8

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft simmering of the sauce bubbling in the pan and the occasional clink of a spoon against the pot. Felix, in a simple oversized tee and shorts, stood by the stove, stirring the pasta carefully. The smell of garlic and herbs filled the air.

He'd been up early, asking one of the older maids which dish Hyunjin liked best.

“Pasta,” she had said with a warm smile. “He always asked for it after school. Still does.”

So here he was—carefully tasting and adjusting the salt, hopeful it would turn out just right.

Then, from behind, he felt the subtle shift in the air—someone leaning against the opposite counter.

He turned his head slightly and smiled. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” came Hyunjin’s voice—lazy, smooth, still dusted with sleep. He stood there in sweatpants and a loose tee, biting into a green apple he must’ve grabbed on the way in. His eyes, though, were locked on the pot, watching the pasta with way more amusement than necessary.

Felix raised a brow. “What?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer at first, just chewed slowly, then smirked—eyes now drifting to Felix’s neck.

“You missed a spot,” he said, voice almost too casual. Then pointed with his apple. “Right there.”

Felix blinked. “What?” He instinctively brought a hand to his neck, fingers brushing over the skin. “Wait, is it still visible?”

Hyunjin tilted his head, frowning in mock thoughtfulness. “Yeah... very much visible.”

“Gosh—” Felix turned away from the stove, clearly panicking now, trying to pull the collar of his shirt higher. “I tried to cover it up—oh god, I even used concealer—”

Before he could spiral further, Hyunjin took two easy steps forward, leaned in, and placed a quick kiss to Felix’s lips.

Just a soft, smug little peck.

Felix froze mid-sentence, lips parted slightly, eyes wide.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Hyunjin murmured, the smirk still dancing on his lips.

And then—like nothing happened—he turned on his heel, casually strolling out of the kitchen, apple in hand.

Felix stared after him, face flushed deep red, heart thudding, and the wooden spoon in his hand forgotten as the pasta boiled quietly behind him.

“…Seriously?” he whispered to himself, hiding his smile behind his hand.

-----[Later]

The dining room was mostly empty — just the soft clinking of cutlery and the sunlight pouring in through the tall windows. Hyunjin sat at the head of the table lazily, one leg crossed over the other, while Felix placed two steaming plates down with a satisfied grin.

“Okay,” Felix said, brushing invisible flour off his shirt and sitting across from him. “Don’t expect perfection — but I tried my best.”

Hyunjin looked down at the pasta. It smelled… really good. The sauce was the perfect consistency, herbs fresh, cheese grated just right.

He twirled a bite onto his fork and took it without a word.

Felix watched him nervously. “…Too salty?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer. Just took another bite.

Felix tilted his head. “Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin finally looked up — and smiled. A small, genuine smile. “You woke up early… to make my favorite dish?”

Felix blushed instantly, looking down at his own plate. “I mean… I had time. And I asked one of the maids what you liked, and—don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” Hyunjin said with a quiet laugh, still chewing.

Felix groaned into his palms. “Forget it. I should’ve just ordered takeout.”

“Shut up,” Hyunjin said, shaking his head. “It’s really good. Better than I expected.”

“Gee, thanks,” Felix muttered sarcastically, but he was biting back a smile.

Hyunjin’s gaze softened as he reached for the glass of water. “It’s been a long time since someone made something just for me.”

Felix blinked. “What about your mom?”

“She’s always too busy for me.”

Felix let out a surprised laugh.

Hyunjin looked at him for a second too long, fork stilled in his hand. “You’re full of surprises, you know?”

Felix met his eyes, that soft expression catching him off guard. “So are you.”

They ate in comfortable silence after that — well, mostly comfortable, except for the moments their knees brushed under the table and neither of them pulled away.

And the pasta?

Hyunjin scraped the plate clean.

------

[Penthouse – Backyard Garden | Afternoon]

The warm breeze carried the scent of fresh flowers as decorators bustled around the grand backyard. Strings of soft fairy lights were being tested, tables polished, and floral centerpieces arranged down to the last petal.

Minho stood at the center of it all — sleeves rolled up, clipboard in hand, brows furrowed in focus. His posture was all elegance and control, the perfect groom-to-be supervising his fairytale wedding setup.

From the side, Mr. Lee and Mr. Hwang chatted over coffee while Mrs. Hwang gave instructions to a planner. Grandma sat nearby, commenting sweetly on flower choices. Everything was... ideal.

Minho’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

[Han 🐿️ — don’t ignore me this time]

He stepped away quietly, walking toward the glass doors that led into the quiet hallway. Glancing once over his shoulder, he answered in a low voice.

“Yeah?”

“You’re ignoring me,” Han said immediately — his voice small, but sharp. “It’s almost 3 p.m., and I haven’t heard a single word from you today.”

Minho exhaled through a smile, his voice softer now. “You know I’m at the penthouse for the wedding prep.”

“So? Are your fingers broken?”

Minho leaned against the cool marble wall, eyes drifting toward the garden outside. “Han…”

“I miss you,” Han said, quieter this time. “And I hate that I do.”

Minho closed his eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I miss you too.”

A beat of silence.

“I hate this,” Han mumbled. “Being your dirty little secret.”

Minho’s voice dropped. “Han—”

“No, I know. I know what this is. I’m not asking for more. I just... I wanted to hear your voice.”

Minho looked down, guilt twisting in his chest. “Three more days,” he said gently. “Just three more. Then I’m back in my office, beside you again.”

Han let out a breath. “You better bring coffee. And maybe... stay late.”

Minho’s lips tugged upward. “I always do.”

“I hate you,” Han muttered.

“I know.”

Another pause.

“I’m still yours, though.”

Minho swallowed hard.

“I know,” he whispered.

-------

[Hwang Estate – TV Lounge | Late Afternoon]

A war was underway.

The UNO cards lay like landmines on the thick carpet, a bowl of snacks stood half-devoured between them, and Hyunjin and Felix sat cross-legged on opposite sides of the low table, eyes locked with the intensity of sworn enemies.

Felix slammed down a red Draw Two.“Take that, traitor.”

Hyunjin scoffed, drawing two cards with exaggerated drama. “Wow. You’re really playing dirty today.”

Felix smirked. “War has no rules.”

“Oh, really?” Hyunjin shifted forward, grabbed a card, and tossed it on the pile. Reverse. “Your turn.”

Felix blinked. “I was already going next.”

“Yeah, I just like wasting your time.”

Felix snorted, tossing a Skip down. “Return the favor.”

“Oh, you’re brave today.”Hyunjin drew a card, placed it. “Blue. Let’s go.”

Felix paused. “I have nothing blue.”

Hyunjin grinned like a villain. “Good.”

Felix sighed loudly, pulled from the pile — one card, two, three—“Oh come on! This is rigged.”

“You shuffled it!” Hyunjin pointed an accusing finger.

Felix raised his hands. “You cut the deck!”

They glared for a full three seconds before both of them burst out laughing.

A few rounds later, Felix was down to one card.

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “You forgot to say UNO.”

Felix froze. “What?”

“You. Forgot. To say. UNO.”Hyunjin was already reaching for the draw-four punishment cards.

Felix threw himself across the carpet, slapping the table. “NO I DIDN’T— I whispered it!”

“A whisper doesn’t count in the court of law!”

“There’s no UNO law book, you dictator!”

“You are hereby sentenced—” Hyunjin fanned four cards in front of Felix like a villain monologue-ing. “—to eternal suffering.”

Felix grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

Hyunjin ducked. The cards went flying. The bowl of snacks tipped.

Both of them stared at the chaotic battlefield.

Felix broke the silence. “...Truce?”

Hyunjin leaned back against the couch. “Till snack refill.”

They both scrambled toward the kitchen like gremlins.

------

The long table was elegantly set under warm string lights, the city skyline glittering behind them. The adults — Mr. and Mrs. Hwang, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, and Grandma — were deep in conversation, voices overlapping like a symphony of chaos.

Minho sat quietly at the end, slowly chewing a bite of grilled salmon, pretending to be very focused on his plate.

"I think we need to change the centerpiece flowers,” Mrs. Hwang said, flipping through her planner. “Peonies and hydrangeas would look better with the theme — don’t you think, Mrs. Lee?”

“Oh yes, especially with the altar setup we saw yesterday,” Mrs. Lee replied. “And I found these candle holders shaped like doves—very spiritual, very tasteful.”

Mr. Hwang folded his arms, frowning in concentration. “The pianist should play something classical. No electric violins or modern remixes.”

Grandma looked up from her knitting. “Did anyone finalize the readings for the ceremony?.”

Minho let out a silent sigh, fork still in hand. “Maybe keep it… balanced?” he offered carefully.

“Oh, and the suits,” Mrs. Hwang added. “Minho, dear, you’re still going with the ivory tux, right?”

Minho nodded. “Yeah.”

“Felix should wear champagne,” Mr. Lee chimed in. “Ivory and champagne always look clean in photos. Nothing too flashy.”

Minho gave a small smile and took another bite, chewing slowly to avoid being dragged into flower talk again.

"Also," Mrs Lee continued, “don’t forget the unity candles. And make sure someone reminds Felix to bring a handkerchief — he cries at everything romantic.”

Minho nearly choked on his water.

------