The next morning I awake to a weight on my chest; I look down and it's (y/n), her head cradled against my body. I take a moment to reminisce on the previous night before waking her up. Not only did she pluck my tie off the ground and hand it to me when I awkwardly suggested I tie her wrists together, but when the words 'little girl' somehow stumbled out of my lips she simply smiled and responded, 'Yes, Mr. Han'. I stroked her hair gently now, her bare shoulders dotted with purple marks from hours ago.
"(Y/n)," I whispered, running my hand down her back. "Wake up."
Her eyes lazily opened, and her lips formed the most serene smile when they met mine. She squeezed me a little tighter from where she laid on top of me, squirming a bit before resting her weight on her elbows, lingering above me.
"Good morning," I hummed, running my hand through her hair again.
"Good morning, Mr. Han," she giggled, giving me a teasing expression. I felt my entire body heat up, my face and neck immediately changing to bright red in embarrassment; I looked away, unable to make eye contact with her even though I couldn't help the smile on my face.
"Sorry," I mumbled, covering my face with my hands. She pushed them off though, a mischievous smirk as she held them together just above my head, leaning down to place a kiss on my lips.
"Don't apologize. I didn't expect you had a side like that but that doesn't mean I didn't like it." Her smile is alluring and deviant, and as she stands up stark naked from my bed it takes everything in my power not to pull her back in and repeat last night. I sit up as I watch her get dressed, pulling on her wrinkled clothes from the floor.
"Hey, stop watching," she complains. "It's weird."
"Seriously?" I laugh. "It's nothing I haven't seen now."
"Watch your mouth, Jumin," she chuckles, pointing a finger at me as she pulls her shirt over her head. She sits at the edge of my bed, looking down at me with a small smile on her lips still.
"I better get going," she says quietly, placing a hand on my leg. "Lots of work to do. Barely a week left until the big day."
"Don't leave yet," I sound desperate even to my own ears, covering her hand with mine. "Let me cook breakfast for you, at least. Stay a little while longer."
"I have work and so do you, Jumin. Let's meet up before my show at least once, okay? You owe me a nothing date." She leans across my bed to kiss me again but I can't help the frown on my face as she gets up to pull her shoes on, grabbing her bag and tossing it over her shoulder.
"Don't look so mopey," she laughs as she stands in the doorway. "CEOs don't pout." She waves and makes her exit, leaving me naked and alone in my bed. I wait to hear the elevator descend before getting up, taking a deep breath as I made my way at a begrudgingly slow pace to the shower. Once I get out I walk into my closet to see a set of clothes neatly laid out on the dresser. A deep maroon button up and a black and white striped tie laid folded on top of a pair of black slacks, and a pair of gray suede shoes sat beside it all. I stood awestruck in just a towel for a long moment, that this fantasy I didn't know I had been dreaming of had come true. Next to the clothes was a small note on the stationary pad I kept in every room; on it were the words 'Thank you for having me. I hope this suits you. Xx, (y/n)'.
I run and grab my phone off my nightstand, snapping a picture and sending it to the messenger before getting dressed in the clothes she laid out for me. My heart is soaring and I've never felt so good in an outfit before; I never thought I'd be the type of man to feel this way. I open my phone again once I'm dressed, sitting on the edge of my unmade bed while I wait for Kim to drive me to the office. I check the messenger, feeling a little smug about the picture I sent.
Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.
ZEN: What the hell is that a picture of? It's kind of blurry.
Jumin Han: (Y/n) laid out clothes for me before she left this morning. She's perfect.
ZEN: Are you serious?! Did she stay the night or something?!
Jumin Han: Yes.
707: you're a lucky guy jumin she sure is pretty!!!
ZEN: Seriously?! Life isn't fair
Jaehee Kang: I sincerely hope you are on your way to the office, Mr. Han. I don't care if the woman I saw last night stayed over; there's too much to get done this week for you to be love struck.
ZEN: Jaehee has seen her too now? Is she really that pretty?!
Jumin Han: She's gorgeous. And I'm waiting for Driver Kim as we speak, Assistant Kang.
ZEN: Ew. It's gross when you get all mushy over a girl. Don't say things like that.
V has entered the chatroom.
V: Hello everyone.
707: V?!?!?! what brings u here on such short notice
Jaehee Kang: It is unusual for you to drop in the messenger unannounced, V. I hope everything is okay.
V: Everything is fine. I came to ask Jumin something but it's appropriate to ask the rest of you while you're all here.
ZEN: Yoosung isn't here.
V: That's alright, he'll see the messages later. Jumin, I can assume you're attending (y/n)'s gallery, right?
Jumin Han: We'll see. The company has been busy these past few weeks and it's hard to get a whole night off.
V: I'm sure your father would be happy to give you the time off if it's for her.
ZEN: Why did you come to talk about this with all of us here?
V: It's a good idea for the RFA to attend things like this now and then, especially since it's for a friend. We need to continue growing our connections if we hope to have another large scale party this year.
Yoosung has entered the chatroom.
707: yoosung is here!! we're all gonna meet jumin's gf
Yoosung: no way!!!! I can't believe she laid his clothes out and everything !!!
Jumin Han: Kim is here. I better get going.
V: Don't try to avoid the gallery when you know you're capable of attending, Jumin. I know (y/n) really wants you there.
Jumin Han has left the chatroom.
I got in the car and turned my phone on silent, aggravated that everybody was pushing me to attend the gallery when I clearly wanted to, it was just a matter of logistics if I actually could. I was aware that my father would most likely send me off with a marching band if he knew it was for a woman, and I knew it meant a lot to her, but I didn't want to sacrifice my work for the sake of a show she'd probably hold again in a few months.
I buried myself in my work once I arrived at the office, locking the door and grinding forward until I heard a knock. I looked up at the clock and it was nearly two in the afternoon, the entire morning passing by in a flash. I crossed the room and opened the door to find Jaehee holding a small paper bag and a cup of coffee, her expression soft.
"I figured you should at least eat something if you're going to lock yourself away in here," she passes me and sits herself in the chair across from my own, pulling a sugary muffin out of the paper bag. I sat back down and followed suit, the smell of the pastry undeniably delightful. I took a bite and eyed Jaehee carefully; she usually didn't stay in my presence longer than necessary.
"Mr. Han, may I ask you a personal question?"
"I suppose." I look up from my muffin at her, her expression thoughtful.
"I obviously don't know much about the woman you've been seeing recently, but I can tell that you're much happier, albeit slightly less productive in my opinion. Why are you so reluctant to attend her gallery, when you know your father will allow it and even V is insisting on behalf of the R.F.A.? It doesn't make sense." She catches me in her stern stare, waiting for a response. I match her gaze for a moment, unsure of how to answer.
"I'm not reluctant to go," I argued. "I'm tired of trying to convince people that I want to go. I don't care if no one believes me anymore."
She rolls her eyes at me, picking her coffee up off of my desk and tossing the paper bag in the small waste bin next to my desk.
"There's a director's meeting today at four. Please be prepared." She mumbles as she shuts the door behind her. I hold my head in my hands, frustrated with myself more than anyone else. I knew exactly why I was desperately searching for an excuse not to attend (y/n)'s gallery: commitment. It terrified me to imagine her and I in such a public setting, photos being taken and printed and posted without our permission; she deserved better. I refused to be the star of her show, and despite knowing she would never see it that way, I always would. On top of it all I was simply being selfish- I was too much of a coward to be seen in public, in front of my friends and colleagues, with her. I couldn't let myself go like I do with (y/n) in front of all those people and I'd rather disappoint her than hide the side of me she loves the most.
The day passed, and so did the next, and the next. Saturday turned into a short visit to the office, since almost everyone took the weekend off after working like madmen for the past five days. I spent the drive back to the penthouse building up my courage to call (y/n) myself, but when I pulled my phone out of my pocket her name lit up the screen, as if she knew I was about to call.
"Hello, (y/n)," I answered, guilt sitting itself comfortably on my chest as I guessed what she wanted to talk about.
"Hey," she greeted me, her voice cheerful. "Are you working? You wanna come help me pick out a dress for my show?"
"Seriously?" I laughed, surprised by her invitation. "You want me to come with you to pick out a dress? I can't even pick out my own tie in the morning."
"I don't know," she giggles. "I thought it would be fun. Is it a yes or a no?"
"Of course," I smile, walking into my closet to change out of my suit. "Do you want me to come pick you up?"
"You mean have your driver come pick me up?" She teases. I flip through the many hangers, finding it difficult to pick out anything suitable. "Sure thing. Be here soon, I'm already ready."
"No problem," I reply, while having a very big problem trying to pull up a pair of jeans and holding the phone to my ear at the same time. "I'll be there soon." She gives me a little laugh before hanging up, leaving me to pull up my pants properly. I was cold in just a t-shirt so I pluck a black sweater off a hanger, satisfied when I look at myself in the mirror. The weather was mild for nearly February so I left my coat on the hook as I made my way to the lobby where Kim waited for me.
Once I rang the doorbell to (y/n)'s house, she immediately opened the door before the chime had even finished.
"I hope you weren't waiting at the door for me," I chuckled, tempted to steal a kiss but holding myself back.
"Maybe I was," she smiled, eyes glittering up at me. I find myself completely captured by her from head to toe, and I can't help myself from pulling her in close to me before she shuts the door behind her. She hesitates before wrapping her arms around me in return, resting her head on my shoulder for a moment. I hook my arm around hers as we walk towards the car and my own affection surprises me. I open the car door and sit down beside her, my every nerve reaching out to touch her, desperate for physical contact. I keep my composure though, resting my hands in my lap.
"This is my driver, Kim," I say as we pull out of her driveway. "Kim, this is (y/n)." The word girlfriend nearly slips out but thankfully I stop myself before embarrassing everyone in the car.
"Nice to properly meet you, (y/n)," Kim smiles at her through the rear view mirror. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Have you?" She grins at him then turns to give me a teasing expression. I turn my head out the window to hide how flushed I was, unable to avoid the embarrassment I'd hoped to. "Well, I hope what you heard is good."
"Nothing short of perfect, in Mr. Han's words," he chuckles, causing me to go from flushed to on fire. "Anyways, where are we headed today?"
She gives him the name of the store she wants to go to, then turns her body towards me, placing a gentle hand on my lap. I glance over and her face is painted serene, her smile as carefree as the wind in mid June, her lips pink like the throws of a sunset. I'm paralyzed where I'm sat, unable to even stutter out a sentence.
"Thank you for agreeing to come with me," she says, her voice quiet. "It means a lot."
"It's my pleasure," I breathe, enchanted.
A short ride later we arrive at the boutique she mentioned to Kim, a small shop packed with an endless selection of gowns. He drops us off and I follow her inside, my hands cemented in my pockets now that we're out in public. She tells the receptionist her name and we're let inside, where a woman sweeps (y/n) away to measure her every curve and angle, leaving me standing uncomfortably alone. When they return (y/n) is wearing her discomfort clearly on her face, almost looking scared as the woman shoves dresses at her, 'Do you like this one?' 'This one definitely suits you,' and 'What do you think, boyfriend?'.
I find myself getting angry with the woman as she continues to pull (y/n) back and forth between the floor and the dressing room, lacing her up in gown after gown despite (y/n) clearly not being interested in the whole experience.
"Can we have a minute alone?" I suddenly say as she comes out in the fifth dress that she clearly wants to rip off her body, my voice taking over the room. The consultant rolls her eyes at me and gives (y/n) a comforting look, as if I was the one making a scene. She exits the waiting room where she had been showing off the dresses and once we're alone (y/n) lets out a long breath, sitting down on one of the long, white benches next to me.
"Thank you," she sighs, looking overwhelmed. She's clad in a tight red halter dress, her arms covered in goosebumps. "I know it's her job but God, that was just too much."
"It's okay," I reply, placing a hand on her bare shoulder. "Go pick out whatever you like. She'll leave us alone now."
"I hope so," she laughs as she stands, barely able to shimmy over to the racks of dresses. She looks over her shoulder at me and starts laughing, waddling back to the changing room. "I think I'll change first."
She eventually picks out a few dresses, trying them on and coming back out for me to see. She's gorgeous in every one of them, but her expression tells me she feels otherwise. I stand and look through the racks absentmindedly as she changes into another gown, when I see a long, black dress that I can't help but imagine her in. The collar and arms are sheer lace, the flowery pattern reminding me of her paintings. The rest flows down to the floor, elegant as she is. I tug on the curtain that covers the changing room; she opens it a sliver and pokes her head out.
"Try this on," I hand the hanger to her; her eyes narrow doubtfully. "Just for me. I just want to see you in it."
She closes the curtain and emerges a few moments later. She's more stunning than I imagined her when I pulled the dress off the rack; I love the way her skin peeks through the lace on her neck and arms, how she's perfectly silhouetted by the black, silky fabric.
"Beautiful," I smile up at where she stands, her eyes glazed over. Her lower lip is trembling and her hands are balled into white knuckled fists, her eyes glued to the floor.
"What's wrong? Is it that bad?" I stand from the bench and place my hands on her shoulders, but she takes a small step away from me instead.
"I love it," her voice cracks, big, crocodile tears falling down her cheeks. "I love it. I've never felt so pretty before."
"What's wrong then?" I ask, panicked.
She sobs loudly, covering her mouth with a single hand. Her glittering eyes are no longer in the boutique but much farther off, another universe or another time. It takes her an impossibly long moment to speak again, her voice a strangled moan.
"I miss my mom and dad," she squeezes her eyes shut tight, her tears falling onto the dress. "I wish they were here, Jumin."
"(Y/n)..." I'm at a loss for words and I'm terrified to reach out and touch her even though I know it's what she needs now more than anything, feeling like a coward.
"Th-they should be here right now," she chokes out, her sobs loud despite her hand over her mouth.
"I just keep thinking of what it would be like if they were here. My dad-" she lets out a half sob, half giggle. "My dad would have picked this exact dress, and my mom... my mom would've wanted me in something brighter. She always thought I wore too much black."
She's bawling her eyes out now, her sobs filling the room and every crevice of my heart. In a single moment I wrap my arms around her shaking body and she brings us down to our knees, her tears soaking my shoulder. I squeeze her close to me, my heart pounding in my chest as I buried my head into the crook of her neck, the lace of the dress tickling my cheek.
"I'm sorry," she says, her voice broken. We're quiet for a while, the only sound her sniffling, a choked out sob every now and then. I pull away and feel a wetness on my own cheeks, raising my hand to feel the chill of tears on my skin.
"Jumin..." she breathes in, cupping my face with her shaking hand and wiping away a tear with her thumb.
"I know how you feel," I whisper, the words foreign on my tongue. A small sound escapes from my throat and I bite on my lip to stop it, my heart overwhelmed. I'm now covering my own mouth with my hand, the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks as I'm holding my breath. She gently pulls my hand away, the powers of a religious healer behind her touch as she purses her lips against my cold tears, a kiss with all the forces of God upon my skin. I allow a sob to fall from my lips, twenty years of repression not just bubbling to the surface but erupting; and here she was amidst the destruction, kissing away my tears and telling me it was okay to cry.
"Why-" I choke out, scared to say the words that buried themselves deep within my heart.
"It's okay," she caresses my cheek. "It's okay, Jumin."
"Why wasn't I enough for her?" The sound is guttural as it hits my ears, sending another wave of sobs through me. I bury my head in the crook of her neck, trying not to ruin her dress. She holds me closer though, her hands running up and down my back. It brings back the memory of my mother doing the same exact thing to me as a boy when I'd lose my temper and cry until I got my way; I cried at the image of her face in my mind, which had become blurry and unsure over time.
"Why do I miss her?"
"It's okay that you love her still," she whispers into my ear, her voice gentle. "Whatever you're feeling right now is okay. You're allowed to hurt still."
"I loved her," I sobbed, looking into (y/n)'s eyes. "I love my mother, (y/n). I- I hate that I've gone twenty years burying her in my heart over and over and over when I already did it once."
She squeezes me tight, a long moment that I felt deep in my chest.
"I know how you feel," she says softly. "Our pain is the same. I know how you feel better than anyone else."
"How do you let yourself feel all of this without losing it?" I ask her, holding her hands in mine. "I've never felt so much at once in my entire life. It hurts."
"It's supposed to," she gives a half hearted laugh, wiping away her own tears. "I can't tell you if it ever stops hurting. It hasn't for me."
"I don't understand," I chuckle, holding my head in my hands. "How are we ever supposed to heal? How could they leave us with these gaping wounds and expect us to continue on?"
"After my mom died, my dad would always say that it takes more than time to heal the wounds. He told me it takes patience and love, and more than anything it takes strength... I guess he wasn't strong enough though."
She's sobbing in my arms again when the consultant walks in on us, tear stained cheeks as we look up at her from where we were heaped together on the ground.
"She'll take this one," I deadpanned, earning a snort from (y/n). We help each other up off the ground and while we're standing face to face, I feel my heart skip a beat looking into her eyes. I'm unable to articulate how I feel, her gaze seeing the words hanging on the tip of my tongue. Something in the way she's unearthed my secrets that I've spent a lifetime hiding brings the words out of me, strong and sure all at once.
"I love you, (y/n)," I speak, oblivious to the consultant tapping her foot as she waits to take the dress off of (y/n). "I love you."
"I've always loved you, Jumin," she says. "I never doubted you felt the same."