16

You're relieved that your family is coming down to Seoul today. If it weren't for this birthday party, you probably wouldn't feel the urge to take a break and fly back to the countryside to see your parents and sister, who lives further out in the city and leads a busy life just like you. Not to mention your brother, whom you rarely get to see.

It's nearly noon, and the weather in Seoul is erratic. If you had bothered to check the weather app this morning, you might have been able to do without the jacket.

Just the thought of your family finally meeting your boss - after years of working together and talking about him over the phone - have you sitting on the edge of your seat in Namjoon's Benz. He detects your silence through the faint sound of music from the speakers as he asks, "Have you had breakfast yet?"

You turn to face Namjoon, taking note of his casual attire. His plain white shirt, tucked under a light-washed denim jacket, and neatly pulled back hair make him look even younger than he is. Reminds you of a college heartthrob back in the day. Needless to say, even without the pricey suit and ties that cost more than you'll ever make in your lifetime, he was even more appealing.

You also discovered that he favored hoodies and sweatpants more than you thought. Why are you only now noticing these things about him? You wouldn't even have considered his favorite color or his favorite scent a few years ago. Now suddenly, you can't help but scrutinize his lovely skin tone and the musky odor that pervades his car, clothes, and home.

As you shamelessly set your gaze on Namjoon's stunning eyes, thoughts of your family and the job you desperately need from Mr. Bang's law firm fade and are pushed back in your mind.

"I didn't get the chance to grab anything before leaving the house," you tell him guiltily when you're reminded of your sister's efforts. "But it's alright, I don't feel h—"

"We'll stop by at Cabane first," Namjoon doesn't let you finish when he's already on his way to his favorite five-star restaurant.

"Sir—"

"Namjoon," he corrects you right away. "You're gonna call me that when we're not at work."

You sigh and awkwardly stir in your seat. "I'm fine, really," you reassure him, but even that doesn't convince him. "We can just go straight to the mall. They only gave us an hour, we don't have enough time."

"Do you really think they'll cancel on me?" Namjoon chuckles, removing his right hand from the steering wheel and resting it on the back of your headrest.

He's right. He's Kim Namjoon; he can have the mall all to himself whenever he pleases. It just reminds you of his power, and how much money can do for someone, though it is something you can never relate to.

"Don't worry, they can wait." He's already pulling up outside the place as he finishes his sentence. You don't linger and quickly get out of the car, following him inside.

"Bienvenue Monsieur," A woman greets you both with enthusiasm and an attractive smile, but you know it's more towards your boss than you.

You clear your throat, making your presence known behind Namjoon's towering figure. The woman finally tears her gaze from the attractive man, raises her brows patiently, and flicks her thick lashes. "...et Madame," she finally acknowledges you. You've been here more than you could count, but she pretends as if she only recognizes your boss. You don't mind that, but the fact that she never greets you is beyond insulting.

The young woman, who seems to be in her early twenties, plasters a forced smile on her lively face as your eyes fall on the tag, pinned to her chest. You can't hide your bitterness when you mumble, "Miss Hwang, est-ce exact?" She nods at your question. You catch the slight twitch of her mouth as she holds eye contact with you. Guess she didn't expect you to know French.

"Nous n'avons pas de réservation, Mais j'espère que vous nous accueillerez dès que possible." [We don't have a reservation, but I hope you welcome us as soon as possible.]

Namjoon fights the urge to smile when he hears you speak fluently. He grows even more proud when he sees the surprised look on the latter's face.

"Nous avons des endroits où être."[We have places to be.]

The woman's eyes widen as she tries to comprehend your words. You notice her shift uncomfortably on her feet while Namjoon stands wordlessly. The girl quickly grabs two menus from the front desk and leads you both towards a table with the best view of the city.

You don't notice when Namjoon is about to pull out a chair for you, and you do it before he can even let his hands touch the back of the chair. He sighs disappointingly at himself before he takes the seat across from you.

The same woman stands there awkwardly as you skim past the same menu you've laid eyes on that you could probably name all of their dishes. You're not complaining because it feels familiar, and you can never go wrong with something you're used to.

Namjoon doesn't even bother looking at his, instead resting his face on top of his hands and focusing all of his attention on you. You gulp anxiously, unable to handle his gaze burning holes in your features. When he notices you covering your entire face with the menu, he laughs. It's the least interesting thing inside this posh establishment.

You can only hope he shifts his focus elsewhere.

"I'll get the usual," Namjoon says without having to look at the woman. Then he lowers the menu from your face. "Y/N, what are you getting?" He asks despite the fact that he knows you'll get your usual order of Salt Spring Island Mussels cooked in white wine with sweet potato fries on the side.

"I'll just have a salad and a glass of water, please," You can tell Namjoon is taken aback by your request. He would never have guessed you were one to order a salad. You love seafood, and while it wasn't his favorite thing in the world, he didn't mind as long as you did.

You've known each other for years, you've eaten together, you've seen each other at your worst, but he has no idea why you're suddenly being conscious in front of him. "What? Are you on a diet or something?" He asks with a light tone, hoping it didn't come off as impolite. He has no intention of offending you; he is simply curious.

"I'm just not that hungry," you simply shrug, because truthfully, you didn't want to stuff your face with food when you had to fit into a dress later in the day. The last time you ate a large meal, it didn't go well, and you were bloated for the majority of the event.

Before you could say anything, Namjoon stops the woman, "Get her the usual."

"I don't think that's a good idea—" you attempt to say, hoping he caught the desperation in your voice. His gaze was hard on yours for the longest. The nervousness you felt almost sent you into shivers. Then, Namjoon reached over and grabbed the menu from your hands, forcing you to look at him.

"You're gonna eat what I give you."

"Namjoon..."

"Get us our usual, please," he mutters beforeletting go and leaning back against his chair. You retreat to your side, defeated. Namjoon's attention is no longer on you when you realize the crimson mess painting your cheeks. The woman scurries off with the menus in hand.

✧ ✦ ✧

You're grateful Namjoon insisted on ordering a larger meal for you because you'd been stuck at the Gangnam mall, waiting for him to pick out something for his mother for two hours now. You're worn out and slightly disengaged by the time you get to a different store, but you still have to appear somewhat energetic.

"What do you think, Y/N?" He finally turns to you, a lopsided grin on his face. Your gaze is drawn to the diamond necklace he's holding. The closer you get to him, the more visible the heart-shaped pendant in the center becomes.

You're at a loss for words, your mouth agape. It's obviously stunning and expensive, but you're not sure why he's asking your opinion when he knows his mother better than you do. "She's your mother, Namjoon," you reply with a laugh. "You know her better than I do."

"Well, that's true," he frowns at that as if he was doubting himself. "But you've always been in charge of things like this. I have no idea what she likes," Namjoon whispered the end more to himself, but he's sure you heard him.

Then he walks back to the employees, who are just waiting in their positions. Slowly, you crack the knots in your muscles and stand right next to him. "I'm sure she'll like it," you softly mumbled. "No matter what you give her, as long as it's from you."

"...but what are your thoughts?" Only a second went by before his attention was focused right back on your face.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you manage to say, "I think it's pretty..."

"How pretty?" He's so close to you that you can almost smell the mint that's swirling around his mouth.

"Very pretty."

He chuckles. "Very pretty?"

You shake your head in response to his question, catching him glinting down at your lips before he returns his gaze to meet yours. You were certain that if you had just blinked for a second, you would have missed it.

"You're a woman," he says so casually as if he hadn't just stared at your lips. "...What do women like?"

"Oh," you're rendered speechless because you honestly have no idea what he's asking. You're not sure if he's asking for his mother specifically or in general. "I guess we li—" before you could continue, the sound of a phone ringing stops you.

You look down to find that it's his.

Namjoon pulls away, but not before licking his lips with irritation. You step back from him as he looks at you and apologetically.

He turns around and walks away to answer the call, "Yes?" His annoyance is evident in the way he answers. "I'm a little busy right now."

"Busy enough to wish your mother a happy birthday?" The harshness of the woman's tone is enough for Namjoon to jump on his spot.

He taps his screen to confirm the caller, "Mom." He mumbles guiltily. The thought of calling his parents this morning slipped out of his mind, "I'm really sorry, Mom."

"Where are you right now, uh?" The woman sighs disappointingly at her son. "Are you forgetting about your mother, Kim Namjoon?"

He can't exactly tell her that he's buying a gift for her at the moment, so he tells the first lie that he could think of, "Sorry Mom. I was with Miss Park."

"You mean Y/N?" Namjoon can already tell his mother's mood is improving just by the mention of your name.

Namjoon hums in response as he looks at you from across the room. He doesn't even realize the smile on his face when he says, "Yes, Mom. I'm with her right now."

"Why are you together?" Mrs. Kim can't hide her excitement at the thought of her son and you spending time together. "Did you finally ask her out on a date?" Namjoon's pupils dilate as heat rushes up to his neck and cheeks. Is this a date? No it's definitely not a date.

It gets worse when you take your gaze away from the jewels on display and meet his gaze across the room. You flash him a delicate smile, and he watches as your wavy hair cascades down your shoulders and down the curves of your hips as if you were a Freeform art. Your flyaways and the light brown streaks that highlight your features are still stunning in their spontaneity.

"Son, are you still there?" His mother's voice pulls him out of his daze, but he never lets his eyes leave you.

"I'm here Mom," he groans out. Daydreaming about you didn't seem right when he could hear his mother on the other of the phone. No offense to the sweet Mrs. Kim.

"What's going on there?" She asks, wanting to know as much information as she could about the two of you.

"We're at Gangnam. I just have something to take care of."

"You're not forgetting about the event, are you?"

"Of course, not. I'll be there, I promise."

"And Y/N?" She brings up the girl her son can't take his eyes off as she converses with one of the male employees. They're both laughing, and he's never wanted anything more than to go over there and see what they're talking about. See if it's truly worth laughing at to the point where she was clutching her stomach.

...Will she be able to come with her family?" Namjoon sighs, his mood suddenly plummeting for whatever reason. Just a second ago, he was feeling fine, but now he feels as if his energy has been sucked out of him.

"I don't know, Mom. Can I call you back later?" He looks away from your figure and stares at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Okay, fine. I'll let you go for now," Mrs. Kim can sense her son's mood. "But text me when you're on your way."

"Alright, Mom. Love you."

"Love you too!" She giggles at her son's words. "And say hi to Y/N for me!"

"Sure, if she's not too occupied..." Namjoon mumbles to himself bitterly when he turns and sees you still talking to the male employee. Even he can't deny how charming the guy is. He could be your type, who knows?

"Were you saying something?"

"No, Mom. See you tonight."

The five-minute phone call finally comes to an end. You don't notice it when Namjoon marches his way over to you. It's only when the employees back away and rush to their robotic stance that you snap your attention back to your boss. "Hey, they were just telling me about a sale—"

"I think we're done here," Namjoon mutters as he walks past you and out the exit. He doesn't even let you catch up to ask him what was wrong when his strides were larger than yours.

You frown, mustering up as much of a straight face as you could when you finally caught up to him. You were the only ones in the empty mall - just some employees on standby in case Namjoon decided to enter - so there were no other sounds that could bother you, or be the source of his bad mood.

"Is there something wrong?"

He ignores you and scrolls through his phone like he didn't hear anything you said.

"Did something happen?" Your voice is soft when you refer to the phone call he received. It could've been an emergency at the office.

Silence.

You're met with silence. It's as if you were talking to a wall.

"I'll drop you off at your place first," he finally says, though it doesn't answer any of your questions. It's better than nothing.

"But what about your mother's present?"

"That's for me to worry about," his cold tone causes you to nod in agreement. You weren't sure if you were starting to irritate him with your questions.

You nibble on your lower lip and decided to keep your mouth shut the entire walk to the parking garage, and you were successful because you arrived at your apartment in record time, save for the single 'thank you' you mumbled before hopping out of his car.

Then, just as you were about to ascend the doomsday stairs, Namjoon rolls down his window and says, "Wear the dress I sent you."

"What dress—" Turning around, you watch as his car pulls out of the driveway and down the street with a pur. Your mind didn't even try to grasp where he was going as you continue to walk up the stairs with a heavy heart.

When you finally get to your floor, the old couple who had been bickering this morning were no longer sitting in their usual plastic chairs. Their plants properly cared for and watered.

You smile at the thought of having your own family, and someone who could be as patient with you as much as Mr. Cho was with his lovely wife. You want to experience it - all the good things they say and write about in books.

You want to dip your feet in a spring water filled with Garra Ruffas, shoulder crosses as you crawl through flower beds. You want to document memories in bold ink, see everything between the lines, between sun and moon, and sheath your heart with gold so that it can woo conquerors.

And as you finally reach your floor, your eyes squint on their own as soon as they land on the purple box with a ribbon on top, sitting prettily outside your door. It couldn't have been one of your Amazon packages because you don't recall ordering anything from there.

However, once you read the small card tucked in between the slit, your questions are quickly answered.

You draw your knees to your chest, wrap them in your arms and drop your head. The familiar handwriting you've gotten to know over the years, sending your heart in a spiral.

and you had no one else on your mind, but him.