The smell of sizzling meat and stir-fried potatoes greets Roséanne as she pushes the door open to The Artisan, one of her favourite bistros in Seoul.
She pulls her glasses from her eyes and holds it with her fingers, scanning the first floor for a blonde guy with a beret (which is apparently Jimin's look for tonight, based on what he tweeted minutes ago). Eventually, she finds him comfortably nestled in one of the plush seats in the corner, a book between his hands.
He's always been the same, she thinks as she makes her way to him. He doesn't notice as she sits across from him, still immersed in his own world.
"Do you ever stop reading?" she finally asks, setting her glasses down.
Jimin coolly looks up as he shuts the book close. "If you weren't late, I wouldn't have to resort to this. I almost finished the entire book."
Roséanne snorts. "Not my fault that the traffic was hectic," she huffs. "Did you order anything?"
"Yeah." He nods. "It's coming in a few minutes. Hungry?"
"Why do you care?"
"Just have to make sure or else my dad would scold me for days."
His reply hit a small nerve, but she ignores it. "Do you want to discuss before we start?"
"It's up to you."
"I think we should, just so we could get this over with." She doesn't really want to spend more time with him, if she were to be honest.
Jimin's expression shifts, and she almost doesn't notice it until he spoke. "Do you really want to get rid of me so quickly?"
"Yes," she quickly replies. "Anyway, do you have any ideas for the venue?" She did a little research last night and found a few places, but she isn't sure if Jimin would like it. "I'm thinking for it to be celebrated outdoors, since Uncle Pilwoo likes those kind of things."
"I have a few, do you have any?"
She pulls her phone from her bag and scrolls through her gallery. "Here." She raises it so Jimin could see, then she showed him a few placed and described them in detail.
"Hmmm, those are not bad," he admits. Roséanne tries to push to the side how odd this is--them just talking without any bickering. Weird. "I only have one suggestion but I think you'll like it."
She catches the meaning behind those words but she pays it no mind.
"This is a private lake house at Gangwon-do Chuncheon," he says as he points at the picture. "My friends and I went there this summer to relax and it's the comfiest place we've ever been to. You could go fishing, eat outside, cook, anything. Bedrooms are available, too, so I'm thinking we can stay the night and leave the next day--if you'll choose this one."
She ponders at the idea. It doesn't sound too bad, in fact, it sounds perfect. "I like it."
One of the corner of Jimin's lips tilted upwards, but as fast as it came, it was gone in a second. "Good, good. Do you want me to make a schedule to we can check it out together?"
"Yeah, just so we can plan about the decorations as well." They'll work together, again. Roséanne wishes it to be over already.
* * *
The food came several minutes later--Jimin had steak and mashed potatoes for himself, while he ordered Roséanne her all-time favourite, chicken Alfredo pasta.
(She wasn't quite sure how Jimin still remembered, but she kept her mouth shut as they started eating.)
No one spoke that much during the entire thing. Sometimes, she would ask a question or two, then Jimin would answer. Other times he'd ask a question or two, too, and she would answer.
Normally, if this was any other day, they'd be arguing over one's way of eating, but this wasn't a normal day. Roséanne figured that his mom must have said something to him about the both of them working together, probably the same thing her dad told her as well.
(It was pretty awkward, but they pulled through.)
* * *
A little while after, when they're nearly finished, Jimin suddenly clears his throat.
Roséanne looks up to check on him, but he was already wiping his mouth with his napkin. His plate was cleared and his utensils were placed neatly at the sides, no leftovers remained.
"What?" she asks, more like demands. "You're done?"
"Obviously," he replies as he combs his hair upwards, his usual habit. "Who'll pay?"
Now, Roséanne knows that this question will pop up. She prepared herself beforehand, purposely leaving her black card at her apartment complex just so Jimin could pay for tonight's dinner.
Don't get her wrong, she's from a well off family, but sometimes you just have to irk the hell out of your enemies.
(She called it a reparation. It was needed after all the hell Jimin put her through these years.)
"Actually," she mutters, "I forgot my wallet at home."
He sighs, exasperated. "Of course you did. Don't worry, it's on me."
She hides her smile as she looks down. "Thanks."
"I've got to call one of my business partners though, just stay here, will you?" he informs her, typing hurriedly on his phone. "This will be quick."
"Sure, sure," is all she says before Jimin walks away, and she spends the remaining time giggling to herself, thinking about how he was so easy to fool.
Jokes on him.
* * *
Roséanne starts worrying when Jimin didn't return 30 minutes later.
Is the call really that long that he hasn't returned yet?
The waiter has been giving her knowing looks for the past five minutes and she keeps on shaking her head every time, waiting for Jimin. The bill is already on the waiter's hand, and he stays still as he stood a few feet away from their table, ready to hand it to her at any time.
Leaning her wrists on the chair's armrest, she tries to look for him through the glass doors, but the hustle and bustle of this particular street prevented her from having a clear view of where he could possibly be.
She grabs her phone from the table and starts texting him, but she doesn't get a reply. She tries calling, but it goes to voicemail.
"Hi, this is Jimin. I'm busy right now, later?" The voicemail says before beeping, and she turns it off.
Where could he possibly be?
Slowly, the realization dawns upon Roséanne.
Shit. That little fucker ditched her.
