Chapter Eight - On Purpose

G-Dragon’s POV

I laugh as I watch her practically sprint into the elevator like she’s escaping a crime scene.

Cute. She’s probably screaming into a pillow right now.WAAAAAAWHY AM I NODDINGAAAAAAAA

I can imagine the whole thing like a drama in fast-forward.

I toss on a clean white shirt, jeans, throw a blazer over it. Simple. Understated. Lethal.Cap on.Mirror check.

“Nice.”Effortless perfection achieved.

I wait for more than an hour.Just enough time for her to calm down, second guess everything, and still not fully recover.

Then I grab my phone, my wallet.Straight to the elevator.Her floor.

Ding.I press her bell.

A few seconds later, the door creaks open…And there she is.Hair done.Lip gloss glowing.Slight shimmer on her cheeks.Dolling herself up like she’s not completely caught.

I blink.Smile.“Whoa…”I say it without thinking.

She opens the door wider, still acting so normal, like I didn’t just see her in pajamas screaming into her bed this morning.“What?” she asks, trying to sound casual.“You glammed up for your pillow or for me?” I tease, leaning against the doorframe, smug as hell.

She scoffs.“Delusional.”

“Right. So...?”I gesture with my chin, cocky.“Should I take you somewhere fancy, or do you want to act like we’re just neighbors again?”

She glares.And I swear, I live for that look.

--

Late afternoon light spills across the parking lot, golden, soft.I open the car door for her.Inside the car,I hold her hand. Warm.Her face? Trying so hard to stay calm.But I can see it. That little smile she's holding back.

“Where do we go?” she asks, smooth and elegant.“Everywhere you want,” I reply, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She tilts her head a bit, classic Mi Yu, like she’s trying to analyze me, but I catch the way her lips twitch upward.

Gotcha.

---

Rooftop Bar, Jongno

The rooftop is lit by tiny fairy lights and candles.A private table. Soft jazz in the background.She’s glowing, literally and metaphorically.City lights reflect in her eyes.She’s not drinking tonight, just a mocktail, pink and sparkly.

I like this version of her, shy, but still elegant.and I know now, that’s my favorite look on her.

“I’ll go to the Philippines the day after tomorrow,” I say casually, watching her reaction like it’s a movie I’ve seen a thousand times but still love.

She pauses...Eyes blink slowly.And then… pout.

Tiny. Subtle.But damn, adorable.

I chuckle, lean back slightly.“Grab your passport.”“Nee?!” she jolts like I just offered to fly her to the moon.I laugh louder this time.“You heard me.”

She’s blinking rapidly now, as if her brain is buffering.“Why would I go with you?” she finally says, trying so hard to sound like she has control.“Moral support. Personal tea consultant. Maybe emotional damage recovery. Choose a title.”I smirk.

She crosses her arms.“What would I even do there?”“Exist,” I say, walking to our home elevator.“Breathe. Make my day less boring.”

She covers her face.And that’s when I know, I win.

--

We're back to our apartment.We stop at her door.I don’t want to let go.Neither does she, I can feel it in the way her fingers stay wrapped around mine like they forgot how to be alone.

“Go in,” I say gently.But my hand’s still holding hers.She looks up at me.“Nee…” she says quietly, her voice like wind chimes, soft, unsure.“What?” I chuckle, raising one brow.

She shakes her head, the corners of her lips lifting into that smile, that smile.Not the calm, cool, elegant one she wears in the boardroom.No.

This is the real Mi Yu.Silly. Soft. Slightly tipsy on love.And trying not to show it.I reach out, touch her cheek gently with my free hand.“You look better like this.”“Like what?” she mumbles, eyes blinking up at me.“Like you’re not pretending you don’t care.”

She bites her lip.“Stop doing that,” I whisper.“Doing what?”“That thing… with your mouth. You know exactly what you’re doing.”She giggles.

I lean in, slow enough to give her time to pull back, but she doesn’t.

Our foreheads touch.Just the heat of us, nothing more.“You sure you wanna go inside?” I whisper.

She nods slowly.

“Then go,” I smirk. and kiss her forehead

But as she turns to open the door, I tug her back, just a little.Enough for her to bump gently into my chest.“Goodnight, Baby.”

But our hands are still connected.“Let go first.”

“You let go.”

We laugh.And finally, fingers slip apart like secrets.

She goes in.The door closes.

And I just stand there…smiling like a fool.

--

Mi Yu POV - Übermensch Philippines

The air backstage is buzzing, lights, hairspray, vocal warm-ups, last-minute outfit checks.It’s chaos.

But I’m calm.Cross-legged in the corner, my face half-hidden behind Proof of Gu's book, eyes skimming the last few pages.I can feel his eyes on me.

Again.

Through the mirror, GD is watching me.While five stylists flutter around him like birds.

“She’s so elegant…”“Who is she?”“She came with GD, right?”“Did you see her dress? Simple but, ugh, gorgeous.”

Let them whisper.Let them guess.I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, still reading.As if I don’t notice him stealing glances between his eyeliner and mic check.

And then,..

“Ya, hyung,” one of his dancers laughs loud.“How did she trap you, really? What did she do?”GD laughs. Loud.Like he’s not hiding a thing.“She didn’t trap me,” he says with a shrug.“I walked into it like an idiot.”Laughter explodes.Someone snorts.“She must be something else, huh?”“She is,” GD replies, eyes still on me.“She’s dangerous.”

I don’t flinch.But I smirk behind my book.He thinks I don’t hear him.He thinks I’m ignoring him.But the truth is…I’m just letting him talk.Letting him fall harder.

"I'm going to do sound check first," Ji Yong says, standing up as the final stylist steps back.He looks…God.He looks like a legend.Sharp eyes, in-ear monitors, custom-fit stage outfit hugging his frame perfectly.His presence is too big for this small backstage room.

I must've looked stunnedBecause suddenly he’s in front of me, grinning like he caught me mid-daydream.“Why is your mouth open like that, hmm?” he teases.Before I can react, his fingers gently pinch my cheek.I blink.“Wait for me,” he says softly, then leans in.Press.A kiss on my forehead.Casual. Like it’s normal for him to do that. Like we’ve been doing this for years.

Then he walks out.Like the kiss didn’t just detonate a bomb in my chest.I sit there.In the middle of chaos, dancers stretching, staff shouting, lights flashing, and all I can feel is the ghost of his lips on my forehead.

I’m supposed to be composed.Classy.In control.But right now?I’m a puddle in Valentino flats.And he knows it.

I’m standing backstage, arms crossed, trying to act unfazed.But my eyes are locked on him.Kwon Ji Yong.In his element.

He’s sitting in the middle of the stage like it’s his living room.One leg up, mic in hand, laughing between versesThis is just a sound check, but he’s already lighting up the stadium like it’s showtime.

I feel the bass under my feet.But I also feel something else.A twist in my stomach.

Then, casually, he gets up.Walks to the edge of the stage.Goes downstairs.He heads to the VVIP zone, and I hear it“KYAAAA!!!”The fans are already screaming like it’s the main event.I blink.And then…He walks past the barrier.Straight into the crew staff area.What.

He leans in, looking at staff, try to flirting.She covers her mouth, laughing, clearly flustered.He gives her that teasing smile.That same freaking smirk.The one he gave me just hours ago.My eyes widen.What the…?Then again, louder in my headWhat. The. Hell?

I don't even realize my grip tightening on the clipboard in my hand.I’m not jealous.No.I’m just… concerned.About professionalism. Yes. That.

Someone walks past and glances at me.I school my expression immediately, like I’m just evaluating lighting angles.But my thoughts?They’re a full-on emotional emergency siren.Is he flirting? Just casually? Like that? With anyone??

Suddenly I don’t care about the damn “Proof of Gu” anymore.I might be classy.But I’m not blind.And that man is playing with fire.

After the sound check, he walks back like nothing happened.Like he didn’t just cause a stadium full of women to fall in love with him, again.He heads straight to me, no hesitation.Twists open a bottle of water.Hands it to me.Then passes me a bento box.Something he knows I’ll eat. Something light, sweet. Thoughtful.

I take both.Wordlessly.No smile.No eye contact.I’m not petty. I’m not petty. I’m not...!He doesn’t say anything either.Just nods and walks away.

Back to his seat.Back to being pampered by stylists, hairstylists, his entire orbit of assistants.Like a king getting ready for his coronation.I look down at the bottle in my hand.Then at my phone.I scroll. Pretend. Anything.But inside?I’m burning.Keep it, Mi Yu ya. Keep it. They’re just fans. Just staff. He’s G-Dragon. What did you expect?

Still.

That teasing smile… wasn’t meant to be shared.Not when he used the same one on me backstage, on that rooftop, in that car, on my forehead...I glance up.Through the mirror, he’s watching me.His eyebrows are furrowed, like he knows something’s off.I immediately look back at my phone.My hands are shaking just slightly, but I steady them.

I’m elegant.I’m calm.I am the storm dressed in Chanel.

But inside?I’m cursing.Damn it, Kwon Ji Yong. Damn it.

But then I heard it.Low voices. Whispering. The stylist team."You’re playing with fire," one of them said to GD, her voice serious.I froze, ears immediately on high alert."What? What am I doing?" his voice, soft, innocent, fake.FAKE."You have no idea, huh?" the senior stylist said, with that half-laugh people give when they’re done.

And then...I peek around the corner.He smirks.He. Smirks....!

I swear I saw actual sparks fly off his mouth.HE IS DOING THAT FLIRTING ON PURPOSE.The water bottle, the bentos, the forehead kisses, the way he leaned too close to that young crew girl just now... ALL OF IT.

ON. PURPOSE.

I clutch the water bottle tighter. My fingers turn white around it.I take a slow, elegant inhale.And then turn back around.Back straight. Hair tucked. Face emotionless.But my blood?Boiling."Two can play this game, Kwon Ji Yong."I didn’t trap you just to lose my mind first.