the last thing you expected from a guy that looked like that, whatever that would mean. He suddenly wasn't just a handsome, flirty boy but he actually became quite interesting.

"Yeah, maybe you've read some of them already. Well, I hope you haven't because this way I have an excuse to contact you. I'm Na Jaemin," he introduced himself, stretching out his hand initiating a handshake.

You accepted his handshake and introduced yourself too. "I'm Y/n," you said, smirking at him due to his smooth flirtatious tactics that you hated to admit that they had you swept under his feet so easily.

"You can send the articles to my email address, do you happen to have a pen on you?" you asked him and he rolled his eyes once again. After all this time you were talking so close to one another, he took a step further back to search through the pockets of his sweatpants. He took out a scratch pad from his right pocket and a pen from his left. He moved the objects in the air triumphantly, raising his eyebrows at you. "I study journalism, remember?" he pouted and you chuckled.

He handed you the pen and notebook and you scribbled your email address on a random blank page you found as you flipped it open. You gave it back to him and he took it, looking at what you wrote down with drawn eyebrows, as if he tried to memorize it. "I was actually expecting you to write your phone number too, but it's cool," he said with a fake sadness in his flirty tone.

You giggled. "You can't send me articles through my phone number, you know?"

He lifted his head and smirked at you, but in a way he hadn't done so already. You could sense some excitement. "We'll be in touch, kitten," he said before turning on his heels, leaving you standing on the empty library corridor, burning like a rising flame.

hot lava builds up inside me,

upon a single glance of yours

scorching hot, scalding,

sizzling, roasting, boiling,

one more look from your fiery eyes,

and my volcano will erupt — without any warning.