change of heart | jumin han x reader

06

"This address is in a residential area. May I ask who you're going to see?" Kim's voice was mischievous, but I didn't mind telling him the truth.

"It's the girl I've been seeing the last few weeks. We went out last night but it didn't go well, so I'm going to fix it."

"What happened?"

"A lot," I begin. "We ended up talking about our parents which of course didn't go well. She just- she was really trying to get into my head and it overwhelmed me, but I guess getting up in the middle of dinner and having a temper tantrum just made it worse. When I came back she was gone, and she had just paid the tab and left a note that said 'Sorry'. I don't know why, but it doesn't sit well to leave things as they are."

"Why did you leave once your parents came up?"

"I don't like to talk about my parents," I sigh. "She asked about my mother, and after what my father pulled on Christmas I just felt like it was too much."

He hums and nods in response, turning onto a street lined with large, glassy houses, windows adorning every wall and pools covered in blue tarps peeking through hedges. He pulls into an equally lavish driveway, rain pattering against the windows still.

"Good luck," he smiles at me as I leave, hunching myself over the bouquet in an attempt to keep it dry. I hurry up the steps to the front door, quickly finding the doorbell, finding solace in the awning covering me for the moment. The door opens a few seconds later and (y/n)'s face appears through the crack.

"Jumin?" She raises her eyebrows, clearly not enthused. "What are you doing here?"

"I- I..." The words I'd practiced in my head on the way suddenly left me, and I simply stood in front of her with my mouth open, wet roses dripping onto my already wet clothes.

"Jesus Christ," she groaned, pulling me by my arm. "You're letting the heat out. Get in." She waves Kim off as she pulls me inside.

I look her up and down. She's wearing a t-shirt practically caked in paint, and loose jeans that hang nicely off of her hips. Her feet are bare, her hair messily tied back, her hands and arms covered in paint as well. I'm apprehensive to hand her the flowers now, but she's looking at them and back at me, looking for an explanation.

"Uh, these are for you..." I stammer, placing them in her arms. She smiles at them, a soft expression on her face.

"Purple?" She chuckles, looking at me. "Do you know what purple roses mean? ...And six to match? You must."

"Of course," I find myself blushing. "A hundred red roses don't mean anything. I knew you would see right through something like that."

"I would," she agrees, taking in my appearance. "Why don't you come sit by the fire? I'll start it up for you." I nod, thankful she noticed me shivering in my wet clothes as I follow her into what I assume is the living area. All of the floors are hard wood, the only rug the mat at the front door; there's a sectional couch as well as a loveseat and a single, all of them deep black. I settle on the loveseat because it's closest to the fireplace, and the fact that the couch is already occupied by two cats. Both are Siamese, their paws and ears dark brown, with long, off-white bodies, their eyes a glowing yellow.

She switches on the fire and it crackles to life, the cats jumping from their place on the sectional over to her, twining themselves around her legs. She picks them both up and sits next to me, our legs touching. The cats take tentative sniffs of me as I hold my hand out for them; they eventually settle into taking turns rubbing up against both me and (y/n), purring quietly.

"That's Andy," she motions to the cat in my lap. "And this is Jean-Michel." Her French accent is undeniably sexy, and I'm more attracted to her where she sits next to me in front of the fire, covered in paint right now than I have ever been attracted to anyone else.