Your Fan
"Who gave me this?"
Chaerin's eyebrows practically meet as she frowns at him. "What do you mean you idiot-" She snatches the note from him and scans through it quickly.
"Oh that idiot; she didn't sign it! It's ___."
"___? Did I hear you right?"
"You look like Cinderella looking at her fairy godmother. Quit it. Yes, ___. Do you have her number?"
Yifan rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
"What would you two do without me? Here." Chaerin recites ___'s phone number.
"Now, if you don't confess tonight, or ___ does instead of you, I swear to-"
"Okay I get it. Wait how do you know I like ___?"
Chaerin gives him her best deadpan expression which she usually only reserves for when ___ is being really, really dense. "Wow. Let me just tell you this: you are incredibly obvious. At any you do. Have a good time and I hope tomorrow when you two rock up, it'll be together."
"Go where together?"
"Oh. Uh. Nevermind." Chaerin grins guiltily, trying to put aside the fact she nearly just revealed her dear friend to be a stalkery creep.
~
You think he isn't going to come since he doesn't text you. But maybe the big teddy bear will turn up nonetheless.
A very familiar figure, pretty tall, and looking quite shady in a hoodie zipped up to his nose and a pair of obnoxiously huge... shades. "Hey," he says, once he slides onto a bar stool beside you.
"Hey yourself."
"Why'd you ask me to come to a club with you?"
"I wanted to see how you are in this type of environment. If you are as casually wonderful as you look in a music video. Now that you're actually here, not so suave."
"Hey, I just got here!" Yifan defends. "One Manhattan, please. Thanks."
"You know what a Manhattan is?"
Yifan frowns. "Of course." He takes a sips and almost chokes on it. "Uh. It tastes like this?"
You giggle. "Mm. Just water thanks- I know how not to embarrass myself."
"I like you."
"Mm. I know."
Yifan stares at you. "Wha?"
"I like you too..."
"No wait how did you know?" Yifan still looks somewhat dumbstruck. Everything's moving faster than he expected.
"I know my own feelings?" you say slowly, slightly confused too.
"No, about me."
"Oh I guess I didn't. Took a risk."
"Oh."
Yifan sits back, thoroughly shocked. After he seems to have finally come to terms with the fact that a) yes, you do know he likes you, and b) you like him back, he absently takes a sip of his Manhattan and you have to offer him your water when he starts coughing.
Exasperated, you lean forward on the bar table, and wave for the bartender. "Water please."
The bartender gives you a tall glass of water, and goes off to serve another customer.
Yifan smiles abashedly. "I don't really drink. How about a café next time?"
"No problem. To be honest, I don't drink that much either."
There's a syncopated lull of silence before Yifan says anything. "Well what are we going to do? It's a bit late for a coffee, and I've just had this abomination."
You laugh and place a hand over his. "It's alright. How about we call it a night-"
Yifan looks vaguely disappointed.
"-and we'll re-do this date tomorrow?"
He brightens up again. "How about coming to my place? I can cook."
A smile eases its way onto your face as you think about Yifan in an apron, holding a spatula in one hand and reaching for the vinegar, or the salt, or the soy sauce, or the gochujang like a real professional. "Sounds wonderful."
"Then come over at 5."
"Alright."
You rise a little, as if you're getting off your bar stool, but instead you press a chaste kiss to his mouth. "See you then."
