𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

{Chapter 33: Never}

Yu-cheol's POV

"You fool, I thought you said you finished the photoshoot early." I glared at the guy in black pants and a hastily-ironed pinstriped shirt. "What are you doing back here?"

I voted pajama day the whole day after Beomgyu left, but now it seems I have other plans. He scratches at his nape, his smile displaying an annoying plea. "Yeah, I did finish early... but it turns out I forgot to shoot for this one photo card—"

"Ugh, come on in." I cut him off, barely paying attention anymore after he said but. I fully open the door, my thumb finding its way to my ring finger, instinctively brushing at my new ring. "Do you want some coffee— No, wait. Actually, go make yourself useful and make me coffee while I get dressed. Hurry."

The silly guy flashes a grin and mocks a salute before making his way to the kitchen. Beomgyu's been at my apartment for who knows how many times now, but why do I still get nervous? Is it because I'm conscious of my clothes? These strawberry-printed pajamas? Hey, don't judge. I love cute things. Tsk. Our fashion designer probably have something elegant and made of silk— Aish. No, I'm pretty in my own way. Stop comparing and get dressed already.

I scurry to my closet and mutter a small thank you to myself for preparing my outfit last night. I originally intended to go shopping later, but someone unexpected came up, and I guess it can't be helped. Work first.

Or is it really Beomgyu first?

My eyes go wide at the crazy thought. I mentally scold myself, putting on a white wool coat, stopping the shivers from climbing up my spine. I place the cold palms of my hand on my hot cheeks. "Yu-cheol, what the heck is wrong with your brain? Stop it."

I open the bedroom door, preparing to exit. I mean, there's nothing wrong with admitting I like Beomgyu— what's not to like actually? I sigh to myself. "Plus, look what staying in denial got you with Soobin."

"In denial with who?"

I almost jump when I see him at the door, holding a cup of coffee each in both hands. How long has he been standing there? As I was about to ask, I see his eyes roam around my outfit, before faltering to meet gaze. His cheeks radiate a light flush of pink.

"I saw that." I smirk, his uneasy reaction flaming the satisfaction in my chest. "You just checked me out."

Beomgyu blows out a puff of air, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "In your dreams. Here."

He hands me the small rose-colored paper cup, a contrast to what's inside. To be honest, I'm surprised and relieved that he knows just what I like. Coffee, hot, dark and absolutely no sugar. "I'm impressed."

"I figured." He rolls his eyes. "Black coffee in a cute cup at six in the evening. Tsk, girls like you are crazy."

I grin. Oh, you have no idea.

My apartment's only a few blocks away from the studio, so we decided it would be better to walk. I have my own room in the studio, provided by the company, of course, but I always prefer staying in my own place— one without scuffling boys and frequently shouting managers.

"Yu-cheeeooool! Hueningkai won't let of my hoodie!" I mentally face-palm. The moment I enter the door, I was greeted by the massive stack of multi-colored clothes in the center of the living room. I figure those were the costumes they used. Tsk. Boys. (Kidding, I'm one to talk.)

"Beomgyu, go change. Your last outfit is probably prepped up in the dressing room." I order. She always has their clothes pinned neatly on hangers and arranged on racks. Color-coded, too. I draw a hiss of air, she's going to freak out if she sees this monstrous pile.

Oh, yeah, now that I noticed it, Soobin's not here yet. He's probably still with her.

"Yu-cheol..." The dressing room curtain gapes slightly, revealing half of Beomgyu's face on the other side. "The zipper got stuck on my hair."

I force myself not to laugh, but I end up failing. "Come out, I'll fix it."

He swipes the curtain open completely, and I hold my breath, a little taken aback by the sight. He would've looked silly, his left arm above his head and the other picking at the tufts of hair stuck at the zipper— if it wasn't for the dark blue hoodie hanging just above his bare chest— Okay, I'll leave it to your imagination.

"I saw that." The corners of his mouth curved upwards despite the struggle on his torso. I did not like the amount of smugness on his face. "You just checked me out."

I scoff. "How dare you use my line against me?"

I step into the dressing room. It's fairly spacious, but why does the air feel thick in here? I began tugging at the zipper and a strained groan escapes Beomgyu's lips. Okay, Yu-cheol, stop. This is a PG-rated book, sheesh, you're scaring the readers. (Wehhh?)

"There you go, all set." I pull his hoodie down and pat at his shoulder. "Let's go do hair and makeup."

"Done." The photographer flashes a thumbs up at Beomgyu, eyes not leaving the camera's screen. Beomgyu finished quickly, maybe 20 or 25 minutes after I did his makeup. What can I say? He's a trained model. Do they practice that during training? I don't know.

He puts down his coat on the couch. "Yu-cheol, it's still early. I was thinking maybe we could get some—"

"Soobin's still not here." I point out, garnering the everyone's attention. Beomgyu, however, clams his mouth close.

Ms. Chae adds, "He told you guys he'll be back by 7:00, right?"

The other two nods. Ms. Chae's brows furrow further. "You don't think he got swarmed, right? Somebody try calling him."

"I'll do it." I volunteer, fishing my phone out before anyone had the chance to. Then I pause, noticing my actions. I glance at Beomgyu, shooting him an apologetic smile.

Old habits die hard.

"He's not answering." I've input his number on my cell more than twenty times, but he's unattended. "Let's not panic, maybe his battery died—"

"I tracked his phone on Bus 322." Yeonjun announces. "That's strange, he missed his stop."

"Wait, say that again." Taehyun's eyes are apalled, and I turn to Yeonjun as he repeats.

"He's on Bus 322. Why did you find something?"

Taehyun gulps, grabbing the remote on the center table and turning up the TV's volume. A gasp leaves my mouth. "Ms. Chae, call her."

This can't be happening.