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Chapter Text

The street is laced with puddles reflecting the city lights back at you through the rain streaked window. Your chin rests in the palm of your hand, staring at the small restaurant across from the convenience store that you work at. Half of the sign is burnt out, the other half flickering, and the water droplets falling down the window distort it just a little.

               A customer who has been milling in the back debating what ice cream flavour to purchase for ten minutes finally meanders their way to the counter, holding a pint of vanilla. All that time and that’s what they settle on, you think, scanning the item and telling them the amount owed.

               As they rummaged for their wallet, the door to the store opens and a man steps inside. Having worked here for a couple of years, you know the regulars by now and he is one of them. The designer coat is a clear indication he lives at one of the fancy apartment complexes just down the street. The convenience store is on the cusp of the financial district and occasionally rich people dart inside to grab something and leave quickly. He always takes his time, checking each aisle as if something new might appear.

               The customer with the vanilla ice cream mumbles a thank you and leaves, their fingers gripping the container so hard that you wonder what sort of day they’ve had if that is their lifeline. Now it is just you and the rich guy.

               It is nearing midnight and your shift is almost finished. The tinny music that plays over old speakers is background noise to you, easily filtered out. When you first started working here, the fluorescent lights gave you a headache. You are used to that now as well. The shop is small, unremarkable, but in a good location and always has steady business. You know every object on the shelf. Comforting and depressing at the same time.

               The man ducks his head, grabbing a few items off the snack aisle before walking up to the counter. He is tall, high cheekbones, not a blemish on his skin. Wearing all black, with light blonde hair, he looks as if he stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Of course, that’s easy to do when you have money.

               You scan the items, tell him the total and wait. The man pulls out a Gucci wallet, removes some cash and hands it to you. His fingernails are painted black. That’s new, you think absentmindedly. When he popped in last week, his nails had been bare of any polish.

               “You’re short.” You say after counting, tapping the counter.

               “What?” It is the first time you have heard him speak and his voice is deeper than you would have expected.

               “The total,” You say, waiting for it to click that you aren’t insulting his height, “You’re short. See?”

               He glances downward at the money on the counter, his brows furrowed before opening his wallet again and fishing out more cash. You finish the transaction and he leaves without another word.

*

               The next night, to your surprise, Rich Guy returns. He is wearing slacks, dress shoes, and a button up black shirt as he looks at the beer selection. There are two other people in the shop this late, a giggling couple with their heads bowed together as they look at the snack foods. You glance at the clock. Just ten more minutes and your shift is done.

               Someone’s phone goes off, cutting through the music from the speakers and a low voice answers. You turn your attention to the window, watching yet another night of steady rain. The couple goes to the counter with a random assortment of items waiting to be purchased. After ringing them up, they leave, cozying up to each other as the rain takes them.

               “No, I told you that isn’t needed,” The voice says, floating over to the register, “I’m bringing someone.”

               It’s Rich Guy talking, you realize. He sounds on edge. Maybe he always sounds like that. It isn’t as if you sit and chat with him all the time. Yesterday was the first time you heard him speak.

               “I’m bringing my…girlfriend,” He hesitates on the word before going on, his voice growing louder as he approaches the register, “So, please listen to me and cancel whatever you had planned.” He stops in front of you, putting down a few energy drinks, having apparently decided against the beer. “I have to go.”

               Rich Guys hangs up the call as you ring up the items. Of course someone like this would have a girlfriend. He probably has twelve of them all around town, competing for his attention and money. Does he switch to a different one each night or…

               Suddenly acutely aware of Rich Guy staring at you, your hand falters scanning one of the drinks, glancing upwards at him. He even looks handsome in this horrible lighting, some part of your brain thinks.

               “You’ve worked here awhile, right?”

               For a split second, you wonder who he is talking to before it sinks in. “Me?” You ask, a little thrown. When he nods, you reply, “Uh, yeah. A couple of years now.”

               “Do they pay you well?” is his follow up question.

               You wonder if the frown shows on your face. What a weird question, you think. If Rich Guy is having some sort of mental crisis in the convenience store about giving up his wealth and trying to live a “regular” life, you aren’t sure you can handle that right now.

               “Uhm. It’s a convenience store job,” You say slowly, “So…” You give him the total for the energy drinks.

               But it is as if he hasn’t heard you. Something is spinning in his head, pieces coming together for some problem that must be floating around in his life. What sort of problems did someone like him have, anyway? You couldn’t fathom it.

               “Why don’t you get a different job?” He asks.

               You picture tossing the energy drink at his head but manage to restrain yourself. You aren’t even sure why you keep replying to his invasive questions. “All retail jobs are the same.” You fight the overwhelming urge to add the word dude to the end of the statement just because you doubt anyone has called Rich Guy a dude before.

               The answer seems to quell whatever is going on in his head because he falls silent, handing you some cash. Giving him his change, your hand brushes against his. His skin is soft, almost unnaturally so, probably because he buys high end lotion or something.

               Rich Guy leaves without another word, the rain swallowing him up. You shake your head when he leaves, thankful your time here tonight is finished.

*

               Your shift wraps up a couple minutes later and you step outside, ducking under the overhang to try to find your umbrella in the bag. The rain is steady and has been for some hours now. The puddles glow from the lights and the gasoline run off. In the distance, a group of drunk people laugh loudly, exiting a bar. You wish you took your bicycle this morning but the tire popped a couple days ago and you cannot afford a new one at the moment. It’s fine, just a twenty minute walk back home to your place and then –

               “Excuse me?”

               Startled, you jump, looking to the right of you. Rich Guy from earlier is standing under the overhang, one hand on his bag of energy drinks, the other gripping his cellphone. In the dark, the screen is bright as the sun, illuminated on a text messaging screen. He shuts it off hastily, taking a step towards you.

               “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second.”

               “Uhm…” Perturbed and on your guard, you move away from him to create some distance. “Sure.”

               Rich Guy has always been silent, coming in to buy snacks, sometimes beer, and leaving. Why he is suddenly feeling so chatty is beyond you.

               “My name is Seonghwa,” He introduces himself, the earlier tone he had with whoever was on the phone is now gone, replaced by a casual confidence. “It’s fine, I know your name already.” He gestures to your name tag. “I’ve been coming in here for like a year.”

               “Close to where you work or live or something?” You ask, mostly because you don’t know what else to say.

               “That’s right. I live in Garden Gates.”

               Garden Gates isn’t just for rich people. It’s for the rich rich, the sort of people who could go into a high-end designer store and they would close the entire place of business down so they could shop in peace. Just standing next to this guy feels wrong as if you should be dropping to your knees and cleaning his shoes or something.

               “Listen, not to be blunt, but you could use some money, right?” Rich Guy – no, Seonghwa, asks.

               You take another step away from him, guard raised even higher. “What?” You ask because how does someone answer such a rude question.

               “I have a proposition for you,” He says, his phone lighting up again with an incoming message.

               You have no idea what sort of American Psycho shit you are stumbling into but it’s time to leave. Forget the umbrella.

               “Not interested, sorry.”

               “Please, just a few seconds of your time.”

               “Nope. Uh, have a good night though.” You turn around, wondering if there is an alternate way home through a lot of traffic or something so the crowds could make you feel safe –

               When Seonghwa speaks next, he sounds positively desperate, his voice higher pitched and raised. “It’s nothing like that! I’ll pay you to pretend to be my girlfriend!”

               The words bring you up short, your feet stopping automatically even as your brain tells you to keep moving. Out of all the things you thought he was going to say, this was not one of them. Even though you know better, you still turn around to look at him.

               “What?” You want to tell him off – you may be inexperienced when it comes to matters of romance and sex but you aren’t a fool. Pretending to be my girlfriend most certainly has to be code for paying for sex. What is with this guy?

               Buoyed by the fact you have not run off screaming, Seonghwa approaches you carefully, peering at you.

               “I know how this sounds but I swear it is just that. I need someone to attend this dinner with my parents and pretend to be my girlfriend. After dinner, we’ll leave and that will be it.”

               “Uhm. Why?” You ask, perplexed, “Don’t you have an actual girlfriend?”

               “No and my dad is trying to set me up with the daughter of another company to create some sort of merger between our families.”

               What year is it? You wonder. “Is she that bad? That you don’t want to go on a date with her?”

               “It’s nothing against her personally. But my father simply won’t drop this idea.”

               “So…” You speak slowly, “In the shop. You said you had a girlfriend…”

               Seonghwa rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I said it without thinking. Just to get him to back off. But now, I actually have to show up with someone.”

               “Okay, so you take a strange woman with you to this dinner and then what? I mean, they will want to see your girlfriend again at some point, right? Then what?”

               Seonghwa blinks. You can tell that he has not thought this out very much. Impatience nips at your heels. You could be halfway home by now and instead you are listening to this man you don’t even know try to explain the most batshit idea ever.

               Continuing, you say, “So, I don’t think just one dinner will work. Especially if he is pushing this other woman on you. Would your dad drop it just cuz your ‘girlfriend’ shows up to a single dinner?”

               Seonghwa looks resolute now. “I’ll figure that part out. I just need to get through this dinner. I’ll pay you whatever amount you need. Would a few thousand be okay? It’ll be at my dad’s penthouse for a few hours. I can always lie and say that we are going overseas for a month or two afterwards and he won’t know you’re not with me.”

               There’s a lot to take in here: the use of penthouse casually, the fact Seonghwa can apparently fly overseas for weeks at a time without blinking, the prospect of money for one dinner. Would a few thousand be okay? He had uttered that sentence without hesitation.

               But there is one big issue that stops you from accepting.

               “Sorry, but I can’t. I don’t even know you. The entire thing just sounds too sketchy.” You tell him, all of it being partially true but not the whole truth.

               Seonghwa’s face falls silently but he nods. “Right. I get it. I know how odd it sounds. But if you change your mind, the dinner isn’t until Friday. May I give you my number? You can text me if you decide otherwise.”

               “Uhm, sure,” You reply, mostly to look polite, “Is that why you asked me those questions in the store? I was the first person you saw who might agree to such a thing?”

               Seonghwa looks up from his phone. The screen illuminates his face, driving home just how attractive he is. Next to him, you feel like the crypt keeper.

               “I pop in here a lot and you’re always working. I thought maybe the money would help. If there’s something you needed it for.”

               Well, I need a new wheel for my bicycle, you think but don’t say it because it sounds so pathetic. Seonghwa gives you his number and then opens his umbrella, stepping out into the rain. He turns to look back at you. In his tailored coat, and hair perfectly in place, he makes for a slender and well put together shape in the streetlights.

               “Have a nice night.” He says, nodding his head in your direction before turning around and walking down the street.

               You watch Seonghwa go, frozen in place, as he traces a neat and clean line through a small crowd until he is swallowed up.

*

               Opening the door to your apartment, you drop your bag on the floor, still wrangling with your umbrella which won’t close properly. Your roommate is out, probably for the night, which is fine by you.

               Once the umbrella finally closes, you look around the apartment. Small is an understatement. You bet Seonghwa’s closet is the size of your apartment. Stop thinking about him, you scold yourself. His offer was ridiculous. Pretending to be dating someone is a joke because the real problem at hand is that you have barely any experience in that department.

               You’ve gone on dates, you’ve even had sex a few times, but all of it fizzled out pretty quickly. Now, between working all the time and just trying to scrape up enough money to get by, you have let that entire aspect of your life go to the wayside. How in the world could you try to fool a rich guy’s family that you are dating someone you don’t even know when your own experience is so limited? That’s the real reason you turned Seonghwa down.

               Going to the bathroom, stripping off your clothes, you step under the water when it’s still cold because it takes ages to get the hot water going. By the end of the shower, it will be nice and warm but you aren’t going to run up the water bill waiting for that in the meantime.

               Washing the day off your body, your mind wanders back to Seonghwa. Some part of you wishes that you had enough experience to agree to the fake dating thing. It would be one night, make you thousands of dollars, and then you can wash your hands of it. Unless you are being blinded by the money and there is more going on here than it appears. You would hate to agree to such a thing and it turns out Seonghwa is some lunatic who made the whole thing up just to get you alone somewhere.

               And even if he is legit, how could you pass off as truly dating him in front of his parents? You could count the number of people you’ve kissed on one hand. To act like some adoring girlfriend is well beyond the scope of your abilities. He might not even pay you when the night is finished because you aren’t convincing enough. I’d have to ask for half up front, just to make sure I don’t leave empty handed. Then you catch yourself – there won’t be anything up front because you aren’t going to agree to such a thing.

               After the shower, your bed is calling. Sinking underneath the covers, ignoring the worrisome way the bed frame shakes, you grab your laptop off the night table and turn it on, wondering what mind numbing stuff to put on tonight. But you still don’t know anything about Seonghwa. He comes in a couple nights a week to buy snacks and then goes back to his Barbie Dream Life. The whole thing sounds like it is way too good to be true. To make that much money from pretending to date a guy for a night…why doesn’t he have any friends to pull into this scheme? Surely, someone close to him would agree to such a thing just out of friendship. Wait no, damn it, you aren’t supposed to be thinking about this. The entire thing is over and done with. Focus on a TV show.

               But even as the images flicker across the screen, your gaze sweeps the small bedroom. Most of the things in here you got at thrift stores; some pieces are even hastily repainted in an effort to personalize them. Your lava lamp broke a few weeks ago and is still on the shelf. A stack of books are shoved in a corner with no space to put them anywhere. You don’t even own a TV and instead hope your ancient laptop can last as long as possible. If you agreed to Seonghwa’s idea, you could get everything replaced in this room. It would look like a proper bedroom, not a hidey hole. You bet Seonghwa’s room at his Garden Gates place must look immaculate. The thought depresses you.

               Chewing on your bottom lip, you reach for your phone. The battery is almost dead but you manage to fire off one final text before the screen goes black.

               “I changed my mind. I’d like to meet with you to discuss it.”

*

               The coffee shop Seonghwa agrees to meet at the following afternoon is the sort of overpriced place you never step foot in. But he offered to pay so you are ready to take advantage of that and order the most ridiculous drink you can imagine at his expense.

               It takes about half a second to locate Seonghwa. It is difficult not to. Between his height, slender frame and annoyingly good looks, most people are shooting glances in his direction. He is studying the menu as if never been here before, something you doubt very much.

               Immediately, you wonder if you are underdressed. But no one glances in your direction minus a friendly greeting from the barista which gets Seonghwa’s attention. When he notices you, he gives a small wave. Today, his blonde hair is slicked back, while wearing a pair of blue jeans and a black turtleneck. He just screams money in a low effort sort of way whereas you scream on three hours of sleep and propelled out the door only by the hope of money.

               “Good afternoon,” He says formally, nodding his head as you approach, “I was just looking over the menu.”

               “You haven’t been here before?” You ask doubtfully.

               “Not in some time. I can’t recall what I got last time.”

               Seonghwa smells amazing. Some cologne, you assume before turning your attention to the menu. It has more options than you know what to do with and that doubt from last night blooms in your chest. If I get anxious ordering coffee, how in the world could I pull off being his fake girlfriend?

               Seonghwa goes to the register, placing an order of something you didn’t even know existed. Whatever the baristas are being paid, it cannot be enough. Seonghwa’s order sounds like a foreign language. Timidly, you order next – something simple in contrast to the big dreams from this morning of ordering something super overpriced and fancy.

               Seonghwa pays, you mumble a thanks, and then trail after him as he grabs a seat by the window. The coffee shop is next to a small side street where you can watch people hustle and bustle in and out of stores. The sun is high in the sky, not a cloud in sight for once.

               Seonghwa doesn’t even look out the window, turning his attention to you. “I assume you wanted to discuss specifics?”

               It had been your idea to meet today. The idea of not seeing him until the night of the dinner left you unsettled.

               “Uhm, yes,” You take a deep breath, “Just because…you know…this situation is unusual and I don’t actually know you.”

               “Right, of course, I understand.”      

               “Like, I was wondering why a friend can’t do this for you? You don’t have anyone else in your life who could pretend to be your girlfriend?”

               Seonghwa shakes his head, his fingers drumming against the tabletop. “No, it can’t be anyone my father knows. It won’t work then. He won’t believe I am dating anyone he’s met before. He knows I don’t see them in that light and no amount of lying would convince him otherwise. It has to be someone brand new.”

               His explanation made sense. Chewing on your bottom lip for a moment, you say, “We need to establish what is allowed then. I understand you need to convince your dad that you are dating but I don’t feel comfortable doing certain things.”

               It is then the barista comes over, dropping off the drinks. Seonghwa has gotten some fancy looking latte with pretty art on top. He admires it for a few moments, momentarily distracted, before taking a small sip. He didn’t even stop to take a pic, you think thunderstruck, because he drinks them all the time and this is just another coffee in a long list of coffees.

               You regret not getting a nicer coffee just for the sake of posting it on Instagram and looking fancy for a few seconds.

               “What is that?” You ask curiously, unable to help yourself.

               “It’s an oat milk lavender latte,” He pushes it towards you, “Do you want to try it?”

               “Oh, uh, no thank you,” You say sheepishly, “I was just curious. It’s pretty. You should have taken a pic of it.”

               Seonghwa blinks in surprise, looking back down at the ruined art on top. “Why?”

               “Cuz it’s so pretty. That way you’d always remember it and how you felt when you first saw it.” You explain.

               “I never…thought of it like that before.”

               You shrug. “Maybe next time.”

               “Right…” He looks incredibly thoughtful, as if you just told him the meaning to life and not to take a photo of a latte.

               You clear your throat a little when it is evident he isn’t going to speak. “Anyway, like I was saying. Ground rules. For the dinner.”

               Seonghwa breaks out of his thoughts, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on the top of his hands. “My father isn’t big on public displays of affection so you don’t have to worry about anything overt. I was thinking some handholding and maybe touching your shoulder or waist occasionally, sitting really close together, things like that.”

               You could handle all of that. “Okay. But obviously, no kissing.”

               “Naturally. I’d rather die than kiss someone I was seeing in front of my parents anyway. What about kissing your cheek? When we leave for the night.”

               Seeing as all that requires of you is to stand there, you agree. “There is one more thing,” You tell him, “I want half up front.”

               Seonghwa raises one eyebrow delicately. “Do you not trust me?”

               “No,” You reply bluntly, “Sorry. But I don’t even know you. You could be leading me upstairs and turn into Hannibal, I have no idea.” Setting boundaries and asking for things is not your strong suit but given Seonghwa is brand new to your life, it is less anxiety inducing to ask him for things versus someone you have known for a long time.

               “Hannibal, the Carthaginian general?” He asks, confused.

“What? No, Hannibal Lecter, the fictional serial killer – forget it. You understand the risk I’m taking, right?”

Seonghwa looks stricken. “Of course, I understand. I’ll give you half before we go upstairs. Would this amount work for you?” He gives you a total that is enough to make you pass out on the spot and it is all you can do to nod.

               Taking a moment to collect yourself, you add, “I also want the address of where this penthouse is and the full names of you and your parents. Oh, and we should add each other on Instagram cuz who is dating and don’t have each other added on at least one social media site?” You rattle off the ideas as they pop into your head.

               “I’ll text you everything you need. Whatever you need to make you feel comfortable, of course.”

               On a whim, you add, “I’ll also be telling my friends where I’ll be that night.” You aren’t sure if that one will actually happen for the mere fact you don’t know how to explain something this ridiculous to your friends, especially your best friend. But better he thinks you will.

               Seonghwa is nodding so much he looks like a bobblehead. You finally stop talking to take a sip of your drink, giving him a chance to speak.

               “Like I said, whatever you need. I’ll also give you half before we go to the penthouse. Do you need me to send a car to pick you up?”

               “Uh, no, I’m okay,” You say quickly, unsure how you would explain such a thing if your roommate saw it, “And this is all just for one night. I’m not your fake girlfriend after this.”

               Seonghwa shifts positions, his fingers back to tapping against the table. “I know. However, if my lie about going overseas doesn’t swing, maybe I could ask for your help again? For more money, naturally.”

               “Let’s just wait and see how the first night goes. You might not be impressed with my performance. Your dad could possibly tell it is total bullshit.” You see, Seonghwa, I actually have no clue what I am doing and am just doing this to get your money and leave. The chances of anyone believing we are together is laughable and you definitely won’t want to see me again after this dinner.

               The two of you fall silent, drinking your coffees together for a few minutes before you talk again. “I don’t know anything about you. You should probably tell me stuff about yourself and your life or your dad won’t believe that either.”

               “Oh.” Seonghwa looks sheepish. “I’m not very good at talking about myself.”

               Join the club, you think but instead go, “Just tell me generic stuff, I guess. Your favourite colour.”

               “Black.”

               That’s not a colour, you think but instead go, “What do you do for fun?”

               “For fun?”

               “Yes, you know like…a hobby. Something that gives you joy.”

               Seonghwa’s brows come together. Wow, he actually has to think about this. “I like going yachting,” He answers finally as you take a sip of the drink.

               Which you then almost promptly choke on, coughing at his reply. He looks alarmed, asking if you are alright. You nod in between coughs. Yachting! Imagine having that as your hobby. This is so not going to work.

               “Do you own a yacht?” You ask once the coughing fit passes, afraid of the reply.

               “Me? No. Father does and so do a couple other families we know well.”

               “What do you do on the…yacht?”

               “Soak up the sun, drink a little, just relax. We usually take the yacht to the island we own and spend a few days there before taking it back. A mini vacation, you know?”

               No, you don’t know. Your idea of a mini vacation is faking an illness to call out of work and then staying in bed to shove your face full of potato chips while watching the worst movies imaginable for twelve hours straight. Wait, he said they own an island. Oh, this is a clusterfuck.

               “Uh, right. I like to watch movies.”

               “Oh, my movie knowledge is pretty limited,” Seonghwa replies.

               I assumed that when you thought I meant Hannibal from a war twelve billion years ago, you think but don’t say. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did your family get rich enough to own a yacht and an island?”

               “Oh, my family owns a chain of supermarkets. It started about a hundred years ago. But then the chain expanded out of the country about thirty years ago and our money with it, very quickly.”

               “What chain?” When Seonghwa tells you, your stomach clenches. I’m going on a fake date with the heir of one of the biggest supermarket chains on the planet…I should’ve asked for more money.

               The doubt, which has been a wiggling creature in your stomach since Seonghwa first proposed this idea, is now screaming for attention. It is difficult not to wonder if this is going to be a giant mistake. You are not only out of your depth in regards to his money but also the fact you are woefully inexperienced in relationships. The need for money is blinding your common sense – and it continues to because you grab your coffee, standing up.

               “I should go. I have work tonight.” Which isn’t a lie but you suddenly desperately need to get away from Seonghwa before you call the entire thing off and miss out on making money.

               He looks surprised. “You’re going already?”

               You find his answer a strange one. What did he think, you two were gonna hang out?

               “Yup. Thanks for the coffee. Just text me all the information, okay? See you later.”

               You dart off before Seonghwa can even reply. You know that it appears as if you are running away – and fine, maybe you are. But the gravity of what you agreed to is hitting you and it is hard to breathe.

               For some reason, you know that Seonghwa is staring at your back as you walk down the street, leaving him behind in the coffee shop.

*

               It is past ten at night and the store is completely empty. Bored to tears and knowing your manager has snuck off for another cigarette break, you finally give in to the urge that has been tugging on your sleeve all shift.

               Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you bring up the text Seonghwa sent a few hours ago. It has the address, his parents’ names, and his Instagram handle. Curiosity gets the best of you, clicking it to see what sort of things Seonghwa posts online.

               His follower count is obnoxious and anxiety inducing; the idea of that many people seeing what is posted would freak you out. The page itself is clean and minimalist and Seonghwa is barely in any. Most of the photos are of streets at night. One is even of the outside of your store, the windows frosted over with snow from last winter, the yellow lights of the sign bright and visceral.

               You aren’t sure how long you scroll. You aren’t even sure what you are looking for. Does he just wander the streets at night or something? Most of the feed is of the city lights, the tall towers glittering like gems, occasionally a photo of a gorgeous hotel lobby, always the location tag with some other country.

               You finally find one photo of Seonghwa, with his hair dyed a more vibrant blonde than it is currently. He also doesn’t have black on, instead wearing a dark red button down shirt with the sleeves hastily rolled up a bit. There is a glitter smear across one cheekbone, catching the light. He is in some restaurant, face somewhat covered by his hand as he laughs. The angle is slightly tilted as if someone took the photo on a whim just to capture Seonghwa’s expression. Behind him is what appears to be the ocean dotted with expensive boats. The restaurant must open out onto some sort of balcony. You linger on the photo, unsure what you are looking to discover in Seonghwa’s laughter. Who took the pic of him? What made him laugh this hard? You have a difficult time picturing that same Seonghwa laughing like this now. Maybe you just don’t know him well enough but he seems to be much more distant and static than what this photo shows. Perhaps you are just overthinking it.

               You are so entranced by the post that when you bring your finger down to keep scrolling, you accidentally heart it instead. Breath catching, your eyes drop to the date on the post. It is from two years ago.

               “Fuck.” You say aloud and then quickly make sure a customer hasn’t come in when you were busy scrolling.

               But the shop is still empty. Looking back at your phone, you feel momentarily frozen at the idea of Seonghwa realizing you scrolled back years through his Instagram. The embarrassment rolls through you. You aren’t even sure why you scrolled back so far in the first place.

               Panicked, you unlike the post and drop your phone on the counter as if it burned you. Would it still notify him? Had you waited too long in unliking it? Maybe he won’t mention it.

               Deciding your phone has brought you enough danger, you shove it in your pocket and turn your attention back to work. It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, I’m sure he didn’t even get the notification.

               You don’t check your phone again until you get home from work a few hours later. To your surprise, there is a text from Seonghwa and a notification on Instagram. He had hit like on a photo of yours from two years ago, a poorly lit picture of you and your best friend at a shitty bar for someone’s birthday.

               His text message reads: I can scroll too.

*

               When you turned down Seonghwa’s offer to pick you up for the dinner, you’d forgotten that your bicycle still had a popped tire. That meant texting him and asking if he could, in fact, come get you. Originally, you planned to walk. But when another storm rolled in, you knew that showing up looking like a soaked rat wasn’t going to sell the lie that Seonghwa was dating you or that you were taking this entire thing seriously.

               For some reason though you assumed Seonghwa would come by in a normal person car so you are baffled at the sight of a limo in front of your small apartment complex. Great, you think, so much for not attracting attention. To make it worse, a driver opens the door for you to scamper inside. You can practically feel people staring from their windows at the sight. Your roommate isn’t home again but if anyone mentions it to her, she will ask you a thousand questions.

               Seonghwa is sitting comfortably in the limo, another surprise. You hadn’t thought he would be here too. Having never been in a limo before, you take in the sight of the plush seating, a small TV playing the news, a bottle of champagne cooling in ice, untouched and unopened. Tiny lights run the floor length of the seats and the partition separating you and the driver is rolled up.

               “Good evening,” Seonghwa says, always slightly sounding like he belongs to the early 19^th century, “Before, I forget…” He opens a formal looking bag next to him, looking for something.

               Seonghwa is dressed in a black button down shirt, the Prada logo evident on the small front pocket. With matching dress slacks and formal shoes (also Prada), he looks well put together as usual. His hair is slicked back again, making his cheekbones as attention grabbing as ever. Everything about Seonghwa is professional, distant, and clean. Your mind flashes to the photo of him in the restaurant. For some reason, you can’t stop thinking about the Seonghwa in that photo and the one currently in front of you.

               “Do you want to put this in your bag?”

               His words shatter your thoughts. In between slim fingers, he is holding a white envelope. Hesitating for a moment, you take it, glancing inside. It is a fat stack of money. Seeing the amount like this makes your head spin. You hastily shove it in your purse.

               “Don’t want to count it?” Seonghwa asks.

               “Uh, no, I’m fine, thanks.”

               “You look nice.” He says casually before looking down at his phone.

               You narrow your eyes a little, trying to gauge if he is making fun of you. Your outfit feels like a dismal imitation of what someone would wear around a bunch of hyper wealthy people. But Seonghwa’s attention has already shifted away from the compliment.

               “I told my father you were coming to dinner tonight. Listen, my parents…” He pauses for a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable, “They obviously don’t want me with anyone they don’t pick for me. So I apologize ahead of time if they come off rude or ask too many personal questions. I’ll do my best to step in.”

               Great…like that doesn’t fill you with a sense of growing dread. You nod, lapsing into silence. The moment is quickly arriving. You have no idea if you are going to pull this off. What the hell am I thinking?

               When the limo slows down, your heart jumps to your throat. The door opens, and you get out of the limo first, looking at the extremely tall building. There is no name on the front, no indication it is an apartment complex minus the doorman. You assume every floor is a penthouse and it has to be at least seventy stories high. It is dizzying. You have gone past this building many times during life in the city and never glanced twice at it. It belongs to a different world than you. Now you are stepping directly towards it like a tiny fish getting ready to be swallowed by a whale.

               Seonghwa stands next to you and asks, “May I hold your hand?”

               You take a small sharp breath. This is it, you think, panic poking at the edges of your brain. You nod and Seonghwa slips his hand against yours, holding it gently. Your heart immediately starts to race. Seonghwa walks towards the doors and you let him pull you along. The doorman nods at him, pushing the wide silver doors open, and then you are in the lobby.

               It is as silent as a tomb in here, so minimalist that it feels completely uninviting. A large sleek reception desk makes up one of the walls, a large fountain in the middle, and the temperature just low enough to remind you of a morgue. The floors are black and white marble, sparkling in the soft lights. A row of elevators along the right side catch your attention as Seonghwa goes towards them, pressing a small key against one of the buttons which emits a soft dinging noise as it registers.

               As you wait, you catch your reflection in the elevator doors, slightly distorted. Seonghwa, looking posh and professional, handsome in that untouchable way…and then you. Absolutely no one will believe we are dating, you think, this is insane.

               The doors slide open silently and you realize the elevator only has one floor – the top one. Holy shit, his parents have their own special elevator. He presses the small key against the button signaling the top floor and the doors close.

               “Hey,” Seonghwa says, “You’re so tense.”

               “There’s no way this is going to work.” The words spill out before you can stop yourself, “Your dad will know in two seconds we aren’t really dating.”

               Seonghwa gives your hand a small squeeze, standing very close to you now, one hand resting on your hips. It is intimate and your heart is fluttering. “This will work. Just follow my lead.”

               Whatever the hell that means. Before you can ask, the doors open and you are suddenly in the penthouse.

Alright, let’s go.

*

               The next hour is an overload of information. You meet Seonghwa’s mom first, who takes you on a tour through the penthouse. You end up being glad that Seonghwa is holding your hand because it is the only thing that steadies yourself to the overwhelming show of wealth that is touted in front of you. If the lobby was minimalist, then the penthouse is maximalist to the tenth degree. Every section is covered in expensive artwork in gold frames, vases on display that look incredibly old and easily breakable, and even a large salt water aquarium running along one wall.

               Yet in all the objects and jewels and beautiful things that fill the penthouse, it is hard to find anything personal, anything that indicates this belongs to a family with a history or affection for one another. Who doesn’t have any photos of their kid? You wonder, not seeing a single photo of baby Seonghwa anywhere.

               By the time you finally sit down in the living room (on a couch so plush that you worry for a second that it is going to suck your body inside and never free you) your head is spinning and your grip on Seonghwa’s hand is so tight that it probably looks less romantic and more horror movie.

               It is then Seonghwa’s dad enters. You assume it is his dad because it is the first time Seonghwa lets go of your hand, standing up immediately to greet him. You also stand up to introduce yourself and the gaze his dad gives you is enough to curdle milk on the spot. Oh, he hates me, you think, but he probably would hate anyone dating his son who he didn’t pick.

               After everyone sits down again, there is a few seconds of silence. You can feel Seonghwa’s parents staring at you, their eyes scanning your clothes, the necklace you threw on at the last second (fake gold, can they tell just by looking? Probably.) and the way you scooch over closer to Seonghwa, closing the gap between the two of you while still keeping it respectful. It doesn’t matter what they think of me. All of this is bullshit. So, why am I so nervous?

               Seonghwa is grazing his thumb against the top of your hand, a minor touch that feels so strangely intimate that your heart skips a beat for a second. His father is staring daggers at the gesture and it is all you can do not to yank your hand away, apologize and leave hastily.

               “Have you lived in the city long?” It is Seonghwa’s mom, Mrs. Park, who breaks the silence, beginning the interrogation.

               “Since I was about five.”

               “What do your parents do?” This one is from Mr. Park.

               You tell them, watch the subtle change in both of their faces. It is evident the answer does not please them.

               “And what do you do?”

               This is about to please them even less. “I’m a convenience store clerk.”

               Seonghwa’s parents glance at each other. In that millisecond of a look, tons of information is exchanged, none of it positive. The scent of dinner is wafting into the room, cooked by an entire staff hired just for that purpose. Last night, you made instant ramen for dinner.

               Seonghwa speaks then, “It’s not too far away from where I live. I go in there sometimes to buy stuff when other places are closed.”

               “It’s dangerous to be out that late,” His mom scolds, “You could just get it delivered.”

               “I don’t mind,” He replies breezily.

               “What do you like about Seonghwa?” Mr. Park asks suddenly, his eyes focused on you and only you.

               Great, you think, I know almost nothing about this man besides the fact his favourite colour isn’t a colour and he thinks going to his own private island is a hobby.

               You can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for your answer. This will make or break the belief that you are dating Seonghwa and you regret not learning more about him at the coffee shop before running off. Seonghwa has stopped grazing your hand with his thumb as if he hadn’t expected his dad to ask a question like that.

               You glance at Seonghwa out of the corner of your eye, hoping to glean some last minute information from him. But nothing is forthcoming. Your mind randomly flashes back to the pic of him smiling at the restaurant, the slightly blurry nature of the photo, the glitter smear on his cheek, the dark red fabric bright against his skin.

               Turning your attention back to his dad, you reply, “He’s focused and professional. Always well put together,” Thinking of his face as he laughed, you go on, “But once you get past that exterior, Seonghwa is funny and charming. He’s thoughtful and considerate,” Where is the Seonghwa in the photo now? “He knows what he wants even if he puts other people’s needs before his, sometimes to his detriment. But there’s something in him that,” The glitter smudge on his cheekbone. “…that wants a sort of freedom that I hope I can give him.”

               His parents gawk at you. But it is Seonghwa’s gaze who feels the heaviest. You turn your face to look at his. His lips are parted slightly as if in question. You cannot read his expression. You haven’t seen it on him before. Something about it tugs on you.

               On a whim, just to twist the knife further against his parents, you lean forward and very softly kiss his cheek. The touch is so slight that it barely counts. But Seonghwa stiffens slightly in surprise before relaxing into it. When you pull away, your eyes meet for a moment and then you turn back to look at his parents.

               Mrs. Park stands abruptly. “I should go make sure dinner is coming along. Seonghwa, perhaps you can help.” It is not worded as a question.

               Seonghwa pauses for a moment before releasing the hold on your hand and following his mom into the gigantic kitchen, leaving you alone with Mr. Park, glancing worriedly at you over his shoulder before he vanishes.

               You should probably ask him a question now but your mind is completely blank. What do you ask a man like this? How many millions he made in the last five minutes? You would rather not know. Shifting uncomfortably, you scan the room trying to find literally anything to remark on. His gaze is heavy on you, almost suffocating.

               “You understand my worries, I’m sure,” Mr. Park begins instead, “And why I ask such questions. Seonghwa comes from a family of considerable wealth and there are those who would take advantage of it.”

               “I understand, sir.” By the way, your son is giving me a fat stack of thousands to pretend to date him tonight.

               “How am I not to know that you recognized him and decided to approach him simply because of his money?” Mr. Park is clearly trying to intimidate you but it is difficult for it to work when the situation is entirely fake.

               “He approached me, actually,” You reply which technically isn’t a lie, “I wasn’t familiar with his connections until recently. He doesn’t flaunt his wealth around or give any indication on who he is.”

               His dad chews on this for a moment. Deciding this would be a good time to flee, you stand up, asking where their bathroom is. Mr. Park rattles off a confusing amount of instructions which you pretend to understand and turn around, shuffling towards the hallway.

               The path you take, which may or may not be in the actual direction of the bathroom, takes you past the massive kitchen. You glance inside to see a few people hard at work making dinner. The sight is strange to see and as you go to turn the corner, the voices of Seonghwa and his mom float over, stopping you in your tracks.

               “This is all very funny, Hwa,” Mrs. Park is lecturing, “But bringing some poor girl to the house and flaunting your wealth around to make her smitten with you is in poor taste.”

               Great, we are definitely going to be caught already. Maybe your speech had come off completely artificial –

              Mrs. Park continues, “If you think the idea of you dating someone in another class would scare us into giving up the arranged marriage, you’re wrong. All we have to do is offer her a check and this….convenience store clerk will vanish. People like her only care and want one thing. You know that.”

               Your heart drops to your stomach at her words. You know that. How many times had his parents paid someone off to leave Seonghwa? Sounded like more than once. And wait…arranged marriage?

               “That isn’t why I’m dating her,” Seonghwa replies sharply, “I’m dating her because I like her. I know you and father have other plans for me but that doesn’t mean I have to marry whoever you pick.”

               “You know what happens if you don’t,” His mom’s tone is slightly pleading now, “I don’t want to see you left with nothing.”

               All this new information is throwing you for a loop. So not only is Seonghwa being forced into an arranged marriage, which he conveniently left out, but he might be kicked out of his family if he doesn’t agree to it?

               “I don’t know why we are talking about this. I told you. I’m dating her because I like her a lot. You should give her a chance. I wouldn’t bring her around if I didn’t care about her.” Seonghwa sounds convincing as if every word out of his mouth is completely true.

               However, there is a low rumble of anger in your stomach now towards Seonghwa’s parents and the intensity of it is throwing you off. You don’t know why you care so much about this new information when you took Seonghwa’s money to pretend to be his girlfriend. But before your logical brain can stop yourself, you come around the corner and feign surprise.

               “Oh, sorry to interrupt. Seonghwa, I think I got lost finding the bathroom, sorry.”

               Seonghwa moves towards you, one hand coming to rest on your waist. “No need to apologize.”

               “I guess it’s because my own apartment is so much smaller,” You say with emphasis, looking over at Mrs. Park, “All these fancy things are kinda over my head.”

               Mrs. Park looks stricken at the reminder of the disparity in wealth which you take secret pleasure in. When she replies, her voice is steel. “Seonghwa can show you. I should get back to the kitchen.”

               Right, time to boss around the servants. Seonghwa, his hand still on your waist, gently wheels you around, heading down the hallway and making a left. Then he opens the bathroom door.

               “Thanks,” You say, “But I actually don’t have to use the bathroom. I just wanted to get away from your dad grilling me.”

               Seonghwa’s mouth quirks at the corners and for a second, you think he might smile. But he doesn’t. Instead, he searches your face to see if you have heard the conversation with his mom. You want to bring it up but now isn’t the time – not in the middle of the penthouse, his parents breathing down your neck, and a fake date to complete.

               “How did you come up with that speech? And the kiss on the cheek at the end was genius,” Seonghwa asks, his voice quiet, taking a step closer to you. You get the feeling he has done a lot of whispering in this penthouse and the thought makes you a little sad.

               You can’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the Prada logo on his shirt. Cologne faintly clings to the fabric, a warm and spicy scent, mingled with clean laundry. “I don’t know,” You lie, “Just came to me. You know what? I actually do have to pee. Sorry, excuse me.”

               Slipping past Seonghwa, you close the bathroom door, trying not to be visually assaulted by how over the top and spacious the room is. Your heart is beating quickly. Just nervous. This shit is stressful. That’s all it is.

*

               Dinner is as awkward as the living room conversation. Between thinly veiled insults from Seonghwa’s mom about being beneath the family and his dad asking you questions as if you’re on the stand in a court room, it is all you can do to remember you are supposed to appear as if you are dating Seonghwa. Remembering to touch his shoulder when you are laughing, to look shy when Seonghwa tilts his face close to yours to tell you something and to cast adoring glances his way when he speaks while juggling his parents acting as if the world is ending in front of them is draining.

               On top of that, the food is rich people fare, which means most of it is completely new to you and the portions are so small that you are daydreaming about inhaling French fries once you get out of here.

               By the time the night is winding down, you think that the ruse may have worked. Mrs. Park seems thoroughly disturbed at the idea of you dating Seonghwa and his dad watches you like a hawk. The two of you fall into a simple routine of light touches and hand holding although there are no more kisses on the cheek. The singular one you gave Seonghwa earlier seemed to do the job.

               And while you are waiting for Seonghwa to finish saying goodbye for the night, you think maybe I don’t need a lot of experience to pull this off. In fact, maybe I just found my secret talent of acting. I could get into that. Maybe –

               “I was thinking perhaps your girlfriend could come with us to the beach house next weekend.” Mr. Park suddenly speaks, directing this at Seonghwa but carefully watching your face.

               Oh, he doesn’t believe us, you think with a thud of your heart, glancing at Seonghwa and trying to compose your expression into one of subtle questioning versus the panic that is bubbling in your chest.

               Without hesitation, Seonghwa replies smoothly, “I’m not sure if she is working next weekend.”

               Mr. Park gives a wave of his hand. “I’m sure you can work your schedule out?” He asks you and without waiting for a reply, goes on, “We like to go every six weeks or so to the beach house as a family. It’s important. And since Seonghwa is clearly so taken with you,” He lingers on the words, “We would love to have you.”

               You don’t work next weekend. Actually, it is the first weekend you have off in months. The universe is clearly laughing at you. But Mr. Park doesn’t know that and the last thing you plan to do is go to this beach house and pretend to date Seonghwa for an entire weekend.

               Stumbling over your words, you reply, “I would have to see my schedule. I can’t remember if I work or not. We are short staffed so I can’t just take off. As much as I would love to see the beach house.” You amend quickly.

               Seonghwa is pressing the elevator button multiple times as if that will make it arrive faster. Mr. Park is still staring at you as if he can read your mind. You take a step backwards, your hand going to Seonghwa’s lower back as the elevator doors finally open.

               “Thank you so much for dinner,” You tell his parents, trying to shove Seonghwa into the elevator without it being too obvious, “It was nice meeting you.”

               His parents say goodbye and the doors glide shut, leaving you alone with Seonghwa. You go to open your mouth to tell him that you failed when his hand circles around your waist and crushes you against him, lips grazing your ear. The touch is sudden and electric that your skin breaks out in goosebumps, heart racing so quickly that you wonder what in the world is wrong with you.

               “H-hey,” You stutter.

               “There’s a camera in the elevator and my father might be watching,” Seonghwa whispers in your ear, “Don’t talk about anything until we are in the limo.”

               Your cheek is against his chest, his hands around your waist, lips near your ear. The entire position is incredibly intimate which conflicts with his words of basically being spied on. You realize you should probably hug him back or you will look like a limp fish. Gingerly, you wrap your arms around Seonghwa, hating the fact your face feels warm and your heart is racing. You have no idea what is wrong with you tonight. Seonghwa smells even more amazing this close and your fingers press against his lower back, realizing how slender his waist is. His chest underneath your cheek feels hard and firm as if he works out or something….which you suppose he does because what else did he have to do all day?

               The elevator ride feels roughly fifty years long this time around. You can hear Seonghwa’s heartbeat in your ear, the warmth of his body and it feels so personal that when the elevator doors open it is all you can do not to run fleeing from the small space like someone desperately swimming to the surface for air.

               Scuttling through the lobby holding Seonghwa’s hand into the city lights outside, you are ushered into the limo and it is only then you finally speak.

               “We failed. You saw your dad, right? It was like…” Your mind searches for some sort of example, “It was like when Katniss failed to convince President Snow she was really madly in love with Peeta.”

               Seonghwa stares at you blankly. “When who didn’t convince who about who?”

               Frustrated at the fact Seonghwa is apparently too rich to understand basic pop culture references, you slump in the limo seat, secretly enjoying how comfortable it is. “We failed.”

               “We didn’t fail. He just knows me too well,” Seonghwa replies.

               “If you think the idea of you dating someone in another class would scare us into giving up the arranged marriage, you’re wrong.” Mrs. Park’s earlier words float back to you. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wonder if it is time to mention to Seonghwa what you learned. It feels wrong not to bring it up.

               But Seonghwa keeps speaking. “I know I told you it would be for just for one night. A weekend is asking a lot –”

               “Wait. You’re not asking me to actually go with you on this beach trip,” You blurt out.

               Seonghwa looks resigned as if he expected that answer. “Even if we say you are working next weekend, my father will just push it off to when you are available.”

               “And? I thought you were going to lie and say we were going overseas. You know, rich guy showing poor girl all the wonders of the world, making her wonder if she’s in love with him or just the fact his money opens every door sort of thing.”

               You mean this as a joke but Seonghwa’s face darkens like a storm rolling in. Whoa, hit a nerve with that one, you think, wondering if you pissed him off.

               But if you did, he doesn’t say anything about it, opting to ignore the remark. “I know. I told you this would be my problem, not yours,” He opens the bag he had left in the limo, pulling out another white envelope, “This is the rest of the money.”

               He hands it over but you find yourself hesitating to take it. “Are you sure? We didn’t technically pull it off a hundred percent.”

               “It’s fine,” Seonghwa’s voice is stiff, “We convinced my mother. It counts.”

               You slip the money in your purse, thinking about how much cash you have in there. More than you ever had before. “All we have to do is offer her a check and this….convenience store clerk will vanish. You know that.” The two of you fall into silence. Seonghwa is staring wordlessly at the unopened bottle of champagne, most likely trying to figure out his next move. This has nothing more to do with me. I agreed to this for the money and nothing else.

               As the limo turns down your street, you try to think of what to say to Seonghwa but no words come. The limo comes to a stop, the driver opening the door for you to get out.

               “I’ll walk you,” Seonghwa says suddenly, ignoring your protests when you say that isn’t necessary.

               Your apartment is on the ground floor which means escorting Seonghwa through the courtyard made up of mostly dead plants and a bench that has seen better days. You really didn’t feel like showing him where you lived any more than necessary.

               As you cross the courtyard, Seonghwa goes, “I’ll pay you triple.”

               Stopping in your tracks, you look over your shoulder. “What?”

               He seems to be mentally chewing on something, his brows furrowed and his gaze intense. “For the beach weekend. I’ll pay you triple what I paid tonight. I’ll pick you up Friday, bring you back Monday morning.”

               Silence settles across the empty courtyard. Somewhere, very faintly, you can hear thunder. Seonghwa has shoved his hands in the pockets of his overpriced slacks but his posture remains as regal as ever.

               With a tiny sigh, you say, “I heard you. With your mom. About the arranged marriage.” Seonghwa stiffens, his lips pressed in a thin line. You keep going, “Why didn’t you tell me they are trying to marry you off? There is way more at stake here than your parents wanting you to date someone. You’re going to be…what, cut off from the money if you don’t marry who they choose?”

               “I’ll be cut from the inheritance and not allowed to take over the company when my dad retires. I have money of my own but my family’s wealth won’t go to me if I don’t marry who they pick.”

               You exhale slowly, starting to pace the courtyard. You make a mental note of the fact his mom made it sound like he would be left with nothing which is obviously far from the truth. You are getting a sinking feeling that they know how to manipulate him. The thought makes you sad.

               “Seonghwa, you have so much at stake here. And I don’t think I’m a good pick for what you need. Don’t get me wrong. As you can see,” You gesture to the building, “I need the money. I want the money. The amount you’re offering for the beach trip…that’s life changing. But there is no way I could pull it off for an entire weekend.”

               Seonghwa, perhaps panicked at the thought of his already tenuous grip on this absurd plan falling apart, takes a step towards you. “I – I can’t suddenly change people. It has to be you. I didn’t think – I didn’t think my father was going to invite you to the beach trip. He’s never done such a thing before. I can do the overseas lie after, I just –”

               “No, Seonghwa, I mean…” This is so awkward, you think. “My dating experience is tragic. You understand? I’ve never even been in a real relationship. I’ve gone on a few dates. That’s why I said no originally until I changed my mind for the money. I don’t know how to be in a fake relationship because I’ve never been in a real one. That’s probably why we didn’t convince your dad tonight. Going to the beach house means I have to act 24/7 and there is no way I can pull it off. I’m not just saying no because of me. I’m saying it for you too. If I had known…if I had known there was this whole marriage thing going on, I wouldn’t have agreed to it. There’s too much at stake here.” You want to crawl in a hole now – what an embarrassing speech.

               You see a flicker of surprise cross Seonghwa’s face which only makes you feel worse.

               Adding on before he can reply, “It’s like…you’re paying me so this is a job, right? I’m not qualified for the job. So, you should fake break up with me and find someone better.”

               You have stopped pacing now and Seonghwa approaches you. Your nails dig into the palms of your hands as he does so, your breath catching in your chest.

               “So what if you’re not qualified for the job? Have you seen most people at their jobs? Anyone in middle management usually doesn’t know how to rotate a PDF.” His voice is quiet, his gaze steady. “We have a week until the beach trip. We’ll do a crash course in relationships.”

               “Uhm, I don’t think that is how relationships work.”

               “I’ll show you the ropes so you can act better next weekend. We will go on dates, spend a lot of time together, you’ll learn more about me so you can loosen up at the beach house. I’ll show you what a relationship is like and you can use that on the trip. By the end of it, my parents will be convinced we are in love with one another and they will give up on the arranged marriage. I’ll lie and pretend to go overseas with you, threaten elopement. I might need to see you one or two more times after, which I’ll pay you for, and then I’ll tell them you left me and I’m too heartbroken to consider anyone else.”

               “Seonghwa, that is a batshit plan.”

               “I’ve tried everything else with them. You’re my best shot. I’ll pay whatever you want. I’ll pay your rent for a year. I don’t care.”

               You want to ask him if this is how his family does things – just pay for someone to stick around, pay for someone to leave. You want to ask him who his parents erased in his life with money. You want to ask him what happened to the Seonghwa in the photo.

               But your brain is glitching on this whole relationship practice thing followed by an entire weekend around his scary parents. No words leave your lips and instead you just stare at him.

               “Do you need time to think it over?” He prompts.

               Your mind flashes back to the elevator, his lips near your ear, his arms around you, your heart racing. There would be more of that if you agreed to this ridiculous idea. But then you think about the money in your purse. There would be more of that too. A lot more of that.

               Thunder again. Louder this time. It rains in the city constantly at this time of year. You haven’t been to the beach since you were a kid. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to be an asshole. There could be way worse people to fake date or learn about relationships from.

               “No,” You say, “I don’t need any time. I agree.”

Chapter Text

                Seonghwa looks down at the menu distastefully. Against the backdrop of a multitude of TVs running sports and a bar jam packed with people yelling at the screens, he couldn’t look more out of his element if he tried.

                It is your first “date” with Seonghwa and after a lot of back and forth, it was agreed you would pick the restaurant and then go to his place afterwards. This agreement came into play after you googled the restaurant he originally suggested, discovered that you couldn’t read the menu due to it being in another language and then saw the prices which made your head pop. Even though Seonghwa is paying, you still couldn’t see yourself eating somewhere that fancy.

                Now, Seonghwa sits in a booth across from you, in a chain restaurant that he’s never been in, barely holding onto the menu. His nails are perfectly manicured and painted black, and he wears just a regular black t-shirt and jeans. Peering down at the menu, he makes another face.

                “What is the problem?” You ask.

                “Why is everything…everything is so sticky. The menu. And this booth.”

                “That’s part of the experience,” You reply, trying to keep your voice even and not laugh at him.

                The server comes by, takes your drink orders and leaves. Seonghwa is still staring at the menu as if it is in a foreign language. You lean forward.

                “You really haven’t eaten here before?”

                His eyes flick up to meet yours. “No.”

                “You’re not lying? Like how you lied about the whole arranged marriage thing?” 

                Seonghwa lowers the menu, leaning forward to meet you in the middle. He is wearing a different cologne tonight, his blonde hair is perfectly combed, and the t-shirt dips slightly, exposing more of his chest than you’ve seen before. It feels ridiculous that your heart skips a beat or that you avert your gaze as if he has cleavage or something.

                “Does it bother you I lied about that?”

                “You can’t answer a question with another question,” You reply.

                “I think it bothers you I lied about that,” He amends, “But I’ll make it up to you.”

                Something about the words and his close proximity make you feel awkward so you pull away, turning your attention back to the menu.

                You have one week to learn the inner workings of a relationship in order to convince Seonghwa’s parents that you are his one and only. That meant any moment not at work is around Seonghwa. It meant dates, it meant hanging out at each other’s apartments and it meant staying the night.

                Staying the night did not mean sharing a bed. But seeing as you would have to share at room with Seonghwa during the beach trip, it only made sense to get comfortable enough around him that you could sleep. Seonghwa already offered to sleep on the couch at the beach house and at your place. He offered the guest room at his apartment as well.

                But the entire thing, on top of the dizzying amount of money you’d be making, is a lot of new experiences to cram into one week. You previously didn’t even know Seonghwa at all outside of him popping into the convenience store sometimes. Now he is your fake boyfriend, trying to help you figure out how to act in a fake relationship, just to fool his parents that he is in love and can’t be forced into an arranged marriage. The whole thing is ridiculous and somehow your life.

                The server comes back with the drinks and takes your orders. After you leave, Seonghwa drums his fingers against the table and then changes his mind when he remembers it is sticky.

                “I have a question,” He announces, “Is there a reason you haven’t been in a relationship?”

                “I haven’t liked anyone enough.”

                “Your entire life?”

                “That’s right.”

                Seonghwa chews on this for a moment before going, “But you’ve gone on dates?”

                “A few.”

                “And didn’t like them?”

                “Yup.” Deciding to get the conversation off your lack of experience, you ask, “What about you? I assume you’ve had a ton of relationships.”

                There it is again – the sour expression that appears occasionally when you strike a nerve. The thing is you aren’t sure exactly what you are hitting. You can take a guess it ties into his wealth and his parents from the little bit you have gleaned being around him.

                “My longest was a few years. I had a couple shorter ones before then. So probably not as much as you are expecting.”

                “Why not? Is it cuz of your parents?”

                “In order to tolerate my parents immediately disliking you because they didn’t hand pick you themselves, you have to like me a lot,” He pauses for a moment before adding bitterly, “No one has liked me enough. Or liked me more than money.”

                All we have to do is offer her a check and this….convenience store clerk will vanish. You know that – wasn’t that what his mom said?

                The server comes back with the food and for a few minutes, the two of you are silent. You are turning Seonghwa’s words over in your head. It is obvious his parents just pay whomever they dislike to go away and the money is always accepted. How must it feel to know the person you are dating can leave so easily? This has never been an issue for you and not just because of your lack of experience. The idea of your parents paying off someone you liked is beyond your scope of understanding. But it is something Seonghwa has regularly dealt with. Is that why he is paying you to pretend to be in a relationship with him? Does it feel better for him to have the upper hand with the money, to know that you are on his payroll and not his parents? You aren’t sure how that makes you feel.

                Seonghwa makes a disgusted face, breaking your brooding. “This is absolutely terrible.”

                “Oh, come on. It tastes fine.”

                “It certainly does not taste fine. It tastes like grease and nothing but grease.”

                “I’m soooo sorry it doesn’t taste like some five star place. I hope you can survive it,” You drawl.

                Seonghwa narrows his eyes slightly. “Are you making fun of me?”

                “Yup,” You reply cheerily, “Also, if you’re not going to finish it, get it in a to-go box cuz I certainly will.”

                Seonghwa makes a half hearted attempt to eat his meal but there is plenty for you to eat tomorrow by the time you exit the restaurant, holding the to-go box victoriously. When the limo comes around the corner, you sigh.

                “Do you have to take this thing everywhere? You don’t own like, a regular person car?”

                “You don’t like the limo?” He asks, surprised as the driver scurries out of the car to open the door.

                “Just feels excessive to take a limo literally everywhere, I guess.”

                “Where is your car then?”

                At this, you laugh. “I ride a bike.”

                “I can’t picture you on a motorcycle.”

                “What? No, a bicycle. I ride a bicycle. But not at the moment cuz the wheel popped and I haven’t had time to replace it,” You tell him, “I walked here.”

                “Walked?” Seonghwa asks in a tone that sounds like you just said you enjoy eating metal nails for breakfast.

                “Yes, walked.” You know there are a lot of differences between Seonghwa and yourself but sometimes it feels more like talking to an alien than someone in another social class, “I mean, you take walks too, right? It isn’t that weird. You walk to the convenience store all the time. Your Instagram is full of photos of the city at night,” You say without thinking, getting into the limo, “I just walk when my bicycle isn’t working. Which is more often than not lately.”

                Seonghwa follows you, leaning back against the seats. “What was that about my Instagram?”

                Oh crap, you think. Accidently hitting like on his photo hadn’t ever been mentioned after he made sure to hit like on an older post of yours. But just openly talking about what his Instagram looks like makes it appear as if you spend a lot of time on there – which fine, you do, but you didn’t want Seonghwa to know that. It gives off the wrong impression.

                “You just take a lot of photos of cities at night,” You say, fiddling with the edge of the to-go box, placing it gingerly in your lap as the limo takes off. By your feet is your overnight bag and the nerves are kicking up about going to his place in Garden Gates, “Including even where I work. But they are pretty pictures,” You add, hoping you don’t sound weird. Just lonely, you think, your Instagram is lonely for someone so rich and surrounded by people all the time.

                But is Seonghwa surrounded by people all the time? In all your conversations with him, he hadn’t mentioned anyone outside his parents. Granted, there was a task to focus on but not even in passing had Seonghwa talked about anyone. His Instagram rarely featured pics that weren’t of city streets and he never posted anything to his stories.

                Seonghwa has a strange look on his face when he replies, “I guess I do take walks a lot. I just never thought of them like that.”

                “What do you think of them as?”

                He shifts, slightly uncomfortable. “It’s just nice to get lost in the city. Especially if I’m out of the country. No one asking me questions or talking about the business or buzzing around me trying to get me to marry someone I don’t know. I can get lost in a crowd and it can be the middle of the night and places will be open, lights will be on, signs of life everywhere. I guess it’s…comforting.”

                It’s the most personal thing Seonghwa has ever said to you so far, conjuring up images of him wandering random cities, swallowed up in neon signs, taking pictures of roads he might never wander down again. The thought makes you oddly sad but before you can reply, he barrels on, clearly not wanting to discuss it any further.

                “I had the guest room made up for you at the apartment. But if there’s anything lacking, just let me know. It has its own bathroom as well. The lobby also has 24/7 service so if I’m asleep and you need anything, you can buzz downstairs.”

                Your mind tries to wrap itself around the idea of being able to buzz downstairs for anything you want. Seonghwa says it so casually, clearly used to it.

                The nerves are hitting now. Staying the night at his apartment, even in another room, is a step in the direction of “relationship” that leaves you feeling jumpy. On top of that, Garden Gates is so expensive and out of the realm of your life that just knowing you are about to step inside it makes anxiety bloom.

                The limo pulls around into a circular garden, stopping at the doors. The building is at least sixty stories and sparkling, having only been built a couple years ago. You trail in after Seonghwa, out of the limo and though the doors into the lobby which has the same almost morgue feeling stillness to it as the one where his parents lived. Must be a rich person thing, you think, a little unsettled.

                Seonghwa goes to the elevators and, like before, hits the top floor with a special key. You can’t help but say, “You live on the top floor?”

                “Oh, yeah. I used to be friends with the architect’s son and was able to put in first dibs on the top floor.” Seonghwa replies, leaning against the wall of the elevator as it takes you upward.

                “Who was that, Art Vanderlay?” You joke.

                “Who?” Seonghwa asks curiously.

                “Uh, forget it.”

                Used to be friends, he had said. Yet another tiny piece of a puzzle that seems to illustrate how alone he is. It isn’t as if you have a bubbling social circle or anything due to the fact you are working all the time. But you are friends with your roommate, have some casual friends and on top of that, your best friend who moved out of the city recently.  

                In his black t-shirt and jeans, Seonghwa could pass for just a regular person, not one of the ultra rich elite taking you up to his penthouse. His arms are crossed, the muscles evident against the fabric of his shirt and for some reason, you avert your gaze to his face. That is also a mistake because you start to analyze the way the light hits his cheekbones. I’m only staring cuz his cheekbones are ridiculous, you think, deciding it’s better to pretend the button on the elevator are the most fascinating thing you have ever seen.

                “You seem nervous,” He remarks.

                “I am. The place your parents lived in was unnerving. I am not used to being around money.”

                “My apartment doesn’t look like theirs.” is all Seonghwa says as the elevator doors open.

                And in a way, he is right. His penthouse (because calling it an apartment is absurd) is the complete opposite of his parents – so minimalist that it looks like no one has actually moved in, filled with display pieces that look carefully placed as if to convince someone to buy a place here. Everything is grey and black, there are no personal photos anywhere, and the art pieces lining the walls are a bit depressing for a reason you can’t quite figure out.

                “Here is your room,” Seonghwa says, pushing open a door to reveal a large bedroom that is bigger than your entire apartment, a bathroom so spacious you could move all your things into it, and a view so overwhelming that for a second you get dizzy.

                You drop your bag on the floor, slightly dazed at the room. Seonghwa mistakes this as disdain because he asks, “No good? If you’d rather my room, we can just switch for the night.”

                “What? Seonghwa, this is great. I just haven’t ever slept in a place so nice before.”

                “Oh. It isn’t anything special. I’ll show you what is though. Follow me.”

                Curiously, you do so. He takes you through the living room and up a small ramp through a metal door. Stepping out, the wind slices through your clothes, making you shiver. There is a pool up here, the light in the water changing colours slowly, making it go from clear blue to an unnatural pink. A small, well-maintained garden is off to the right, and to the left is a sitting area with a canopy with a table and some lounge chairs. Seonghwa goes over to the side near the railing, motioning you over.

                Tentatively, you go to the edge, gripping the bars because being this high up is slightly scary. But the view…

                The view is astounding. The city is sprawled out at your feet, the lights twinkling coyly, the cars shining like tiny diamonds, the wind the only noise. In the distance, you can see the bridge leading to the suburbs, and the flashing lights of an ambulance trying to make its way through traffic.

                It is beautiful but lonely as well. You feel like an isolated god watching a world it cannot interact with.

                “I guess this is why you wanted the top floor,” You say, trying to make a joke but the view is too much and the words come out dry.

                “In the summer, I like to spend time by the pool and in the winter, I come up here and like to watch the city and drink hot chocolate,” Seonghwa says.

                The word hovers in your tongue before you finally spit it out. “Alone?”

                He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “I sense another question lurking under that one.”

                You hesitate, biting down on your bottom lip for a moment before speaking, “I don’t mean to pry. I just see all this money at your fingertips, all the traveling you do but yet seemingly no one in your life outside your parents,” Afraid that you are going to piss him off, you still can’t seem to stop talking, “Your Instagram is pretty lonely. I just…sorry. I’m overstepping.”

                Seonghwa moves away from the railing, going over to the bench and sitting down. You take the fact he didn’t storm out or tell you off as a good sign and decide to sit down next to him although you hover for a moment – are you still pretending to fake date even when no one is around? If you were going to have this conversation with someone you were in a relationship with, did you sit closer to them? Or put a hand on their knee or something? You had no idea and end up just sitting next to Seonghwa with a few inches between your bodies.

                Seonghwa leans forward, clasping his hands together and looking thoughtfully down at a spot on the ground. The wind doesn’t stop up here and you are a little cold but don’t say anything because you get the feeling Seonghwa is about to confide in you.

                “I’m sure you’ve put the pieces together. My parents pay off anyone they don’t like. It started when I was a kid. If I had friends they didn’t approve of, they would stop talking to me after a couple of weeks. I never understood why until I got older and one of my old friends took pity on me and said that my parents spoke to his and paid them off to stay away from me. This happened continuously growing up and started impacting who I dated. I just stood by and watched people fall to the side, all of them paid off by my parents. Before long, I was surrounded by people who just agreed with whatever I said or did to get in my parents good graces. When I started dating, the same thing happened. I’d lose girlfriends regularly because the money attracted them more than I did. Eventually, I just lost faith in people completely.” He gives a small shrug, “It’s easier staying alone than allowing someone in only to watch them accept money and leave.”

                You can’t imagine such a situation. Having always been low on cash, you never had to concern yourself if your friends would suddenly leave due to money.

                “About a year ago, my last relationship ended after we discussed moving in together. My parents found out and my mother sent her a gigantic sum of money to go away. Of course, my ex didn’t tell me this. She just announced one night that she was having second thoughts about the relationship and we would be better apart. A week later, she was posting photos from halfway across the world, the start of a four month vacation. I knew what had happened. Shortly after this, my parents told me they had found someone I was to marry and I’ve been fighting with them ever since about the arranged marriage.”

                You sit in silence for a minute or so, turning Seonghwa’s words carefully over in your head, trying to imagine such a life. But it is impossible. Not only is the idea of having so much money a distant fantasy but everyone in your life being contingent on if they were paid to stay or go would give you severe anxiety. And this is daily life for Seonghwa, something he takes on without thinking, and keeps to himself due to it.

                “Is running the company so important?” You ask, “You said you’d lose the inheritance but you’d have your own money. Is the money from the company and inheritance more important than reclaiming faith in people and living on your own terms?”

                Seonghwa turns his face to look at you, surprise evident on his features. You wonder if the words came out hostile or something. Maybe you shouldn’t be offering advice at all – what did you know about a situation like this?

                “My entire life has been about taking over the company eventually. I don’t know anything else. Being disowned by my parents…I’ve never even thought about it before. Taking that route isn’t an option. All they’ve wanted, all my entire life has been about is taking over the company…I don’t…” He trails off, utterly baffled.

                Is this the first time someone mentioned this idea? You think, eyes scanning his face. Seonghwa seems perturbed, deep in thought now at the suggestion.

                “So, it comes down to your parents. And not disappointing them.”

                “I just…” He seems to be struggling with his words before landing on saying, “I just don’t know who I am outside trying to outsmart my parents and being trained to one day take control of the company. I don’t know what I want versus what I’ve been told I want.”

                The words land with a heavy thud in the tiny space in between your bodies. Seonghwa straightens up immediately after saying them as if he wishes to gather the words up and stuff them back in his mouth. You decide not to press that certain subject, opting instead to give Seonghwa time to think his own words over when he is alone.

                Instead, you ask, “The woman your parents want you to marry…have you met her?”

                “I’ve met her a few times, usually when our families organize trips together in an effort to force her and I into the same room.” He pulls his phone out of the pocket of his pants, unlocking it and flicking through his gallery before showing you a photo of her. “She’s nice, don’t get me wrong. But I have zero connection with her. And I also can’t get over the fact that she’s basically being paid to marry me.”

                The woman in the photo is gorgeous and you immediately feel like a bridge troll just looking at her. Next to her are Seonghwas’s parents, smiling placidly. The woman is radiant, a beaming smile on her face, in head to toe designer clothing. Immediately, insecurities about how the hell you are supposed to make anyone believe you are dating Seonghwa flare up. A woman like that is the sort of person you can picture Seonghwa with easily. Settling for you, a convenience store clerk, must look like the setup of the greatest romcom of the ages or something. It’s a joke, a farce, and even with a week crammed full of “relationship training”, there is no way this will work out.

                Seonghwa, lost in his own thoughts, puts the phone away. “If my parents think I’m in love with someone else, that could give me leverage to end this ridiculous discussion.”

                You want to point out that there is no way in hell his dad will believe he is in love with you and that even if he does, they will just hold another thing over Seonghwa’s head to get what they want. But Seonghwa straightens his shoulders and you get the idea the discussion is done with for now.

                “Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk for so long and it’s getting cold out here.” He stands up, turning to look down at you before extending his hand outward. “Come on.”

                You stare at his hand for a couple of seconds before awkwardly reaching for it. His skin is warm, fingers entwining against yours in a gesture meant for a relationship. You can feel his heartbeat, slightly accelerated, probably due to the nature of the conversation, underneath your fingertips.

                Seonghwa leads you through the metal door, down the ramp and back into the living room. “Can I get you anything? A drink? Water?”

                “I’ll just take some water, thanks,” You say, trailing after Seonghwa into a massive stark kitchen with state of the art appliances. “This kitchen looks untouched.”

                “I don’t think I’ve cooked here before,” He replies as he gets the glass of water, “I’m not here very often and usually eat out.”

                Of course you do, you think as your mind flashes once again to the instant ramen and sandwiches you usually eat. As you take the glass of water from Seonghwa, you cast a look over the kitchen thoughtfully.

                “Maybe that could be one of the dates,” You suggest.

                “What, ordering in and eating here?”

                “No, we cook dinner.”

                Seonghwa stares blankly at you. “Cook?”

                “Yes, that’s actually what people do when they make your food and give it to you, Seonghwa.”

                “Okay, I know what cooking is,” He replies, exasperated, “But I’ve never done it before. I’d probably burn the kitchen down.”

                You chew on your bottom lip before nervously going, “That’s what people in relationships do though, right? Go grocery shopping for what they need and then make the meal. Maybe we should do that.”

                “Tomorrow?”

                Tomorrow night is when Seonghwa is staying the night at your place. The idea of cooking in your tiny kitchen makes you feel embarrassed.

                “No, no, let’s do it here. Tomorrow, you’re coming over once I finish my shift, right? I hope you aren’t expecting much.” Truth be told, you are nervous about Seonghwa seeing where you live.

                “That’s fine.” He crosses his arms and you ignore how his muscles look, “I’ll come over once you’re finished.”

                Curiously, you ask, “What are you doing tomorrow?” You still aren’t sure what Seonghwa does all day, alone like he is.

                “I might finally go get my hair dyed. I’ve been wanting to dye it black for a few weeks now.”

                A light bulb goes off over your head. “Why don’t we dye it at my place?”

                At this, Seonghwa’s expression falters and looks wary. “What do you mean?”

                “You know, we buy a box of dye and I can do it for you in my bathroom.”

                “You want me to use boxed dye on my hair?” He says incredulously as the two of you topple into a clear set of differences.

                “We sell some at my store. You can come by at the end of my shift and we can buy it together,” You say, ignoring his remark, “And I can dye it for you.”

                You can tell Seonghwa doesn’t fully trust the idea or you in doing such a thing. You don’t blame him. But you are desperate for something to do at your place that isn’t just awkwardly sitting around your tiny apartment while mega rich Seonghwa wonders how someone can live in such a manner.

                You originally tried to fend off any plans that involved your apartment but Seonghwa was stubborn about it. He said that there was no way that people in a relationship could just ignore someone’s living space and in order to make the lie convincing, he needed to know more about you. And while you understood, it was difficult not to lose sight of that in this massive kitchen. Luckily for you, your roommate was leaving tomorrow morning for the rest of the week to visit her parents across the country, so you didn’t have to worry about her meeting Seonghwa.

                Maybe Seonghwa is picking up on some of your nervous energy because he relents with a small sigh, “Sure. Okay. We’ll do that.”

                “If it’s terrible, you can go to the salon and get it fixed. But I mean, it’s a normal human experience to have a friend badly dye your hair.”

                “I guess I missed out on that one,” He replies although his tone has softened.

                For a few seconds, neither of you speak and just stare at each other. You are suddenly acutely aware of the way his blonde hair is messy from the wind earlier, how he leans back against the counter, the muscles in his arms evident from how he is crossing them.

                “Uhm, well, I think I am going to head to bed,” You say, “But thanks again for dinner.”

                Seonghwa shudders at the mention of dinner and you roll your eyes, moving past him to get to the spare bedroom, wondering how exactly you are going to fall asleep tonight. Right before you leave the kitchen, Seonghwa says your name and you stop, looking over at him.

                “Thanks for listening to me earlier,” He says, “I appreciate it.”

                “Oh,” You reply, taken aback, “It wasn’t a problem. I don’t mind listening. I wish I had more to offer.”

                “Just listening is enough.”

                Another silence, lasting a beat too long. Your heart is skipping rope. You give Seonghwa a small nod and exit the kitchen, exhaling slowly as you make your way to the bedroom.

*

                It is raining again and the store has a few people mingling around. Your shift ends at nine and it is eight fifty-five. You keep glancing out the window, trying to spot Seonghwa.

                You needn’t have worried about how you were going to sleep last night. As soon as you sunk into the most comfortable bed you ever have experienced, sleep ushered in mere seconds. When you woke up in the morning, Seonghwa had left for the day, leaving a small note explaining to call down to the lobby for any breakfast you might want and that a car is waiting to take you back home whenever you wanted.

                You aren’t sure why you felt so disappointed that Seonghwa left already. It also felt odd to be in his penthouse without him which led to you taking a much shorter shower than originally planned (yes, you were going to take advantage of the sheer size of such a space and the fact it had unlimited hot water), not ordering food and awkwardly sitting in the limo as it dropped you off back at your apartment.

                This also had the unfortunate consequence of your roommate happening to leave at the same time for her trip as you got home. She leapt on this, asking a thousand questions, none of which you had the energy to try to answer. How did you easily explain the utterly bizarre situation you landed yourself in? On top of that, your roommate tended to be a bit of a big mouth and the last thing you needed was her blasting on social media that you were fake dating a billionaire heir to one of the biggest grocery store chains in the country. So you lied and said you were casually seeing someone who did have a little bit of money but it was nothing serious and not to get excited.

                Now, waiting for Seonghwa, the butterflies swirl around in your stomach. You don’t know why you feel so jittery and nervous.

                Your brooding is interrupted by the appearance of Seonghwa stepping into the store. He is wearing the same jacket as the night he mentioned this ridiculous scheme to you, his hair slightly wet from the rain, taking off a pair of glasses and trying to dry them which only makes them worse.

                Glancing at the clock, seeing it just hit eight, your co-worker already here for next shift, you hastily clock out, grab your bag and scurry over to him.

                “Here,” You say, taking the glasses away from him, “When did you get glasses?”

                “They’re fake; they just make me look good,” He replies without any hint of embarrassment that might accompany such a confession.

                “Oh, for me?” You say it automatically; only when the words leave your mouth and you see Seonghwa’s expression you realize how flirty it came off.

                “So you agree they make me look good then?” He counters, swiftly sidestepping answering your own question.

                For some reason, you get so tongue tied that you cannot even reply and instead focus on cleaning the glasses, knowing that Seonghwa is watching you silently. You clean them with the sleeve of your uniform and then press up on your toes, putting his glasses on for him. Your fingers brush against his cheeks gently, like minor electric sparks darting across the delicate skin of your fingertips. Seonghwa’s gaze is steady on yours. A droplet of water rolls off his hair and down his cheek. On a whim, you graze it with your thumb and it smears against his cheekbone. The hum of the store has faded to the background and the only thing that exists is Seonghwa.

                The entire thing only lasts a few seconds but by the time he fixes his glasses and thanks you, your heart is racing at an alarming rate and you wonder if the energy drink you had earlier is doing a number on your body.

                Seonghwa clears his throat quietly, his eyes sweeping across the shop. “Alright. Show me where the dye is.”

                Your tongue feels too big for your mouth when you reply with, “Over here.”

                What the hell is wrong with me? You wonder as he follows. Maybe the energy drink had been a bad idea but the shift today was so slow that it felt like either that or possibly falling asleep at the counter.

                Standing in front of the small hair dye section, you pick one up and show it to Seonghwa. “What about this?”

                “I have absolutely no idea on what to get or what I’m looking for. You understand that, right? Everything is completely in your hands,” He adds while looking at you, “I’m completely in your hands.”

                A shiver runs down your spine which you dutifully ignore. It is suddenly difficult to breathe properly in the store and you are anxious to get out of there. Thrusting the box of dye at Seonghwa, you mumble something about going to pay for it.

                A minute later, the two of you are out in the street as Seonghwa opens his umbrella. There is no limo in sight.

                Seonghwa catches you looking and goes, “I figured we could walk. I hope that’s okay. I know the weather isn’t that great.”

                It is raining steadily but with the umbrella, you should be fine. You are honestly relieved at not getting in the limo. Not that it isn’t comfortable but there is something so over the top about it that makes you unable to fully relax inside.

                Setting off down the street with Seonghwa, close enough to feel his body heat, there is a comfortable silence. You wonder if this is how Seonghwa always feels when he wanders cities, if the anonymity is comforting, and what catches his eye to stop and take a photo.

                “You left so early this morning.” You break the silence, “I didn’t expect you to be gone.”

                “Yeah, sorry about that,” His tone is apologetic, “I’ve gotten so swept up in this whole tricking my parents thing that I completely forgot I had a bunch of investment meetings today. Were you okay this morning?”

                “I was fine. It just felt kinda strange being there without you.”

                Seonghwa glances at you for a split second before casting his eyes downward. You wonder if what you said was too much or something. But you are just being honest.

                And on the subject of honesty… “I have a lot of anxiety about you seeing my apartment,” You admit, “It’s incredibly small and average in every respect. I feel intimidated after seeing your parents place and yours.”

                “You don’t have to be embarrassed about where you live.”

                “No offense, Seonghwa, but your opening line for this entire mess of a situation we are in was something along the lines of ‘you could use money, right?’. My lack of it must be a neon light over my head.”

                Seonghwa looks chagrined. “I was freaking out about lying to my dad and trying to solve the issue on the spot. I was completely out of line with saying something like that. Same with grilling you about why you don’t work elsewhere.”

                “You were out of line,” You agree, “So, you can understand my nerves.”

                “I understand them but I assure you, I will be fine at your place.” Seonghwa says confidently before suddenly stopping.

                “What?” You ask curiously, looking around trying to find what he is staring at.

                He points to a sign that is next to a bar door. It is bright white with the font in a dark green colour. Half of it flickers, burnt out and trying to stay on. You have walked past this sign a thousand times but never noticed it before. The door is closed but through the window you can only see a couple of people milling around inside. Since it is Sunday, the usual bar traffic isn’t around tonight.

                “Uh, you want to get a drink?” You ask, slightly confused.

                “Could I take a photo of you next to that sign?” Seonghwa asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “There’s the overhang so you won’t get wet. I know it’s an odd question but I can see it in my head and it might turn out really good.”

                Out of all the reasons Seonghwa stopped, you didn’t expect this. You may or may not have visited his Instagram during your shift earlier, which hasn’t been updated in two weeks, and seeing as you just took a refresher course on his profile, you know that he doesn’t seem to take any photos with people in them.

                “Uh, sure, I guess.” You dislike getting your photo taken but are still in mild shock he has asked to take a one of you.

                Seonghwa leads you to the sign so the rain doesn’t get you wet and then backs up once you’re under the overhang. His phone is the newest model compared to yours which is hanging on for dear life every time you unlock it. No wonder he can take such nice photos.

                “You just want me standing here? Like the emoji?” You ask, feeling awkward.

                Seonghwa, who is trying to balance both the umbrella and holding the phone, motions with his fingers some gesture you don’t understand. When it is evident you have no idea what he is trying to say, he goes, “Tilt your face to the right a little so it catches the light from the sign.”

                You do so, and a group of people pass by, throwing glances in your direction. Great, I look like one of those Instagram people, you think, because posing in my work uniform is something that is totally Instagram worthy. Remembering your uniform, you quickly reach up and tug off your nametag, shoving it in the pockets of your pants.

                Seonghwa, making a small noise of annoyance, opts to just drop the umbrella where he is standing and crouches down to get in a better position to take the photo. He seems completely unbothered by anyone staring or looking over. You wonder if this is how he is in any city, just completely oblivious to his surroundings, more focused on getting a good photo than what people think of him or the fact it is raining.

                “Wait, are you gonna post this on your Instagram?” You ask, the thought suddenly striking your brain like a bat hitting a baseball.

                “Hopefully, if you give me permission,” Seonghwa replies.

                His answer surprises you, your mouth opening slightly to say something although you aren’t sure what. You hear the rapid click of his camera taking burst shots and then he straightens up, picking up the umbrella and coming over to you.      

                “I’m gonna mess with it a bit before I post it,” He explains, scrolling through the pics.

                Each one is basically the same thing. Your expression is one of mingled surprise and questioning and Seonghwa has captured it in each photo. The light is reflected across one cheek, leaving the other one in shadow. Your uniform, typically an ugly shade of yellow like old mustard, looks bright and vibrant against the backdrop of the sign.

                “I thought, uhm…I mean, I haven’t seen any photos posted with other people in it,” You say to him, feeling shy, “Are you sure you want to post it?”

                Seonghwa looks up from the phone at you. His hair is wet now, his eyelashes dusted with sprinkles of water, one droplet rolling across his lips. Your body is warm, your heart doing that distracting thing from earlier.

                “Will you let me?” He asks.

                “Y-yeah. Post it. It would probably look good. For your parents, I mean.” You cut yourself short, your tongue too big for your mouth once again.

                The corners of Seonghwa’s mouth turn downward for a second. “I don’t think they look at my Instagram.”

                So why are you posting it? You want to ask but don’t. “Alright, well, now that you played photographer, let’s go.”

                Out from the overhang, the two of you walk towards your apartment as the rain softly patters on the umbrella. At some point, your hands brush together and Seonghwa reaches for you, walking across rain covered streets towards your destination.

*

                You had instructed Seonghwa to wear a ratty old t-shirt for the hair dyeing process and yet balk upon seeing the small Gucci logo.

                “Seonghwa, you cannot use this shirt,” You say once he shrugs off his jacket in the living room of your tiny apartment.

                He looks down at himself with a questioning expression. “Why not?”

                “Because it is designer. That shirt probably costs more than my rent. Absolutely not.”

                “I didn’t bring anything else.”

                “I might have a shirt somewhere. Hang on. Just wait for me in the bathroom, okay?” You usher him into the bathroom and head into your room, ignoring Seonghwa’s mild protests.

                Seonghwa’s facial expressions hadn’t changed upon walking into the apartment which you are thankful for but still self-conscious about what he thinks. In the short time you have known him, you know he wouldn’t say anything malicious about where you live but he’s still rich in the way that a completely out of touch statement could topple from his mouth at any moment.

                Rummaging around in your dresser, you randomly discover an oversized shirt from a guy you dated a few times a couple years ago. You had slept with him and somehow ended up with his shirt although you hadn’t worn it since that night. You wonder if Seonghwa would care. Why would he?

                Taking the shirt, you head into the bathroom. Seonghwa is standing there slightly awkwardly, reading the instructions that came with the hair dye.

                “This sounds complicated. This is why you go to salons for this stuff.”

                And there’s the out of touch comment, you think. “Here, wear this instead.” You hold the shirt out to him.

                Seonghwa eyes it with a cool expression on his face. “Whose shirt is this?”

                “What? It’s mine.”

                He takes it from you, placing the box on the small counter. The bathroom is small in general but trying to fit both you and Seonghwa in it makes it very cramped. On top of that, you’re going to have to drag a chair in here too.

                “And before it was yours?”

                You hesitate although you don’t know why. It doesn’t matter where the shirt came from, does it? “Some guy I was dating left it here.” Seonghwa arches an eyebrow which makes you feel flustered. “Does it matter? Just wear it. I’m not ruining your expensive shirt. And no!” You raise a finger when he opens his mouth. “Don’t you dare say something about how you have four hundred of the same shirt or it doesn’t matter because you can just buy another.”

                Seonghwa promptly closes his mouth and with a glower, he reaches for his shirt and tugs it off.

                You weren’t expecting this. You thought you’d hand him the shirt, leave the bathroom and he would change. Now, you are standing in front of shirtless Seonghwa which is a sight that has you momentarily frozen in place. Your brain has entered power saving mode. You know that you should say something or turn around or make a sound but all you do is stare.

                It isn’t the fact he’s in shape or that his waist is small and slender in a way that you never noticed or cared about in anyone else that is knocking you mentally on your ass. It is your body’s reaction to it that is making you wonder if you’re losing it. It’s a visceral feeling of warmth all over like being hit with a blast of hot air from an oven opening. Your hands clench for a second, nails digging in your skin as you stare at the curve of his shoulders, how his jeans rest on his hips, his toned stomach, the coiled muscles in his arms.

                Seonghwa is completely oblivious probably because he is complaining, “Didn’t realize I get to wear some crusty guy’s old shirt in order to dye my hair. It’s fine though, I don’t care.” He sounds petulant.

                Through the fog of seeing Seonghwa shirtless, the tiny lone braincell that is still operating thinks is he jealous? But the thought is drowned out as the fabric of the new t-shirt covers him up and he is staring at you.

                “It’s itchy.”

                “What?” You mumble, blinking a few times trying to get yourself together.

                “This shirt.”

                “You’re very brave, Seonghwa. I hope you can tolerate it. Now, let me get a chair.”

                Scampering out of the bathroom, you take a moment to collect yourself. Your heart rate is having trouble slowing down and the image of Seonghwa shirtless is burned into your brain. Grabbing a chair, you pull it into the bathroom and he sits down, crossing his arms. He still seems annoyed, the tension in his shoulders evident.

                “Just so you know,” You say, grabbing the box of dye, “I haven’t done this in a really long time.”

*

                “Are you sure it won’t stain my skin?” Seonghwa asks nervously, leaning forward to look at himself in the mirror.

                “It’s fine. It’ll wash off,” You say, trying to mask the doubt in your voice, “Don’t worry about it.”

                Dying Seonghwa’s hair didn’t take very long; it wasn’t as if he had a ton of hair to work with. But even the short time spent working your fingers through his hair was oddly relaxing. Seonghwa denied it but you think at one point he dozed off for a couple of minutes.

                “So now it sits and then we wash it out and you’ll be all set.”

                Seonghwa still is looking at his reflection doubtfully. “Should be fine. It’s just black hair dye. It seems difficult to mess up that colour.”

                You clasp your hands together, nodding eagerly. “Exactly. See, no problems.”

                You usher him out of the bathroom and into the living room where he sits down on the couch, a towel around his shoulders. It is strange to see Seonghwa in your apartment, just another confirmation about how surreal and random the entire last few days of your life have been. You hover near the couch, knowing that this is supposed to be some sort of relationship training, but unsure if that meant just to sit next to him. Why do you overthink everything when it comes to Seonghwa?

                He makes the choice for you, his eyes flicking upwards. “You gonna sit down next to me?”

                “Yeah, I was just making sure you weren’t getting dye all over the couch,” You lie, sitting down.

                The couch is a far cry from the expensive leather thing Seonghwa has in his penthouse but he doesn’t seem to pay attention to the way it sags in the middle. You turn on the TV, bringing up the one singular streaming service your roommate pays for and you secretly use when she isn’t around.

                You know couples usually cuddle while watching TV but you don’t want to risk getting the hair dye all over you. So, instead you sit awkwardly next to Seonghwa, acutely aware of the warmth of his body and the way his hand rests on his knee. Your mind keeps flashing to the way he tugged his t-shirt off to put on the other one. It plays on a loop, no matter how many times you beg your brain to give it a rest. I need more sleep or something today, I’m all over the place, you chastise.

                On a whim, you reach for his hand. He accepts it without hesitation, his fingers entwining with yours, resting on his knee. Even though you just walked home holding his hand, your heart is doing that jumping thing again. You are starting to worry that it isn’t tied to the energy drink from earlier.

                “Tomorrow night, we are going to shop and cook together at my place, right?” Seonghwa asks, turning his head to look at you.

                “Yup,” You say quickly, your heart still banging painfully in your chest, “I work an afternoon shift so I can just meet you at a store. Where do you usually shop? What location?”

                An utterly blank expression from Seonghwa tells you all that you need to know.

                “Wow, you don’t shop, do you? Everything gets delivered.”       

                Seonghwa opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before settling on, “Yes, it’s typically delivered. But I still…I still pick out what I want.” His tone is feeble and you can tell he is embarrassed. “We can meet at the store. Although,” He looks thoughtful, “We should go to one of my dad’s stores or it’ll somehow get back to him I shopped at a competitor and I would never hear the end of it,” He sounds slightly bitter, making you wonder if this had been a previous issue.

                “Okay. Sounds good. But we still haven’t figured out what we are going to make. I think it should be something simple. Pasta or something.”

                Seonghwa looks lost in thought and not about pasta. “Do you think it might be bad if I go in the store though? The people working there might want to discuss all sorts of things. Issues with the store, stuff like that.”

                “Do you go into this store a lot?”

                “No.”

                “Well, then I wouldn’t worry. No one will know who you are.”

                Seonghwa stares at you, slightly wide eyed. “What do you mean? I’m the CEO’s son.”

                “Uh yeah, no offense, Seonghwa, but do you really think anyone who is working a cashier job at a grocery chain knows what anyone in the CEO’s family looks like? They probably don’t even know what your dad looks like.”

                Seonghwa looks stricken as if this has never popped into his head before. You don’t know how to gently explain to him that people show up at work to make their money and get out of there. No one is going to be figuring out the family tree at the corporation they work at especially when they have to deal with asshole customers getting in their face over the price of an orange or something.

                “I work for a small chain of stores too and I wouldn’t know anyone from the CEO’s family. I don’t think I even know what the CEO’s name is,” You shrug, “I’m really not worried about you being swarmed at the store. You ever go into the stores your family owns?”

                “No, last time was overseas with my father. It was dreadful. I could tell everyone was panicked and trying to impress him. There was a vegetable display that didn’t get set up yet and he lectured the manager for twenty minutes. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

                You fight so hard to stay in a family and a business you don’t fit in at and don’t have any passion for, you think but bite your tongue, fearing saying something that oversteps the boundaries of whatever is being formed with Seonghwa – a friendship? You aren’t quite sure.

                “It’ll be fine. Think of it as being undercover. Maybe you’ll even…” Your voice falters for a couple seconds because Seonghwa has started absentmindedly grazing your hand with his thumb. The touch is faint but makes your brain glitch, the sentence you were about to finish is suddenly gone.

                “I’ll even what?” Seonghwa prompts, completely oblivious to what strange and unusual things are going on inside you tonight.

                “Even learn something.” You manage to get out.

                “Are you?”

                “Am I what?”

                “Learning something.”

                Is he teasing me? You wonder but his expression is the same. You must be imagining things. Holding your hand, minor touches like his thumb against your skin are all commonplace for Seonghwa. These are things he has done many times and come to him easily in his acting. That is why they feel so real to you – it is all new. That’s all it is.

                Willing your mouth to form words, you reply, “I don’t think I’m a fast learner. I’m worried even with all these dates, once we get to the beach house, it’ll all fall apart.”

                “You do best when you’re not overthinking it. I can always tell when you remember we are supposed to be fake dating. Your moves get artificial. But when you aren’t thinking about it, you’re much better. Like when you cleaned my glasses in the shop.”

                You freeze, thinking back to the moment. It had been natural because you weren’t in your head about it. You just simply wanted to clean his glasses because he looked cute trying to…oh.

                “That was good?” You ask nervously.

                Seonghwa, still oblivious, replies, “Oh yeah, absolutely.”

                Oh, this is not good, you think, this isn’t good at all.

                You suddenly stand up, the hold on Seonghwa’s hand breaking. “We should wash your hair now.”

                “Has it been enough time?” He asks, frowning.

                “Yup. Come on, let’s finish this up!” Your voice sounds clearly phony and you wonder if he can tell.

                Seonghwa follows you back into the bathroom and the next few minutes are spent awkwardly getting his head properly positioned against the rim of the tub so that you can wash his hair.

                “Is it uncomfortable?” You ask, chewing on your bottom lip.

                “Yes. Maybe we should try to use the towel as a base.” He suggests.

                This involved getting closer to Seonghwa than you anticipated and given your already accelerated heart rate, you aren’t sure if this is a good idea. Seonghwa’s words keep swirling around in your head mingled with him shirtless, leaning forward to put the glasses on his face, stopping to take the photo in the street, holding hands with him, even when he brought you against him in the elevator leaving his parents place.

                Your fingers brush against his neck as you adjust the towel. He is looking at you although his expression is unreadable.

                “You okay?” He asks.

                “Yes,” You reply through gritted teeth, “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

                He scans your face. “Don’t know. You just seem a little jumpy. You think you messed up my hair, didn’t you?”

                Jumping at the excuse, you go, “It’ll be fine, okay? Close your eyes so the dye doesn’t get in them.” You just need him to stop staring at you for a little bit.

                After making sure the water temperature is as warm as it is going to get in such a short amount of time, and bending yourself at a slightly uncomfortable angle, you start to wash the dye out of Seonghwa’s hair. His hair is abnormally soft, most likely because he uses the most high end hair products on the market, and it glides through your fingers like silk. Seonghwa is quiet and the only noise is the running water. The bottom of the tub is splashed with the black dye being washed out.

                It is impossible to think your body is reacting to Seonghwa because you are developing actual feelings for him. Besides the fact it is a complete cliché to fall for someone you are fake dating, you also have only known him for a few days. It is unlike you to form an attachment to someone so quickly. But unfortunately all the evidence points to the fact you are a fool and have done something this silly like falling for Seonghwa. It is in the jumpiness you experience around him, the way your heart races, the fact that you are simply too aware of Seonghwa to ever properly relax and act as if you are dating him. This is so absolutely typical of my life, you think, scrubbing Seonghwa’s scalp.

                “Okay, ow,” He complains, cracking one eye open, “Not to sound spoiled but usually at the salon I don’t have my scalp mauled by someone washing it so aggressively.”

                “Fuck, sorry,” You apologize, realizing your inner tension is now coming out onto Seonghwa, “Like I said, I haven’t done this in a long time.”

                He stares at you a beat too long and for a split second you irrationally worry that maybe he has the ability to read your mind. But then he closes his eyes again and you finish up washing his hair, your body protesting as you stand back up from the position you were in.

                You hand Seonghwa a new towel and he stands up as well, barely drying it before going to look at himself I the mirror, inspecting his hair.

                “It’ll have to fully dry before you see if it meets your standards.”

                “It looks like it should be okay. At least the stains on my neck are gone,” Seonghwa remarks.

                His hair is dripping wet and getting all over his shirt. Annoyed, you snatch the towel out of his hand and gently nudge him towards the chair that is still in the bathroom. He plops down in it, complaining he wasn’t finished.

                “Can you dry your hair before you make a mess everywhere?” You scold, drying his hair with the towel.

                “Apparently no because you’ll do it for me,” He replies.

                After drying the back of his hair, you move in front of him. The towel is stained with dye as you dry the front of his hair. You lean forward but your knees bump against his and it jolts you. For a second, you lose your footing and Seonghwa’s hands go to your waist to steady you.

                The touch is electric, snapping and sizzling up your spine with an intensity that seems to make your brain buzz. Your breath catches, one hand going to his chest to make sure you don’t fall.

                “You sure you’re alright?” Seonghwa asks quietly.

                Are you imagining it or is his heartbeat underneath your hand accelerated too? I probably just scared him because I almost fell on him, you think.

                “I’m fine,” You mumble, straightening up enough to resume drying his hair.

                But Seonghwa leaves his hands on your waist and it is agonizing in a way that you aren’t used to. The motions of drying his hair slows as your gaze lowers to him despite your best efforts. The world feels muffled once again like a cocoon just holding the two of you.

                “Can I ask you something?” The words spill from your lips without thinking them through and when he nods silently, you say, “That photo I accidently hit like on…the one of you in that restaurant. What was going on that night?”

                Seonghwa looks surprised. “What makes you ask that?”

                Because you look so happy. Because you’ve never looked that happy in the short time I’ve known you. Because even though you have all the money in the world, you seem sad and isolated.

                “I was just curious,” You say instead.

                “I was drunk,” He replies, his voice so soft that you move closer in order to hear, “It was when I was with my ex and my old best friend. We were in the Bahamas for the week for my birthday. We went to a club earlier that night and I rarely go clubbing and had to be talked into it. But it was a lot of fun. A lot of drinking, dancing, music so loud I couldn’t think straight. Afterwards, we went out for dinner at this place that was still open even though it was the middle of the night and my friend took the photo and I uploaded it when I was drunk. Sometimes, I think about deleting it. You know, with how everything turned out. My relationship ending. And my friend iced me out a few months after the breakup for reasons we can both guess by now.”

                “But you haven’t deleted it.”

                “No. I guess I don’t want to erase the memory even though it hurts. It would be easier not to have a reminder of it. But sometimes you need the reminders. Running can make it worse. And I like to remember when I had faith in people, I guess.”

                Seonghwa’s hands have shifted slightly, now on your lower back. Your shirt has moved just enough that some of his fingers rest against your bare skin and your entire body is humming in response.

                “I’m glad you didn’t delete it.”

                “How come?”

                It is difficult to form words when you are so aware of his hands on your body. “I like it. You look happy in it. Blissful. I don’t see that same Seonghwa when I am around you now.”

                “That old Seonghwa is gone,” He replies bluntly.

                The thought made you sad. “You think so?”

                “Too much has happened since that photo. That’s just how life is sometimes.”

                “I guess so.” You wish that you could say more, could properly form what you think into words – that you would like to catch a glimpse of that Seonghwa because you think he might lurk underneath the surface of someone suffocating under money and the weight of parental expectations. “Well, your hair is dry.”

                Seonghwa turns to look at his reflection in the mirror. His hair is a mess and his hands are still on you. It is a jolt to see the two of you in the mirror and think we do kinda look like we are together.

                Seonghwa’s eyes meet yours in the reflection as if reading your thoughts. Something passes in between the two of you, so quickly that a part of you believes it may have been imagined out of desperation. His grip tightens on your hips for a moment, making your chest tighten with sudden desire that you haven’t experienced before.

                The cliff draws closer and you fear tumbling off it.

*

                Seonghwa, who has made a makeshift bed on the floor of your room out of blankets, accidently slams his shoulder in the dresser, wincing. You peer down at him from your bed, feeling a twinge of guilt.

                “We can switch, you know. I can sleep on the floor,” You offer. 

                “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,” He replies stubbornly.

                You plop down in the bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Seonghwa move around on the floor. It isn’t that you don’t feel comfortable sharing a space with him. It’s the startling realization that you might actually be falling for him that you are currently grappling with. The entire thing is doomed from the start – he is paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend, is completely out of your league due to his supernatural good looks, and once the weekend is over he will pay you and the entire thing will be over and done with. Why are you so dead set on making an ass out of yourself? How could you form a crush on someone so completely out of your reach? What a miserable existence you are determined to lead.

                In the last ten minutes, it has started to rain and you can hear it against the window. It is close to midnight and even though you should feel tired, your mind is wide awake. You aren’t sure how long you lay there but it is Seonghwa who breaks the silence.

                “Do you think it looks okay?”

                “What looks okay?”

                “My hair in this colour.”

                “Yeah, of course.”

                “Are you just saying that?” He sits up, his head poking up by the side of the bed, “Look at it again.”

                “Seonghwa, it’s too dark to see it. Hang on.” You lean over and flick on the tiny lamp on the bedside table, illuminating the room. The table wobbles unevenly.

                His hair is dry now and looks as dark as night. It fits him well and your heart constricts. I’m going to get a heart attack hanging out with this guy.

                “It looks good. Really.”

                Seonghwa relaxes slightly, running his hands through it. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

                “It’s fine, you don’t have to thank me.” It was pure torture and I think I’m falling for you but yeah it was great and not a problem. “Would it bother you if I watched something on my laptop? I thought I was tired but I don’t think I can sleep yet.”

                He looks sheepish as he replies, “I’m not tired yet either. I just agreed to go to bed because you said we should.”

                You pause for a second and then go, “You can watch something with me if you don’t mind the bed being too small.”

                The words are barely out of your mouth before he is moving onto the bed, most likely to get off the floor. Some part of you is overjoyed at being this close to him and the other part of you wants to run and hide in the closet. This entire thing was easier when you were tricking yourself into thinking that you found Seonghwa a little interesting and that is why you were scrolling two years back in his Instagram.

                “What are we watching?” He asks, his arm pressed against yours.

                “I don’t know. You pick.”

                “You should pick.”

                “You’re the guest, you pick.”

                “You said you were gonna watch something which meant you had something in mind, right?”

                “Wrong. I usually just have something on and cycle through like four or five different social media apps while not paying attention to what I picked,” You counter, leaning forward and clicking through until you find something mind numbing enough to have on at this late hour and hit play.

                Seonghwa shifts as you lean back, his arm coming around your shoulders and gently pulling you against him, your cheek resting against his chest. Your eyes widen slightly, a choked noise of surprise escaping your mouth.

                “Is this okay?” He asks and his voice sounds much deeper with your ear against his chest, “For practice, I mean.”

                “Uh, yeah, it’s good,” You reply, hoping your voice is steady even though your heart is like a jumping bean in your ribcage, “Good practice.”

                It is absolutely impossible to pay attention to whatever you put on when each second being this close to him is agonizing. Sure, you have felt similar things in your life before but never at this intensity and it leaves you breathless. All rationality seems to be flying right out of your head.

                Seonghwa, as usual, seems unaffected and why wouldn’t he be? To him, this is about escaping the clutches of his parents and nothing more. You’re the one turning this into something else.

                At one point, Seonghwa asks, “Are you okay?”

                Snapping out of your brooding, you go, “What?”

                “You’re just really tense.”

                You want to shriek but it dies in your mouth as he works his fingers softly into your shoulder as if to give you a massage. At the same time he shifts to do so, his shirt rises up just enough to expose a couple inches of his stomach and your brain enters system overload.

                You didn’t think it was possible to feel so unhinged in the span of a second but here you are. The rational part of your brain is saying just to relax and try to focus on how you need to be learning to be natural around Seonghwa. The feral side of you is trying to come up with some sort of excuse to make a move on him or progress things to somehow touching him. But you have no experience in making the first move and you just listen to the sides bicker.

                “I guess I am overthinking again,” You settle on saying, thinking that isn’t exactly a lie.

                “I told you, I can tell when you do because of how tense you get.”

                “Well, like I said, I don’t have much experience in this. And then when I think about trying to convince your parents…”

                His fingers have moved to brush against the back of your neck, sending sparks down your spine all the way to your toes. “Maybe you should just stop thinking about them when we hang out. Let me worry about their bullshit.”

                Without thinking, you reply, “It’s difficult to blot them out when so much is at stake. I can’t just stop worrying about what a friend is going through.”

                As soon as the words leave your lips, you groan inwardly. At no point in hanging out with Seonghwa has he indicated he ever considered you a friend and by the way he stiffens, you fear that too much has been said.

                Steeling yourself, you pull away just enough to tilt your face to look at him, about to apologize. But he has a strange expression on his face, one that renders you immobile. He looks down at you.

                “We are friends, right?” He asks and the words sound so delicate that the realization strikes you that Seonghwa simply doesn’t have any friends anymore.

                “Yeah, I mean…I know you’re paying me for the whole fake girlfriend thing but I mean…that’s like a job.” Your words sound messy and you are speaking too quickly. “But I like hanging out with you. I would consider us friends.”

                “What about after this is finished? Would we still be friends?”

                “If you’d wanna be friends. You could easily be sick of me by then.” You point out.

                Seonghwa’s eyes scan your face before landing on your lips for a beat too long. That familiar heat is creeping across your body again which you are trying to tamper down before it leads you into trouble.

                When he finally speaks, his voice has dropped an octave, “No, I don’t think I’d be sick of you.”

                His fingers are trailing up along the back of your neck, each nerve in your body seemingly condensed into those few inches of space he touches, making everything heightened in the most agonizing way possible.

                “Oh, well, that’s good.” You can feel the urge to begin rambling just to break the tension which you attempt to stifle. “Great, even.” You risk a glance at the exposed skin of his stomach even though it is dangerous to keep tormenting yourself with such things.

                Seonghwa’s breath catches as if he has noticed. You are mentally screaming for him to touch you, making note of the change in his breathing. Surely, you cannot be imagining it. Surely, he must be traveling along the same path as your mind. The two of you have been circling around one another. If you really have somehow misread his energy, your body might shatter into a thousand pieces.

                Seonghwa’s expression changes as if he has decided something and then he speaks.

                “I know you said no kissing when we had our discussion at the coffee shop,” Seonghwa’s voice is soft, his eyes still on your lips, “But I wanted to see if you still felt that way because it might help you,” When you don’t reply because you are too surprised to speak, his gaze flicks up to meet your eyes. “To practice the whole relationship thing. And make you more at ease.”

                You might actually spontaneously combust right here in bed. Willing your brain to work, you manage to squeak out, “Well, we did say this week would be a crash course in all things relationship based, right? Obviously kissing goes with that. One of the many things that goes into it. So, I think a kiss would probably be helpful. If you’re good with that.” Okay enough, brain, enough, you scold, biting down on your tongue to stop speaking.

                Seonghwa’s other hand has come up to cup your cheek, the touch dizzying. His thumb grazes over your lips as he says, “I’m good with it. We are friends, after all. Not strangers anymore.”

                “Exactly,” You reply – you think, anyway. You aren’t actually sure if you said it or not because your heart is at a gallop and your entire body is screaming at him to hurry up and kiss you. He could say anything right now and you would just agree with it.

                Seonghwa brings his face towards you and his lips brush against yours, light as a feather. It is startling and every thought in your head blinks out of existence as you lose the rest of your senses and press your lips against his urgently.

                His grip on the back of your neck tightens briefly as if steadying himself. The kiss goes from something patient and careful to something almost desperate in a couple of seconds. His other hand drops from your cheek, going to your hip instead, pulling you against him. The kiss deepens, his tongue pressing against yours as you swing one leg around his hip to pull him closer against your body, almost straddling him. A small muffled groan leaves him, tumbling into your mouth as his hands move to your lower back, pressing them flat against your skin, moving your shirt up just enough to touch your bare skin.

                Everything on your mind the entire night has been obliterated by Seonghwa’s kiss. You are no longer worried about how much you like him, what will happen once the weekend is over, how you agreed to this for money but now the entire situation was getting out of control. The only thing you can focus on is him and how badly you want him.

                The two of you are on your sides, your leg still thrown over his waist, and he tightens his hold on you, moving onto his back so that you are on top of him. The kiss doesn’t break and instead grows more dangerous as you inadvertently grind against him as you settle into the new position. Seonghwa’s breath hitches and without questioning it, you do it again just to hear his breathing change once more.

                You have never wanted someone like you have wanted Seonghwa. It is terrifying to be on the cusp of completely losing control and possibly diving face first into a situation that will leave you alone and heartbroken at the end of it. But the side of your brain that works so hard to make sure you are protected is strangely silent tonight. It is like seeing a rollercoaster with no safety harness and still deciding to go on it.

                When the kiss breaks, Seonghwa’s face is flushed, his breathing heavy. You can feel how hard he is against the fabric of his sweatpants he changed into before bed, the tent pressing against your thighs. It is evident how turned on he is – does he know you are just as worked up?

                His voice, usually steady, wavers when he talks, “Good practice.”

                You are out of breath when you reply, “T-thanks for the help.”

                “I can show you other stuff people do in relationships, if you’d find it helpful.” His words come quick and fast, his hands gripping the bottom of your shirt, the fabric balled in his fists.

                “You know what, I really would find that helpful. You’re a good teacher.”

                “Oh okay, great,” He is pulling you downward to kiss you again, “Just tell me when you’d like me to stop with the lesson.” You can read in between the lines on that one – if you don’t want to stop, he would fuck you tonight on the spot.

                The next kiss is somehow more desperate than the last one. You cannot help yourself and have begun rocking your hips against him, grinding your pussy against his hard cock through layers of fabric. There is a sudden toppling noise, startling you out of the kiss with a small gasp.

                Making out momentarily on hold, you look over the side of the bed to see Seonghwa has accidently knocked your laptop onto the makeshift bed on the floor. You wince, knowing the thing is ancient and might not have withstood the drop. Seonghwa is also looking down at it.

                “It’s fine, I’ll buy you another one,” Seonghwa says breathlessly before you can respond, pulling you back in for a kiss.

                Normally you would poke fun at him for such a statement but it is difficult to do such a thing when his tongue is in your mouth and you are grinding down on his cock desperately. Your hands move to the bottom of his shirt, breaking the kiss just to tug it off over his head and toss it onto the floor before resuming.

                "Not that I didn’t love wearing the clothes of someone you fucked,” Seonghwa’s voice is rough, lips brushing against yours with each word as your hands run down his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath your fingertips.

                “You jealous?” You murmur as his lips move down across your chin and to your neck.

                “Now, why would I be jealous? If he had done his job right, I wouldn’t be teaching you anything right now.” His voice is scratchy and you can feel how quickly his heart is beating underneath your hands.

                Seonghwa moves to take off your shirt. You aren’t wearing a bra because you figured you would be asleep already, not making out with your fake boyfriend with the intensity of the world about to end. He lowers his head, cupping your tits together so that he can roll his tongue across your nipples. The entire thing happens in the matter of seconds and you can’t help yourself – a small whimper emits from you and you swear that Seonghwa smirks against your tits.

                He bites down gently on your nipples to drive another strangled gasp out of you. You can’t take it anymore, knowing that you are about to crack and fuck him. Your entire body is warm, your pussy soaking wet against your underwear, and all you can think about is sitting on his cock.

                “Hwa,” It is the first time you call him that and it leaves your mouth without a second thought, too desperate to care, “I want to fuck.”

                Your nipple comes out of his mouth with a loud pop noise, a strand of spit connecting your tit to his bottom lip as he flicks his gaze upward at you.

                He remarks, “You think you’ve progressed to that lesson already?”

                “Uh-huh,” You whine, fighting the urge just to pull his sweatpants down already.

                “You think my cock can fit in your tight cunt?” He questions.

                Hearing Hwa talk like this is making your brain buzz. Rationality has long since left the building as you shift to pull his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his cock from being restrained. He is rock hard, the largest cock you’ve had in your limited experience, the tip slick with precum.

                He brings his hands forward, resting on the edge of your underwear, which admittedly is not a cute pair because the last thing you thought you’d be doing tonight is Seonghwa.

                “You care about your underwear?” He asks.

                “No,” You reply and in one quick motion, Hwa tears the flimsy fabric of the old pair, a loud ripping noise filling the space as he throws it to the floor. “You can buy me new underwear along with a new laptop.”

                At this, Hwa laughs quietly, saying, “I’m racking up quite the bill.”

                He moves his hand downward to grip his cock so you can lower yourself down on it. You are soaking wet yet still have to go slow taking his cock because of the size. Your hands are flat against his stomach to hold yourself steady as Seonghwa’s girth fills you up.  

                You rock your hips a little, getting accustomed to him inside you. Seonghwa’s gaze is hazy as if his lust is overwhelming him, his hands gripping the sheets a little to hold back jerking his hips upward to drive his cock into you.

                “Good girl, you took my cock so well,” His voice is like sandpaper and you get the feeling it is taking all of his willpower not to fuck you, “See, you’re a fast learner.”

                The praise is making your head spin.

                “Why don’t you try bouncing on my cock?” Hwa says and who are you to say no to such a request?

                You start riding him, slowly at first because you have only ever done this once for a few minutes a couple years ago, trying to figure out what feels best for you. Seonghwa’s newly black hair is a mess against the pillow, the muscles in his arms taunt from holding onto the sheets to stop himself from fucking you, beads of sweat dotting his chest from the heat between the two of you.

                With each bounce on his cock, your tits must jiggle because Hwa’s gaze is on them. You pick up the speed of your bouncing, driving his cock further into you with each thrust. You are dimly aware that you are making noise, a lot of whimpering and moaning. The walls in your apartment are paper thin and for a second, you feel bad at what the neighbors must be hearing. Not bad enough to stop or to fall silent, however.

                “Good girl,” He says again, his voice taunt, and it is enough to make you purr like a cat, “God, you’re tight. You gonna squeeze my cock with your tight cunt when you cum?”

                Momentarily thrown, you look down at him, your pace slowing a little. “I’ve never – I mean, through sex. I’ve never finished.”

                There is a flash of surprise across Seonghwa’s face and then he goes, “Well, in relationships, you’re supposed to cum. I’ll demonstrate.”

                You don’t have time to question what he means because in one fluid motion, he brings his hands to your waist, tugging you forward as he moves himself upwards in a sitting position, his back against the headboard of your bed. You are straddling him now as he sits, skin to skin with him, shifting him even deeper into your pussy. The sudden close proximity of him makes your head swim. You can see how dark his eyes are, a few strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, his lips slightly swollen from all the kissing.

                “Keep rocking against my cock,” He says as he slinks one hand downward, brushing across your sensitive clit.

                You gasp, jerking your hips reflexively from the sudden pleasure. Seonghwa doesn’t stop, moving his thumb slowly over your clit, his hand dipping between the narrow gap of your bodies.

                “I’ll keep it at that pace until I see your eyes go completely blank because your head is empty of all thoughts minus my cock in you and my thumb on your clit. Then I’ll let you climax. Does that sound good?” His voice is low in your ear, lips brushing against your neck. When you whimper out an affirmative answer, he goes, “Good girl.” yet again just to drive you crazy.

                Seonghwa keeps his speed against your clit slow and languid. Sometimes his thumb slips off your clit completely when you bounce harder than usual. This angle is a little trickier to bounce harder in his lap coupled with the fact that you don’t want him to stop touching your clit because it simply feels too good.

                With his free hand, he brings it up to gently cup your chin so that you have to look at him. He presses down a little harder on your clit and you moan out his name, every nerve in your body alight and begging for release.

                He leans forward, his tongue darting in your mouth briefly just to tease you. You urgently rock your hips as his touch against your clit slows down to a crawl.

                “Oh, I can see it. Just the start of you becoming completely dazed,” He murmurs, “You’re practically drooling, do you know that?” He drags his finger over your lips, showing the spit that is on the tip as evidence, “Keep your mouth open so I can spit in it.”

                You obey, bringing your hips down, a desperate whine tumbling from your lips as Seonghwa spits in your mouth, once, twice, three times, at the same time as he increases his thumb rubbing your clit. Some of his spit misses your mouth and instead lands on your tits.

                “Oh, you’re fun to fuck, you’re such a good girl,” Seonghwa coos, apparently realizing how each time he praises you, it seems to make you go insane, “And your eyes are blank, you’re covered in my spit, and you keep whining. I think I’ll let you cum now, what do you think?”

                You nod urgently. You also think you reply but there’s a high chance it is actually gibberish.

                “Where should I finish?” He asks you and when you don’t answer, he goes, “Just one question to answer, doll, that’s it. Then you don’t have to form another thought for the entire night.”

                He slows down rubbing your clit, and you try to cobble together a sentence. “In me,” You manage to say, “We’re practicing relationships, right? Finish in me.”

                Seonghwa exhales slowly and he begins to rub your clit hard and fast. You are desperate to cum and the increased speed makes your head swim. You bury your face in his neck, wiggling your hips wildly against him, hearing the obscene noises of how wet you are with each movement. Your body breaks out in shivers as your climax starts, your pussy tightening hard around Hwa’s girth. He groans in your ear as you climax against him, your name sounding entirely brand new as it leaves his mouth.

                You can feel him emptying his balls inside your cunt, can feel it spilling out of you and smearing against your thighs, can hear how loud the two of you are as you cum together. You didn’t think sex could be like this. You aren’t sure how you can ever fuck anyone again after having Seonghwa.

                A sweaty mess against your fake boyfriend, leaking his cum, your fucked out brain distantly thinks well this has made things a bit more complicated.

*

                The phone rings and rings as you stare at the screen, waiting for your best friend to answer. The two of you haven’t caught up in a month but those sort of things didn’t matter with a friendship as solid as yours. Even though the days of living in the same city ended a couple years ago, the bond couldn’t be shaken by not talking for a while. All it took was one of you to call and it were as if no time passed at all.

                It is almost time for your work shift. Waking up next to Seonghwa this morning had been surreal. You weren’t sure how to act; after all, he isn’t your boyfriend. But pretending last night hadn’t happened seemed silly too. And last night…well, that was the sort of thing you thought only occurred in movies or something. Every touch from him was electric, and the pleasure from being with him like that seemed to blot out everything else.

                But even though you slept with Seonghwa, that didn’t mean he saw you as anything other than a friend with benefits. On top of that, he was still paying you after the weekend was over to trick his parents about the whole dating thing. Had it been a mistake to have sex with him? It was difficult to gauge what Seonghwa thought and this morning he acted as he had before sleeping together…which also made things tricky due to the fact every second with him meant pretending you were dating.

                Your friend finally answers, snapping you out of your brooding. “Hey! I have work soon. Everything okay?”

                “Hongjoong,” You say, relieved, “No. I mean yes, I’m not dying or anything. But no, I’m also a mess.”

                Hongjoong peers at you through the camera. He is wearing a different fast food uniform than the last time you spoke to him. Opting to give up on affording city life as well as the impact it had on his mental health, he moved six hours away to a generic town. You had spent ages trying to dissuade him but he was steadfast. Thinking that he wasn’t going to be part of your daily life was panic inducing but ultimately, you put your selfish feeling aside so he could do what was best for him. However, you can’t help but think you wouldn’t be in this current situation if Hongjoong still lived here.

                “You look tormented. Please tell me this story is interesting. You cannot believe how dull my life is,” He drawls.

                “You’re the one who left the city,” You counter, “We could be roommates still trying to make it.”

                “Yeah, that and a dollar gets me basically nothing,” He retorts.

                The two of you start every conversation this way – it is how you say ‘I miss you’ without truly saying it.

                “Do you have a new job? I swear, you had a different uniform last time I called.”

                Hongjoong looks down at his outfit and makes a face. “Yeah, well, management didn’t care for me giving every customer a copy of my demo songs with each order. We had…creative differences. So, I left.”

                “You know, if you wanted to get into music, one could argue that leaving the city would be a bad idea for making that happen.”

                “Yes, you’ve said that a thousand times,” He waves his hand, one nail painted black, “I was suffocating there. You know that. At least here I can breathe a bit without the worry of money down my back all the time.” At the mention of money, you shift uncomfortably. Hongjoong catches it, leaning so close to the camera that the entire view is just of his eye. “What are you not telling me?”

                The entire story spills from you, from the mention of how Seonghwa would occasionally come to the store, all the way to this morning, where he left and said he would see you later for dinner. By the time you finish, Hongjoong has squealed, gasped, covered his face and acted like a Greek chorus the entire story.

                “Just to recap,” He begins, “You are getting paid to pretend to date a guy that you have now fallen for, promptly had sex with and you have no idea if he actually likes you or if the fake dating has swirled his brain up and led to fucking? And after this weekend, you get a giant sum of money for pretending to date him but you actually want to date him?”

                “Yes, that’s right.”

                Hongjoong throws his head back and laughs. “Wow, what romcom is this? Out of everyone in my life, you ending up in this situation is the funniest outcome possible. All you do is work and then come home to your apartment. There isn’t anyone who had a lower chance to land in this.”

                “Well, I landed in it,” Your tone is clipped, “Now what?”

                “You’re asking me? I’m about to go serve fried chicken to angry customers for eight hours. How am I supposed to know what to do?”

                Your shoulders sag. “Any advice? What would you do in this situation?”

                “I wouldn’t end up in this situation, darling, because money and sex is a bad combo. You like him but there’s money tied up in every interaction. I guess…” He looks thoughtful, “I guess I would try to figure out if I want the money more than I want him. Because if you take the money, even though it isn’t coming from his parents, that’s still letting him know the money means more than he does. And if he has all these issues tied up with money and people only sticking around to either get stuff from him or his parents, then it would show him that your feelings are more important. That he is more important.”

                The words ring true, striking a bell in your chest. You know Hongjoong is right. But the money is security. Your intense feelings for Seonghwa are terrifying.

                “Thanks. That did actually help.”

                “Of course it helped. I always help.”

                You scowl. “You look like Buffy from the Doublemeat Palace episode.”

                Hongjoong looks insulted. “Please. I don’t have to wear a hat. I’m leaving now. You’ll keep me updated, won’t you?” After you say you would, he goes, “Great. Can’t wait to see you grappling with falling in love. Talk to you later.”

                The call ends and you stare at the phone until the screen goes dark. Falling in love? Hongjoong must have been joking. Falling in love with someone you have only known for a few days would be completely ridiculous.

*

                You are waiting outside the grocery store, your eyes scanning the parking lot for Seonghwa. After work, you darted home to change because you didn’t want to meander through a grocery store Seonghwa technically owned in your work uniform. But you found yourself lingering, staring at your closet, trying to figure out what to wear. This is unlike you and it makes your nerves worse. What did you wear to see a man you were fake dating but had real sex with last night? You just saw Seonghwa this morning but it felt like a decade of agony passed. Your shift crawled by. Each article of clothing looked terrible on you.

                Now, with the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, and the lights of the city starting to blink on like fireflies in the summer, you bounce on the balls of your feet, wondering how to greet Seonghwa. Was ‘hello’ too formal? Is ‘hey’ too casual? You never thought about this shit before.

                Your phone buzzes in your hand. Looking at the screen, it is an Instagram notification from Seonghwa. Surprised, you open the app to find yourself staring at the photo he took the other night outside that bar. It looks a little different from the original, with the colours brighter and the edges of your face slightly blurred. He tagged you in the photo and the caption just says “night walk”.

                Your heart immediately begins to race. There it is – you exist on his Instagram where no one else does. Surely, that counts for something, right? But he called you a friend the other night. Nothing wrong with posting friends on your Instagram. Didn’t mean you meant anything other than that. God, this is so confusing. You can hear Hongjoong laughing in the back of your head –

                “Hey.”

                Your head snaps up to see Seonghwa has magically appeared in front of you. After being on red alert for any sight of him, it is jarring to have him appear while staring at his Instagram. It is also difficult to get your mouth to form words, seeing as he is dressed entirely in leather. Leather pants, leather jacket that is zipped up with little pockets on each side, a popped up collar, and his new black hair.

                “Hey.” You reply. Nailed it, you think.

                Seonghwa runs his fingers through his hair and it is hard not to remember how they felt gripping you last night. It is difficult to stare at him and not think about how it felt to ride him or how he spoke to you as he rubbed your clit. Please pull yourself together, holy shit.

                “You know, I realized we didn’t actually plan out what we were getting,” He says, “You said something about pasta?”

                “Uh, yeah, just figured…we could get a box of pasta and like a jar of sauce. I don’t actually know if it counts as cooking. But seeing as you might not know how to boil water, it’s a start.”

                Seonghwa comes over to you. Different cologne this time, you note. He must own multiple ones. Up this close, you can see the leather is well worn and he moves in it easily. It is tight on his body, with the top of the jacket opened to expose the top of his chest. You want to tease him for wearing all leather to the grocery store but he looks too good.

                “Sounds fine to me. If I mess it up, we can just order something,” He replies and his hand finds yours, leading you into the store.

                For some reason, even though this still counted as a “date”, you hadn’t been expecting him to hold your hand immediately. It is a mix of relief and torture. You hold on tighter than usual as if he might float away.

                Stepping into the store, it hits you that Seonghwa’s family owns it and you are casually holding hands with the CEO’s son. While you still stand by the fact no one will know who Seonghwa is, the idea of blending in is tossed out the window with him wearing an outfit like that.

                Seonghwa stops almost immediately and you know the problem. “You don’t know where anything is, do you?”

                “Well, I mean, I know the fruit and vegetables are on the side. And meat is in the back.”

                “That’s typical for most stores, Hwa.” You say, the nickname from last night escaping your lips before you can stop it.

                You can tell he notices it because he stops for a millisecond, his lips opening slightly before closing. You quickly look away, images of the night prior flashing through your head.

                But all he does is give your hand a squeeze. “Don’t tell my father I don’t know the layout to the store.”

                “I have no plans to tell your dad anything.”

                “Oh, well, that’s good. Doubt he would approve of what we did last night,” He jokes but there is slight tension under the words – he is testing the waters, seeing how you’ll react to bringing up the elephant in the room.

                Relieved at him mentioning it, you tilt your face to look over at him. His brow is slightly furrowed, his shoulders stiff, his eyes scanning your face. You aren’t sure how to reply – since he technically joked about it, you don’t want to turn it into some serious conversation.

                Making sure your tone is light, you go, “You’re a good teacher. That would count for something, right?”

                A smile tugs on the corners of his lips. “Alright, your turn to teach. Lead the way.”

                “What? I don’t shop at your stores. We’ll just wander the aisles and read the signs.” You take off towards one aisle, giving Seonghwa a little tug on his hand.

                “You don’t shop here?” He sounds affronted.

                “Other places are cheaper. You guys charge extra on every item in exchange for a nicer shopping atmosphere or whatever,” You remark, walking past rows of cereal.

                Seonghwa looks surprised at this. Wow, he really knows next to nothing about this company because he is too busy trying to survive his parents. He would be better off cutting his losses and just leaving completely. But as usual, you don’t say this. You don’t know if he wants that level of honesty from you…and you don’t want to upset him either.

                The next aisle doesn’t have the pasta either. You finally locate it in aisle four, wondering what the easiest one to cook is. It didn’t matter, right? Boil water and toss it in the pot. Surely Seonghwa could handle that.

                Seonghwa is reading each box as if it matters. A woman who is looking at the jars of sauce keeps shooting glances over at him and his hand holding yours. You feel a twinge of jealously as she checks Seonghwa out. Not that you blame her, of course, but this is your fake boyfriend tonight and she is ruining the fantasy you want to delude yourself into believing.

                “Hwa, just pick a shape you like,” You finally say impatiently, “It’s all the same shit.”

                The woman gives Seonghwa a lingering stare which he finally notices as she leaves the aisle. He lowers his voice. “See? I think she recognized me.”

                You sigh. “She did not recognize you. She was checking you out.”

                “She was not. Why would she do that?”

                “I don’t know, probably has nothing to do with your 68’ comeback special outfit,” You snap, snatching a box of pasta off the shelf. You feel a little irritated which is ridiculous.

                You turn your attention to the jars and Seonghwa’s arms slink around your waist, pulling you back against him. The motion takes you by surprise as he brings his lips very close to your ear, right in the middle of the aisle. Even though it is empty, the public show of affection out of the blue has your heart banging like a drum.

                “You jealous?” He whispers so quietly in your ear that it feels as if you hear it in your head versus from his mouth.

                “Why would I be jealous? That would be like you being jealous over a t-shirt last night.”

                “Good point,” He replies and his lips brush against your neck as he pulls away.

                You can’t tell what is fake or what is real anymore. Or maybe it is all fake and your body is reacting to it because you seemingly cannot stop liking Seonghwa more with each passing moment.

                He straightens up, plucking a jar off the shelf. “Is this also all the same shit?”

                “Basically.”

                “I guess this is all we need then. My fridge is stocked up so if we need anything else, I probably have it.”

                “Or you can just get it delivered, right?”

                “Yeah…oh, you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

                “That’s right.” You say as Seonghwa ducks his head to hide a smile. The expression makes your chest grow warm.

                I guess I would try to figure out if I want the money more than I want him, Hongjoong said. It’s easier staying alone than allowing someone in only to watch them accept money and leave, Seonghwa admitted on the roof.

                “You alright? Where did you go?” He asks, waving his hand in front of your eyes.

                “Nowhere,” You reply, shaking off the thoughts, “I’m right here.”

                Seonghwa scans your face for a few seconds and then motions towards the registers. “Let’s go and try not to burn my place down.”

*

                In the parking lot, you look around for the limo only for Seonghwa to stop in front of an extremely expensive looking car.

                “What is this?”

                “It’s a car.”

                “Funny,” You reply, “Hanging out with me is making you quite the comedian. Where is the limo?”

                “You didn’t like it so I ditched it since we have to go back to my place tonight.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the passenger side of the car. For a couple of seconds, Seonghwa looks strangely vulnerable before his face composes itself into a neutral expression.

                “You can drive? I just assumed you were born in a limo.”

                The sky is streaked with orange and it glimmers off the black of the car, striking Seonghwa’s right side. You rummage around in your bag for your phone.

                “Now who is the comedian?” Hwa goes before asking, “What are you doing?”

                “I want to take a photo of you. Is that okay? You look cool against the car like that.” You pretend to be fiddling with your phone because saying that aloud makes you shy.

                “I look…” He trails off, “Right, yeah, take a pic.” He clears his throat a little as you raise your phone. “Are you going to post this on your Instagram?”

                “My paltry little following seeing this? No, I was thinking you could post it on yours.”

                “Mine?”

                “Why not? You haven’t posted a photo of yourself in forever.”

                Seonghwa blinks and for the first time since meeting him, he looks incredibly awkward and overly aware of his body. “Maybe I shouldn’t look at the camera. Like, to the side.”

                “Very mysterious,” You agree, nodding your head in a supportive way, “Go for it.”

                He does and you take a few pics of him. The way the setting sun hits his face makes it almost criminal to look at him. How did I never notice this guy when he came in the store and now I’m here studying how light hits his face?

                When the photos are finished, you go over to him, showing the phone screen. “Nice, right? I mean, not as good as yours but…”

                Seonghwa has a strange expression on his face. It is unreadable and you have no idea what is crossing his mind. You hesitate, wondering if taking the photos is somehow taking things too far. Wasn’t I bouncing in his lap last night? Could some pics be too much?

                “Uh, do you want me to send them to you?” You ask quietly when Hwa doesn’t say anything.

                He snaps out of whatever he is dwelling on, going, “Yeah, thanks. I really like them,” Moving away from you, he says, “Let’s head out.”

                You wonder what is flashing through his head. Some part of you wants to ask but it feels like it might be too personal to be discussed in the parking lot of the grocery store. Instead, you quietly get in the car, wondering what has shifted between the two of you.

*

                Standing in the vastness of Seonghwa’s kitchen, you chew on your bottom lip. There is something sterile about the space, empty and slightly depressing. To be fair, the entire penthouses is like that, as if Hwa is afraid of letting too much of himself show even in where he lives.

                Upon first meeting Seonghwa, it was difficult to feel pity for someone so rich. Now, however, it is difficult to not to. Objectively, he has everything: more money than any one single person needed, anything he ever wanted, a prestigious job lined up and waiting down the road, not a care in the world. But after spending this time with him, it is the vast loneliness and inability to fully trust anyone entering his life for fear of abandonment or his parents meddling that strikes you as abhorrent. How did someone have everything yet nothing at all?

                Fake girlfriend or not, you do not feel comfortable enough to rummage through the kitchen. Also, you are intimidated by the vast array of drawers and cupboards. I’ll just ask him, you think, leaving the kitchen and stopping for a brief moment to look out the floor to ceiling windows in the living room to the city. The sun is gone, the moon rising behind a thicket of clouds that threaten more rain. It rains all the time now, covering the city in a mix of humidity and dampness that never seems to fully go away. Some of the lights are muddled and hazy in the distance from the fog settling across everything.

                It is already Monday. How is it possible I just met Seonghwa and yet it feels like I have known him forever? You linger by the window, staring at the horizon. I can’t tell what is real between us and what is practice. Or maybe nothing is real and he is just really good at pretending. But does it matter? Hongjoong is right. I can’t have both the money and Seonghwa. Not now, not when I know him this well. It isn’t like accepting the money to meet his parents, when he was just a rich guy offering me an absurd amount of cash. Now, I know him on a personal and physical level I wasn’t expecting. To accept the money now would be illustrating to him that is really what is important here. Why would he want to stay friends or fall for me after that? Because regardless of if he has romantic feelings for me or not, he did say we are friends.

                You are weary of thinking about this. It feels as if your brain has been running in circles all day and getting nowhere. Turning away from the window, you head towards Seonghwa’s room to ask him where everything is for dinner.

                “Hwa,” You say, pushing the door open a little and poking your head inside, “Where is – oh.”

                Seonghwa is in the middle of undressing. The zipper on his pants are pulled down and hanging slightly off his hips, the leather jacket tossed onto the bed. The sight of him brings you to a dead stop, the words curling and withering away against your tongue. You hope your mouth isn’t open.

                “I should have knocked,” You finally manage to say.

                Seonghwa, who is seemingly unbothered by you seeing him like this, shrugs. “It’s fine. What’s up?”

                What’s up? Is he serious? Can he not tell that you want to scamper out of his penthouse, out of the city and go scream in the woods somewhere because of the sight in front of you? That your body is already stirring as if he reached out and touched you?

                “Uh…I didn’t want to go through your kitchen without you there,” Your words sound far away to your ears, “I just don’t know where anything is.”

                “Alright. I’ll be there in a second,” He replies and when you don’t move, he raises an eyebrow, “You gonna watch me change?”

                Embarrassed at the fact you are seemingly rooted to the spot, you try to reply but the words come out mildly garbled. At this, Seonghwa lets out a soft laugh and begins to walk towards you. Oh no, you think as your stomach swoops, knowing if he places even one finger against your skin, all logic and reasoning will depart in a millisecond.

                “Are you trying to ask if I need any help changing?” He asks in such a low voice that it feels more like you hear it in your head than it being spoken aloud.

                Brain, I am begging you to form one coherent sentence, you think, wanting to come off aloof and sexy and instead you are standing there like a video game character trying to spawn in. But Seonghwa’s eyes are on you, and you are distracted by how he is shirtless, and how his pants hang off his hips. The close proximity of him is dizzying combined with the memories of last night. Fuck it, is the final thought your coherent brain gives you, giving up.

                “No, I was thinking about getting another lesson from you. If you’d want, I mean…” You trail off, too nervous at the possibility of his rejection.

                “Oh, I did a good job last time?”

                Your hands are going to the zipper on his pants, fingers lingering there, the metal cold against your skin. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth again so all you can manage is a nod. You want him so badly it is like a visceral need blotting out everything else.      

                “Look up at me,” Hwa says gently, two of his fingers going underneath your chin to tilt your face away from the entrancing sight of his leather pants against his skin.

                For a brief moment, he studies your face. You can feel what he feels – the ground shifting underneath the two of you, things colliding that shouldn’t be, lines growing blurry each time you tumble together like this – and then caution is thrown to the wind and he kisses you.

                It is just like last time. The force of his lips against yours blows universes to dust, a fire sparking in your chest that threatens to burn everything else to ash. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him against your body as his hands press against your lower back. His tongue is in your mouth, a groan muffled in your mouth, desire spilling out as if the two of you haven’t had each other in weeks instead of less than twenty-four hours.

                Stumbling towards his bed, articles of clothing going flying as you both undress, you can feel him hard against your thigh. When the kiss breaks, he is breathless, skin flushed, lips a little swollen from where you nipped at them with your teeth at one point.

                Skin to skin with him like this is intoxicating. Every nerve is awake and wanting more of Hwa.

                “I’m gonna get on the bed and you’re gonna hop on my face, alright?” He says, one finger trailing up your back, making you shiver. When he sees the expression on your face, continues, “It’s fine that you haven’t done it before. I promise it’ll feel good.”

                You don’t doubt that it won’t feel good; it is just that you are feeling a little shy about sitting on Hwa’s face. But your curiosity and desire wins out and after he adjusts on the bed, stroking his hard cock a little while waiting, you move towards him.

                “No, face the other way. You’re going to suck my cock while I eat you out.” He says with a small shake of his head.

                Okay, this you definitely haven’t done before. But your usual anxiety about something like this seems to be erased by the sheer fact you are dick dazed by the sight of a naked Seonghwa laying down, stroking his cock. You try to carefully sit on his face but he makes a noise of impatience and brings his hands up to your waist, pulling you downwards.

                Your noise of surprise turns into a groan as he drives his tongue deep in your hole to taste you. Distantly, you can hear the rain kicking up outside. The windows in the room are streaked with running droplets of water, blurring the city into a muddled mess of a painting. Up this high, it is difficult to think about the outside world or any of its concerns. The only thing worth focusing on is Seonghwa eating out your cunt.

                For a few seconds, pleasure blocks out all thoughts, including shyness at the fact you are sitting on his face like this. His hands are tight on your waist as you finally lower yourself forward, reaching for his cock. It is hard and warm in your hand although it is difficult to concentrate because Seonghwa’s tongue moves to your clit. You let out a gasp, instinctively moving your hips at the touch. The motion is slight, just enough to tease you, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you securely in place on top of his face.

                Spitting on Hwa’s cock, you jerk him off for a few moments before bringing your tongue against the head. You can hear a soft groan from him while doing so and that turns you on even more. Swirling your tongue around the head of his dick at the same time as Seonghwa’s tongue moves against your clit, you moan, taking more of him in your mouth while doing so. Seonghwa’s tongue moves quickly and expertly against your nub, breaking your focus on sucking him off. Instead, his cock fills your mouth, his girth stretching out your lips.

                You know that you are grinding your cunt against Seonghwa’s face but seemingly cannot stop doing so. He is switching between sucking on your clit and flicking his tongue against it all while holding you in place. Your breathing is ragged as you bob your head on his cock, tongue against his shaft. Having drooled all over it, his cock is slick with your spit and his precum, making a mess but neither of you care. You bring your head back down on his length, seeing how much you can take of Hwa before it becomes too much. At the same time, your hand moves to his balls, fondling them just to elicit another muffled curse word against your cunt from Hwa.

                You can feel the build up of your orgasm, arriving quickly with each second Hwa works your clit over. He seems to be getting off by the fact he is smothered by your cunt, his hands never loosening their hold on your waist, his face buried in between your wet folds. Your cheeks hollow as you suck on his cock and when you leave the head, long strings of drool and precum dangle off your lips and onto his lower abdomen. When you moan, a dollop of drool lands on the tip of his cock, shiny with precum. You take Seonghwa back into your mouth.

                You can’t focus on sucking him off anymore because you are about to cum against his face. His tongue is relentless against your clit, and pinned between your thighs and the bed, Seonghwa is groaning and cursing as your legs shake. He can tell that you are close to finishing and is determined to get you off.

                With one final flick of his tongue, your orgasm begins. His cock is buried in your throat as you climax, the vibrations of your moans seemingly driving him crazy. You wildly grind down against his face as you cum, covering his face in your juices. At the same time, you are drooling all over his cock, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as the intensity of your orgasm overwhelms you. You didn’t think anything could feel this good.

                Seonghwa grunts, his hips bucking one time, two times, driving his cock down your throat as his balls tighten, his own orgasm seconds from starting. As you pull him out of your mouth, his load spills across your tongue, down your lips and across your chin. There is a ton of it, a sticky mess that adds to your own drool and spit.

                Breathlessly, as the two of you come down from your orgasms, you manage to say, “Okay…good lesson.”

*

                An hour later, you are in the living room with Seonghwa, an opened pizza box on the coffee table and the TV on something vapid that doesn’t warrant any real attention. You think Hwa has managed to eat half the entire large pizza himself.

                “Well, we failed at cooking,” You say, debating having another piece.

                “We can try another night,” He replies and when you give him a look, he protests, “Hey, us not cooking was not my fault. You’re the one that doesn’t knock before entering rooms.”

                “Wait a second,” Sputtering, you go, “I was trying to be respectful of your personal belongings.”

                “Oh, you were very respectful,” Hwa says and it is in such a tone that your heart skips a beat.

                Unable to look at him, you lean forward and take another piece of pizza. After the entire event in the bedroom, you had taken a shower (Seonghwa had attempted to take it with you, saying it would save time but the idea of standing naked in front of him made you feel shy as if you hadn’t just had your pussy against his face), Seonghwa ordered pizza before taking one himself and now the two of you were sprawled out in his living room.

                The truth was everything now did feel like a relationship: from the lazy bickering, to the pizza, to the sex. But the biggest difference in how it felt were the intensity of your feelings. It is as if they grew by the second, not the hour or even a day.

                “I wanted to ask you something.” Seonghwa says suddenly.

                Oh no, you think, please don’t tell me you’ve figured out my feelings for you because of the way I sucked your dick or something. Is that even possible? I’m panicking, I’m definitely panicking.

                “There’s a restaurant downtown I would like to take you to tomorrow night, if you’d let me.”

                Relief swoops through you followed by the memory of the menu of the last place he wanted to eat at and you shake your head. “No, Hwa, not one of those places where the menu is in another language or something.”

                Seonghwa wiggles closer to you, leaning forward and taking a bite of your piece of pizza. When you protest by putting the slice down, he has his pleading puppy dog eyes on. Having never seen this expression on Hwa before, you can only stare.

                “It’s my favourite place in the city. Let me take you there.” He says.

                “I have nothing to wear to some fancy place like that. Don’t you think we’ve gone My Fair Lady enough this week?”

                “You know I never understand any of your references, right?”

                “Do rich people live under a pop culture rock or something? Or just you?”

                “Just me.” He shifts a little closer, murmuring, “You can show up in jeans at this place. It doesn’t matter.”

                “Surely there is a dress code.”

                “There is. But not for me.”

                I keep forgetting he’s not just rich, he’s ultra rich. They have no rules, as shown by his parents being so determined to keep their son alone and hurt all the time.

                Hwa, sensing your wavering, says quietly, “Trust me on this. Please.”

                Your breath catches at his words and it is difficult to refuse him when he is looking at you like that. If he asked you to leap off a building with that expression on his face, you would jump off the top of the penthouse roof in a second.

                “Fine,” You relent and Hwa smiles brightly.   

                It’s the smile that knocks the wind out of you. It’s the same smile in the photo, just without the drunken smear of glitter across his cheek. It’s the smile that you couldn’t stop staring at, the smile that drove your impassioned speech to his parents that first night when this whole thing was about money, the smile that wiggled past everything and took root in your chest.

                Fuck, you think.

*

                The elevator you are taking to the top of the building shows there are seventy floors.

                “I didn’t even know this place had a restaurant. I just figured it was a big office building.” You remark.

                “It’s a secret. You have to be invited to eat here. That’s why we left our phones in the car; you can’t bring them inside either.”

                “Sounds like something I’d see in Gossip Girl,” You reply nervously and then catch his befuddled expression, “Just forget it.”

                It is Tuesday night and the beach trip is rapidly approaching. Even though it hasn’t been very long with Seonghwa in your life, it is difficult to imagine spending time without him around you. Since the whole fake dating started, every waking moment has been spent around him and the idea that this is all going to end after this weekend looms over your head.

                Seonghwa is wearing all black again although there is a silver chain that loops around his waist, a tiny logo dangling at the end, flat against the dark fabric of his dress slacks. You don’t recognize the logo which means it is most likely so high end that the designer isn’t even familiar to you. With a simple black button up, his nails still painted black and somehow not chipped at all, and his black hair, Seonghwa looks statuesque and professional.

                To you, however, Hwa is all long limbs, slender waist, and high cheekbones - it is difficult not to climb him like a tree. You had spent the entire limo ride over here (yes limo, Hwa claimed a place like this needed to be driven to in one) trying to wrangle your emotions under control. You aren’t sure how well it worked because your stomach feels as if it is filled with butterflies attacking jumping beans.

                You are startled out of your thoughts by Seonghwa’s hand curling around yours, an expression of concern on his face. “You alright?”

                “Just nervous about being someplace this fancy,” You mumble, feeling underdressed.

                “I’ll show you trusting me isn’t a mistake.” The elevator doors glide open and Seonghwa gives you a gentle tug forward.

                You are in a nondescript hallway with marble flooring. There is one single door at the end. Nothing about it feels very inviting or comforting but Seonghwa seems excited for the first time since meeting him which is enough to let him lead you towards the door, opening it as you follow him inside.

                You are in a circular room with a desk in the middle. There are closed doors along the circular walls with a little light above each door. Some of them are illuminated, others not. The person working the desk looks up at the entrance and smiles brightly at Seonghwa, clearly recognizing him.

                “Good evening, you called last night, I remember. Let me get you seated.”

                Seonghwa thanks them as they take you to one of the doors without a light on above the door, opening it and ushering you inside. They continue to speak to Seonghwa but you are rendered speechless at the sight around you.

                The room has floor to ceilings windows with a view of the city that rivals the one Seonghwa has at his apartment. You are staring at the back of what looks like a booth, so tall that you must circle around it to get to the table, offering privacy from anyone entering the room. The table itself is small and intimate, like a booth from a restaurant has been plopped down in the middle of a space. To the right, you realize with a jolt that there is another room. It has a kitchen inside it. Each person has their own personal chef here, you think, trying to wrap around the sheer luxury Seonghwa has taken you to. Now you understand why he said the dress code didn’t matter – who would see you?

                After sitting down and being assured the server would be coming by shortly, you are alone with Seonghwa. Soft music is being piped into the room and the lighting is just dim enough to make it comfortable and not diminish the view of the city. Sitting in the middle of the booth, Seonghwa moves over so that he is next to you. For a few seconds, neither of you speak as if he can tell you are just taking it all in.

                “Holy shit,” You go, eloquent as ever.

                Seonghwa chuckles quietly. “You like it?”

                “Yeah, I love it. Just absolutely not what I was expecting.”

                The server comes out of the side room then, handing the menus over and asking what you’d like to drink. After placing your orders, you stare at the menu, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sheer luxury all around you.

                “Do you come here a lot?” You ask, your emotions too all over the place to study the menu properly, instead opting to look at Hwa.

                “I haven’t been here in years. I think last time was for some boring dinner party my parents were having. They have a larger room for those sort of events.” He turns his gaze towards the window. “I thought you might like it. You know, one fancy date. Uh, for practice,” He adds quickly, “Lots of couples splurge with a fancy date.”

                The excuse sounds flimsy even to your own ears seeing as Seonghwa could probably eat every single meal here for the rest of his life and it wouldn’t make a dent in his income. But to say aloud that it comes off like an excuse would mean dancing very close to asking if the fake dating is leaning into real dating and you emotionally can’t handle a negative answer especially in a setting so beautiful. So, I wanna remain delusional a little bit longer. Is that so bad? You tell yourself that you will discuss everything with Seonghwa once getting through this weekend at the beach house.

                “Makes sense,” You reply, trying to ignore your heart doing backflips. “I appreciate it.”

                Seonghwa looks at you, something flickering across his face. Nestled in his words about hoping you like the place seems to be something else – a vulnerability in showing this restaurant to you, an opening up of his personal self that has been carefully hidden for so long due to his parents and money. He is terrified at expressing anything that could hurt him later. He says nothing of the sort, of course, nor do you expect him to. But it is in the way he looks at you that lets you know tonight means a lot to him in more ways than one. Regardless of your ever intensifying romantic feelings for Seonghwa, it is clear by his gesture of taking you here tonight that he truly does regard you as a friend and is scared at the thought.

                The server comes back with the drinks and Seonghwa says that more time is needed to look at the menu.

                Alone again, he speaks, “I understand why we can’t bring phones in here but I wish I could take a picture of the drinks against the city backdrop.”

                This morning, Seonghwa uploaded the photo you had taken of him in the front of the car. It had been strange to see your mark on his Instagram two times in a row now. You wonder if anyone else noticed or questioned it. While Seonghwa kept to himself all the time, he still met and talked to a lot of people in his orbit. You feel confident that most people would want to be friends with him, if only he felt safe enough to let them in. If only he cut his losses and ditched his toxic family.

                “You know, when I asked what your hobby was back at the coffee shop, you said it was going on yachts. But it’s obviously photography,” You remark, taking a sip of your drink.

                Hwa looks startled at your statement. “You think so?”

                “Your entire Instagram are photos you’ve taken on your own. Where I see just a road or some city lights, you see much more. And everything you post evokes a feeling. It isn’t just some random badly taken pic.”

                Seonghwa’s brows furrow in careful consideration of your words. “I never thought of that before. I just liked taking walks and the pictures came naturally, usually at night.” He pauses for a second. “What sort of feeling do they bring?”

                You debate lying, afraid of striking a nerve or bringing up bad memories. But you decide against it because he deserved to know the truth about his photos. “They are sad. Lonely. Always of a city, which normally is loud and full of life, only muted because it is at night and everyone is either hiding something or wallowing in a bad emotion.”

                Seonghwa falls silent, looking intently at his drink. You chew on your bottom lip, wondering if you went too far.

                When he speaks, his words are quiet, “I started going on walks a few years ago. Even before my relationship ended and I realized I didn’t have faith in anyone. I liked how quiet it was. It felt like everyone around me had a story of their own and for whatever reason, it led to us passing by in the night. I would stop and stare at apartment buildings and see the lights on random floors, pick one out, and wonder why they were up so late, what they were up to, if they were okay. I would try to capture that feeling in random photos. The way I felt seeing a puddle of water with a distorted streetlight in it, or a bar filled with people and I’m outside looking in. I’m used to doing it by now. I guess I never thought of it as a hobby…more of like…” His voice catches for a split second and your heart constricts, “A coping mechanism, I guess.”

                “I think you’re really good at it. Even if I didn’t know you, I would be drawn to what you post,” You say earnestly.

                “That means a lot. Thanks.” He looks shy, turning his head to stare at the menu. “I guess we should figure out what to eat.”

                You move a little closer to Hwa, gingerly placing your hand on his knee. He looks up at the touch, your eyes meeting.

                Even though you’ve had sex with him, it still somehow doesn’t feel as intimate as what you are about to suggest. “Maybe tomorrow night, we could go on a walk together. An actual walk, not just to and from each other’s places. But a walk like the ones you take normally alone.”

                Hwa looks surprised again and then the vulnerability that sweeps over his face makes you realize how fragile all of this is. You cannot imagine living in a situation where you are so isolated that opening up like this could be so terrifying.

                Instead of answering, he says with a heavy gravity, “You’re the first person I’ve spent this much time around in a year.”

                Your gaze softens. “I know.”

                “It’s difficult for me to figure out if how I’m feeling is because of that or because of you.”

                You want to ask him what that means, to please clarify if he is speaking about friendship or something more. But the moment is shattered because the server returns, asking what orders should be placed. You fight the urge to shriek as the conversation turns to the menu instead of whatever Hwa meant. The words bounce around in your skull and you know they are going to take root there and fester at the edge of your brain.

                But how are you feeling about me? You wish to ask. Do we tumble into bed together because you’ve been lonely for so long or do we tumble into bed together because you want me as much as I want you?

                The orders are placed and you know that the moment to ask what he meant is gone. The passage of time engulfs everything and seconds with Seonghwa bend and stretch between feeling like hours to the mere blips they actually are.

                “Why is this your favourite place?” You decide to ask instead, wishing to hear him speak for longer, hoping to learn more about him.

                Seonghwa looks thoughtful. “I like the view and the atmosphere. There is something really peaceful about this place, I think. It’s quiet with a lot of privacy. It feels intimate but not too much at the same time. When I was a kid and we first moved to the city, I liked coming here because the nanny I had at the time let me press my face against the glass and look out at everything,” He laughs a little at the memory, “If my parents saw that, I would’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

                “Did you always have a nanny?”

                “I had about five of them. They worked in shifts and lived with us. My parents moved to the city because they got sick of traveling all the time for work. We didn’t live where they do now. It was in the older district. One floor was for myself and the nannies and the other floor for my parents. I eventually was old enough to move out on my own and my parents moved into the place they have now.”

                You can’t imagine having a team of nannies raise you which makes you ask, “Did you see your parents a lot then?”

                “Oh, mom popped by once a day to see me. My dad…not so much. But it was fine. I was used to it. It’s hard to miss something you don’t know you’re missing out on. I was busy with school and then went right into college afterwards for business. Everything was done so I could take the reigns over when my dad retires. His dream is to expand the business. Hence the arranged marriage. It just works out for both companies. My dad expands the company and their business doesn’t need to deal with getting loans or anything to stay afloat.”

                “No offense but why can’t they just do a merger or something? What’s up with the whole arranged marriage for business reasons? What year is it?”

                Seonghwa looks a little surprised. “It’s pretty common in our circles. Even my parents didn’t marry for love or anything. The marriage suited both of their families and both gained something from it. It just made sense,” He frowns a little and adds, “My mother used to tell me as a kid that marrying for love was a lower class thing. It didn’t extend to us. I realized that was true the older I got.”

                This is so warped, you think, standing on a mental cliff of either saying nothing or launching into a speech about the sort of upbringing and isolation Seonghwa has grown up in.

                Wavering, you settle on going, “Hwa, I think even rich people can marry for love. I read news articles about celebs marrying for love all the time.”

                “I’m not a celebrity.”

                “Yeah, but they are rich.”

                “Not my sort of rich.”

                “But obviously some part of you knows this isn’t right or we wouldn’t be fake dating, right?”

                He looks stumped for a moment before replying, “I’ve tried to pitch other ways for my parents to get what they want without relying on my marriage. I’ve suggested mergers. Contracts. Other companies they could talk to in order to expand. But they are dead set on this. My father already says I am marrying too late and I should have kids by now so they can start learning to take the company over after me. He says if the company were to fall to outside hands, it would be ruined.”

                “I hear a lot of ‘my mom said’ and ‘my dad said’ but what about you? You don’t want to marry her. It’s understandable. But your parents disregard all your feelings in this and tell you it is how it’s gonna be. You’re a grown man. Surely, your opinion counts for something.”

                There it is – that same stricken look on Hwa’s face as if you have said something so strange he cannot wrap his mind around it. You bite down on your tongue, stopping yourself from saying too much yet again, waiting for him to speak.

                “My parents just have to see I’m happy with someone else. They’ll realize it’s wrong to force me into an arranged marriage if I convince them I’m in love with someone. They threaten with disowning me but they wouldn’t do that. They need me to run the company.” His tone has a finality to it – the end of the discussion.

                They need you to run the company, you think while studying his profile as he looks away, so what will they do to make sure you are forever tied to it?

                You aren’t sure Seonghwa would like the answer.

*

                When you got back to Seonghwa’s penthouse after dinner, he asks if you’d like to go on the roof with him. Agreeing, you follow him to rooftop terrace. It is just as beautiful as the first time you were here. For once, the night is clear of clouds with no rain on the horizon. The pool water changes colour as steam rises off it, indicating it is heated. It’s beautiful and tranquil and yet makes you a little sad.

                That is because you cannot stop thinking of what Hwa said before the server returned and the conversation shifted. Each moment you spend with Hwa makes it apparent that this whole fake dating thing has gotten more complicated than either of you assumed it would be originally. You just wanted money, Hwa just wanted his parents to drop the arranged marriage scheme. And now, you found yourself grappling with accepting the money after the beach house and Hwa doubted his feelings (Friendship? Romantic?) weren’t impacted by being alone so much.

                To have so many beautiful things around him and no one to share them with makes you sadder than you thought possible.

                “Where did you go?” Hwa’s voice floats through your thoughts.

                You shake your head, turning your gaze from the pool. “Sorry.”

                Seonghwa is looking at you carefully. The pool lights reflect off his skin and a thought strikes you.

                “When was the last time you went in the pool?”

                He cocks his head to the side in thought. “Uhm. I think I went in last summer.”

                “That’s criminal. It’s heated, isn’t it? I’d live in this thing if I had it. Go for a swim. Read under that canopy.” You gesture to a small canopy that has a couple of pool lounge chairs under it as well as a table.

                Seonghwa gestures to the pool. “Go ahead.”

                “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

                “Just go in your clothes.”

                “I own exactly two nice outfits. This is one of them. The other I’m saving for when we arrive at your parents place. I don’t want to ruin it with the cholerine.”

                “Oh, my parents get to see a nice outfit? Lucky them.” His tone is slightly brittle, driving home just how much he dislikes even thinking of them. “Just swim in your underwear then.”

                The thought doesn’t embarrass you as much as it would have before. It is difficult to get hung up about swimming in your underwear when you were sitting on Hwa’s face last night. And the pool does look incredible. Chewing on your bottom lip, you decide you’ll regret it if you don’t go for a dip.

                Wiggling out of your clothes, you put them on the table under the canopy. The wind is cold against your skin and you shiver slightly, anxious to get in the hot water. When you turn around, Hwa is staring at you.

                “Uh, you okay?” You ask tentatively, suddenly acutely aware that you’re standing in front of him in just your matching bra and underwear.

                “Y-yeah. I’m fine.”

                On a whim, without thinking, you say, “Why don’t you come in too? You should enjoy the pool.”

                “I don’t remember where I put my swimsuit.”

                “So, go in your boxers. Does it matter?”

                His slender fingers go to the button on his shirt, deftly undoing them. “It might if I told you how much the boxers cost. You did stress out about my shirt when dying my hair, remember?”

                “Wow, even your boxers are overpriced and designer,” You remark dryly even though your heart is starting to do that annoying jump roping thing as Seonghwa shakes his shirt off his shoulders, exposing toned arms and a slender waist.

                You go to the first step of the pool. The water is nice and warm and it is all you can do not to jump in immediately. Looking over your shoulder at Hwa, who is kicking off his pants with such a casual movement that it almost makes you wince to see the expensive fabric land on the ground. He catches your glance and quickly snatches his pants up.

                “Sorry,” He says sheepishly, aware for one moment the clear difference between the two of you.

                He places them on one of the lounge chairs under the canopy as you try not to make it evident that you are checking him out. When he turns around, you find yourself studying the curve of his back, the way his muscles move under taunt skin. Immediately, that familiar heat begins to take root in you which you try to ignore. You have never had to grapple with attraction like this before. Anyone you went on a date with and the couple of people you slept with all made you feel a little giddy or a bit turned on. You had a decent time falling into bed with them. But with Seonghwa, it is as if your brain completely shuts off and your body takes over.

                When Hwa returns to the pool stairs, he stops upon realizing that the thin body chain is still on. As he goes to remove it, you say without thinking, “Wait.”

                He hesitates, looking at you curiously. He is close enough to touch now and gingerly you reach out, your fingertips running along the length of the chain. Hwa raises one eyebrow at you. You like the way it rests against his skin, the way it glimmers in the moonlight.

                “You should leave the thottie body chain on,” You say with an easy confidence you don’t feel.

                Seonghwa laughs, “The ‘thottie body chain’, alright.” There is a glimmer in his eyes that seem to know exactly where your train of thought is going.

                Ducking your head so he can’t look at you like that, turning around to face the pool, you dive in. The pool water changes colour with the light installed in the deep end and you lose yourself in doing a couple of laps, just enjoying how it felt to swim.

                After the third lap, you pop up and tread water, looking at Seonghwa, who has only moved chest high into the pool.

                “Too cold?” You tease.

                Just to prove you wrong, Seonghwa ducks underneath the water. You watch it ripple, admiring the way his body cuts a clean arc through the ever changing colours, the movement of his arms as he swims towards you. The body chain shimmers under the water. He breaks the surface just in front of you, water dripping off his hair and rolling down his shoulders.

                You are against the side of the pool, your feet barely touching the bottom as Seonghwa is suddenly very close to you – close enough that you can see the droplets in his eyelashes and can reach out for his shoulders to steady yourself.

                “Water too warm?” He asks and you know that he is teasing you because he can see where your mind is traveling.

                “No, it’s just right.”

                Your arms circle around his neck, his hands going to your waist. Your heart is doing a gymnastics course in your chest and your breathing is uneven. It’s difficult for me to figure out if how I’m feeling is because of that or because of you, Hwa had said back at the restaurant. You feel desperate for him to want you as much as you want him.

                Seonghwa’s eyes are on your lips and your legs are wrapping around his waist. He is dangerously close now, making your brain cloudy and hazy with desire.

                “What are you thinking about?” He asks in a voice so low that it slinks up along your spine and nestles in your brain.

                “Just how nice your pool is,” You reply and your voice shakes slightly, betraying you, “What about you?”

                “How you’re getting that look in your eyes again.”

                “What look?”

                “When you’re starting to get wet for me.”

                Your breath catches at his words, your thighs clenching. Seonghwa’s eyes are scanning your face and you wish that he would kiss you already. But he seems perfectly content to drive you crazy instead.

                Continuing, he goes, “Your eyes gloss over when you want to fuck. I can see every thought empty out. I find it hopelessly addicting.” One hand moves up along your waist and comes out of the water to brush his thumb against your bottom lip. The touch is electric. “Ah, see? Right there. From the way your lips part when I press my thumb there to the way your breath changes to that look in your eyes. It makes me want to…” He trails off as if entranced at his own thought.

                “Want to what?” You prompt quietly.

                “To fuck you until your eyes roll back in your head and you’re just a drooling mess, whimpering and begging for me,” He whispers so softly that it makes your skin break out into goosebumps. “To make you cum against my cock repeatedly like we are really dating.” Hwa is so close to you now that his lips brush against yours with every word, pupils blown out with desire, your hands curling against his wet hair, twining them around your fingertips as if it will give you a better grip. “To make your head completely blank because you’re too busy wanting to be fucked by me, that it is the only thing you can think about.”

                Your chest is tight and it is difficult to speak. The entire situation is too overwhelming. Being against Hwa like this, in the warm water, at the top of the city, far removed from everything and everyone. There is no moment before this and no moment after. Just how much you want Seonghwa. Just how much you fall for him with each passing day.

                He kisses you then and your mouth opens against his. It’s a hungry kiss, one that wipes all the time before Seonghwa from memory, all the kisses from others who didn’t do much for you clear from your brain. Your grip on him tightens as his tongues is against yours, your bodies slick with pool water, one of his hands lowering to grip your thigh wrapped around his delicate waist. The kiss breaks as Hwa moves to your neck, biting along the skin, driving a gasp out of you. He doesn’t stop, nibbling down along your shoulder. You feel as though you want him to devour you, to take you completely until there is nothing of you left and that you wouldn’t even care. You want him in a way so new that it terrifies you and drives you closer to him. You want him in a way that is as if someone came behind you on a very tall hill and pushed you forward.

                “God, you’re so sensitive,” He murmurs as his lips trail back up your neck, giving a sharp tug on your earlobe with his teeth, “You respond so well to me.”

                “Hwa.” Your voice is a whine and it doesn’t even sound as though it belongs to you but some desperate little thing inside your chest, “Don’t tease me.”

                “I’m not teasing,” He replies in a faux innocent voice and pulls away from you, running his fingers through his hair, making his hair wet once more, “I was just talking.”

                You know very well he is full of shit. You can tell by the glint in his eye. Hwa is enjoying this, enjoying seeing how desperate you are for him.

                He leisurely swims backwards, staring up at the sky while doing so. You watch him, trying to wrangle your racing heart under control. It is dizzying to be so affected by someone, to want someone this much. You aren’t used to it nor the severity of it.

                Hwa moves towards the steps, getting out of the water. The fabric of his boxers doesn’t stand a chance against the water. He might as well not be wearing it at all because you can see the outline of his ass perfectly in them. He reaches over, snagging a towel off a nearby chair and drying his hair off.

                You still haven’t moved away from your spot against the pool side, watching him dry off. When he tugs his boxers down, you get a glimpse of his ass as he ties the towel around his waist, his back still to you. With the last of your braincells blinking out like a dying star, you push off the edge of the pool, swimming towards the steps as Hwa walks towards the canopy.

                You don’t really care how desperate you look chasing after him like this. Who is going to judge you? Hwa? You doubt he finds it sad. No, in fact, you can tell he likes it. Getting out of the pool, not stopping to grab a towel, you march over to him under the canopy.

                He turns around as you stand in front of him, your bra and underwear sticking against your skin, making a puddle of pool water on the ground. The chain is still around Seonghwa’s waist, dangling off his hips before dipping underneath the towel. His eyes linger on your tits before taking a step towards you, one hand circling around your waist, tugging you against him before kissing you again.

                As usual with Hwa, there is a sense of urgency to every movement. The desire between the two of you is too powerful to take your time. As he kisses you, he pulls you backwards, underneath the canopy and towards the table there. There is nothing on it and you wonder if anything has ever been on it. His penthouse is decorated as if revealing anything even in his own space is dangerous. Even alone, Hwa struggles to show himself.

                Your ass strikes the back of the table and Hwa hoists you up onto the edge of it, peeling your underwear off you and throwing it to the ground before kissing you again.

                In between the kisses, you murmur, “You owe me another pair of underwear.”

                “Two pairs of underwear and a laptop,” He recites it off as if it is a bill, “I remember.”

                You laugh quietly against his mouth. “The laptop still works.”

                “I don’t think it taking ten minutes to load a website is classified as working. Nor the jet engine noise it makes anytime you run a Youtube video,” He retorts as he nibbles on your neck again, his hands cupping your breasts against the wet fabric of your bra.

                He pulls it downward, exposing your tits to the cold air. Your nipples are hard and his thumb grazes over them, giving them a small tug just to hear you gasp. Hwa leaves a trail of kisses down along your neck and shoulders as you lean back, allowing him access to bring his mouth to your tits. He runs his tongue over your nipples, taking turns on each one, sucking on them long enough to make you whimper. You are aching for him but Seognhwa seems content to drag every second out just to watch you squirm.

                As he works on your nipples, he spreads your thighs apart with his knees and brings his hand downward, pressing his palm over your pussy. You squirm slightly against it and you can feel him smile against your tits.

                “I don’t even have to enter you to feel how wet you are,” He hums.

                “Stop teasing me,” You whine, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

                Seonghwa bites down gently on one of your nipples, making you jump slightly in surprise. As you do so, he inserts a finger in your cunt. It slides in easily, all the way inside. Your hands fly to his shoulders, digging your nails in to steady yourself from the sudden pleasure. He brings his lips off your tits and to your mouth. The kiss is messy, desperate, as he wiggles his finger inside your wet hole.

                He pulls his finger out and brings it up to your mouth. Your tongue presses against it, tasting how wet you are for him. Seonghwa watches as you suck his finger clean, his breathing uneven. You can tell that he is about to break and fuck you; he can only tease you for so long before he has to give in. When you open your mouth, he runs his finger along your bottom lip. You can almost see the moment he decides he can no longer wait – a subtle shift in his eyes that lets you know he is finally going to fuck you.

                Hwa grabs your legs, wrapping them around his waist, yanking the towel off his hips and pulling you forward as much as possible to the edge of the table. The head of his cock is pressing against your cunt as he brings one arm along your back, his hand holding onto the back of your neck as he begins to push inside of you.

                You take him easily, too wet and turned on for any resistance, and Hwa groans as your pussy engulfs his length. As he enters your tight hole, his eyes never leave your face, watching your expression change as he fills you up. Your eyes flutter closed as he goes still, fully inside you.

                His voice is as taunt as a wire when he says, “Good girl. You take my cock so well.” He has seemingly figured out how much you like it when he praises you.

                Seonghwa begins to fuck you then, jerking his hips hard and fast right out of the gate. Up this high, on the top of this building, where no one can hear you and the entire city has no clue that you are being fucked like this on the roof, you don’t worry about making too much noise. The moans and pleads for him topple from your mouth freely as your fingers dig into his shoulders. The sound of skin against skin and the table grinding against the pavement fill the air. At one point, you pull Hwa closer, burying your face in his neck as he fucks you. You like the noises he makes, the low throaty groans he cannot keep contained because you feel too good wrapped around his cock. Your hands go to his waist, curling around the chain that had previously been around the top of his pants, now giving you something to hold onto as he fucks you. The metal is cold against the palms of your hands; you like how it feels.

                “Fuck, your pussy is so warm and tight,” He grunts with one particularly hard thrust, “I wanna unload in that sweet cunt of yours. Will you let me?”

                You whimper out an affirmative answer, your head rolling back from the pleasure and intensity of each thrust. But instead of picking up speed, Hwa slows down, pulling out of you with a small gasp. You open your mouth to whine but he catches it in a kiss instead. This one is messy and desperate and when you pull away and your eyes lock on his, he knows what you are silently asking for and then he spits in your mouth.

                “You like that?” He asks, “You like when I spit in your mouth like that?” He is switching positions now, bringing your legs onto his shoulders, gently pressing on you to lean back on the table. “I can tell you do because of the noises you make and the way your eyes go blank.” The next time he spits, it is downwards on his cock, stroking himself as he gets ready to enter you again. There is no need for extra lubrication and you know he is just doing it to be obscene. “This is going to feel really good for you, I promise.”

                His hands move underneath your ass, your legs on his shoulders and his body curling against yours as he enters you in one swift motion again. Folded like a doll against him, your gasp quickly turns into a moan from the new angle. Seonghwa pumps his hips hard and fast, his balls smacking against your skin as he fucks you, the body chain bouncing against his hips. Your fingers find the edge of the table to hold onto as each thrust makes your body jerk. He is hitting a sweet spot in your cunt from this angle and it is so intense that your thighs start shaking. Hwa isn’t wrong – it does feel really good.

                Your moans are gibberish again, your eyes closed tightly. You aren’t even sure if you are saying his name or not. Your head is light, mind blank of all thoughts besides how pleasurable Hwa fucking you is. You can feel him watching you, gauging how good it feels with each jerk of his hips. He is breathing heavily, his grip on your ass so hard that it might leave a bruise tomorrow. Your back arches, the feeling in between your legs growing and you know that he is going to make you climax.

                Hwa can sense it as well because he goes, “Be a good doll and cum on my cock. I want to feel you tighten around me again. Milk my cum from me so I can unload in your sweet, tight hole.” His voice shakes with each thrust as he mercilessly ploughs into you.

                You moan out his name, your climax cresting and breaking. It is so intense that your eyes might very well roll into the back of your head, your brain white noise from the sheer pleasure that rolls over you. Distantly, you can hear Hwa grunt your name, giving one final thrust as he finishes, shooting his cum inside your tight cunt which is clenching down on his cock. The two of you cum together in a loud cacophony of groaning and moaning.

                When you finally come down from the orgasm and Hwa gently untangles himself from you, his hair sticking to his forehead and chest rising and falling, he says conversationally, “You know, I think I will go for a walk with you tomorrow night.”

*

                Hongjoong is staring at you the next afternoon as you scurry around, getting ready for your work shift, trying to catch him up on everything that has been happening since you last spoke.

                When you finish, he leans back in his chair. He isn’t working today and you can tell that your call has interrupted him focusing on his music. But he doesn’t seem to mind because for the first time in your friendship, he is the one who is living vicariously through you.

                “Okay, so this guy fucks you by his pool on the roof of his penthouse and gives you the best orgasm of your life and you’re in mental duress because…”

                You stop what you are doing and get close to the camera. “Do not joke around right now with me. I am going insane.”

                Hongjoong holds up his hands innocently before growing serious. “So, what, you think he might like you but maybe not?”

                “His comment sounds like he thinks he likes me but he’s also been alone for so long and constantly looking over his shoulder for so long that he might just like me cuz I’m…you know…there.”

                “Okay, I have a really great idea,” Hongjoong declares.

                “What?” You ask, hopefully.

                “Why don’t you just ask him?”

                Balking at this, you turn away from the camera, tugging your work uniform out of your closet. “Shut up.”

                “What’s the worst that can happen? He doesn’t like you back? So, move on.”

                With a sigh, you look over your shoulder. “I can’t be so casual about it like that. I really like him.”

                You move out of the frame, changing into your uniform as Hongjoong goes, “You know, I’ve never seen you get this way over someone before. I usually have to poke and prod for details and then you say being around them is ultimately boring and I never see the person again. But this guy…”

                “Don’t say it,” You warn.

                “Alright, I won’t. But the weekend is fast approaching and instead of figuring anything out, all you’ve done is fall harder for him each day and pretend it will sort itself out on its own. But it won’t. You’re gonna have to clear things up at some point. I think you should just do it now. But I know you and you’re gonna put it off until it blows up somehow.”

                “You know, I called for you to hype me up,” You say, finishing changing and stepping back into the frame, a cross expression on your face.

                Hongjoong looks thoughtful. “Maybe you should make sure he likes you before you tell him your feelings. That way if it isn’t mutual, you can at least take his money.”

                “Wonderful, thanks,” You reply dryly, “I’m going now.”

                 The call ends. At the mention of the money waiting for you at the end of the weekend, your mood darkens. You know there is a vast sum of cash involved in this, all for your taking. A life altering sum that would get you out of this apartment and on the track to fixing everything. But taking the money meant losing Seonghwa. There was simply no way the dynamic wouldn’t be altered in accepting cash from him after everything he has told you and the nervous manner in which he has allowed you in his life.

                And losing Seonghwa…well, you were starting to feel that, as crazy as it sounded, losing him would hurt more than losing the money.

                Feeling a little unhinged, you open up his Instagram and look at the picture you had taken of him by the car.

                You study his profile in the photo, chest constricting at the sight of him. It is absurd to think of how intense your feelings are for someone who hasn’t been in your life very long.

                But here you were, staring at a pic of Seonghwa and suddenly missing him – even though you’d be seeing him later tonight.

                I’m in deep.

*

                For the first time, you brought a change of clothes to work. Seonghwa is going to be meeting you at nine when your shift ended for the walk and the idea of him sharing something so personal with you in your work uniform did not fit the vibe you pictured in your head. This is a far cry from the last time a guy picked you up from your work in which you went to dinner in your uniform, not caring enough to change. The date had been a waste of time and you didn’t see him again.

                But now, here you are, in the bathroom at work at 9:05 pm, running your fingers over your outfit. Caring about what you looked like in front of someone is new for you. You are noticing things about yourself that you never had before, worrying about your body and face in a new way that makes you on edge. Your ever blossoming and changing feelings for Hwa are making everything fifty times harder.

                When you finally leave the bathroom, Hwa is looking at his phone in the snack aisle. A slight grimace is on his face and you somehow know it is related to his parents.

                “Hey,” You go, approaching him.

                His head snaps up, his eyes looking you up and down in a way that makes you feel as if you are naked. He swallows hard, shoving his phone in the pocket of his black jeans. A belt with a small YSL pin shines in the convenience store lighting. He wears just a thin stripped shirt, black and white, with a matching YSL logo sewn in the corner. The shirt is tucked in but somehow he can pull it off. Hwa looks effortlessly casual and well put together, as usual. You can feel your heart rate start its usual bullshit immediately.

                “You look nice,” He says.

                Sheepishly, you thank him. Clearing your throat, you ask, “So, are you ready for the walk?”

                “Yeah. I checked and there shouldn’t be any more rain tonight.” It had rained all afternoon. Hwa holds his hand out to you.

                Yours fits in his easily. At this point, holding his hand feels normal. Exiting the store, Hwa turns the opposite direction of where his penthouse is located and takes you down a side street instead. Neither of you speak. You don’t want to intrude too much on how Hwa goes for his walks. You know that he has never brought someone else on one before and you aren’t sure if he would prefer to walk in silence, has a destination in mind or what.

                Not that you mind walking in silence with him. It is an easy silence, one that doesn’t feel forced or strained. There are puddles lining the streets from the rain earlier, the signs from stores bleeding into the water, rippling when one of you steps into it. Hwa seems at ease, taking you from winding streets to regular sidewalks, to busy intersections and places with no people.

                You aren’t sure how long you walk in silence with him. He doesn’t stop to take any photos; apparently nothing has yet to spark his interest. Hwa doesn’t speak until you pass a tiny ice cream stand.

                “Do you want some?” He asks suddenly, motioning to the stand.

                “If I ever say no to ice cream, it’s my evil clone.” You reply.

                He smiles at you, all perfectly straight teeth and pronounced cheekbones. It goes straight to your heart and you realize that you are holding your breath from the intensity of emotion.

                 In front of the tiny stand, you both pick out your flavours and sit down on a bench nearby. The street is mostly empty, lined with shops getting ready to close. The streetlights send hues of yellow light across the ponds of rainwater, the pavement well worn from many people walking down along here over the years. There is a fountain nearby, a tiny angel holding a vase on the top of it, water cascading down into the large pool at the bottom.

                Hwa is studying the fountain, his ice cream cone melting in his hand as he stares at it. You nudge him a little, jolting him out of his thoughts.

                “Hey, it’s going to melt on your hand.”

                “Oh, you’re right,” He replies, turning his attention back to the ice cream, “I was thinking about taking a picture of the fountain.”

                “You should. It would look nice.”

                “Can you hold my ice cream?” He asks, still distracted, thrusting it at you.

                Surprised, you take it with your other hand as Hwa stands up, quickly going over to the fountain. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, making a small noise of annoyance at the sight of notifications on the screen, opening the camera. You watch him quietly, not wanting to shatter his focus. Like last time, he does not care what he looks like to others, too swept up in getting the shot. He gets down on one knee, changing the angle of his phone.

                It is a little humid tonight and the ice cream is melting quickly. You are making good progress with yours but Hwa’s is starting to drip onto your wrist. You extend your arm out in front of you so that it doesn’t get on your clothes. Seonghwa is still taking photos, changing the angle ever so slightly with each one taken. You watch as the first bit of ice cream rolls down the back of your hand and sigh quietly.

                Even with the ice cream making a mess of things, it is still lovely to be here with Seonghwa like this, seeing him in his element. You haven’t been in this particular area before. There are no lanes for cars and instead the pathways are made of cobblestone. Each storefront is carefully taken care of, everything in a shade of egg white, with tiny places to shop and cute places to eat. It doesn’t even feel as if you are in the city; it is some quiet part nestled away from all the noise.

                Seonghwa finally gets the shot he wants and stands up, turning around to look at you. His eyes widen at the sight of the ice cream.

                “Fuck, sorry.” He scurries over, taking the cone from you and sitting back down, “Wait, I have some napkins.”

                “It’s just ice cream, Hwa. It’s okay.”

                “You should’ve said something.”

                “I didn’t want to shatter your focus.”

                He glances at you out of the corner of his eye as he cleans the ice cream off your wrist and hand. “It’s just a silly photo.”

                “No, it isn’t. It’ll look good when you post it.”

                You see the corners of his mouth quirk, clearly fending off a smile. He turns his attention to the ice cream.

                “Can I ask you something? I realized I have no clue what to expect this weekend at the beach house. Is there anything you can tell me? I am still feeling pretty nervous.”

                Hwa looks up from ice cream, having finally gotten a handle on it. “When we will get there, we’ll have brunch with my parents. Afterwards, we can get to the guest house.”

                “Guest house?”

                He looks surprised. “Yeah, we aren’t staying in the main house.”

                “Main house?” You echo, your head already spinning at the concept of a main house and a guest house.

                “Yeah, it’ll be better too. More privacy. The guest house is tucked in the garden. And we are only a few minutes walk to the downtown beach area in case I need to get out of there. We will probably have dinner with my parents at some point too. To be honest, I wouldn’t worry about spending too much time with them. Father is always working and won’t stop just to spy on us.”

                “You ah…really think your dad will drop the whole arranged marriage thing if he thinks you’re in love with me?”

                Hwa frowns. “I would hope so. I mean, what sort of parent would still want me to marry someone when I am in love with another person?”

                Yours would, you think sadly, yours would because they don’t appreciate you nor see you as a person. But you don’t say it aloud, not wanting to hurt his feelings in such a beautiful setting.

                “When you came into the store, you seemed annoyed at your phone.”

                “Oh,” He says, “You noticed? It was just father again. He wants me to sit in on some meetings that I find really boring. But they are important to sit in on for the company.”

                “You really see yourself running the company one day? You think it would make you happy?”

                “Happy?” He says the word as if it is the first time he ever spoke it aloud.

                “Yeah, happy.”

                He looks down at his ice cream, lost in thought. In fact, he is silent for so long that you wonder if you should say something when he suddenly speaks. “I don’t know.” He sounds overwhelmed, as usual when you ask questions like this.

                You don’t want to pity Seonghwa but it grows harder not to every moment spent together. He could go out and buy your dream designer item five times over and not blink. He could fill his entire penthouse with Burkin bags (you feel fairly confident he would be on the ever illusive list of important people who gain access to purchase the special versions of them) and then fly off to his family’s private island on a private jet and wouldn’t have to check his bank account afterwards. But outside of the safety wealth brings him, he doesn’t have much else. No friends, no girlfriend, abusive parents, a job lined up he didn’t want, a lack of self outside of surviving what his parents threw his way.

But how can you break through years of living like this and make him realize he deserved to sever ties with his family and live on his own? And would that be grossly overstepping in the fragile fake dating relationship that has formed since he approached you after work that night? It has only been a little over a week since Seonghwa waltzed into your life and took root in your heart. You still don’t know how he sees you, outside of a delicate friendship that has formed around sex, lying to his parents and money.  

The ice cream is finished in thoughtful silence. You don’t want to break Hwa’s thoughts. Better for him to work through it alone than for you to meddle. You don’t want to come across like someone just busting into his life and trying to force change upon him.

But the truth is that you care about Hwa more with each passing moment together. The idea of him marrying someone else is beginning to give you heart palpations every time it comes to your mind. You hastily shove the thought away.

After the ice cream, you are back to walking with Hwa, out of the pretty cobblestone streets of the expensive stores and towards the river that cuts through the city. He holds your hand now, something that has become second nature whenever you are around him. In the distance, the clouds are illuminated by brief flashes of thunder but the storm is still far enough off to not worry about it.

As you make your way towards the river, Hwa speaks, “If I left the family and got disowned, I’m not sure what I’d do with myself.”

                The confession comes as a surprise and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “You mean in your day-to-day life?”

                “That’s right.”

                “You wouldn’t have to worry about money. You could do anything you wanted in a way that’s different from now. You could take time and figure it out,” You suggest gently, fighting the urge to give his hand a squeeze, “You know, maybe focus on your photography. See if it’s something you’d wanna do as a job. Or just keep putting money in…stocks or whatever you do with it. And then just travel.”

                Hwa’s mood darkens slightly. “I’ve traveled the entire world. Yet I still feel…”

                “Like what?” You nudge him a little with your words.

                “Empty,” He says finally, “Like there’s a big void in me and no matter how much shit I buy or places I see, I can’t fill it. And then I feel ridiculous and silly for feeling like that. I have an apartment I have no connection to that people would die to live in. I have been to more countries in a year than an entire family would see in their whole life. And I’m just…lonely.” Seonghwa looks surprised again, as if he can’t believe he said the word aloud. Sheepishly, he tilts his face away from you, his face luminous from a streetlight.

                Carefully, you reply, “I understand now why you had to hire someone to be your girlfriend. It isn’t that your parents wouldn’t believe you not dating any of your friends –”

                “It’s that I don’t have any,” He finishes bitterly, “Yes, they saw to that.” His steps falter. The wind is kicking up as the two of you approach the river. Seonghwa stops, turning to look directly at you, making the butterflies in your stomach stir. “I know I’ve said this already. But you’re the person I’ve spent the most time around in a year. I’m afraid of looking pathetic by saying how much I’ve been enjoying it. We get along, don’t we? But I know I’m paying you in order to trick my parents. So, are we friends or is it my money? And then I’m back to that same question again. I can’t tell what is legit and what is because of my wealth.”

                You take a step towards him. For one wild second, you are terrified that the words are about to spill out of your mouth – how you feel about him, that you are falling for him in such a manner that the intensity of it is overwhelming – but then Seonghwa gives a small shake of his head, his hand leaving yours as he begins to briskly take off towards the river.

                Thrown by how quickly he is walking, you scamper after him, your confession dying on your lips. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. He would think I’m telling him that to pacify him, you think as the river opens in front of you.

                It has been a long time since you’ve been at the river. Having been walking on and off for over two hours now, it is after eleven and there is no one else around. Seonghwa sits down on a bench overlooking the river, the bridge a massive dark shadow against the backdrop of black sky. The tips of the bridge are dotted with lights lazily blinking off and on, reminding you of a cat just waking up from a nap.

                You sit down next to Hwa, wondering what to say. He has opened up more tonight than any other day but to poke and prod at him feels like a bad idea. He stretches out his long legs, his fingernails still perfectly painted black. Either he gets his nails tended to regularly or he buys some secret nail polish only the elite can purchase that never chips. Or both.

                “I haven’t been by the river in ages. Do you walk down here often?” You finally ask, trying to steer Hwa away from any more mental crises in one walk.

                “Sometimes. Usually around this time. I prefer it with not a lot of crowds so I don’t come here during the weekends,” He looks over at you, “I didn’t mean to unload on you like you’re a diary. I’m sorry. I’m not used to being around people very much anymore.”

                Your gaze softens. “You don’t have to apologize. We are friends, after all. You agreed,” You remind him.

                “I did, didn’t I? And then I think we kissed right after. To cement the friendship.”

                “Oh, that’s normal,” You reply breezily, “Everyone does that now. You just missed out on it.”

                For a split second, you can tell Hwa believes you before he rolls his eyes. “Okay, very funny.”

                “I tongue kiss all my friends regularly.”

                Hwa’s hand is now on your knee. It is making your heart skitter and jump. “I would hope not.”

                “Why, jealous?”

                He scoffs, shifting slightly so that his body is facing you. “Why would I be jealous? If that shirt you forced me to wear the other night is any indication of the sense of style of the people you were kissing before me, I clearly have nothing to worry about.”

                You reach out and give a small tug on the YSL logo on his shirt. “‘Well, helloooo Mr. Fancy Pants.’”

                “You realize I never have any idea what you are quoting or referencing, right?” Hwa says but his eyes are on your lips and you know what is about to happen.

                You open your mouth to retort but then Hwa leans forward, his lips brushing against yours before shifting into a kiss. As usual, you can feel the kiss all the way down to the tips of your toes. The heat that begins in your chest works its way down to the middle of your thighs, and your hand grips his t-shirt, balling the overpriced fabric in between your fingers.

                Hwa’s hand comes to rest on the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You know there is no one around but even so, to be kissing him so openly like this adds to the intensity. The sound of the blood rushing to your head blocks out the water of the river, the crickets, the distant hum of traffic. You can feel Hwa’s heart racing underneath your hand.

                When the kiss breaks, Hwa pulls away, much to your dismay. You try to collect yourself. But you can taste him in your mouth and it is all you can do not to jump in his lap. Turning back to face the river, exhaling slowly, you try to think of something clever or funny to say. But nothing pops into your head.

                Hwa clears his throat gently. “You wanna go back to my place now?”

                “That sounds good,” You say quickly, standing up so fast that you feel dizzy for a second. “Lead the way.”

                You aren’t sure but you think you catch a quick smile almost as if Seonghwa is noticing the impact he has on you.

*

                Even though you assumed the two of you would be all over each other back at the penthouse, it doesn’t go that way. Once you get in bed with Hwa, you suddenly are exhausted as if the emotional turmoil and the entire past week is catching up with you. One second, Seonghwa is talking quietly about the show that is playing on his ultra large 4k TV that pops up from a special slot at the end of the bed, your head resting on his chest, one arm thrown around his waist and the next second, you awaken to a dark and quiet room on your side.

                Damn, you think groggily, regretting falling asleep because your original plan had been to jump on Hwa’s dick. Stupid body and it’s constant need for things like food and sleep.

                Shifting, you realize Seonghwa’s arm is around your waist, his chest against your back, his face slightly nuzzled in your neck. The position is strangely intimate which feels ridiculous given all the things you’ve been doing with him the past few days. He makes a soft noise when you move, causing you to go still for fear of waking him up.

                He mumbles your name quietly, his grip on your waist tightening. “Are you okay?”

                “I’m fine,” You whisper back, “Just randomly woke up. I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.”

                “You were tired. Fell asleep in about five minutes.” Hwa’s voice is still laced with sleep but he doesn’t move away.

                Even though you have been sharing a bed with Seonghwa for most of this week, you typically woke up on opposite sides of the bed. This is the first time that you have woken up entangled in him like this and you like how it feels.

                Acutely aware of the fact you are in his bed wearing just an oversized shirt and underwear, you wonder if Hwa’s thoughts are going to where yours are rapidly traveling to. It is difficult not to let your mind roam in this direction seeing as your original plan had been to have him again.

                You move a little, just enough to press your ass back against him to see what he does. His hold on your waist tightens for a split second and you hear a soft chuckle against your neck.

                “What?” You say quietly, almost defensively.

                “Nothing,” He replies, his hand moving down inch by inch to the edge of your t-shirt, “I can just tell what you’re thinking about.”

                Slightly embarrassed at being so obvious, you go to pull away but Hwa’s grip is now on your thigh, making your entire body turn on like a light switch.

                “I didn’t say I wasn’t thinking about it too,” He goes, pushing against you so that you can feel his hard cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.

                Impatiently, you say, “Hurry then.”

                Seonghwa doesn’t have to be asked again. As usual, the two of you are impatient, scurrying to have one another as if the world is ending in moments. Sex with Seonghwa is never languid or patient. For you, it is because the desire hits your chest with such intensity that you need him immediately. Is it the same for him or is it because he’s been alone for so long? You push the thought from your head – those bothersome ideas can wait to be examined.

                Seonghwa tugs down his sweatpants and boxers, firmly grabbing your leg and moving it backwards just enough to spread your legs apart and secure your foot over his lower thigh. You’ve never been fucked like this before, on your side with your back pressed against his chest, his lips against your ear and his hands quickly pulling up your t-shirt. His fingers skirt over your thighs, pushing your underwear to the side, just to give him enough room to enter you.

                But he doesn’t right away. Instead, his fingers dip in between your folds to see how wet you are. Goosebumps break out against your skin, a small shiver running down your back. His lips are hot against your neck, moving upwards to tug on your earlobe with his teeth.

                “I make you this wet that quickly?” Hwa’s voice is like molten lava, your breathing uneven, your hand digging into the sheets as if to steady yourself.

                “Will you just fuck me?” You plead, your voice sounding desperate to your own ears.

                His fingers slips to the knuckle inside your wetness, your hips moving on their own to grind back against his cock, needing him inside you. Seonghwa takes his other hand and wiggles it underneath your body to reach upwards and grab one of your tits, squeezing it hard before tugging gently on your nipple.

                He pulls his finger out of your cunt, positioning the head of his cock against your hole. As always, he slides in you easily, filling you up with his length. He inhales sharply as your walls squeeze him, his fingers splayed out against your tit, pushing on your chest to make sure you are completely against him.

                He starts to move his hips, slowly at first, getting used to being inside you. Your entire body is alight with desire. Your eyes land on the clock that is on the bedside table – 3:08 in the morning. The entire world is asleep besides the two of you.

                Seonghwa picks up the pace, his breathing heavy in your ear, one hand on your tit, the other gripping your thigh hard, fingers digging into tender flesh. You know that you are making a lot of noise again, the usual bout of whimpering, moaning and pleading for more. You have never been so vocal in sex before yet you don’t question it when you’re with Seonghwa. Everything feels natural, even this position that you have never done before.

                He suddenly slows down, breathing ragged, his words muffled against your neck, “I’m gonna cum if I keep going at that speed. I’ve been wanting to fuck you all night.”

                “Oh yeah?” You say between tiny gasps for air, “What took you so long?”

                “You fell asleep,” He retorts and with a jerk of his hips drives his cock deep inside you, going still as his hand moves away from your thigh towards your cunt, “Be a good girl and cum for me.” His finger brushes against your clit before starting to rub it quickly, eager to make you finish. “You are my good girl, aren’t you?” When you whimper, Hwa whispers in your ear, “Come on, doll. I know you can still manage to speak for me.”

                It is difficult focusing on talking when your brain is empty, you are stuffed full of Hwa and he is rubbing your clit. But in a shaking voice, you reply, “I’m your good girl, Hwa.”

                He groans quietly, reflexively moving his hips once, twice, three times before stopping with a noise of impatience. His finger resumes rubbing your clit, your wetness getting on his fingers and soaking his cock.

                “Yes, you are. You fuck me so well. I can’t get enough of that sweet cunt of yours,” He can tell the dirty talk is getting you off by the moan that escapes your mouth so he keeps going, “I’m going to fill it up with my load, that nice tight pussy is going to be leaking my cum out because I’m going to stuff it full.”

                “Hwa,” You whine, wiggling against his hand – or his cock – or maybe just him – you aren’t sure what exactly but staying still is impossible. Your orgasm is quickly approaching.

                “I wanna hear you cum,” His voice sounds desperate now, strained, as if each second he puts off fucking the hell out of you is killing him, “I can’t finish until I hear you cum.”

                His finger on your clit combined with the sensation of his cock buried deep in your cunt is your undoing. Your climax begins, leaving your thighs shaking and you grind your hips down against his dick, knuckles turning white as you grip the bed sheets, gasping and groaning for him.

                Hwa, no longer holding back, begins to pound you as hard and fast as he can while you climax. He grunts with each thrust, strangled moans in your ear as he pounds into your cunt. Your walls are clenched around his girth, your orgasm so intense that it feels as though it will go on forever. His hand is on your waist again, holding it firmly as he jackhammers into your pussy.

                It doesn’t take Seonghwa long to start to cum as he fucks you, groaning as he unloads in your pussy. You can feel how much is spilling out in you, the warmth of it as he climaxes. You like how Hwa sounds when he is finishing – unguarded, desperate, his voice hoarse and his passion unbridled. It feels better because it is for you – it is because of you.

                Afterwards, when you both come down together, Hwa gently pulls out of your pussy as you untangle yourself from him to go clean up. He is breathing hard, tugging his boxers up, propping himself up on his elbows to watch you cross his bedroom to the ridiculous oversized master bathroom.

                When you return, he is in the same position although now his sweatpants are back up. He is still staring at you in the darkness as you get back into bed.

                “What?” You ask, feeling a little shy from the way he is staring at you.

                “I just like how you look after I fuck you,” Hwa admits, “I think about how else I want to fuck you just so I can see how pretty you look afterwards.”

                The compliment throws you, sending your heart rate, which had finally settled, back into orbit. You are unable to reply, unsure what to even say. But there is no need to because Seonghwa reaches out for you, wrapping his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face in your neck once more, making sleepy noises. You can feel yourself melt against him and then sleep hurries in, as if the moment that started at 3:08 in the morning is a secret pocket of time belonging just to you.

*

                Bad news struck around 5 in the afternoon, on your work break, when Seonghwa texted and said he was going to have to cancel on seeing you tonight.

                “My father won’t stop bothering me to sit in on a slew of meetings tonight. By the time I get home, it’ll be too late to do anything. But I’ll come by around noon to pick you up for the beach house. I’m really sorry. I know I said I would show you how relationships work and now I’m backing out on the final night. I understand if you’re upset. I just don’t want to refuse my father and deal with his bad mood all weekend.”

                You understood where Seonghwa was coming from but it didn’t stop the disappointment from settling across your chest. How ridiculous, you scolded yourself, you’ve been seeing this guy almost every waking moment for over a week. You can’t expect that to last forever.

                But lecturing yourself didn’t work. You just simply liked him too much.

*

                It is close to midnight and you can’t sleep. It is your nerves about tomorrow, your nerves about what comes after the weekend is finished, what to do with your feelings about Seonghwa combined with the fact you miss him terribly. It is strange to be alone without him around. How is it possible that years of being just fine on your own, with minimal dating and a small circle of friends, that you are now struggling not to miss someone you only met recently.

                While you are in the middle of debating either going to sleep or watching yet another string of Youtube videos, your phone suddenly goes off. Startled, you almost kick your laptop off the bed. (It would not survive another fall. True, it hadn’t actually broken the night Hwa knocked it off but it hadn’t fully recovered either.) Clamoring for your phone like it is a life raft in the middle of the ocean, you reach over and snatch it off the bedside table which tips forward preciously. (One leg is wobbly and the book you shoved underneath it is apparently no longer doing its job.)

                There is only one person who would be calling you this late and it wouldn’t be Hongjoong, who turns his phone off every night at 9pm to focus on “me time”.  Seonghwa’s name flashes across your screen, indicating a Facetime call and you answer hastily.

                “Hey,” You say in a casual tone as if you didn’t almost snap your spine by how quickly you lunged for your phone, “Everything okay?”

                Hwa is in bed, looking worn out. You can tell he is exhausted just by the look in his eyes. The TV must be on because the light keeps changing, casting him in low shadows to bright light every few seconds.

                “I just got home a little bit ago,” He replies, “Did I wake you?”

                “No. I couldn’t sleep. I’m nervous about this weekend…” You trail off, unsure if bringing up how strange it feels to be here without him is going too far.

                “And?” Hwa prompts.

                Chewing on your bottom lip, you relent and go, “And it’s weird that you’re not here. Or I’m not there. Either one.”

                Seonghwa’s lips part slightly – in surprise, perhaps. You aren’t sure. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing for a brief second. Then he says in agreement, “It does feel weird.”

                “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

                “No.”

                You relax slightly, glad to be on the same page with him. “Okay well…good.”

                Seonghwa glances away. You get the feeling he is embarrassed although you don’t know if it is because of what you said or just that he isn’t used to hearing those things anymore.

                Turning his gaze back to the camera, he says, “You don’t need to worry about this weekend. Like I said, the entire thing is between my parents and myself. I know we are…friends…” He lingers on the word, as if it doesn’t fit properly – what exactly are the two of you? Friends? Lovers? Is this just a transaction with sex thrown in? Or something to reclaim Hwa’s faith in people and show you what falling for someone truly meant? “But you don’t have to stress out about it.”

                It’s not just that I am stressing over. I’m stressing over what happens to us once the weekend ends. I’m stressing about if you have the same strong feelings for me that I do for you. I’m stressing about the fact saying I ‘like’ you doesn’t sound right, just like saying we are friends doesn’t. I’m stressing about refusing a gigantic sum of cash and I might lose you anyway because this could just be nothing, we could just be nothing and I’m terrified of the idea of not having you the way I want you.

                But instead, you reply, “Uh, I’ll try. But no promises.”

                “Right,” Hwa says softly, “We know how your no kissing promise went, after all.”

                Your heart skips a beat, awakening like a bird in a cage, starting to flutter around. “Whatever.” is the amazing witty retort you come up with, “I didn’t actually promise that.”

                Something subtle changes in his expression, something so slight that you don’t think you would have noticed it in the first few days of hanging out. “You know, I think I miss you tonight.” The words hit you square in the chest, the bird now flying around with such intensity you feel woozy. Seonghwa’s face quickly snaps back to his neutral expression. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” He says a bit stiffly, “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

                The call ends suddenly, leaving you alone with just your laptop droning on in the background. You know, I think I miss you tonight. He had said it almost tenderly. That counted for something, right? Say it counted for something.

                In your bedroom, you see the weekend sprawling out in front of you and cannot help but feel as if another cliff edge is right in front of both Seonghwa and yourself.

                The question was if anyone would jump.

Chapter Text

 In the glaring light of the morning, your phone vibrates with a notification. You are on very little sleep, mind buzzing from Seonghwa’s words to you the night prior, the nerves of the impending beach house weekend and your own storm of feelings about him. By Monday morning, certain things were going to have to be decided: if you are going to accept the money for pretending to be his girlfriend and if you were going to tell him the ever growing intense feelings you now harbor for him.

               Groggily, you grab your phone, wondering why Hwa would text you this early. It is only a little past eight in the morning and he isn’t coming to get you until noon. But it is an Instagram notification instead. Curiously, you unlock your phone and bring Seonghwa’s latest post up.

               It is of his lavender oat milk latte with just a caption of a purple heart emoji. Surprised, you sit up a little, staring at the photo. The conversation from the first meeting in the coffee shop comes back to you.

               “It’s an oat milk lavender latte,” He pushes it towards you, “Do you want to try it?”

               “Oh, uh, no thank you,” You say sheepishly, “I was just curious. It’s pretty. You should have taken a pic of it.”

               Seonghwa blinks in surprise, looking back down at the ruined art on top. “Why?”

               “Cuz it’s so pretty. That way you’d always remember it and how you felt when you first saw it,” You explain.

               “I never…thought of it like that before.”

               You shrug. “Maybe next time.”

               You don’t know why a photo of his coffee makes your heart race but it does. It just feels like more evidence that there is something else going on between the two of you besides money, sex and tentative friendship. Kicking the covers off your legs, you decide it is time to get ready. Whatever happens this weekend between you and Seonghwa, the thing that matters the most is making sure he can get out of his arranged marriage. You have your doubts that his parents, especially his dad, would actually agree to stop trying to force Hwa into it. Secretly, you wish he would realize how manipulative and horrible they are and that they care more about the company than their own son. But for Seonghwa, you are determined to try your best to be as helpful as possible.

*

               Opening the car door, you slide into the passenger seat, relieved that Hwa didn’t show up in the limo. You toss your bag in the backseat and wiggle down a little, trying to make your skirt go to your knees. This is the only other semi-nice outfit you own although you don’t know why you bother when his parents won’t find it up to their standards.

               Seonghwa’s eyes flash down to your thighs as you move the skirt down before looking up at you. “Got everything?”

               “I guess so,” You say, studying Seonghwa’s face. Even though it has only been a night of not seeing him, it feels like forty years. He looks a little tired, wearing an oversized white button up shirt with the sleeves folded up a bit, exposing his arms which your gaze lingers on. It hits you just how endless the time without him felt and how you cannot get enough of him. That scares you; never in your life have you craved being around someone and never before have you felt so much over one singular person. It isn’t just lust at play or even a “crush” but something running much deeper. “Uh, how long of a drive is it to the beach house?”

               “About an hour if we hit traffic,” He replies and he sneaks another gaze at your legs. You clench your thighs, trying to ignore the fact that you have been around Seonghwa for about one minute and your body is already responding to him in such a manner.

               Seonghwa pulls the car carefully back into the street. The radio is playing music quietly. Neither of you speak. It isn’t awkward exactly but it isn’t comforting either. You wonder if he is preoccupied by the upcoming weekend or if nerves are getting to the both of you about pretending to date all weekend.

               Trying to find something to talk about, you say, “I liked your picture this morning. Of the coffee.”

               He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah? I grabbed it this morning and thought about what you said the first time we met up.”

               “Congrats on your first Instagram coffee photo. You’re just like everyone else now.”

               Seonghwa smiles quickly, ducking his head a little to look out the side window as he makes a turn. “I guess so.”

               “Now we just have to get you caught up on every important pop culture moment of the last fifty years and then you can make boring small talk at all those future dull company meetings you’re gonna be attending one day,” You remark, leaning back in the seat.

               When Seonghwa looks back over the steering wheel, you can see his expression has soured. “Don’t remind me. Yesterday was so boring. And father loves it. He’s completely in his element navigating bossing people around and studying numbers. I had a hard time focusing.”

               So am I, you think, looking at the curve of his wrists as he holds the steering wheel, his slender fingers curling around it. It is difficult not to think about all the times you fucked him this week or that it has been an entire day since you last had sex with him. It is starting to distract you. A desire this bad is new.

               You want to say something thoughtful but your brain offers nothing. The awkward energy in the car remains. You make a noncommittal noise of sympathy instead, your fingers clutching the edge of your skirt for something to hold onto. The car has hit some mild traffic as the edge of the city approaches. Seonghwa taps his fingers against the wheel impatiently.

               “Are you okay?” You ask.

               “Yes,” He says very quickly, “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

               “Yeah, just a little tired.”

               More silence. You are starting to panic now. How in the world are you going to convince his parents about being in love with each other when everything feels off? Why is it this weird? How can you be both panicking and horny at the same time? You learn something new every day, apparently.

               In the middle of your silent panicking, the car stops at yet another red light and Seonghwa brings his hand over and rests it on your thigh. The touch is a shockwave, your eyes falling on the sight of his fingers against your skin, nails still painted black, a small silver bracelet around his waist. He idly rubs your bare thigh a little, fingers grazing against your skin with a soft pressure. Your breathing goes uneven, shifting slightly in your seat, wondering how you can be this wet this quickly.

               The light turns green and the car moves forward through traffic. Still neither of you speak. It feels as if there is a bubble in the car, waiting to pop. His grip on your thigh tightens for a brief second. You fight the urge to…well, you aren’t sure exactly. You just know that by the time you are going to have a chance to fuck him, it will be hours from now. How are you supposed to survive that long?

               As if the thought struck him as well, Hwa suddenly mumbles, “Fuck this,” and makes a sudden turn to the right, into a parking lot with what looks like a couple of bars that aren’t open.

               “What are you doing?” You ask as he drives the car around to the back where a cluster of trees offers some shadows and the building blocks you from sight of the main road.

               Hwa moves his hand off your thigh, rolling his seat back as far as it can go, motioning for you to get in his lap. “I have to fuck you before we get to the house. I can’t wait.”

               He doesn’t have to ask twice. As you hike your skirt up around your waist, he unzips his slacks hastily, pulling out his hard cock, helping shift you into his lap, moving your underwear to the side. It takes about two seconds to sink down on his girth; you hadn’t realized how wet you already were. He inhales sharply as you take him, your hands gripping his shoulders as your pussy stretches to accommodate his stiff cock.

               You move your hips slowly for a few moments, getting used to him. But you know that it is crazy to be fucking Seonghwa in his car like this – in daylight, nestled between a cusp of trees and closed bars. If anyone else decided to drive back here, it wouldn’t take long to get caught.

               That is why you begin to bounce on his cock once you’re used to him, bringing your hips down hard and fast. Seonghwa groans, his lips finding yours, the kiss messy and chaotic. The two of you are fucking as if it has been weeks since seeing one another versus one night. His hands are gripping your ass, bringing you down on his cock so that he fills you up completely, hitting your sweet spot with each movement of your hips.

               When he goes to bite your neck, you give a small tug of his hair, “You can’t, we’re seeing your parents afterwards. It looks bad.”

               “I don’t care,” He groans, his lips pressing against your neck, his breathing labored.

               “I do,” You say firmly.

               Seonghwa pulls away with a look of desperation in his eyes as you bounce in his lap. Instead, he leans in for a kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Each kiss is messier than the last, more and more urgent, as if the two of you want to consume one another completely. In the distance, you can hear the traffic – horns honking, music blasting out of cars, someone yelling an obscenity at another person. All of that belongs to a world that has no place for you, not right now in any way, not with Seonghwa buried in your cunt and his hands pressing against your lower back, his tongue in your mouth.

               One hand moves to your shirt, tugging it up just enough to expose your bra so he can grope your tits with each movement. The two of you are a mess of clothes, moans and the sound of Seonghwa’s hard cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy. Your thighs shake as Hwa brings his other hand to your face, tilting it so that you are looking at him. He is studying you as one finger moves past your lips and in your mouth. You wrap your lips around his finger obediently, sucking on it as Hwa’s breath catches.

               “God, I’m going to fill that sweet cunt of yours up with my cum,” His voice is low and he unexpectedly jerks his hips upwards, making you gasp in surprise.

               He pulls his finger out of your mouth and crushes your lips in a kiss. His hand is cupping your cheek. Each drive of your hips downward is making both of you groan and grunt, the desperation to climax growing each second. Your lips open against his mouth as he kisses you, knowing his spit is mingling with yours, each moan tumbling from your mouth into his. You are close to cumming, your legs tired from the angle they are positioned in, Seonghwa moving his hips now to take over. Each thrust drives his cock deep in your pussy and he grunts as you cling to him, taking him deep.

               “Hwa,” You manage to groan, “I’m gonna cum.”

               “I know,” is all he says in reply, one hand wiggling in between your bodies to brush against your clit, “Finish on my cock like the good girl you are, doll, and I’ll give you my load.”

               Your clit is swollen and sensitive. Between Hwa’s words, his thrusts upwards and his finger grazing your clit, your orgasm starts immediately. Your head rolls back in pleasure, eyes closing tightly as you climax. Hwa gives one final jerk of his hips into your cunt before you can feel him spilling inside, grunting with each spurt he unloads in your tight hole.

               You slump against Hwa, your entire body feeling like it is under a heavy weighted blanket. Your face rests on his shoulder, looking out at the back of the closed bars. His hands are loosely wrapped around your waist as he also tries to collect himself. The whole thing had only taken a few minutes yet it felt so intense that it may as well lasted for hours.

               “You know,” You finally speak, your tongue too big for your mouth, “I wanted to look presentable when I got to the beach.”

               “You do look presentable,” Hwa replies as you push off his chest, trying to get some feeling back in your legs.

               You roll your eyes at him. “I do not.”

               Carefully, you pull down your shirt, adjusting your bra as Seonghwa helps you move back into the passenger seat. Your legs protest when you stretch them out, wiggling your skirt back down. You realize Hwa is staring again.

               “What?” You ask almost defensively, wondering if you look that bad.

               “Nothing,” He says and then adds almost apologetically, “I was just thinking that I like knowing you’re gonna be filled with me the rest of the drive.”

               The admission takes you by surprise and you find that your brain doesn’t offer anything up in reply. There is something intimate about what he said.

               Hwa, as if noticing the look on your face, smiles quickly before turning his attention to adjusting his seat. After making sure everything is in order, he begins to pull out of the parking space.

               “I’m actually surprised you know how to park,” You remark, thinking about how he also successfully placed his car at the grocery store without running someone over and slamming into a car, “I figured you’d still be practicing how to park.”

               “‘What’s the point? Everywhere you go has valet,’” He chirps.

               You gawk at him, mouth agape. “Did you just…quote a movie at me?”

               “I did,” Seonghwa replies, looking very pleased with himself, “I guess I don’t need to learn as much as you thought.”

*

               When Hwa first said “beach house” you were picturing a two story cute looking thing on the beach. Over the course of your time around him, you changed the vision slightly to a large two story adorable house with a front access to a private section of the beach. Then, it altered again to add the guest house to the backyard with a quick pathway to the downtown tourist section.

               You were still somehow wrong.

               When Seonghwa pulls up to the beach house, you want to point out using the term “house” on it is a joke. It is more of a beach mansion – three stories with a balcony wrapping around the entire third floor, a fenced in backyard that looked to be full of beautiful foliage, and so close to the beach that you could step off the driveway and almost tumble directly into the ocean.

               Your nerves hit you square in the chest upon seeing it. Even though the rest of the car trip had gone perfectly (it appeared the only cause of the tension was the desperate desire you two needed to get out quickly) knowing that his parents lurked inside made you feel a bit queasy.

               It must show on your face because Hwa reaches for your hand, resting his on top of it gently. “Like I said, the outcome is on me, not you. Just act the way you’ve been around me all week and it should work.”

               I don’t know how I act around you anymore. How do I act like I have feelings for you when I actually do now have feelings for you? What if my regular way of acting around you isn’t believable? What if your dad can tell I do have true feelings for you and knows you’re the one acting? A thousand panicked questions bounce around in your brain. You just give Seonghwa a weak smile.

               Getting out of the car, someone scurries out of the front door. Hwa greets them by name as they take his bag out of the trunk before opening the back seat to grab your bag.

               “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” You say quickly, “I got it.”

               The woman looks surprised, glancing at Hwa as if for guidance. You gently take the bag from her. “Uhm, thank you though.”

               “Are you sure?” Hwa asks you, “She’s just going to drop our things off at the guest house.”

               “I’m okay, thank you.”

               The woman takes Hwa’s bag inside quickly, shooting you a confused glance. Great, even the people working for his family think I’m odd. But your bag in your arms gave you some security; it offered false comfort that if anything went wrong you could leave quickly. It also made you feel bad having someone take your stuff.

               You trail after Seonghwa towards the front door. With one last longing look at the ocean, you step inside the house.

               Like the penthouse, the foyer is a riot of different shades of blue. Every inch of space is dripping in something expensive – art, vases, statues, random assortment of candles and the like – overwhelming you immediately. You suddenly miss Hwa’s overly minimalistic approach to decorating.

               Another woman greets you both before explaining that brunch is ready. You reach for Seonghwa’s hand, not in a “begin scene” sort of way but because your nerves are so intense that you just want to feel him somehow. He gives your hand a small squeeze and walks through the living area, leading you towards the backyard.

               It is impossible to take in all the details of the house being thrown at you. The wealth on display makes your head spin. We have a lot of fucking money! is what every item seems to shriek at you.

               Brunch is set up on a large patio overlooking the backyard which isn’t a typical backyard but more like a place where you could easily see some seriously amazing parties taking place. There is a pond in the middle of the space with tiny fish darting like gems under the sunlight, a canopy on one side with two lounge chairs, just enough trees planted in certain spots to offer shade without blocking all the beautiful light pouring in. A little further away is what appears to be a hot tub built into some sort of rock enclosure, a waterfall spilling out of the top of it into the hot tub. It even dips into an alcove for privacy, completely shielded from view.

               In the distance, just barely, you can make out the roof of what must be the guest house. The tension in your shoulders eases just a little. At least it is far away from the main house, you think.

               “You’re late,” Mr. Park’s voice snaps you out of studying the yard.

               “We hit traffic,” Seonghwa replies formally, pulling out a chair at the table, motioning for you to take a seat.

               Mrs. Park is looking at you as if a feral animal accidently dropped you off here. Your bag lands with a thump by your feet as you take a seat, Hwa sitting next to you.

               “Did you not account for the traffic?” His dad asks him, eyes narrowing slightly.

               I’m sure Hwa did but you see, sir, we lost time because we had to fuck in his car, you think, taking in the sight of all the food lining the table. Way too much food. More than anyone could eat. What happened when they didn’t finish it all? Did they just share it with the hired help?

               “I did,” Hwa replies in that same stilted voice of his, “Not enough, I guess.”

               “I guess so,” Mr. Park says in a voice that could freeze lava before turning his attention to you, “We were so happy when Seonghwa informed us that you would be joining us this weekend.”

               I’m sure you were, you think but bite your tongue. “It was really kind of you to invite me.”

               “Seonghwa hasn’t brought someone around he is clearly smitten with in a long time,” Mr. Park lingers on the word ‘smitten’, a silent message that he isn’t entirely convinced the two of you are actually into one another, “But we are always happy when he does.”

               You bite down on your tongue again to stop yourself from making a snide remark about bribery. Hwa speaks, slipping back into the conversation easily, “Well, we are both looking forward to relaxing.”

               The first time you met his parents, you barely knew Seonghwa. But after spending all this time around him, you notice the stiff formal tone he takes around his parents versus when he is away from them. It makes you sad…and angry as well. In fact, the anger is overwhelming and you fall silent, not trusting yourself not to say something overly rude. You want to ask Mr. Park what his fucking problem is, you want to ask why Mrs. Park words Seonghwa leaving the family as “being left with nothing” when in reality it just means not taking on a job he clearly has no interest in. You want to ask why they see Hwa as an object instead of their son.

               Hwa glances at you as if sensing something has changed. In turn, he begins to take on the majority of the conversation. You know that you should be more engaged but it is difficult when you keep imagining tossing the mimosa in front of you into Mr. Park’s face.

               At some point in a conversation about the weather, you lock eyes with Mr. Park. Something is shifting behind his gaze, something you cannot fully read. But you stare back at him. For a few seconds, it is as if time slows.

               A week ago, you would have scurried to the bathroom just like last time. But now, you don’t break eye contact. Mr. Park stiffens ever so slightly.

               Not breaking eye contact with him, you speak up, “Hwa?” The nickname hangs in the air, startling his mom into silence, “If the weather is this nice tomorrow, I would love to spend some time on the beach in the morning. It would be a shame for me to come all this way and not soak up some sun.”

               Seonghwa glances at you, most likely wondering where the sudden request is coming from. “Of course.”

               Mrs. Park falls for the bait quickly. “Oh, you like the beach? Did you know about the beach house before we invited you?” The implication is clear – she still believes you’re dating Seonghwa for his money, probably calculating how much she can offer you to go away.

               “I didn’t,” You reply, “But that’s why I was so grateful for Mr. Park’s invitation.”

               Mr. Park’s lips press together – the first sign of irritation at you.

               Smiling inwardly, that is when you break eye contact.

*

               “What was that about?” Seonghwa asks you thirty minutes later as he leads you to the guest house, stopping to turn around and look at you.

               The pathway to the house is made of weathered stones. You guess they probably imported them just to make the atmosphere look older than it actually is.

               Seonghwa is under the swaying branches of the palm trees, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. His posture is as regal as ever but there is something overly formal about it…as if just being around his parents has him unknowingly bringing his walls up. The palm trees dip in the breeze, casting shadow and light across Seonghwa’s face, making his expression difficult to read.

               “What was what about?”

               “I don’t know. It felt like you were about to start fighting with my father.”

               “Maybe. I just felt pissed off sitting there.”

               His eyes widen slightly. “Why?”

               “It’s difficult to play nice with your parents when I know what they’ve put you through. I know it isn’t any of my business, Hwa, and I want to treat them with respect for your sake. But it is still difficult.”

               At some point during the conversation, you moved closer to him, a moon orbiting a planet. Seonghwa’s brows furrow together and you don’t speak, letting him sort through whatever he is feeling before landing on what he wants to say.

               “It bothers you?”

               “Yeah, of course it bothers me,” You stop yourself from diving into a rant about his parents, reminding yourself not to overstep, “Because we’re…friends.”

               “Right, friends,” Hwa repeats quietly, one hand reaching out to curl around your waist, pulling you unexpectedly against him.

               Your body reacts before your mind catches up, pressing against him. Your bag drops to the ground as you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss. His lips are hot against yours. There is something deeply personal about this kiss. Like the one by the river the night of the walk, it isn’t for show, and doesn’t feel like it is for practice.

               The kiss ends when someone clears their throat, startling you out of the sensation of Seonghwa’s warm body against yours, the scent of his cologne, the weight of his hand on your waist. Tilting your face in the direction of the sound, you see Mr. Park standing there on the pathway. His expression is unreadable. Seonghwa’s body tightens up, his posture changing ever so slightly but his hold on you doesn’t drop.

               “I was seeing if you needed anything in the guest house,” Mr. Park says, “But I see you haven’t gotten there yet.”

               “Got swept up in how beautiful this garden is,” You say, “It’s very romantic.”

               “Clearly.” The word is dry, falling at his feet and shattering like old clay. You have a feeling Mr. Park wasn’t one for romantic garden strolls and put the backyard together in a way to impress visitors and nothing more.

               “Not like you to check up on us like that,” Seonghwa says casually, “You usually send someone.”

               “Not often you bring someone here,” Mr. Park replies smoothly, “I wanted to make sure your girlfriend felt welcome.”

               He’s full of shit, you think. It is evident he was coming around to snoop, probably expecting to find the two of you distant and silent together when he wasn’t around. Guess that backfired on you.

               Seonghwa gracefully swoops up your bag off the ground, slinging it over his shoulder, steering you towards the guest house with his hand on your lower back. You glance over your shoulder as Hwa says goodbye. His dad didn’t get this rich without being clever, you think, turning back around, still feeling his eyes on you, and he isn’t gonna let Hwa slip through his fingers easily. But does Hwa know that?

*

               The guest house is larger than your apartment. Your. Apartment. It has an incredibly big bedroom, a full fledged kitchen, a living room with a state of the art entertainment system, and another hot tub built into a cove, similar to the one near the main house.

               “You said if I didn’t want to share a bed with you, you would sleep in the living room,” You say, staring wide-eyed around the entire space, “I was picturing a tiny bedroom with a cramped couch in the corner. Not a literal fucking house dropped on the property.”

               “I said guest house,” Seonghwa replies, looking a little confused as he turns on the coffee machine (which looks like the most state of the art coffee machine ever created. Why did it have so many buttons?).

               “Right but usually guest houses look like…tiny Barbie houses. Not actual houses.”

               “Tiny Barbie houses,” Seonghwa repeats, one eyebrow arched slightly.

               Exhaling slowly, you sit at the counter in the kitchen, staring at him before declaring, “I’m feeling overwhelmed.” The entire day is starting to catch up with you: sex in the car, the tense brunch, the kiss on the pathway, Mr. Park and his shark eyes.

               “Why? Everything is going to be okay. If you want, we can just stay here for the rest of the day.”

               “Won’t your parents care? Didn’t we come here to spend time with them?”

               “They always start the trip off making such claims but by tonight, mom is going to be drunk with her beach friends and dad is going to be working in his office until past midnight. See? I told you. It isn’t going to be as bad as you thought.”

               “Sure,” You mumble, “But if they don’t see us together and madly in love or whatever, how is that going to work in your favor?”

               “And if I am around them 24/7 acting like a lovesick child, they won’t believe that either,” He points out, “Do you want some coffee?”

               “Sure,” You reply before going, “I guess it was good luck your dad caught us kissing like that.”

               Seonghwa makes a face. “Yeah besides the fact I wanted to die from embarrassment.”

               “Do you really think he was coming by to see how we were doing?” You ask.

               “You think he was lying?”

               “Do you?”

               The two of you stare at one another for a few seconds. You don’t want to come off as if you are accusing his dad of doing something sketchy. But it is evident to you that his parents won’t relinquish control very easily and Seonghwa’s relationship with you is a threat to their plans.

               It is Hwa who breaks the silence first, going, “I don’t know. It is weird. But maybe he was just coming by to see how we were settling in.” He doesn’t sound convinced though and as much as you would like to push it, you don’t.

               “I’m sure he was,” You say, hoping it sounds as if you believe him.

               There is a beat of silence. Hwa is looking at you as if there is more he wants to say. But if there is, he doesn’t speak on it. For some reason, you think of a giant clock ticking down to…something. You aren’t exactly sure what – Hwa making a choice about his family? You telling Seonghwa all your feelings, including what you think of his parents?

               The image passes as Seonghwa quietly makes the coffee, the sunlight spilling across the counter, the space between the two of you ever changing and shifting.

*

               In bed that night, you find it difficult to sleep. Your head is going a mile a minute and sleeping in someplace that isn’t yours or Seonghwa’s feels strange. The small clock next to the bed says it is nearing one in the morning.

               You didn’t think everything was going to hang over you like a dark cloud. It is hard to focus when the end of everything looms so close. The allure of all that money, once the force that propelled you into the current situation, doesn’t glimmer as enticingly as it used to. You try to imagine Seonghwa’s face as he holds the money out at you. You doubt it would be so easily given like it had been the first night of meeting his parents. There is too much in between the two of you now.

               But what all that was, exactly, you aren’t sure. Seonghwa had said that he didn’t know if he just liked being around someone again but then told you he missed you. Was he as confused as you were? Did he find himself torn between friendship, companionship or something past the physical aspect with you? And no matter where he landed on that, your own feelings kept growing by the hour. What started as a fluttering crush in those early moments, even though you hadn’t noticed at the time, now morphed into something else completely.

               Not to mention if Seonghwa didn’t convince his parents to drop the arranged marriage, and didn’t decide to leave the family dynasty, he would be married. Married. That would mean the possibility of anything between the two of you would never be realized. It would be severing something before it had the chance to start.

               Shifting again in the bed, your mind heavy, you hear Seonghwa grumble next to you, “Can you stop moving? I can’t sleep.”

               “Hwa, sorry. I thought you were asleep,” You reply guiltily.

               He turns over to face you, laying on his side. You can just barely make out his face – the moonlight resting across one cheekbone like someone kissing a lover, his eyelashes dark smears against his skin. You turn onto your side as well, staring at him.

               “I can’t sleep,” He admits, “Why can’t you?”

               “Just overthinking.”

               “What are you overthinking about?”

               “Why can’t you sleep?” You counter.

               Hwa chews on this for a moment before answering, “I was thinking about what you said before. About me taking photos and posting them on Instagram.”

               This takes you by surprise. The last thing you thought bouncing around in Seonghwa’s brain was something about his Instagram. “Yeah?”

               He shifts a little. “You think I could do something with that?”

               “Hwa,” You say quietly, “No offense but you don’t have to do anything with it. You have enough money to make that your hobby on the side if you want.” You wonder if he is thinking about leaving his family and giving up the future CEO position to be dwelling on such things.

               “Right. Yeah, I know that. I just mean…I mean outside of money. I guess. Maybe people would like my pictures if I did more with them. If I put a portfolio together. Maybe.” His words make you think of tiny eggshells littering the kitchen floor – one wrong move and you could step and crack all of them into thousands of pieces.

               “I think that sounds like a good idea,” You reply carefully, unsure if you should ask if he is debating leaving his family.

               But Hwa drops the subject, instead asking, “What were you thinking about?”

               You sort through all the various things on your mind and decide to pick one to be honest. “I was thinking about you getting married.”

               Seonghwa’s eyes widen a little as he sputters, “M-marriage?”

               “Right. If this doesn’t work out. If your parents still want the arranged marriage to go through. I was thinking about if you decided to agree to it. Have you given that any thought?”

               “No…to be honest, I haven’t thought about much past this weekend. I didn’t want to think about if this doesn’t work and they still press for the marriage. That would mean a hard choice would have to be made. I don’t know what I’d do.”

               “You could marry someone you don’t care for? Just for your parents?” You dislike the pleading note in your voice and you wonder if Hwa notices it.

               But he is too lost in thought. “If the alternative is leaving them…I mean, I’ve told you before. My entire life has been fighting against them. I don’t know anything but preparing to be CEO and taking on the company. If I left that, it would crush them.”

               “But working there would crush you too,” You blurt out impatiently, “You don’t like it. And then you’d be married to someone you don’t love on top of that.”

               “Does that bother you so much? The idea of me marrying her?”

               Oh, what a question. How did you navigate answering this in a way that didn’t come across as though you are smitten with him?

               “Yeah, it does. I mean, I know we haven’t known each other for long. But we’ve spent a lot of time together lately. I feel like I can say I know you well enough. When I think about you stuck in a situation where you are unhappy, I get upset.” There. That isn’t lying.

               It is too dark to read Seonghwa’s eyes and know what he is thinking. His fingers curl against the sheet, and you fight the urge to touch his hand.

               “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to leave my family. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. My parents are harsh but they still love me.” Seonghwa sounds more like he is trying to convince himself than you.

               Even so, the disappointment in your chest is a heavy thing. You cannot help but feel as if Seonghwa is navigating a sinking boat towards a tsunami. You can’t shake the bad sensation that grows the more you spend time around his parents.

               “I know. But it was just on my mind.”

               “You worry about me a lot. I told you - you don’t have to worry about such things. Let me take care of them.”

               You wish for nothing more at that moment than to ask for him to hold you. You know that you could fall asleep if he just held you. But you are afraid that is passing by from casual sex into something else…and so you just nod before faking a yawn.

               “I guess I’ll try to sleep again.”

               “Me too,” Hwa replies, “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the beach. If you want.”

               “I do. I also wanna go in that ridiculous hot tub tomorrow. I mean, you really don’t understand what you have here, Hwa. If I was a more materialistic person, this would be slathered all over my Instagram so I could feel like one of those influencers who move the bed in their hotel room for a better photo.”

               Hwa, who had been in the middle of rolling over onto his stomach to sleep, stops and peers at you curiously. “People really do that?”

               “Yes,” You reply, marveling at how out of touch Hwa routinely is, “They do.”

*

               In all your brooding about the beach weekend, you overlooked one crucial part: Seonghwa shirtless by the ocean.

               But now, as you trudge through the sand towards the house, you look over your shoulder. The sun is dipping below the horizon, casting orange streaks through the sky. Seonghwa is collecting the rest of the things taken out this morning – a beach chair, a blanket, a book you didn’t open. He is still shirtless, his hair a mess of salt and wind. Yes, you had forgotten that being at the beach would mean an entire day of trying not to make it obvious you were staring. Even though you now officially fucked Seonghwa more this week than anyone else in your life, you still didn’t want him to know that you were that into him.

               In the light of the morning, you ate breakfast with Seonghwa and his parents. It was a stilted affair. Seonghwa appeared a little withdrawn; you wondered if it had anything to do with your talk the night before in bed. Mrs. Park prattled on to fill in the silence, talking endlessly about her plans to redecorate the beach house. Mr. Park excused himself early for a business call. There hadn’t felt like a lot of time to throw yourself at Hwa to convince Mr. Park to drop the arranged marriage.

               Afterwards, Seonghwa and you set up for a day at the beach. It was strange having an entire stretch of the beach to yourself but you settled in quickly – until Hwa pulled his shirt off and asked for you to apply sunscreen to his back. Your fingers along the muscles of his back did nothing to quell the dirty thoughts that were springing up like weeds. You tried to stomp them down but another fifty grew.

               And now it is sunset. Being in the daylight for hours made you tired in the sort of languid way a cat is tired from doing literally nothing all day. It didn’t help that you convinced Hwa to make sandwiches for dinner versus “setting up a meal out back on the patio” which sounded much too formal for your liking. You are now basically ready for bed.

               But the hot tub beckoned and you weren’t going to miss it just because you are feeling like a sleepy cat. Pushing the gate open that leads to the backyard, you wait for Hwa to catch up. He shakes his head, trying to get the sand out and makes a face.

               “I’ll have to shower tonight. I can’t stand all this sand on me.”

               “Okay, Anakin,” You quip, “Got everything?”

               “Yeah. I assume you’re going to run right to the hot tub?”

               “Correct,” You reply as Hwa puts the beach towels and chairs against the fence to use again tomorrow.

               You catch a brief smile cross his face before he reaches out for you, one hand tugging on the beach shorts you have been wearing all day. Surprised, your eyes widen slightly as he kisses you. He tastes like the ocean, your hands against his abdomen, muscles taunt and warm under your fingers.

               When he pulls away, he motions to the guest house. “Come on then.”

               As you turn around to watch him go, mind spinning at how many times the two of you stumble into intimate gestures like that, a flicker out of the corner of your eye gets your attention. Tilting your face back slightly, you see a curtain moving in front of Mr. Park’s office.

               Had he been watching? Is that why Seonghwa kissed you? You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, salt on your tongue, as you debate asking him. But if he truly kissed you just to make a show of it, you aren’t sure that you want to hear that right now.

               As if sensing you sticking your head in the sand, your phone buzzes in your bag. You rummage around for a bit before fishing it out, seeing a text from Hongjoong.

               “Did you tell him how you feel yet?”

               “No!”

               “It’s going to come out either way. Why not let it be settled on your terms?”

               You don’t reply. You just don’t know what to say or how to begin to explain that the idea of rejection is so terrifying it leaves your chest aching. If you misread everything or if Hwa decides all of this is because he’s lonely, then what?

               As usual, Hongjoong seems to know what you are thinking because he sends a follow up text.

               “Find out so you can either get love or you get money!”

*

               Stretching out your legs, you lean your head back and close your eyes. The hot tub feels better than you thought it would. The alcove that you currently are sitting in makes it feel as if you are in a secret spot from the rest of the world. You can see a hint of the trees moving in the soft breeze of the night, the moonlight poking through the branches, stars twinkling like faded paint spots against an old canvas.

               Seonghwa is next to you, quiet in thought. You have kept up a steady stream of vapid chatter for the past twenty minutes but have finally run out of random things to talk about to fill the space. You aren’t sure where Seonghwa has gone mentally but with each passing moment since arriving at the beach house, he has steadily turned inward.

               “Hwa,” You finally say with some resignation creeping into your voice, “I can’t keep babbling.”

               “What?” He blinks, turning to face you.

               The only source of light is from the hot tub. The lights illuminate his face and with a jolt you realize he looks a bit tired. You fight the urge to reach out for him, watching a droplet of water roll down his cheek and fall on his shoulder, your brain flashing an image of your fingers gripping them as he fucked you.

               Tugging your brain to the present moment, you reply, “Where is your head right now? Because it isn’t here, in this expensive hot tub.”

               “Sorry,” He replies bashfully, slicking back his hair with his hand, sending water across his head and down his neck, “I was just thinking.”

               “About what?”

               He averts his gaze for a second. “Just thinking about the outcome of this weekend, I guess. What happens after.”

               “With your parents?”

               He hesitates before going, “Yeah, with them.”

               You reach for his hand under the water without thinking, a motion that comes naturally now, and squeeze it. “I’m sure you’re right in that if they think you love me, they won’t force you into anything.”

               You’re lying and the guilt gives you a pang in your chest. But the idea of being brutally honest with Seonghwa now also makes you feel bad. You’ve spent the entire time with Seonghwa hiding your true feelings, not only about his parents, but about him too. But it isn’t good to rock the boat during this weekend. He needs to focus on what is going on and if I dump on him about his parents being shitty or my feelings for him, things will get too complicated, you argue with yourself even though the words sound like hollow excuses.

              To your surprise, Seonghwa brings his other hand up from the water and cups your cheek. The touch takes you by surprise, especially when he grazes his thumb across your lips gently. There is something in his expression that is unreadable yet tender that sends your heart aflutter.

             “Hwa…” You trail off, unsure what to say that won’t be something dangerous, something you’re not supposed to say.

              He reaches out for your waist, moving you from the bench in the hot tub onto his lap. You are taken aback from the movement, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you against him as he kisses you.

             There is something different about this kiss. It is a delicate, fragile thing, as if Seonghwa has taken whatever he is too afraid to say and put it through the kiss instead. You can feel him in every cell of your body like a jolt to the system, from your scalp to the tips of your toes. Your hands are against his chest and his heart races underneath your fingertips. Do you know? Can you tell? You think as the kiss deepens, your hands skirting up along his chest to his shoulders.

            His hands press into your lower back, fingers splayed against your skin, your body against his. Between the heat of the kiss and from the water, Hwa’s skin is flushed, his chest rising and falling quickly against you. The kiss is shifting once more, from something akin to a teacup on a rattling shelf now to a man stumbling through the desert looking for water. Hwa seems desperate, almost afraid, as if you’re going to suddenly vanish.

           The kiss takes the air out of your lungs, your body breaking out in goosebumps even with the heat. When it finally breaks, Hwa is looking at you, his lips a pretty pink, his black hair a mess of water, sand, and heat, curling against the nape of his neck.

           “Come on,” He says gruffly, “Let’s go to bed.”

*

               In the moonlight of the bedroom, Hwa peels your swimsuit off your body which is shivering from the temperature change. His hands glide over your vulnerable skin, his lips leaving small kisses along your neck. You are lightheaded with each touch, almost delirious with desire.

               As you lay on your back on the bed, Hwa tosses his swim trunks off, not caring that your clothes are making a mess on the wood floors. He crawls over your body like a snake in the grass, stopping along the way to kiss your thighs, your hips and stomach. His tongue rolls across your nipples and by the time he finally makes his way along your neck to your lips, the desperation for him has hit a new high. Your hands are tangled in his hair, your tongue against his as he positions himself at the entrance of your wet hole.

               In all the times you have slept with Hwa this week, he has never been on top of you before. You are breathless at the intimacy of it, how different it feels to be this way with someone you are so taken with versus the others in the past. As he slowly pushes into your entrance, you can watch the expressions on his face change – the hit of pleasure that Hwa experiences as he feels you wrapped around his cock.

               Your legs curl around his waist, pushing against him so that he slides fully inside your pussy. He lets out a soft grunt while doing so, his forehead resting against yours for a few moments before he begins to move his hips slightly.

               As Hwa begins to fuck you at a slow and steady pace, your bodies are entwined, pushed together, skin to skin. His heartbeat is against yours, both racing towards the finish line together. His hair is damp in the palm of your hands, his tongue in your mouth, his arms sliding underneath your upper back to hold onto you and make sure you are fully against him.

               In between each kiss, small noises escape from you as Seonghwa bites down gently on your bottom lip, giving it a sharp tug with his teeth. You like the grunts he makes with each thrust, you like knowing that you can make him feel so good. In this moment, there is nothing else besides the two of you. The worries about what comes after has faded so far into the distance that it might as well be a dying star billion light years away.

               As Hwa increases his pace, he makes sure to enter you fully, his hips touching yours before pulling out completely. You take him easily, your warmth wrapped around his cock and at one particularly hard thrust, his eyes flutter closed, your name tumbling from his mouth, sounding different from all the other times he’s uttered it.

               Even so, Seonghwa is taking his time. Unlike all the other encounters with him, the sense of urgency is gone, replaced with something else – emotions lurking under the surface that are too scary to speak about. Curled against him, your lips dragging across his cheek, your hips rising to meet each pump of his hips, the two of you spill over into each other. Each movement and touch express something neither of you can bring to life with words.

               His eyes open mid thrust, meeting your gaze. As he fucks you, Hwa doesn’t break eye contact, studying your face with each thrust. His cock is buried deep inside you, his breathing heavy, and you know he is going to cum soon.

               You pull him in for another kiss as his thrusts quicken, his pace slightly erratic, his groans muffled against your lips. You move along with him, your hips meeting every jerk of his hips. His forehead presses against yours as he shudders before burying his face in your neck while climaxing, spilling into your pussy, unloading inside you. His groan is muffled by your skin, pumping in you slowly as he finishes.

               His lips find yours again greedily, kissing you as he comes down from his orgasm. Your body is still alight with desire, having not finished yet, and you can tell Hwa knows it by the small smile against your skin as he pulls out of you and begins to kiss downwards.

               By the time he reaches the middle of your thighs, you are aching for him, your hands finding purchase in his hair once more. His hands slide underneath your ass, giving himself leverage to bring his face in between your thighs towards your cunt. Unbothered by the fact he just finished in you, Hwa’s tongue probes your folds, licking up along your slit before finding your swollen nub.

               His tongue flicks across your clit, his face pressed against your cunt as he works you with his mouth. He groans as he eats you out as if he cannot get enough of you, your hands tugging on his hair as you grind your pussy against his face, already close to finishing. Seonghwa doesn’t budge as your hips buck, sucking on your clit with an intensity that makes your gasps turn into high pitched whimpers. Then his tongue is back to rolling across your nub, his hands gripping your ass as your hips jerk. Sometimes his tongue slips from your clit and his nose brushes against it instead, making your moans louder.

               “Hwa,” You groan out, sounding unlike yourself, “I’m gonna cum –” Your breathing is ragged, your entire body tingling as your orgasm approaches.

               Seonghwa doesn’t stop, slurping and sucking on your clit loudly, your pussy a mess of his cum and spit mingling with your wetness. Your climax begins, back arching, pussy grinding against his face as the pleasure overtakes you. He doesn’t stop working your clit until it becomes too sensitive and you flinch. That’s when he releases his hold on your ass, allowing you to sink back onto the bed.

               Breathless, you try to prop yourself up to look at him but can’t; your limbs feel heavy and warm. The next kiss tastes like the two of you mingled together. When the kiss ends, he is looking at you quietly, still breathing hard. There is something shifting behind his expression, between the two of you, something being changed and altered in such a way that for a few seconds, you are terrified at the idea of this weekend ending and never having him again.

               The thought makes you hold Hwa tighter, nestling against him, closing your eyes to listen to his heart rate slowly come back to normal in the darkness of night.

*

               You have only been sitting at the table during breakfast for around twenty minutes but it feels easily like three hours. Over a wide spread of food, Mrs. Park asks pointed questions about your parents, your schooling, whatever else she can pluck out of thin air to make it clear that you are, in every manner, beneath her and therefore unfit to date her son.

               Speaking of her son, Seonghwa seems off ever since he woke up this morning. He isn’t openly sullen but has withdrawn ever further into himself, leaving you scrambling to make sure that the dating act is kept up to the standards needed. It has you feeling as if you are a one woman show – watch her answer rude questions about her life, marvel at how she tosses flirty glances towards Hwa, be amazed at the way she ignores Mr. Park’s ever cold gaze!

               Inside, you are a tornado. The intimacy of last night coupled with the anxiety of the breakfast is making you all over the place. Seonghwa held and kissed you so gently last night, and in that time together you felt almost as if the two of you were one – as completely cheesy as that sounded even to yourself – leaving you overwhelmed by how strong your emotions towards him now are. Something altered itself last night, something just subtle enough to change the dynamic with Hwa, the ground unsteady beneath your feet. It leaves you with one question – now what?

               You remember Mrs. Park is speaking and try to tune back in as she says, “How do your parents feel about you dating Seonghwa?”

               Before you can come up with a lie, Hwa seems to stir to life, replying, “Enough with the questions. She isn’t interviewing to be my girlfriend. She already is my girlfriend. You’ve been grilling her this entire meal and it’s wearisome.”

               Startled, Mrs. Park’s eyes widen slightly and she glances over at her husband who looks unperturbed. Hwa must never speak like that to her, you realize, and she’s going to blame me for it.

               Sure enough, her eyes narrow in your direction as she delicately clears her throat and shifts the topic to the weather.

               To your surprise, Hwa moves his hand underneath the table and holds onto yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. The hand squeezing has become part of the routine between the two of you – where once it came from nerves, now it was to reassure one another. Just another sign of how much things have changed.

*

               “I thought you would be here for dinner tonight,” Mrs. Park says later that day, as evening is settling in.

               “I haven’t gone to town yet,” Seonghwa replies stiffly.

               Mrs. Park casts a glance at you, her expression unsettled. You don’t look away, aware that any sort of scuttling about or staring at your feet would be a sign of submission. Mr. Park is standing near the window, his back to everyone, but you know he is listening to every word.

               “Surely you can go bar hopping after dinner.”

               “I’m not going bar hopping.” Seonghwa’s tone has turned testy, “I want to go to town tonight. We had breakfast together this morning. You normally don’t care what I do on these trips.”

               The unspoken sentence hangs in the air – you only care because I have my “girlfriend” here.

               A tense silence fills the room and you swallow hard.

               It is the last day of the trip. Tomorrow morning, you leave. After that awkward and tense breakfast with his parents in the morning, you are craving alone time with Seonghwa…mostly to finally tell him how you feel. Instead of feeling closer to him today after the incredibly intimate sex from last night, he only seemed more distant and locked up. It is starting to make you truly panic and believe that once the trip comes to an end, so will your time with Seonghwa.

               It is this panic that is leading the charge. You want to tell Seonghwa that your feelings for him aren’t set in friendship, they aren’t even set in liking him a lot but something much deeper. You want him to be your boyfriend. You want to be together. It would take uttering just a few sentences to confess this to him tonight. You are worried that Hwa seems to be distracted but if you don’t say it tonight, when will you? After the sex last night, it is impossible to deny or put off how you feel.

               You can see the power struggle unfold in front of your face. Seonghwa is challenging his parents and they clearly are not used to it. Mrs. Park flicks her gaze over to you, once again blaming it on you, before throwing her hands in the air.

               “Fine, Seonghwa, if you want to waste the night getting drunk, don’t let me stop you. Your father and I will just enjoy a quiet night inside.”

               “Sounds good,” Hwa says breezily, reaching for your hand and pulling you out of the kitchen, “See you all later.”

               “Seonghwa,” Mr. Park’s voice cracks through the silence and Hwa stops, looking at his dad who continues, “Remember tomorrow morning you have a meeting at the Rosewood. So don’t be hungover.”

               Seonghwa’s lips press together in a thin line for a moment. “I won’t be.” He gives a small tug on your hand, indicating it is time to go.

               You glance over your shoulder at his parents, shoving the unease down that is blooming in your chest. Seonghwa’s energy is all wrong, like a snake uncoiling and attacking the first thing it sees. You aren’t sure why…and some part of you is nervous to find out.

*

               The ocean glimmers in the setting sun as Seonghwa walks along the beach towards the tourist section of the town. He is quiet although his hold on your hand is firm and steady. In his other hand, he holds his shoes and his feet leave solid footprints in the wet sand. The waves lap at your ankles and the sun is almost fully below the horizon, making the ocean look like a mysterious lover beckoning for you to dive into its depths.

               You aren’t sure how to tell Hwa what you’re feeling. The most you’ve done in regards to this is the time you once sent your crush a “do you like me…yes/no?” note when you were nine years old. But that pales in comparison to the intensity of your feelings for Seonghwa.

               Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you admire the way the ocean breeze ruffles his hair, the slope of his nose, the way his lips look nice and soft, the curve of his neck –

               “What is it?” Hwa asks suddenly, turning his face to look at you.

               “What?” You balk.

               “You were looking at me.”

               Flailing around for something to say, you go, “I was just wondering if you were okay. You just seem a little off.”

               Hwa shrugs, looking forward again. The lights of the oceanside bars are popping into view, like flickering fireflies.

               “Being around my parents this weekend is driving me crazy, that’s all. Every little thing they do or so is just…annoying.” His words sound unfinished as if there is more lurking underneath them but nothing else is forthcoming.

               “Your dad said something about a meeting at the Rosewood tomorrow morning…” You trail off, the question hanging in the air.

               The Rosewood was a beautiful hotel in the heart of the city with an even more gorgeous restaurant on the top floor. You only knew about it through reputation or when a celebrity was seen there. Someone like you would never step foot in a place like that.

               “Yeah, my parents are dragging me into some business meeting there. Same old shit.” He sounds bitter. “We’ll have to leave earlier than I wanted to so I can drop you off and get there in time. I won’t hear the end of it if I’m late.”

               “Yeah, I understand,” You reply, coming ever closer to the first bar which Seonghwa is steering you towards, “Uh, do you think it worked?”

               “What worked?”

               “Uhm…us pretending to be dating and in love.”

               For some reason, his expression grows hard. “I don’t know. What else could we have done? This was our plan from the start.”

               His words mixed with his tone take you by surprise. There is an undercurrent of misery in every sentence Hwa utters and you don’t know what to do with it. He yanks the door of the bar open and you trail after him. It is a typical looking bar, maybe with more seashell décor since it is next to the ocean. You hesitate in the entrance, frowning for a brief second as your eyes land on the drink menu, reading the titles of the cocktails: Sunset sangria, Malibu breeze, Blue Hawaii…

               “You okay?” Seonghwa asks, looking over his shoulder.

               “Yeah, sorry.” You give a small shake of your head, “Got this weird feeling of like déjà vu.” You shrug, trailing after him as he finds a spot at the bar.

               The place isn’t too crowded although one group clustered in the corner is very loud. The bartender asks for your drinks but you are surprised yet again when Seonghwa orders a shot.

               “Didn’t take you as the type,” You remark.

               “Usually am not. But since everyone thinks I’m going to be drinking anyway…” He trails off as the bartender pours the shot, “You want one?”

               “No thank you. I’ll just have a beer, I guess.” You don’t actually feel like drinking or getting drunk but it is clear Seonghwa is barreling towards that.

               He motions for another shot and the bartender refills. He slams it down, looks at you and says, “Those two were warm ups.”

               Something is definitely wrong, you think as he asks for another one. The chances of confessing your feelings are growing slimmer by the second as the panic grows larger.

               When he hits the third shot down, you ask, “What was that one?”

               “A freebie,” He replies dryly.

*

               By the time a stumbling Seonghwa leaves the bar, it is a couple hours later and he is thoroughly drunk. Wobbling in the sand, you try to steer him back to the house but he gently shrugs you off.

               “Wanna go down to the shore,” He slurs – at least that is what you think he says.

               “Hwa, maybe we should just go back to the guest house.”

               But he gives a firm shake of his head. “If I have to see my parents right now, I’ll fucking lose it.” That is spoken a lot clearer and gives no room for an argument.

               You follow him away from the bar, down the shoreline a little bit to a spot where very few people are around. Hwa plops down in the sand, not caring that he is getting his clothes covered in it, or even noticing when the water washes up around his legs. You chew on your bottom lip before gingerly sitting down next to him, gasping a little.

               “It’s cold,” You say as the water washes over your legs.

               Hwa tilts his face back as if he is letting the sun warm his skin – but the moon is out and the sky is dark. “I ruined tonight, I know.”

               “What?”

               “Drinking. Should’ve just…stayed in with you. But staying around you is just…confusing.” His head rolls forward and he blows his hair out of his face.

               “Confusing?”

               “I’m supposed to pay you tomorrow. For this weekend.”

               You pause for a moment before replying, “I know.”

               “That’s what everything comes down to. Money. My parents paying off everyone. Now I’m doing it too. Maybe I’m no better than them.”

               “Whoa, Hwa, don’t talk like that,” You say, alarmed, “That isn’t true.”

               “How is it not?” He fires back, “You’re always talking about leaving the family and doing whatever I want but I don’t know what I want to do because I’m – I’m not even a person, I’m just…constructed by them for the stupid fucking company.” He is seething now, bunching his fists in the sand. “What would I do away from them?”

               You tentatively reach for his shoulder but your hand hovers just above him, afraid of touching as if it might startle him.

               “‘Money is a terrible master but an excellent servant.’ Do you know who said that?”

               “Uhm. Lisa from Blackpink?”

               Hwa ignores you or maybe he didn’t hear you at all because he goes on, “I have all the money in the world yet it somehow corners and poisons me every fucking second of my life.”

               “Alright, we’re going home,” You announce, standing up and brushing sand off your knees, tugging on his arm, “And we’re going to bed.”

               “That isn’t home,” He mumbles but obeys, getting to his feet unsteadily, looking at you through a haze of booze, “Would you cry for me if left tomorrow? If I went overseas? If we never spoke again?”

               “Hwa,” You say, startled as he brings one arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

               “Tell me I’m not just about money for you. Tell me I matter more than money. That when I fuck you, it means something. That I mean something.” He murmurs desperately, his face close to yours, his body warm, the scent of booze clinging to his clothes, his pupils wide, his gaze lingering on your lips.

               Your chest is tight, heart hammering against your ribs. I don’t want to tell him like this. Not when he’s drunk, emotional and not thinking clearly. I want it to mean something too.

               But you don’t have to say anything because at that moment Seonghwa lurches away from you, turns to the side and promptly begins to throw up on the beach.

               Distantly, you wonder if anything good happens on a beach – maybe in another universe somewhere, someone is confessing their love to a significant other instead of watching the person they care about vomit in the sand.

*

               It is nine in the morning when everything goes to hell.

               Dark clouds form along the beach, signaling a massive storm rolling in to match your mood and the mood of the guest house.

               Seonghwa, who is extremely hungover and working on a tight schedule to get you back to the city in time for his meeting, is already running late. You are quietly packing your things, a knot in your stomach.

               After Hwa threw up on the beach, you got him home, cleaned him up and watched as he promptly passed out, leaving you alone with more emotions than you knew what to do with. It was as if the universe was determined to make sure not to carve out one quiet moment for you to speak to Hwa and confess.

               In the morning light, Seonghwa mumbled an apology for almost puking on you and made no mention to his lamenting of his wealth or his desperate question of if you would cry for him. You don’t bring it up either, unsure if he remembers it or just doesn’t want to discuss it.

               But the energy has been popped like a cork from his hangover and his mood is foul. It lingers in the room like a poison cloud and it all comes to a terrible clash when he tosses money onto the kitchen counter shortly before leaving.

               “What is this?” You ask warily.

               “It’s the money for the weekend.” Seonghwa’s face is blank, his voice empty of any emotion. “This is why we were hanging out, after all. The entire week hinged on the deal we made.”

               The money is unceremoniously in a tote bag that he must have dug up somewhere in the main house when he left this morning for thirty minutes, claiming he needed to get coffee in town because the stuff here wasn’t strong enough. Now, you knew exactly what he had been really doing – somehow making a cash withdrawal that most banks wouldn’t allow but he could do because of his connections and wealth.

               “It’s yours now. We can consider the entire thing finished.”

               You tear your eyes away from the money and look at Seonghwa. His expression is heavily guarded, posture stiff. It’s his old face, you realize with a jolt, the one he had in the first couple of days together. I hadn’t noticed it because I didn’t know him then. But I know him now.

               It doesn’t take a genius to know that Seonghwa is cutting everything off before he gets hurt. You want to be understanding but you are exhausted. The entire weekend has been draining, coupled with your own romantic feelings for him, to dealing with him getting drunk all the way to this moment where he has decided to make the choice for you.

               “If you don’t want it from me, I’m sure my parents will give you some,” He adds, like rubbing salt in the wound.

               It is this small remark that pops the bubble that has been growing in your chest. “You don’t have to be so cruel about it.”

               “I’m not being cruel.”

               “I’m taking it as cruel. That’s how I’m reading it.”

               His lips press together in a thin line before replying, “I have a terrible headache. I can’t deal with the bullshit of you declining my money and me offering it and we do this whole song and dance and you leave with it. So, let’s just skip it and you take it.”

               You had no intention of taking the money. You know that now. But Seonghwa’s crass words, his hostile demeanor and the money thrown on the counter in an ugly tote bag suddenly makes you furious.

               “Do you think it’s okay to be talking to me like this? What, did being hungover flick on your Asshole Switch or something?”

               Seonghwa crosses his arms. “I’m not being an asshole. We agreed on this at the start.”

               “Right, we did before we spent the entire week fucking each other,” You snap and he flinches, “You could talk to me with more respect. You’re acting like I’ve been buzzing for your money the entire week. You could have made an effort to start a conversation with me about money versus throwing it at me. And the remark about your parents – you think I’d take their money?”

               “You’d take someone’s money!” He raises his voice slightly, throwing his hands in the air before storming away into the bedroom.

               “You don’t need to deflect your own inner turmoil and issues onto me!” You counter, following him, “I understand what you went through is shitty and difficult but just to blanket assume I am the same –”

               “And why wouldn’t you be?” He whirls on you, his voice cracking, “What makes you different? This entire thing started on the basis of money so why wouldn’t it end that way? If you don’t want to take mine, you’ll just take my father’s. That’s how it goes. That is how it always goes.”

               “So, what, you just thought to be a jerk to me so things can end on your terms? You pay me and never see me again after today? Is that it?”

               He snatches his bag off the floor, pushing past you to head towards the living room. “This is how it was always going to go.”

               You follow him, nipping at his heels, refusing to back down.

               “Oh, cut the bullshit, Hwa. Why don’t we face what is really at the root of this?” You cannot help it – you are growing angrier by the second, mingled with his rejection and the fear that he will never know how much he means to you. Everything you have held in this entire week is now about to explode out of you. “Your parents do not see you as a person. They do not care about you. If they cared about you like they should, they wouldn’t do the things they do to you. Deep down, you know that! Your mom feeds you bullshit like ‘you’d be left with nothing’ which isn’t even remotely true and your dad forces the company down your throat and you are burning yourself out trying to fit the tiny box of what it means to be a loveable son to them! They withhold their love from you just to get whatever they want and it isn’t fair!”

               Seonghwa looks startled and then promptly furious, getting very close to you as he speaks, “Don’t presume to know my entire family dynamic just because we’ve been hanging out for a week. You are overstepping.”

               “And you overstepped with the tote bag of money so I guess we are back to square one,” You fire back hotly, “Hwa, don’t you see? You’re going to spend your entire life doing things you don’t want to do, running a company you don’t want and marrying someone you don’t love. They will do anything to manipulate you! Deep down, you know I’m right!”

               Seonghwa shakes his head. “I’m not listening to this.”

               You take a step away from him, snatching the tote bag off the counter and upending it. The stacks of cash clatter to the floor as you fling the tote bag back onto the counter. Hwa watches as you do so, going very still.

               “I don’t want your money,” You say disgusted.

               “Fine. Take my dad’s then. He doesn’t like you and will be keen to pay you off,” He slings his bag over his shoulder, going towards the door. “There’s an extra driver this morning. They can drive you back to the city. I can’t be late to this fucking meeting at the Rosewood and it’s better if we don’t drive together.”

               “Right, wouldn’t want you to miss out doing something that makes you miserable!” You call after him as he slams the door to the guest house shut, leaving you alone without a backwards glance.

               The silence is deafening. You slump into the nearest chair, turning the argument over slowly in your head, the money at your feet. In the distance, you hear thunder. Your chest physically hurts and your heart is beating so fast you feel a little sick.

               What the fuck just happened? You think, wondering what to do from here. Surely, Seonghwa will never speak to you again. Not only is he determined to cut you off because he is too afraid of being hurt again but you just went on a tirade about how bad his parents are. But I meant every word and I can’t take it back. To take it back would be lying to him and all anyone ever does is lie to him. But what the hell do you do now?

               You aren’t sure how long you sit there, listening to the storm inch closer by the minute. Eventually, you stir from your brooding to motivate yourself to finish packing and get out of here before the driver leaves and you have to pay for an expensive Uber.

               Leaving the guest house, feeling numb, you keep telling yourself to focus on Seonghwa once you get out of here. If you start thinking about it too much, you would start crying and never stop and the idea of doing that in front of some random person driving you home is mortifying. Crossing through the garden, you are almost at the side gate when a voice saying your name gets your attention.

               Looking over your shoulder, you see Mr. Park on the back patio, the sliding door open behind him. “I was wondering if I could talk to you privately in my office.”

               Sure, whatever, I don’t give a fuck anymore, you think, nodding your assent towards him before trudging over. What is there to fear from him now? It is all finished…Seonghwa had made that clear.

               The house is very quiet with no sign of Mrs. Park or even the hired help. You follow Mr. Park upstairs towards his office. It is stuffed to the brim with expensive objects like everything else he seems to touch. You don’t blame Seonghwa for going minimalist in his own space. Surrounded by all these things is suffocating.

               Each bookshelf is lined with titles that are most likely purchased just for show since you cannot imagine Mr. Park has enough time to read. Along one wall runs a host of old looking filing cabinets that are all locked. His desk is made of heavy oak and makes the entire room feel stuffy and oppressive.

               You sit down in a plush leather chair on the opposite side of the desk, the leather creaking in the silence. Mr. Park sits down as well and for a few moments, he doesn’t speak. You just stare back at him. If he is in the mood to play mind games…well, you aren’t.

               When he realizes that you aren’t going to speak first, he relents and goes, “My son left in quite a huff this morning.”

               You just nod.

               “Everything alright between the two of you?”

               “Can we skip to whatever you brought me up here for?” You ask wearily.

               There is a flash of irritation in his eyes quickly replaced by the same nonchalant expression as before. “Very well then. I looked into you after we met for the first time. I was thinking that while you and my son seemed attracted to one another, something felt off.

I know you don’t have very much money and that you dropped out of school because you could no longer afford it. You weren’t a good enough student to get any scholarships. I know that you’ve jumped around jobs ever since until settling down at that store of yours. Your best friend, a man named Hongjoong, left the city after mental health issues and seemed to be quite an influence on you, bar hopping, partying, trying to help him with his fledgling music career. You mostly keep to yourself now with no clear plan in mind.”

               “Is this supposed to scare me? Sixteen-year-old girls with a crush and a good Google search could find out more about someone these days,” You deadpan.

               Mr. Park smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He leans forward, clasping his hands together. “I was struck by the difference between you and Seonghwa this time around. Seonghwa especially. He seems quite taken with you. Of course, you understand that he can’t be with you.”

               “You don’t get to make that choice for him.”

               “Seonghwa has always been a bit of a dreamer. It’s been difficult to stamp that out of him. He needs extra guidance towards the ultimate goal of working for the sake of the family dynasty. That comes first. Not what he wants. Not who he wants to marry. I take this very seriously.”

               You don’t reply.

               He clears his throat a little and continues. “You understand that you’re not a good match for him. You have no family standing. You bring nothing to the company. He’s already becoming a bit unruly by being with you.”

               At this, you laugh. “You think that was being unruly? Him…what, sticking up for me during breakfast and doing what he wants to do?”

               “He came home very drunk last night and was clearly hungover this morning. That is out of character for him and I blame it on you. You’re a bad influence.”

               “Is that why you were looming around the guest house and staring at us through the window? Just taking note of ‘oh, my son is happy, I need to ruin it’?”

               This time, he ignores you, opening a drawer and pulling out a checkbook. “I’m going to be very generous with you. I’ll let you give me a price. Whatever the amount in exchange for not speaking to Seonghwa again. No contact from this moment onward.” His pen hovers over the check as he stares at you.

               I am so fucking sick of talking about money and thinking about money and dealing with money, you think, feeling roughly a thousand years old in that moment. I’m sick of hearing about this dynasty and I’m sick of seeing Seonghwa sad and I’m terrified he’s going to lose himself completely to this hell.

               “No.” is all that leaves your mouth.

               “Excuse me?”

               “No. I don’t want your money.”

               “Don’t be rash. Think this through. I said that you could list whatever amount –”

               “I heard you. I’m saying no. You were right, Seonghwa was upset this morning. He might never talk to me again because he’s so warped over what you have put him through that he’s too afraid to open up to someone else once more. And fine, if he doesn’t talk to me again, I’ll be heartbroken but at least I’ll know it’s not because I am yet another person in his life to take money from his dad. You see, I don’t want your money because I am in love with your son,” The words hang in the air for a few seconds as you try to wrap your head around the fact you have just said it aloud before continuing, “I am somehow deeply in love with your son even though I just met him. It’s absurd, actually, the way I fell for him so quickly. But he’s smart and he’s funny and he’s an amazing photographer and he’s thoughtful and introspective and a lot of wonderful things that you don’t see the worth in because he isn’t a son to you, he’s a pawn you just move around because you think life is a chessboard and people are just toys. But Seonghwa isn’t that to me.”

               You stand up, ready to go, when Mr. Park speaks, “It’s touching you care so deeply for my son. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter. Your little disagreement this morning worked in our favour. Seonghwa is currently with his mother at the Rosewood being told that you have come to me and asked for money. Afterwards, he will be presented with a contract agreeing to marry the woman we have chosen for him.”

               You stare at him, cold ice rolling down your spine, a loud buzzing in your head.

               He continues mercilessly, “Whatever Seonghwa schemed with you, because I feel fairly confident that when I saw you a week or so earlier that this relationship was not nearly as deep as we were told it was, it ended up helping us. Originally, we were going to have a sit down conversation with him at the Rosewood, laying out the facts bare of what would happen if he didn’t agree to the marriage. But whatever happened this morning, Seonghwa is now distraught and not thinking clearly as he heads into the meeting. One little push is all we need to get him to sign. I know my son.”

               “So you’re lying to him and telling him I asked you for money,” You say with numb lips, “And he’s going to be so upset, he’ll sign and agree to the marriage.”

               “That’s right.”

               You fumble for your phone, immediately trying to call Seonghwa. But a robotic line says the call cannot go through. You try it again desperately. Same result. You switch to texting, sending a desperate message that just says you hadn’t taken any money from his dad in all caps. It says it cannot be delivered.

               “It won’t work,” Mr. Park finally speaks, sounding pleased with himself, “I have some connections at the phone company and Seonghwa’s phone won’t be taking any calls or texts from anyone until the contract is signed. My son was aware that this is what he needed to do even when he fought it. But then you came, like an arrow in the dark, striking his chest and making him believe in things he never gave a passing thought to before.”

               You want to throw the nearest object at his head. You fight the urge to punch him in the face. One part of you is such vicious fury that it might choke you and the other part of you is pure unfiltered panic. Thunder goes off, closer now, promising a storm to end storms.

               “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You seethe, your jaw clenched.

               Mr. Park looks unbothered. “I’ve given up everything for the company. As did my father. Seonghwa will understand that, in time. He could always keep you on the side after the marriage is finished. I am not against that. But this is how it has to be for the dynasty.”

               “I would never take a cent from you,” Your voice is low, as chilly as a glacier.

               “I know,” Mr. Park replies simply, “But Seonghwa does not.”

               With those words, you realize that Mr. Park has been stalling you from trying to reach Seonghwa. This entire conversation has been a waste of time. You spare one second to shoot him the finger before storming out of the office, flying down the stairs so quickly that you almost trip. Catching yourself at the last second, you burst from the beach house. A driver is perched against a car, smoking a cigarette, clearly have been told to wait for you. Seonghwa has done that much, at least. He looks relieved at finally seeing you, crushing it under his shoe with an apologetic look on his face.

               “I need to get to the Rosewood as quickly as possible,” You say, tossing your bag in the car and ushering the driver to the door, “Hurry. Quickly. Please,” You amend before climbing in the back.

               In the back of the car, you keep trying to get in touch with Seonghwa even though you know it is in vain. You try calling his Instagram account but he doesn’t answer. You spam his Instagram messages. Nothing. His phone is either dead, taken away, or he simply isn’t looking at it.

               The panic and rage that swirl in your chest are two beasts fighting. To think of Seonghwa being so absolutely manipulated by his parents – for them to lie in such a way and turn off his phone – to have him sign anything that would give up his freedom…the worst part of it all is that if the two of you hadn’t fought this morning, he might not be so susceptible.

               Is that true? A tiny voice asks. This entire weekend, Seonghwa’s fear of you opting for money had been weighing on him until it exploded this morning. Maybe that part of him would always be a target to hit. The fact his parents know that and used it to their advantage…

               The rain begins on the outskirts of the city. It comes down in thick droplets, splattering against the roof of the car so heavily it almost sounds like hail. The thunder shakes you to your fingertips. The rain sweeps in like a frenzied beast and traffic starts to form. You want to pull your hair out.

               You think of Seonghwa, believing that after the fight, you sought his dad out and asked for money. You think of the stack of money left at the guest house, of Mr. Parks knowing your feelings were strong enough that he had to stall you, and the way his mother must be convincing him in a cloying voice that this is how things need to be.

               You are worried about crying right here in the back of the car. You know if that if you start, you’ll never stop. The car has stopped again. You glance at the time and lean forward.

               “I am not trying to be a bother but what is the hold up?”

               He points to the GPS on his phone screen, showing the road ahead in a deep red. “Some accident. Traffic is backed up badly.”

               You have got to be kidding me, you think, wondering why the universe is determined to make a mockery of you at every turn.

               “How close are we to the Rosewood? Within walking distance?” You study the map on the GPS very carefully.

               “Uh…”

               “Doesn’t matter. Sorry, I gotta go.”

               The driver makes a spluttering noise as you open the car door and exit. The cars are at a standstill, some people honking at you weaving through the traffic while heading towards the sidewalk. The asphalt is hot, the rain almost sizzling as it strikes, and it feels like you have walked into a swamp. Soaked immediately from the torrential downpour, you take off as fast as you can, yelling “sorry!” and “excuse me!” every half second as you try not to collide with anyone slowly meandering down the sidewalk clutching their umbrellas. With each strike of your shoes against the pavement, you think about Seonghwa. Even when your chest might burst and your lungs might pop like grapes, you keep going.

               Eventually, you can see the sign for the Rosewood through the haze of rain. The doorman tries to stop you – you ignore him, flying through the lobby and into an elevator before anyone can do a single thing about it.

               Pressing the button for the restaurant at the top floor, you slump against the wall, gasping for air.

               In the reflection of the elevator doors, you realize that you look like a wet rat that just nearly survived a flood. Not your best look…especially for a high-end establishment like this. But when the doors open, the thoughts of your appearance fade as you take off again.

               In fact, you almost make it to the restaurant before someone, probably security, grabs your upper arm. You ignore them, lurching forward into the dining room.

               “Seonghwa!” You yell, “Seonghwa!”

               You get a glimpse of him – a millisecond that lasts a lifetime. He is at one of the tables, paperwork in front of him, his mother talking avidly and a beautiful woman at the table as well. You recognize her from the rooftop photo. Seonghwa is slumped, a pen in between those slender fingers of his, dark circles under his eyes.

               You shake the person holding you off, wrenching you arm almost painfully out of the grip, and bolt through the dining room. People mumble in horror – at you running, at your appearance, at your clothes leaving puddles all over the fancy carpet – but you don’t care. He hasn’t signed, is all you can think with relief, feeling as if you are running in quicksand towards him.

               Seonghwa’s eyes are wide and he is in the motion of standing up when you finally reach him. You grab his shoulders, pulling him towards you desperately. Mrs. Park is yelling at security to remove you as Seonghwa looks upwards and shakes his head firmly at them, telling them firmly to leave you alone.

               “Hwa, I didn’t go to your dad. Will you look at me? I didn’t go to your dad,” You plead, giving him a small shake, his gaze falling on your face, “I didn’t go to your dad. They’re lying to you.”

               “She’s lying,” Mrs. Park spats.

               Seonghwa doesn’t even glance over at her. He is staring only at you for a heavy moment before he speaks, “Come on, not here.”

               His hand moves downward, grasping yours. The first trickle of relief hits your chest. Would he hold my hand if he felt like I betrayed him? Mrs. Park is sputtering – about your appearance, the fact security isn’t hauling you away, that you are causing a scene. But Seonghwa brushes past security, his hand steady against yours, leading you out of the dining room. Everyone is openly gawking. You know how you look, with your clothes like heavy wet rags, your bag slumped against your shoulder. Your heart is still racing, out of breath from all that running and motivated by sheer panic.

               Hwa takes you to a small nook, nestled between the kitchen and the foyer. He waves someone away when they ask if he needs assistance in getting you out of the building, turning his back to the restaurant and offering his body as a shield to get prying eyes off you.

               He takes in the sight of your general appearance before quietly asking, “What’s going on?”

               It spills out of you so quickly that you aren’t sure Seonghwa can even keep up with your words. “I didn’t go to your dad. I didn’t ask him for any money. I didn’t do anything of the sort. I was going to leave and your dad asked to talk to me. He offered me money, said I could list any amount I wanted. And I told him no. I told him…” You choke on your words for a moment, knowing that there is no turning back now. You can’t run all this way, make a scene at the restaurant, tell Seonghwa their version of events is a lie and then proceed to lie yourself.

               “What did you tell him?” He prompts quietly, his eyes scanning your face, his shoulders set with a clear tension he is trying not to let slip into his tone.

               You take a deep breath, unable to look at him, instead opting to speak directly to the middle of his chest, and begin to talk, “I told him that I wouldn’t take the money because I’m in love with you. I told him that I know it sounds silly to be in love with you already but that it just happened that way. I don’t care if you never spoke to me again but I wouldn’t ever want you thinking that I took your money or your dad’s money. Because I love you. I should have told you earlier but I’ve never been in love before and I didn’t know what to do. But I love everything about you like the way you wander around at night and take photos, how kind you are, and thoughtful too. And I even love you when you make out of touch comments about things because you can’t help it, you’re too rich to even know better but I know it isn’t ever malicious and it isn’t intentional and you’re still kind and I love you for it. I love you even though you never know any of my pop culture references and I love you even though the only movie you’ve ever quoted to me is goddamn Clueless. And I love you even if you don’t love me and it’s okay if you don’t want to be with me but I needed you to know that your parents are not good people and they don’t deserve you. And you could hate me for saying those things but it’s the truth,” You hold up your hand, “Wait, don’t answer yet. There’s something else you need to know. About why I ran here and made a scene.”

               You fumble for your phone. Your hands are shaking, you realize, but you illustrate to Seonghwa how you try to call and he gets no calls. You show how you text him and he doesn’t get those either. You tell him to check Instagram and he sees the panicked missed calls and messages from you. You explain quietly what his dad said. Hwa is silent for a long while, staring down at his phone until the screen goes black from being idle.

               His hair has fallen in front of his eyes and you cannot see his face. You don’t speak. You know that you have just thrown a lot at him all at once and can only assume he is overwhelmed.

               But on the other hand, you just confessed your love to this man and he’s gone idle like he is a video game character about to get timed out in a MMO. Antsy and wringing your hands, you finally break the silence.

               “Uhm…Hwa…”

               He shifts a little and then raises his head to look up from his phone. He slips his phone in his pocket and brings his hands to your shoulders, resting them there, ignoring the squelch of wet fabric.

               “I have to do something. Will you give me some time?”

               Thrown, you reply, “Uh, sure…?”

               “Do you have money for a taxi back to your place? It sounds like you left my driver in traffic and I don’t have another one nearby.” He rummages in his other pocket and pulls out some cash, shoving it in the palm of your hand and curling your fingers around it before you can protest. He lingers there for a moment. “Just give me a few days. Will you do that for me?”

               What else am I supposed to do? You think, slightly dazed, nodding silently.

               Seonghwa hesitates for a second and then tugs you against him, crushing you in a hug. He doesn’t seem to care that your clothes are soaking wet and will ruin his expensive outfit. He has never held you this tightly before. It would be funny to picture Seonghwa walking back into the restaurant all wet from hugging you if you weren’t on the verge of crying. Your face is against his chest and he kisses the top of your head before breaking away. As he walks away, he stops to talk to security, who is still glowering nearby. You cannot hear what he is saying but his tone brokers no argument.

               And then Hwa is gone, back inside the restaurant.

               When the security guard comes over to escort you out, it is evident he is disgruntled that he cannot arrest you or lecture you for twenty minutes.

               But even if he did either of those things, it wouldn’t matter. The adrenaline is starting to wear off and that numb feeling is sweeping back in.

               He didn’t say he loved me back, you think over and over, to the beating of your heart, I don’t have a lot of experience in telling someone you love them but the ultimate hope is they say it back, right?

               So, now what?

*

               “This is horrible,” You whine, muffled into your pillow.

               On the screen of your phone, Hongjoong looks up from painting his nails. “Are we going to run through the story again? Can we go back to the part where his dad mentioned me?”

               You scowl, looking up. “You know it’s creepy that he knew why you left the city, right? Yet you think it’s giving you main character energy or something.”

               Hongjoong looks pleased. “Come on, you’re living out something usually seen in movies or dramas and I got a mention. Lemme hear it again.”

               Sighing, you recall when Mr. Park mentioned Hongjoong during his thinly veiled threats about snooping into your life. You do so on autopilot, aware that Hongjoong is only doing this to try to distract you from the fact that you haven’t heard from Seonghwa in four days.

               You keep replaying that morning in your head – the disagreement with Seonghwa, the entire conversation with Mr. Park, running through the rain and showing up at the restaurant to tell Hwa you love him while also destroying his entire fragile hope that his parents weren’t shitty.

               “I have to do something. Will you give me some time?” Seonghwa had said. But did that something have to take so long? What was he doing? Was he okay? You couldn’t bring yourself to text him and embarrass yourself further. It is difficult enough to think about how you confessed your feelings for him and he didn’t feel the same way…because if he had, he would have told you then and there. Right?

               The past four days have been agony. You trudged to work, wandered back home, stayed up too late unable to sleep, spent too long scrolling on your phone. You felt embarrassed to basically be living to wait to see if Seonghwa contacted you.

               You finish the story before slumping back down and staring sullenly at Hongjoong who finally sighs and stops blowing on his nails to dry them quicker.

               “He’s going to contact you.”

               “We don’t know that.”

               “Yes, we do. He said he just needed some time.”

               “How much time? I’m two seconds away from turning into Bella Swan when she just stares out the window for months and months cuz Edward fucked off.” You lament, shoving your face back in the pillow.

               “From everything you’ve told me about this guy, he doesn’t seem like the type to needlessly play with your feelings. If he’s gone quiet, it’s because he’s sorting something out. His parents took shit way too far. He kept hoping they weren’t as bad as you knew they were. That has to be difficult to deal with.” Hongjoong’s tone is gentle but his meaning is clear: this isn’t just about you, Seonghwa is going through something as well.

               Chagrined, you prop yourself up to look at Hongjoong who gazes at you steadily through the camera before idly turning his attention back to his nails.

               “Now, let’s talk about if I should pop by the city just to egg Mr. Park’s car or something,” He continues conversationally.

*

               You have just gotten out of the shower after a very long and extremely boring shift at work when your phone buzzes with a text. Your roommate is gone at her own job which means you can dart from the bathroom completely naked into your room, snatching up your phone.

               You stare at the message pop up, Seonghwa’s name clear and bright on the screen. You blink a few times to make sure you haven’t imagined it out of sheer desperation. It has been five days since you told him you loved him.

               But his name remains. Quickly, you open up the message.

               “I was wondering if you can come by my place in an hour or so. I can send a car. I’m sorry I can’t come there myself but I promise I’ll explain everything when you arrive.”

               You take a deep breath, telling yourself not to reply right away so you don’t look desperate.

               So you wait exactly two minutes before replying with an okay.

*

               It feels strange to be cutting through the lobby towards the elevators to go to Seonghwa’s penthouse without him by your side. After giving your name to the receptionist, she declared you were on the visitor list and gave you some temporary key to access Seonghwa’s penthouse. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. You have no idea what you are walking into and that makes your anxiety even worse. After five days of waiting, you are finally going to see Seonghwa – but it isn’t just about seeing him that is so stressful. It is the fact that you are seeing him and now he knows the extent of your feelings.

               The elevator doors glide open and you gingerly step out into the foyer at the same time his parents come into view. Having not expected to see them, you freeze immediately. Mrs. Park’s eyes are swollen and red from crying. Mr. Park looks as impassive as ever.

               “I hope you’re pleased with yourself, you money grubbing harlot,” Mrs. Park growls out in your direction, dabbing her eyes furiously with a tissue.

               You are torn between asking what the hell she means and laughing so you do neither, only staring at her with wide eyes as she pushes past you into the elevator. Mr. Park follows. Another man exits the living room, paying no attention to you at all, holding a briefcase and an iPad, entering the elevator as well.

               You look over your shoulder as the doors close. The last thing you see is Mr. Park giving you a small nod of his head. There is something in the gesture that makes your stomach flip – some sort of acceptance on his part, something that feels akin to admitting he lost.

               Spurned on by that, you turn around and hurriedly walk into Seonghwa’s living room, stopping immediately at the sight of him by the large window overlooking the city.

               The sun is starting to set, Hwa’s back is to you as he looks outward. He is wearing a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with black dress slacks on. There is nothing different about this outfit; you have seen him in something similar many times.

               But after not seeing him for five days, a longing hits you square in the chest. It is only your embarrassment stopping you from running over to him.

               “Hwa,” You say quietly.

               He stirs, looking over his shoulder. When his eyes land on you, he smiles gently. But you are startled by how exhausted he looks, as if he hasn’t sleep since the night the two of you slept together entwined after having sex that changed everything.

               When Hwa doesn’t speak, you shuffle awkwardly and go, “Your mom called me a money grubbing harlot on the way out.”

               He rubs his face with both hands, shaking his head a little before replying, “I’m sorry.”

               “Why? You didn’t call me that.”

               The space between the two of you feels like a gaping wound. The only thing you want is for him to reach for you or give you some indication that everything is alright. Hwa lingers by the window for a moment, casting one look at the horizon before moving towards the couch.

               “Even so, my parents have treated you like shit ever since I entered your life. You’ve taken it on without question or complaint.” He sits down, tilting his face upwards to look at you, “Will you sit next to me?”

               You are too nervous to even make a joke and instead opt to just silently sit down. You have been so distracted by seeing Seonghwa again that it is only now you notice all the paperwork spread out across the coffee table. Hwa follows your eyes and clears his throat a little, leaning forward and taking one of the pages off it and handing it to you.

               You stare at it, your brain unable to piece together what the hell you are looking at.

               Seonghwa leans forward a little, his fingers lightly resting against your wrist. The touch is enough to make you feel unhinged. He inhales sharply and goes, “I finished the paperwork today.”

               “Uh…for what?”

               “For giving up any and all claims to the family inheritance and the company.”

               For a few seconds, the words don’t click. You just stare at the legal mumbo jumbo in front of your eyes before tearing your gaze away from the page and to Seonghwa’s face. He traces small circles against your wrist nervously, waiting for you to reply.

               But if he is expecting some sort of deep and meaningful answer, you hope he isn’t disappointed when you deliver a confused, “What? You mean…you just separated from them?”

               “You were right,” He says simply, “About them. About me as well. I kept denying it and hoping until you showed me that they were blocking my phone from any communication just to get me to sign a fucking contract giving up my own life for their sake. There is no way to create a story to comfort myself when confronted with that. They lied to me, they lied about you, and they attempted to isolate me to get what they wanted,” He hesitates, “It would have worked. If you hadn’t gotten to me in time.”

               “But I did get to you in time,” You think with a rush of exhilaration.

               Hwa left the family. It is more than you ever dared to hope, something that seemed so far out of the realm of possibility that it hadn’t even entered your mind that he could have been spending the last few days working on all the legal recourse to get out of the family.

               “You did,” He replies, his head slightly bowed to look at your hands holding the paper, “I’m sorry I believed my mother when she said you went to my father for money. The fight from the morning was still in my mind and I had been running myself in circles since I met you about what was going on between us. I analyzed every thought about you, unsure if my feelings were true or I was just lonely. By the time we got to the weekend, I felt suffocated by my parents and I was overwhelmed by my feelings. And that night…with the hot tub and us sleeping together afterwards…it was so different to everything I’ve had before. It made me panic. I handled the entire thing poorly. And I almost led myself into some arranged marriage just because my parents knew exactly how to manipulate me.”

               You took a deep breath and steel yourself. “And how do you feel about me then? You know how I feel about you.”

               Seonghwa looks up then, an expression you can’t decipher on his face. “After my last relationship ended, I decided I was done letting anyone in. It wasn’t worth the hassle or the disappointment of realizing what they were truly like. My faith was shattered completely and I turned it into armor. When I approached you in the convenience store, I saw you as part of this convoluted plan to get my parents to love me for myself and not what I could give them. The last thing on my mind was that we would be anything other than business associates. It didn’t hit me until the coffee shop that things might start growing complicated.”

               “The coffee shop?”

               “When you started asking questions about me. I understood why you were asking them but it had been a long time since someone asked me something as simple as what my favourite colour is. I realized how lonely I was.”

               “Black isn’t a colour, by the way,” You say quickly, unable to help yourself, “I was being polite then but it’s not a colour.”

               Hwa laughs quietly and he brings his hand to your cheek, cupping it gently. The touch makes your heart race. His thumb grazes your skin as he continues, “There was something about you right away, something authentic that wiggled through the armor and I caught myself thinking of you when we weren’t together. And I didn’t understand why until you were drying my hair after you dyed it.”

               Your heart thuds. You want to tell him that is when you also realized that everything was changing between the two of you and that the minor touches were sending you into early heart failure but your tongue is no longer cooperating with your brain.

               “That’s when I realized that yeah, I was jealous I had to wear the t-shirt of some guy who slept with you, and yeah, I was falling for you. And when we had sex later that night, I just assumed it was because the lines were getting blurry with all the fake dating and you didn’t see me like that. Sometimes, I would wonder and allow myself to believe that you did but my brain quickly began to convince me that it wasn’t about me, it was about my money. It nipped at my heels no matter how fast I ran. It chased me down, bite into my jugular and filled me with doubt. The more I fell for you, the more the doubt and fear grew…” He pauses for a second, clearing his throat a little.

               “The night of the hot tub, being with you like that, I knew I loved you. It was impossible to deny any longer. And I felt like a fool for falling in love. I told myself I never learned my lesson. I would always be a fool. I was miserable and I hated myself for being miserable. Anyone else would be thrilled to fall in love and instead I couldn’t stop telling myself that you were going to leave Monday as soon as I gave you the money. I drank that night just to try to stop thinking for five seconds and then in the morning, I lashed out at you in a last ditch effort to protect myself. When you showed up at the restaurant…” Seonghwa stops talking, cut off for a moment, and you realize he is blinking quickly because his eyes are welling with tears.

               His confession of love is leaving you spinning. Your heart hammers in your chest, overloaded with joy that he feels the same way. You want to comfort him but he keeps speaking before you can.

               “No one has done that for me before. When I saw you running to me, soaked to the bone, your bag bouncing against your hip, my heart stopped. And you used such a gentle tone with me as you explained why your phone couldn’t call me when I had treated you poorly just an hour or so prior. It made me realize that I couldn’t keep denying what I knew, had always known, deep down and that is you were right. My parents have love that is conditional and it would never stop. I could sign that contract and they would want something else from me the next week. To have you and to be happy, I would have to leave them.

               Before I met you, I thought my hobby was going on yachts and laying in the sun. Now, I know it’s photography and wandering the streets at night to take photos. I used to think the only avenue I had was running a company I couldn’t give a fuck about and now I have no idea what I’m gonna do next but I know I want to figure it out with you next to me. If you want that too, I mean.” He brings his other hand upwards, now cupping your face in between the palms. His eyes are filled with tears threatening to topple at any second. Your chest is very tight as if you might cry yourself.

               “Hwa…”

               “I love you so much and I loved you so quickly that it terrifies me. Will you have me even though I’m so scared?”

               “I’ve never felt the way I do about you before.” Your words are small tiny things and Hwa has to get very close to even hear them, “I’m scared too. We can be scared together.”

               The tears spill over, wetting his eyelashes, rolling down his cheeks as Hwa nods quietly. You want to brush them away but he kisses you then, tears on your lips, against your tongue, as you lean into him. You have missed him so much it physically hurts and the idea that has haunted you for days – that you would never kiss him again – makes you need him even more in every way possible.

*

               In Seonghwa’s bed, his fingers travel over your clothes, stripping them off you carefully, stopping to kiss every inch of your skin. You are trembling underneath him, the reality of the fact this sexual interaction will have no flimsy excuse to cover it; there is no more pretending that you don’t love him and no more hiding behind the “fake dating” concept. There is only Seonghwa, his lips grazing yours, your clothes landing in a heap on the floor next to his and his tongue in your mouth as you grind against him, skin to skin. He shudders as his cock presses against your wet folds but does not enter you. Instead, his lips move from yours to along your neck, his hands groping your tits as he does so.

               “Tell me again,” He whispers in a hoarse voice, words muffled by your skin.

               Your hands trail up along his hips, remembering the time in the elevator when you first noticed how slender his waist was. A lifetime ago, surely. It is hard to remember how life felt before Seonghwa bumbled into it with his awkward proposal of fake dating.

               “I love you,” You murmur and Hwa’s breath catches as your legs curl around his waist, urging him silently to fuck you.

               When his lips meet yours again, it is a hungry kiss, filled with promise of nights to come and of starting a relationship with him. You can feel the longing in it, all the stress and time spent worrying, and the tender love for you as well. Hwa’s tongue is against yours and you can taste him, want more of him, all of him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, the kiss turning sloppy as his cock presses against your cunt. He drops one hand downward to position himself at your entrance, the kiss breaking for a moment.

               “Again,” He says, his voice taking on a slightly pleading note.

               “I love you, Hwa,” You tell him once more, your lips brushing against his with each word.

               He enters you, slipping all the way inside in one swift motion, filling you up with his length. Your back arches, pressing against Seonghwa who groans, his head bowed, not moving his hips once he is all the way inside you.

               “Your little tight hole drives me insane,” He says gruffly, “I want to feel you cum around my cock every night. Open your eyes and look at me, doll, I want to see that look in your eyes.”

               Your eyes, which closed when he entered you, open now to look at him. His eyes scan your face, drinking in the sight of you.

               “I love you,” Hwa whispers, in a voice so quiet it sounds as if it is just meant for you and the stars and not to the city encircling the two of you at all.

               You tilt your face up to kiss him as he begins to thrust inside your pussy. It is different to have him now and know there is no chance of losing him. You give into him completely and he does the same. Each jerk of his hips drives moans and pleas out of you, and each time Hwa enters you completely, he groans out that he loves you. You move together in unison, like two puzzle pieces clicking together. Your hands tangle in his hair, his tongue in your mouth, just like the night of the hot tub but without the fear looming in the distance.

               The kiss breaks and Hwa changes positions, bringing himself up and folding your legs a little back so that he can fuck you deeper. The angle hits your sweet spot, your fingers gripping the sheets as Seonghwa picks up his pace. He grips your thighs, his nails still painted black, smears against your skin, driving his cock in you like a piston. You are soaking wet, taking him easily, and Hwa watches the way your pussy greedily clenches down around his cock with each thrust.

               “You think that you got enough practice in?” He asks, breathing ragged, chest rising and falling quickly, his toned arms holding your legs back firmly, “Now you’re ready to be my girlfriend officially and take my dick like this every day.”

               Your head rolls back in pleasure, unable to even answer. The only thing you can focus on is how good it feels and how much you love it when Hwa talks like this as he fucks you.

               “Show me how much you love me by cumming around my cock.” His voice is taunt, humming along your skin and up your spine. “You’ll prove it to me, won’t you? Be a good girl and show me.”

               You know that your orgasm is close. Hwa is fucking you into the mattress, not slowing for a moment, determined to pound you into climax. Your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around his girth.

               “That’s a good girl,” He coaxes, “Tell me you love me as you cum.”

               Hwa gives a hard and deep thrust of his hips, driving his cock against your sweet spot one final time. Your orgasm begins and you groan out his name, eyes closing and head rolling back, knuckles turning white as you clutch the sheets.

               “H-Hwa,” You whimper out, “I love you!”

               Hwa releases his hold on your legs, curling around your body as he gives one final harried thrust before cumming along with you. His balls empty out in your cunt as he groans out that he loves you too, burying his face in your neck as the two of you climax together. You rock your hips against his, your pussy clenched around his length, milking his cock for every drop of cum as he unloads in you.

               For a minute or so, neither of you move, trying to catch your breath. Then, Seonghwa raises his face slightly, finding your lips, gently kissing you.

               “I could get used to this,” He hums softly against your skin.

               You could as well.

*

               A storm rushes into the city in the middle of the night. You jolt awake from a loud clap of thunder, eyes opening groggily, wondering what time it is.

               To your surprise, Seonghwa is already awake. He is sitting up, a sheet draped across his lower half, his bare back facing you. He is looking out the window across the city which is engulfed in sweeping rain and wind.

               Propping yourself up, you tentatively reach out for him. Fingers brushing against his back, skin warm against your fingertips. He’s mine now, you think with happiness.

               Hwa stirs at your touch, looking over his shoulder. “Did the storm wake you?” His voice is soft.

               You nod and then realize he might not be able to see you in the dark. “Yes,” You reply, your voice slightly worn out from all the noise earlier.

               Propping yourself up, you wrap your arms around his neck, your chest pressing against his back, your chin resting on his shoulder. Seonghwa softens, relaxing into your body, turning to kiss the top of your head before looking back out at the city.

               “What are you thinking about?” You ask quietly.

               “I was thinking about what everyone who is still awake in the city is doing right now. I was wondering what my parents did after they left here.”

               “Do you worry about them at all?”

               “I don’t know how I feel.”

               “You don’t have to know or have everything figured out in regards to them, Hwa. It’ll take time to sort through everything. Might even take years.”

               Seonghwa seems to chew on this silently before settling on, “I know I made the right choice.”

               “So, you can let that be your north star as you navigate everything.”

               He falls silent. For awhile, the two of you stay like that, watching the way the storm washes out the city. You can feel Hwa’s steady heartbeat underneath your fingers, and you listen to his quiet breathing. Your heart is full, overflowing with the sort of emotion you have only previously read about.

               The silent glow of the city brings a half luminescence to Hwa’s face. You trace the curve of his jaw and the length of his nose to the way his lips are slightly parted, drinking in the lights. Sensing your stare, he tilts his face to look at you, leaning forward a little to brush his lips against yours.

               The two of you stay like that until the storm quiets an hour later, musing about the future, wrapped up in the city and the rain, comfortable in your love.

the end.