Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

I should have left earlier. I hate being late and don’t want to make a bad first impression. My best friend asked me to do this at the last minute as a favor, and I can’t let her down. But let’s be real—it’s not like I have anything else going for me at the moment. 

I run up the subway stairs at 72nd Street and try to read over the dossier that was emailed to me last night. “What am I doing?” I ask myself as I quickly flip through the pages without taking in the information. I’ve never worked as a personal assistant. I’m a writer, for God’s sake! But Hallmark turned down my last pitch, and rent is still due on the first, so I guess I will be someone’s go-bitch. 

So here I am, running down Central Park West toward 1 West 67th Street, a beautiful nine-story Gothic-style building from the turn of the century. For the next two months, I am going to be the assistant and New York City guide to some foreign celebrity who is in the States to film a movie. 

“It can’t be that hard to babysit a celebrity,” I say as I walk into the building’s lobby. 

Thank goodness the concierge at the building is expecting me. The last thing I want is to be accused of stalking a famous person I’ve never heard of. A binder and manila envelope are waiting for me. Inside the envelope is a set of keys and an access card to the elevator.

Once in the elevator, I look through the binder and see a floor plan for the apartment, a basic filming schedule from the production company, and an employment agreement.  The main entry to the apartment is on the 6th floor, and as I stand in the ornate hallway, I pray that I’m the first to arrive. Just in case I’m not, I knock on the door and wait ten one-thousands before I use the key to open the door. 

“Hello?” I call out into the dark apartment.  

As I enter the foyer and the door closes behind me, lights come on as if on a motion sensor. “Fancy,” I comment to myself. I wander into the living room and am amazed at the two-story ceiling and gorgeous chandeliers. “Wow…” I whisper and look around, thinking five of my studio apartments could fit in the space. “So this is how the other half lives in the city?”

My phone beeps in the back pocket of my jeans, and checking the notification on my smart watch I see a text from my friend asking if I made it to the apartment. I quickly reply and then set about turning on the lights and opening the curtains on the far wall of the space. 

I pull the floor plan from the binder and get my bearings around the apartment. Beyond the foyer is an open living and dining space. A baby grand piano is off to the right, along with a flight of stairs which leads to the second level. The kitchen is to the left by the dining space, and while it’s not my taste with dark wood cabinets, I shrug off the owner’s design choices. 

The kitchen is stocked with cookware and tableware. There are bottles of water in the fridge and some bulk items like sugar and flour in the pantry. I hope my duties don’t involve cooking. I get by with a simple meal prep of a protein and a vegetable. 

Upstairs, there are two bedrooms. The primary bedroom is on the right, with a king-size bed facing a bank of built-ins. The en suite has double sinks and a glass-enclosed shower, and I sigh longingly at the sight of the deep soaker tub. 

The second bedroom has a small seating area and a queen bed tucked away behind sliding doors. There is also a second entrance through this bedroom that connects to the 7th floor of the building. The notes on the provided floor plan say that this room should be used as a dressing room. I open up the wall of built-in closets and know I will have my work set out for me unpacking and organizing whatever my client brings. 

The bathroom in the second bedroom has a larger shower but no tub. The binder notes that a cleaning service will come once a week, but otherwise, I will be responsible for daily clean-up. 

Standing at the top of the stairs, I look around the apartment and wonder what I have gotten myself into. Managing a household while also managing a celebrity—maybe I’m in over my head.

I look at my watch and wonder where my client is. The dossier says his plane landed two hours ago. I take a seat by the back windows, flip through the binder, and start entering important dates and times into my calendar app. 

I must be lost in my thoughts because I don’t hear the door open, but a man’s voice makes me look up from my phone and then stand. 

In the foyer stand two Asian men, one taller than the other. They look young, but having just turned 31, it feels like everyone is younger than me. Call it a midlife crisis, if you will. 

“저 여자는 누구예요 (Who is she)?" says the shorter man.

I have no idea what he said, but judging by the confused look on his face, it seems like a good time to introduce myself. “Hi there,” I smile and cross the living room to approach the men. “The production company hired me to assist you during your stay in the city.”

The shorter man looks at the taller man as if waiting for a translation, and I bite my lip. “Oh, here!” I remember the short bio my friend asked me to write about myself. I pull it from the binder that I have clutched to my chest and give it to the shorter man whom I assume is the actor’s manager. 

He takes the paper from my hands and looks over it. I don’t know if he can read English, and I want to curse my friend for setting me up for this job without knowing how to communicate. 

I take a second to look them over and notice that the taller man is handsome but looks too lean to be in the action film my friend is shooting. Now that I’m up close and watching the shorter man read over my bio, I see he is also quite handsome. His eyes are large and somehow perfectly catch the light in the dim foyer. His nose is big, but it suits his face well, and when he smiles at something on the paper, I can see he has dimples. 

“누나,” (Noona/Nuna), he says with a smirk and hands the paper to the other man. 

Shit. How the hell am I going to do this job if we can’t understand one another? “I’m so sorry. I know your team requested someone bilingual, but something came up last minute, and well, I’m doing this as a favor for a friend; she is one of the producers for the movie, and well—“

He laughs again, and I can’t help but look at his plush mouth—because of his smile. Yes, his brilliant smile. God…he must think I’m fucking crazy. 

“I downloaded a translation app! Let me just…” I reach for my phone in my back pocket and start to type when he speaks again. 

“I’m fluent in English,” he offers with a smile, and his full lips and dimples become so damn distracting. 

“Oh,” I look between him and the tall man who has yet to speak. “Will you be around to translate then?” 

He gets a surprised look on his face that lasts for a fraction of a second, and then his shoulders relax, and his damn smile is back. “Don’t let him fool you. He speaks more languages than me, but you and I will be working together for the next few months.”

He holds out his hand, and I can’t believe my assumption was wrong. The man who stands only half a foot taller than me is my client. My cheeks heat with embarrassment, and I anxiously move the binder into my left hand while wiping my right on my jeans to rid it of any sweat before shaking his hand. 

“I’m Chris. Nice to meet you,” he offers. 

”I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you. I took this job last minute—“

”Right. The favor for your friend, the producer.”

”Yes,” I cringe, thinking about how I spewed the whole story out a few minutes ago. 

There’s a knock at the door, and I blush even harder because I’ve been shaking his hand this entire time. He drops my hand and I tell myself to get a grip as three carts of luggage roll in. 

The taller man finally speaks and directs the delivery staff to unload the luggage. I stand back and watch the unholy number of bags being placed in the foyer. I recognize the Louis Vuitton pattern on a few of them and use the moment to take in my client. 

He’s dressed casually, but I can tell his outfit costs more than I would earn in royalties from selling a script. His silver, or more likely, platinum jewelry, catches the light that pours through the windows. 

Coming from a very different tax bracket from him, I might sound jaded, but I don’t envy his wealth. I know celebrities get gifted items and are ambassadors for luxury brands, but the overabundance makes me curious about his character. How does fame and fortune change a person? We see it all the time with lottery winners. Most of them are flat broke within two years. 

Seeing everything he travels with does make me self-conscious. I look down at my lightweight sweater, jeans, and Converse and wonder if I should have dressed up a little more. 

“I’m going to wash up,” Chris’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. We make eye contact, and he continues: “Hey, Nuna, Hyung will go over my schedule with you.”

”But my name’s—“

”I know,” he says with a sly smile. “It was on the paper.”

Chris disappears up the stairs with one of LV duffles slung over his shoulder, and I don’t have it in me to yell out after him. 

Story Music:

This story idea was originally for another fandom and I was going to call it 'Lies Into Fairy Dust' which is a lyric from the below song.

The Chainsmokers - Sick Boy

Title Song - 'The Side Effect (to my loneliness) Is You.'

The Chainsmokers - Side Effects

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

It’s just me and Chris’s manager left in the living room, and I hold out my hand. “Hyung, right?”

”Mr. Park, actually.”

”Oh,” I blush from being informal. It makes sense for Chris to use his manager’s first name, but Mr. Park shakes my hand. “We can sit at the table,” I gesture to the dining area. He nods and follows me across the living area. 

Mr. Park unpacks files from his over-the-shoulder bag, and we sit at the table. I open the binder from the production company and flip through pages in plastic page protectors, “I have his filming schedule already.” 

“And this is his group schedule while in the States.” Mr. Park passes over a thick stack of papers. 

“His group?” I ask and look up from the packet. 

“You really have no idea who he is, do you?”

I shake my head and blush again.

Mr. Park sighs, pulls out more papers, and slides them my way. “That might be for the best.”

I read the first few lines and went back to my binder. “The production company already had me sign an NDA.” I gave the form to Mr. Park to look over and see that my signature was on the last page. 

“This only protects the film. I am here to protect Mr. Chan.”

My eyes widen with understanding. Of course, celebrities would need their privacy and to feel comfortable that their staff wasn’t going to sell their secrets to the highest bidder. 

“Anything Mr. Chan says or does is protected. Anything you see or hear is private.” Mr. Park looks around my same age, but his tone and expression are authoritative. “Mr. Chan will have visitors from his group. Their privacy is also protected with this document.”

“No, no, I totally get it,” I try to reassure him and lighten the mood. 

“This includes your producer friend.”

“Of course,” I nod as I sign the last page of the document. Mr. Park pulls the pages back and signs next to mine as a witness. 

“I will be traveling between the States and Korea over the next few months, so when I am out of the country, you are to take care of Mr. Chan.”

“Understood,” I agree, but I don’t necessarily know what ‘take care of’ means apart from managing his schedule.

“Here is my card. It has my international number on it. Call me at any time if you or Mr. Chan need help.”

“Right,” I tuck the card into my binder and pull back the signed NDA to scribble my number across the top. “That’s me.”

Mr. Park caps his pen, crosses his arms, and leans back in his chair. “Now that that’s out of the way, how old are you?”

“Thirty-one.”

He hums at my age, and I don’t know if I should be offended. “What do you do for a living when you are not a personal assistant?”

“This is actually my first time doing the whole personal assistant thing, but I’m a writer.”

“Journalist?” Mr. Park sits forward, looking concerned. 

“Oh no,” I laugh, trying to put him at ease. “I’m a scriptwriter.”

“I see,” he says and sits back. “How long have you lived in the City?”

“Well, I live in Brooklyn but went to college in the City, so I’ve been here for nine years.”

“Brooklyn,” Mr. Park rubs his forehead. “How long of a commute is it to here?”

“About 40 minutes by subway. The stop is two blocks away.” I point over my shoulder to the north-east. 

“When I’m out of the country, you may need to stay here some nights. You saw the extra bedroom?” He asks, and I nod. “Bring some of your things from home and leave them here so you will be comfortable. Mr. Chan is very busy and has late nights, so please stay with him when I’m not here.”

“Oh–I wasn’t aware–”

“Does that make you feel uncomfortable? Staying here with him?”

“No! I mean, no, it’s not that. I just didn’t think–”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“What?”

“Are you in a relationship with someone?”

I try to figure out if Mr. Park is being flirty and hitting on me, but he is serious. “No I’m not. Does that matter to you–or Mr. Chan?” With this line of questioning, I wanted to match Mr. Park’s formality.

“Just making sure that no jealous boyfriends are going to show up and make assumptions and cause a scene.”

“Ah,” I nod and fix my hair so that Mr. Park can’t see that my cheeks are flushed. 

Mr. Park’s cell phone buzzes from its spot facedown on the table. He picks it up, reads over a text, and stands. The phone buzzes again, and he looks between the screen and me. “I have to take this. Mr. Chan needs the black backpack that is with his luggage in the entry. Can you take it to him?”

“Sure, sure,” I respond, but Mr. Park has already answered the call and walks into the kitchen while speaking a foreign language. 

I go to the foyer and look through the bags. “Black backpack…” I repeat while searching. “Got you!” I triumphantly hold up the bag and make my way to the stairs. I remember the primary bedroom is off to the right, and knock on the closed door. 

“들어와!” (Come in!) .

I turn the handle and enter the room. “Mr. Park said you needed–” I can’t finish my sentence because my mouth is stuck open. Chris is standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He’s roughing up his hair while looking in a mirror that hangs over the dresser. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he replies, holding his arms over his chest as if he could hide the cut physique of his upper body. Even his biceps bulge as he tries to cover himself. 

I have looked at him for too long, and my sense of dignity finally returns to my brain. I quickly turn around and hold out his bag behind me. “Black backpack,” I half yell. 

“Um–thank you,” he replies, taking the bag from my hand. I start toward the door, and he speaks again. “Hold on!” I’m frozen in my spot. “Can you wait there for a second? I’ll be right out, and I promise to be dressed.”

I nod because I don’t trust my voice. I hear the bathroom door click shut, and then I groan. I’ve been working with this guy for less than an hour, and I’ve already ogled him. “Get it together,” I whisper to myself.

“What’s that?” He must have heard me, and I wince. 

“Oh, nothing!” I say as I turn around to face him but close my eyes just to be safe. 

He laughs. Not in a way to embarrass me, but in a way that defuses the awkward situation. “I told you I would be dressed.”

“Right,” I say and open my eyes. Chris is wearing black basketball shorts and a black tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. I can’t keep my eyes from raking over his arms as he folds them across his chest. 

“So at least we got that out of the way early on,” he jokes. 

I swallow to clear the lump in my throat, but my mouth is so dry. “Should I expect that to happen often?”

Chris smiles shyly, and I see the tips of his ear get red. “I’m afraid so. I’m used to living with the guys. But I’ll try to keep my clothes on while I’m here.”

“You don’t have to!” I speak before I know what words I’m saying. 

He raises an eyebrow at me. “So I could…” he grips the hem of his shirt and lifts it enough for me to see the hint of abs. 

“No, no!” I hold out my hands. “I mean–“ I bite my lip. What the hell do I mean? “I mean, I want you to be comfortable. This is your home for the next few months. I’m a grown woman. I’ve seen naked men before, so–”

“Naked men, you say?” One side of his lips curls up into a teasing smile. 

Realization hits me a little too late, and I slap my hand over my mouth. “I’m going to shut up now,” I say from behind my fingers. 

Chris is laughing again, and my brows furrow. I’m worried he will think I’m an idiot or ask me to leave and fire me from the position for being inappropriate. He must sense my anxiety, and he wipes his hand over his face. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“Yeah, relieved that you aren’t stuck up. I think we will be able to have fun.”

“But I’ve acted like a crazy person!” I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him that he will regret keeping me around. 

“Well! Then I guess I am in good company.” When I scowl at him, he leans in closer to me. “Can I tell you a secret?”

I have nothing to lose, so I nod. 

“I’m known to be a little crazy also.”

“You don’t have to say that to mind my feelings.”

He laughs, and I’m starting to love the sound of it. I’m almost resolving to act up all the time just to keep him smiling. “You and I will get along smashingly, and if you keep that sense of humor, then I’m going to be able to be myself around you, and I would appreciate that.”

My nervousness is released as I chuckle. “As long as you know what you are getting yourself into.”

Chris steps back and looks me over as if trying to gauge my level of crazy. He nods to himself once he has come to what I assume is a reasonable conclusion and then holds out his hand. “So, we’re good?”

I take his hand and pump it weakly. “Yes…” I say without conviction since we don’t know each other from a stranger on the street. It makes me wonder if he is always this trusting or if he feels protected by the NDA Mr. Park had me sign. 

Being completely unfazed seems to be his default setting since his smile returns, and he ends the interaction with, “Good. Glad we could clear that up.”

Clear as mud, I think to myself and again wonder what the hell I have gotten myself into. 

“I’m hungry,” he says as he walks out of the room and starts for the stairs. “What’s good around here?”

Mr. Park is in the dining room finishing up his phone call when Chris and I enter the living space. “Hey, Hyung. I was thinking about ordering some food.”

“Go ahead and eat without me. I have a meeting for the group dates in a few weeks. I’ll be back tomorrow for your first day on set.” Mr. Park has his things packed up and his bag slung over his shoulder. He turns to me, “For today, can you get Mr. Chan unpacked, and then you are released for the day. Check the production schedule and meet us on location tomorrow.”

I nod and clean up the papers I left on the dining table. I watch Mr. Park place his hand on Chris’s shoulder and can’t help but overhear. 

“She signed the NDA, but still 조심해 ( be careful ).”

Chris gives his manager a reassuring pat on the arm. “Thank you for always looking out for me.” His gaze shifts to me, and I look away, even though he has caught me eavesdropping. “나는 이것에 대해 좋은 느낌이 들어(I have a good feeling about this).” 

Mr. Park nods, and both men walk toward the foyer. “Don’t stay up too late. Call is early tomorrow.”

”You know my sleep is shit, but I’ll try.” I hear Chris respond, and the front door closes as Mr. Park leaves. 

I’m looking over the filming schedule and see that I will need to be in Chelsea at 6 a.m. tomorrow. It’s early, especially for me, but at least the commute is shorter from Brooklyn. 

“So food,” he says while returning to the living space. 

I hear his request, and honestly, I don’t spend a lot of time in the Upper West Side, so I’m at a loss. “Well, you are in New York, so pizza?” I offer a generic solution. 

“You read my mind, Nuna. I’ll never turn down pizza.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

I find a pizza place close by with good ratings and pull up online ordering on my phone. 

“What toppings do you want?” I call out as I flip through my binder and type in the address of the apartment. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Chris calls out from the kitchen. 

I look over my shoulder and see him rummaging through the fridge. “We’ll have to place a grocery order as well. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Nah, nothing, and I’ll text Hyung to order food for the house.” 

Chris walks over and places a water bottle on the table for me. He opens his water and chugs down the whole thing in one go. “Thank you,” I say and take a sip. “Pizza’s ordered, and I’ll go down for it when it gets here. I’ll get started unpacking while we wait.”

With a nod, Chris grabs two large suitcases from the foyer and starts for the stairs. I definitely do not watch his shoulders and back flex under the weight of the bags. I pick up a few smaller bags and follow him. “Go to the room on the left. It has more storage, and production wants you to use it as a dressing room.”

He sets down the bags and leaves the room to gather more. Five trips later, all the luggage is moved. “Good thing you got cleaned up earlier,” I remark, watching him take the hem of his shirt and wipe the sweat from his face. 

“It’s my exercise for the day,” he jokes and catches his breath. “Where should we start?”

Since this is my first time being a personal assistant, I’m unsure if celebrities normally help with tasks like this. I’m thankful for the help with the bags up the stairs, but I did not expect him to help unpack them. I bite my lip in thought. I don’t want Mr. Park to think that I’m skipping out on my duties. “How about you take anything you want to have in the main bedroom with you, and I’ll organize everything here.”

“Right-o!”

I wonder if he is always this pleasant and agreeable.

I don’t know how much time passed, but I count seven empty suitcases positioned by the door when Chris sticks his head into the room. “Food’s here.”

I stop the music on my phone and look to see if I missed any calls from the delivery person. “Did they knock on the door?”

“Nah, I saw them in the lobby and brought it up.”

“You were in the lobby?”

“Yeah, I stepped out for a second.”

The whole time we are talking, I am following him down stairs, where there are two takeaway boxes on the dining table. He has already set out plates and silverware, and I see a bottle of wine and two glasses as well. 

“Where did you get this?” I ask and pick up the bottle of red wine. 

“Right around the corner,” he shrugs as if it is no big deal and maybe I should take his lead. I worry about him being recognized and cornered by a mob of fans, but seeing how I don’t even know how famous he is, I should trust him…Right?

Apparently, I took too long to respond as I kept looking between him and the wine. The slightest pink hue rose on his cheeks as he tried to smile off whatever he was feeling. “There was only water to drink, and I figured…”

“No, no. This is nice. Thank you. I don’t expect you to treat me–”

“If you are good to me, I will be good to you. If you respect me, I will respect you. I’m simple like that. I want us to work well together and figured we could get to know one another over some pizza that, honestly, I’m dying to dig into.”

I smile in return and gesture to the boxes. “Let’s eat!”

Chris hums to himself happily when steam wafts up from the fresh pizza, and he breathes in deeply to smell the combination of meat and veggies. He grabs my plate and serves me a large slice before he puts one on his plate. I offer him a quiet ‘thank you’ as he opens the second box and gives each of us a garlic knot. 

He takes an enthusiastic bite. “Damn, that’s hot!” 

I hold in my laugh and reach for the wine and corkscrew. I’ve gone through some vino in my adult years and easily opened the bottle and poured the red liquid into each glass. Chris takes a gulp, probably to ease his burned mouth, but lets out a satisfied ‘ahhh’ at the tart taste. 

“You feel better?” I joke. 

“Very much,” he says, already taking another bite of pizza. 

We eat in silence for a few minutes, and he is the first to speak. “So you don’t know who I am.”

It’s a confirmation more than a question. I finish chewing and take a sip of wine before I answer. 

“I’m sorry. I feel bad.”

“Don’t, please. I’m not asking to be full of myself, or like I expect everyone to know.”

He looks genuine, and I sip more wine. “Should I Google you?”

“Oh, God…” he laughs. 

“Would it make you more comfortable for me to look you up later?”

Chris takes a bite of pizza and chews while thinking. “Do it now. I would rather get your real reaction.”

I put down my pizza and brush the crumbs from my fingers before I pick up my phone. I open Safari and look up at him. “So your name is Chris–or Christopher Chan–is there anything in particular I should search for?”

The blush is back on his cheeks, making me even more curious. “Search Bang Chan.”

“Bang, like gun bang?” I make a finger gun gesture, and he nods. “Okay, Mr. Christopher Bang Chan, let’s see who you are.”

Pictures of him pop up first, and then a short bio is provided below.

“So you are a singer/songwriter. You are 26 years old…Oh! You are in a K-pop group!” I look up from my phone, and he smiles while chewing on a mouthful of food. “Are you guys like BTS?”

He laughs. “Yeah sure, something like that.”

I feel my chest flush with embarrassment. “Sorry about that. They are the only ones I’ve heard of.”

“Totally okay. They paved the way for the rest of us.”

I nod and look back at my phone while muttering, “I was more of a Backstreet Boys girl myself.”

I hear him laugh and take a sip of wine as I scroll on my phone and click on the short bio. “Your group is called Stray Kids.” I glance up. “You will have to tell me the meaning behind that one day, but let’s see. You are the leader out of the eight members, and…wait! What?”

“Shit,” he says while standing up. “What’s on there?”

I slowly look from my phone to his shocked face. “You’re Australian?”

He relaxes before saying a lively, “G’day?”

The laugh I let out was not ladylike. It was a full-out laugh, with my head thrown back, hand over my heart. “The accent makes so much sense now!”

“You couldn’t tell?”

“You are multilingual. I wasn’t sure if the accent was from your native language put onto English.”

We both laugh, and I finish off my glass of wine. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Naur, you’re not! Common mistake.”

I cut my eyes to him. “Liar, but thank you for making me feel better.”

“Any time,” he smirks and finishes his wine as well. 

I stand and refill our glasses. “Okay, Mister K-Pop superstar, what should I expect over the next few months?”

Chris bites off a piece of his pizza crust and leans back in his chair. “I’m sure Hyung told you that I stay busy, and you have the schedule, right?” I nod and he continues. “Taking the part in this movie fits perfectly with some US-based appearances, and it’s part of show business that I have not explored yet, so I thought, why the hell not? But between shoots, I’ll have a few jobs in LA, some fashion stuff to do here in New York, and then we are playing three shows as part of a trial run for a world tour.”

“Do you sleep?” I asked jokingly, but when he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“No, I’m a vampire.” 

I know he’s brushing something off. I won’t pick at it now, but it may be something to look out for in the following weeks. I decide to change the subject and get him back to talking about something that will bring joy back to his expression. “Mr. Park mentioned you having guests visit while you are here.”

“Guests?”

“Yeah, when I signed the NDA.”

“Oh! He just meant my brothers…well, my group members. Of course, they will be there for the shows, but I know a few of them are planning to visit for a few days here and there.”

He’s picking at his food, and I don’t know the reason for the shift in mood. “Is there anything I need to know about them before they come?”

A knowing smile–a private smile graces his lips. “No, not really. I’ll fill you in before they get here.”

I don’t push further and just nod while drinking wine. 

“What about you, Nuna? Should I google you?”

I choke on my drink and cough a few times. “Nothing really impressive about me on the internet.”

“Oh, come on. I read your bio. Type your name in, and let me see what it says.”

I put down my wine glass and pick up my phone. I delete his name from the search bar and type in my own. I hold the phone up toward him, “See, nothing much.”

Chris takes the phone from my hand and taps on the top link. “You have an IMDB, that’s something.” I can see him scrolling the page. “Nice picture, 귀엽 (cute).” I hide my blush by taking a bite of pizza. 

“You have a lot of credit to your name. I wouldn’t say that all of this is nothing.”

I shrug. “I haven’t been able to get consistent work since the writer’s strike. I’ve been picking up work here and there.”

“What genre do you write?”

“I’ve done some teen drama, but mostly true crime and police procedural type of shows. I pitched a boys meets girl romance to Hallmark, but they didn’t pick it up.”

“Is that what you want to do? What you like–the romance stuff, I mean.”

I finish my second glass of wine, and Chris follows by emptying his glass. “Yeah, I think I do.” He doesn’t respond, but I have his full attention, and it’s strange to me for someone to ask about my dream. “I find relationships so interesting. How two complex people can come together and create a life together. I want to show my viewers that the ups and downs in life are normal and that life sometimes doesn’t go as planned or in sequence.”

Chris pours half a serving of wine into my glass and the rest into his. “I guess that’s why Hallmark didn’t want my movie. They said it was too edgy for their normal romance style, that the conflict was too much for a believable happily ever after. Like, what do they know about real love?”

The wine may have gone to my head, but Chris didn’t seem to mind as he intently listened to me and says, “As a fellow artist, I want to cheers the messy, complex, and chaotic ways of life and also, love not going as planned.”

“Za miłość!” (To love - in Polish). Our glasses come together in an elegant tink, and we down the rest of our wine. 

As the moment lulls, I sigh and push my chair back. “Well, thank you for dinner. I can get this cleaned up and then finish with the unpacking.”

“Don’t worry about this,” Chris says while closing the pizza box. “I’ll take care of the food, and then I’m going to work on some writing.”

Songwriter–right, I remind myself. “Okay, well, I’ll be up there if you need me.”

I take the apartment keys with me upstairs. There is a storage area on the first floor where I can put the empty bags, and I’ll be able to use the 7th-floor entry instead of lugging everything down the stairs. 

Unpacking takes another hour. I hang up dressier clothes or things that need to avoid wrinkles. I fold more casual clothes like tee shirts and track pants. I run my hands over a black shirt with white lettering across the front. CELINE. Apparently, six letters on a shirt makes it worth my monthly grocery bill. “Not for me to judge,” I say to myself and close the drawer of folding shirts 

I roll the suitcases out, three or four at a time. It will take me several trips, and I know I could ask Chris for help, but I don’t want to disrupt his writing process. I know what it feels like to be in the zone. 

Finally, all the empty luggage is stored away, apart from a few expensive LV duffles and one carry-on that I leave in the apartment. I use the half bath attached to the storage space and pat cool water on my face to wash away sweat. I use my key to enter the apartment from the 7th floor and am hit with the sound of music being played on the piano. 

Of course, the baby grand would be put to use with a singer in residence. I don’t want to disturb him, so I tip-toe down the stairs and sit on the last step. The melody he is playing is soft, and he runs through the bars a few times as if trying to get it right. Listening to him play makes me more curious about his music, and I plan to do more research once I’m home. 

“I can see your feet.”

His voice over the music startles me, and I stand up and look over the railing at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to listen in.”

Chris smiles but keeps plucking away at the keys. “Of course, you were listening. You have ears, don’t you?”

“Well–”

“If I didn’t want you to hear me playing, I would have kicked you out.”

“Oh–”

The music stops, and the last note echoes around the two-story living space. “Oh, come on. Don’t get serious with me now. I’m just joking. At least come sit over here if you want to listen.”

He points at two club chairs positioned by the piano. I sit in the one facing the piano so that I can watch his face as he plays. “So does your group sing R&B and ballads?”

Chris snorts and goes back to playing, “Yeah nah—not really.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

I must have fallen asleep while Chris played because sometime later, he knocks his foot against mine. “Hey, Nuna. You sleeping on the job?”

“What?” I startle awake and look around me. It takes a moment for me to recognize the dark apartment. “What time is it?”

Chris pulls out his phone to check the time. “Half past ten.”

“Ugh,” I slump back into the chair and stretch my arms above my head. I feel my shirt ride up, and the cold air wafts against my stomach. “It is past my bedtime.”

“Thirty must hit hard.”

I stop my stretch and crack an eye open to glare at him. “Just you wait. It’s coming for you too.”

He laughs and steps back from the chair so I can stand. The apartment is dark apart from the kitchen light and some table lamps around the living room. “Did Mr. Park come back? God, did he see me sleeping?”

“Nah, he has a late meeting and is staying downtown tonight.”

“So you’ll be by yourself tonight?”

“Well, I am an adult, and I’m not scared of the dark, so…”

“Mr. Park told me to sleep with you,” I say, rubbing my tired eyes.

His surprised expression matched mine before I slapped my palm to my forehead. “Stupid brain. Wake up and think before you talk.” I’m blushing so hard that I can’t even look at him. “He told me to stay here, in the apartment, in the spare room, when he isn’t here.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” I can hear the jest in his voice. 

“Ugh, I should go now.” I want the floor to swallow me. 

“So you’re not staying…”

“I–” I bite my lip and try to think. “I don’t have any of my things. Mr. Park told me to keep a few personal items here for overnight stays. I’ll pack a bag and bring it this week.”

Chris nods, and I shift nervously on my feet. “Will you be okay tonight?”

“Told you,” he points his thumb at his chest, “not scared of the dark.” He folds his lips between his teeth and drops his hand as he thinks about what he wants to say next. “I’ve lived with my group for years. He’s just worried about me being lonely.”

“Oh,” I say, not knowing what living with seven of my best friends would feel like or how much it would suck not to have them around.

He takes a step toward me again and holds out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh?”

“Your phone,” he says again. “I’m pretty sure you need my number for us to work together.”

“Oh, right.” I’m an idiot. I unlock my screen and hand it to him. 

He starts to type in his information, and a second later, I see his phone light up with an incoming text. “Where do you live?”

“Like the address?”

“No, like, how far do you have to go to get home?”

“About 40 minutes by train. I’m over in Brooklyn.”

He raises a brow at me. “Will you be okay to get home at this hour?”

The smile I give him is genuine. “I do appreciate the chivalry, but I’ve lived here for almost ten years. The subway doesn’t scare me.”

“Right,” he smirks and hands the phone back to me. 

The open text screen has his name saved at the top as Christopher 🐺, with a single text that says ‘hi.’ 

“Text me when you get home,” he instructs. 

“It will be late. Won’t you be asleep?”

“Vampire, remember?” He points at his face and smiles. 

“Sure, sure. As long as you don’t sparkle in the sun.”

The banter with him is easy, and I remember what he said earlier. If I can keep my sense of humor and we can laugh off any awkwardness that comes with not only getting to know someone new but also working in such close and intimate situations, then the next two months will be a blast. 

“So I guess I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” he replies. 

I gather my purse and the binder from the dining table and head toward the foyer. Chris walks me to the door, and as I’m standing in the hall waiting for the elevator, he leans against the apartment door frame and calls out to me. “Hey, Nuna! Remember to text me.”

“I will. I will. You sound like my annoying brother.”

The last thing I see as I step into the elevator is his smile and dimples, and he is goofily waving at me as the doors close. 

As I descend, I lean against the elevator wall, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. I have never had so much fun on the first day of a job, and part of me is already mourning that it will be over in two months. 

“Make the most of it while you can,” I remind myself. “Network with the production company, and I’ll be able to sell a script in no time.”

I take the C train and then transfer to the F train that dumps me at the Bergen Street station in Cobble Hill. I lucked out with my apartment. It may be a studio, but it’s on the top floor of a historic townhome on a tree-lined street. It’s everything I wanted in a home in Brooklyn. I’m within walking distance of everything I could need, and Atlantic Avenue is two blocks away. 

I drop my bag and keys on my kitchen counter and kick off my shoes. My home feels cramped after spending all day in an Upper West Side apartment. But I can’t think like that. I have worked hard for this 500 square feet in a neighborhood I love. “Be thankful for what you have,” I remind myself. “Someone out there would love to be where I am now. Comparison is the thief of joy.”

I take a deep breath in and slowly exhale. After the third round of breathing, I feel relaxed and proud of myself. That bachelor’s degree in psychology does come in handy from time to time. 

Flopping down on my bed, I pull out my phone to do more research on my new client. I remember the text he sent me and that I promised to tell him I got home without trouble. 

I pull up his message, and the single gray bubble says ‘hi.’ 

I overthink what I should text but settle for:

Made it home. Thank you for a great first day.

He reads the message almost immediately, and then the typing bubbles appear. 

I’m glad you are home safe. Now go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow. 

YOU have a big day tomorrow.

I’m trying not to think about it. 

Then let me distract you.

Oh?

Yes. I’m going to look up your music. 

Where should I start?

Oh geez. I don’t even know. 

How can you not know?

It’s just weird.

Does it make you uncomfortable?

No. No. Nothing like that. 

I guess I just want you to like it

What if I promise to like your music?

Ha! I wouldn’t believe you.

Well, is it music I can dance to?

We are a dance group, so I hope so.

You dance, sing, write your own music, and now you are acting. 

Is there anything you can’t do?

There’s lots of things I’m not good at.

I doubt that, but I’ll let you be humble. 

LOL. Thank you, Nuna, for distracting me.

What’s with this Nuna stuff?

It’s Korean. 

Should I google it?

You can.

I switch over to Safari and type it into the search bar. “Noona or Nuna is the term used by males to address older females, particularly older sisters or female acquaintances. It signifies a close relationship and carries undertones of respect and affection,” I read aloud to myself. “Hum, I will choose to ignore the first part but can get on board with the second.” I swipe back to the text message and decide to tease him a bit. 

So you are calling me old?

That’s your take away?

😜

If I wanted to call you old, I would call you ahjumma.

Please hold. 

I open my browser again and paste in the word ‘ahjumma.’ “Oh, hell no! Middle-aged?”

Okay. Nope. Nuna is fine.

That’s what I thought.

I’m smiling to myself and let my phone fall onto my chest. “Can work really feel like this?” I ask out into the ether. My phone buzzes against my skin, and I lift it to see the incoming message. 

It means I’m willing to trust you. 

My heart swells and breaks at the same time. I wonder if he only feels comfortable enough to trust me because of the NDA.

Thank you. I won’t let you down.

I want to bring our conversation back to something light-hearted.

You have effectively avoided telling me which of your songs to

start with, so I am forced to say a prayer and hit shuffle. 

You should be in bed.

I am in bed. 

Oh. 

Are you in bed?

Well…

Chris.

I told you I don’t sleep. 

Christopher. 

Okay, 부인.

Are you going to wear out my translation app?

Only when I want to frustrate you.

I groan and copy the Korean text into the translator. “Oh, it means ma’am. That’s not bad,” I say, knowing nothing about the formality of the Korean language.

Well, sir . I will give my opinion on your music in the morning.

You should go to bed. 

I told you. I’m in bed. 

Me too. 

Go to sleep, Christopher.

Fine.

I regret everything from the night before. 

Well, let me be fair. I regret not going to bed once Chris and I stopped texting. I had no business going down the rabbit hole of Korean pop culture at midnight. Video after reel, after song–there was too much to absorb in one night, and I felt like I had only seen the tip of the iceberg. 

But I’m paying for it now. 

I do take the time to not look like the walking dead after getting absolutely no sleep. I apply some makeup and wear a sundress with a jean jacket and white Chucks. My desire to dress up has nothing to do with how handsome and charming my client is and everything to do with wanting to be professional on set. 

I catch the F train and then the A to head to Manhattan. The first part of the movie is being shot at the Google Headquarters in Chelsea Market. The subway station is right on Eighth Ave, and at least three Starbucks are within spitting distance of each other. 

It’s not hard to find the film trailers set up on Ninth, and I flash my pass from the production team. 

“Oh, here comes 잠자는 숲속의 공주 ( sleeping beauty ),” Chris says to Mr. Park.

His tone tells me that he is teasing me, but I have no idea what he just called me. It isn’t the usual Nuna, and Mr. Park’s expression is unreadable, so it must not have been that funny. Chris taps his wrist as I approach them. “I’m ten minutes early,” I argue. 

“Americans and their work ethic,” he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in disapproval. “If you are ten minutes early, you are already thirty minutes late.”

“What is this, the military?”

“Idol training could be compared to boot camp.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, mister chipper at 6 am on a Wednesday. At least I brought peace offerings.”

I hold out the two Starbucks bags. “I discovered Stray Kids and K-Dramas last night, so I got no sleep, but here are two iced Americanos.”

Chris looks at his manager in mock horror. “Did she just assume our coffee order because of K-Dramas?”

That question finally got Mr. Park to crack a smile. “I think she did.”

“I can give them to someone else if you don’t want them.”

“Mr. Bahng!” One of the production assistants calls his name. “We are ready for you in hair and makeup.”

I’m still standing with the bag of coffees dangling from my fingers and my eyebrow raised as a challenge. Chris steps close and leans down the six-inch height difference to look me in the eye. “Coffee is life,” he whispers, snatches the bag from my hand, and trots toward one of the trailers. 

Mr. Park and I watch him go. “He just stole the coffee I bought you.”

“Isn’t the first and won’t be the last time, either.” I nod in understanding and wonder how long Mr. Park and Chris have worked together. “This is for you,” he says, cutting my thoughts short. 

He is holding out a Starbucks bag as well. It must have been tucked behind his back before. “His words, not mine, but ‘Americans love their pumpkin spice everything.’”

I take the bag, peek inside, and smell the deliciousness before I can see it. Tucked away is a pumpkin spice latte and a pumpkin muffin. “I guess we both got it right,” I smile. 

My phone buzzes in my cross-body bag, and I check my watch for incoming messages. “He’s asking for me,” I say to Mr. Park and motion to the trailer. The manager nods, and I go on my way. 

When I walk into the trailer, Chris is chatting with the makeup artist, who already has his hair pinned away from his face. I’m about to ask him what he needs when my best friend comes through the door. 

“You’re here!” She calls out to me and comes to hug me. 

“This is so exciting, right!” I reply.

I have been on smaller movie and TV show sets, but never a blockbuster film. I couldn’t wait to see all the moving parts, and I also have to admit that I am excited to see Chris act. 

Speak of the devil, he clears his throat, and my friend turns all her attention his way. “Oh my God. You’re Bang Chan. I am such a big fan. Such an honor to work with you.”

They shake hands and exchange pleasantries. My friend asks about the world tour and the Stray Kids’ next comeback. She asks how Changbin is doing and if his muscles are really that big in person, and Chris takes it all in stride like a pro. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” I interrupt. “Mr. Chan has a schedule to keep, and we don’t need to hold up production with chitchat.”

“She’s a bossy one, isn’t she?” My friend asks as she slaps me on the shoulder. Chris keeps a straight face in all his professional glory but meets my eyes through the mirror. “I’m not so sure I should have recommended her for the job if she’s going to be like this.” My friend jokes. “You think you can handle her?”

Chris is sipping his iced coffee and starts to cough. He looks from me to my friend before answering. “To be honest, I'm not really sure.”

His reply causes my friend to laugh, and I finally push her to the door with the second tray of coffee as a gesture of thanks. I owe her big time for setting me up with this job, and I don’t know how many coffees I will need to buy to repay her. 

“It all makes sense now,” Chris deadpanned. “You and your friend are both 미친 (crazy),” and he twirls his finger by the side of his head. 

I chuckle, sit beside the dressing table, and pull my latte from its holder. “You have no power anymore, Christopher.” He looks my way with just his eyes. “You forget that I have now looked you up on the internet. I saw the videos of you and your group and all the antics you get into.”

He ignores me like what I said is a veiled threat. “I’m foive,” I say and hold up my hand. 

The corner of his lip pulls up, but he keeps himself from smiling. “Point made.”

“That’s right,” I say in victory as I take a sip of coffee and pull a piece from the muffin top. 

His eyes shift from my face to the bag in my lap. “You like it?”

“Mmm, like every basic bitch in the fall here in the States, I can’t get enough of pumpkin spice.” The makeup artist laughs but doesn’t interject herself. 

The trailer falls silent as I eat breakfast, but I can see Chris squirming in the makeup chair. 

“And the music?” He asked, just loud enough for me to hear from my seat a few feet away. 

When I don’t answer, he looks over at me, and the smile on my face must have said it all because he breathes out a sigh and then puts his dimples on full display.

Chapter Text

Chapter Foive

I sit with my friend during the filming and watch the action through the monitors. “What’s the movie about?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“I signed the NDA, plus I brought you coffee.”

My friend smirks at me and then motions for me to lean down. “So Bang Chan is a tech guy who stumbles upon something crazy in the company code, and once he finds out their secret, assassins are sent after him. Think Hackers meets John Wick with the humor of Free Guy.”

“Chris is very funny, so I can see him pulling off the Ryan Reynolds humor, but how is he with all the stunts? John Wick is intense.”

“You are going to be blown away. I’ve seen some of his training videos. Our fight coordinator watched videos of Chan’s dance routines and put together some amazing fight scenes matching his strengths.”

“I can see that. Not a large leap from dancing to coordinated fighting.”

We watch the monitors as they work through another scene at the tech company. The female lead is in this scene, and I lean down to my friend. “Is that the love interest? Are there any hot scenes in the movie?” I ask this for no particular reason–at all. 

“This is her breakthrough role also, but no sex scenes. Idols can’t really do that kind of thing in public, even if it’s for a movie. It was in his contract that only a short kissing scene could be written in if the plot needed it, but nothing else.”

“So different from over here,” I remark. “Every artist here is barely dressed in their music videos.”

“Yeah, they can’t even cuss.” 

I think back to dinner last night, where I remember Chris saying ‘shit.’ “He can’t?” I remember the NDA and how Mr. Park specifically told me that not even my best friend could know the inner workings of Chris’s private life. 

“Oh, I’m sure he does behind closed doors, but they can’t cuss in public or in situations where the public might see.”

“Ah…makes sense.” A section of the NDA states that I’m not allowed to take pictures, videos, or audio recordings of Chris during my employment. This makes me feel empathy for Chris and his group members. They have pieces of themselves that they have to hide, and they go to great lengths to protect themselves by using legal documents. 

They shoot for seven hours that day, and my friend reminds me that it is considered a short day for them. Chris changes back into his street clothes, and I meet him outside of the wardrobe trailer. 

I remind him, “You have an interview in 30 minutes.” The interview is in the Google building, so we won’t have to travel. 

“Right. Is Hyung around?” Chris is looking for his manager when I hear his stomach rumble. He wraps his arms around his middle and groans. 

“Hungry?” I chuckle. 

“Maybe.”

“Well,” I dig through my bag. “It’s not much, but everyone likes sandwiches, right?”

Chris eyes the deli ham sandwich as if it is a five-course meal and eagerly takes the plastic container from my hands. He opens the container and takes a large bite out of half of the sandwich. “You want some?” He offers me the other half. 

I reach back into my bag and pull out a second sandwich. “I’m not the kind of girl who misses a meal,” I joke, and then I pull a bottle of water out of my bag as well. 

“Are you Mary Poppins? I feel like you are going to pull a floor lamp out of there next.”

I snort. “Not a floor lamp, but here you go.” I hand him a small bag of kettle-cooked chips. 

“Nuna, you are the best!” 

“I know,” I smile at him and check my watch. “Let’s head inside. Can you walk and eat at the same time?”

He slips the bottle of water into his pants pocket and swallows. “Yeah, I’m used to it.”

We walk into the Google building, and an assistant from the podcast is waiting in the lobby. The studio is on the second floor, and I’m told that I can wait just outside the sound booth to watch the interview. 

Chris eats his food in record time and chugs down his water. “Let me take a look at you,” I say as I grip his shoulders and turn him toward me. The podcast is also filmed, and Mr. Park texts me to ensure Chris is presentable. 

Some of the eyeliner they used to intensify his eyes is smudged, and I take my thumb and clean it up, almost creating a small, winged look. I do the same to the other side to make it look intentional. I tap down a few flyaways on his hair, and he waits patiently for me. The last place I look is his lips because, Lord help me, I’ve only known him for 24 hours, but my late-night internet search did nothing to make him less attractive. 

“I’m good?”

Damn it, how long had I been looking at his lip? “Almost,” I say, trying to cover for myself. I run my thumb along the rim of his lower lip. His body tenses at my touch, and I immediately pull my hand away and take a step back. “There was a crumb.”

He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, tracing where my thumb had just been. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah,” I answer, knowing I’m blushing. “You’re all set. Have a good show.”

He nods and hands me his empty water bottle. “Make sure to eat while I’m in there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“조심조심 ( Careful),” he says, looking at me through the curtain of his black hair.

I want to scold him for not speaking English or at least have him text what he just said so I can translate it, but he’s being called into the studio, so I narrow my eyes at him, which makes him laugh. 

I sit in the small lobby and can see the hosts shaking hands with Chris and the engineers doing microphone and headphone checks. I try to repeat what Chris said to me in my translation app, but my pronunciation is terrible, and it keeps telling me to try again. All I have to go by is his facial expression, which was playful but dark. 

I decide to clear it from my mind. It’s no use worrying about something that I don’t understand. 

So, for the next hour, I eat my dinner and catch up on emails and social media posts from friends and family. I can’t hear the podcast being recorded; it’s just the muffled sounds of their voices that leak from the recording studio. 

When the interview wraps up, the sun has gone down, and Chris lets out a sigh once we are in the elevator. “Hyung is sending a car. Are you coming to the apartment?”

“Do you need me for anything tonight?”

“Not really…”

“Would you mind if I went home? I wasn’t lying when I said I stayed up all night immersing myself in K-Pop.”

“Aw. We’ll make a Stay out of you in no time.”

“Stay,” I repeat. “That’s what you call your fans, right?”

“Yep!”

“Well, we will see if I make it to that status.”

Chris laughs. “You are already at level one–sleepless nights.”

“Right,” I deadpan. “Which is why I’m asking my boss to let me go home early so I can sleep.”

“I’m the boss?” he points at his chest with an amused expression. 

“Yes, sir, and I’m asking you, pretty please, can I go to bed?”

“조심하라고 했잖아.” ( I told you to be careful ).

That same playful look is on his face. “Can you text that to me?”

“Yeah, naur.”

“Korean to Australian, great!”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“But will I?”

His smile lights up his whole face, and I can’t help but smile in return. I wonder if he will ever know how refreshing it is to have this kind of fun and honest banter with someone. 

Chris’s phone beeps, and he checks the text. “The car is here.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, call is early again.”

“Awesome. I’ll bring the coffee.”

“Best PA ever.”

I give him a smile that scrunches up my nose, which makes him laugh as he waves and then trots out of the building into a waiting blacked-out SUV. 

I take the subway home, and as I come up from the station by my house, a text is waiting on my phone. 

So you didn’t tell me what you thought about the music.  

I sense a little bit of a people-pleaser personality trait in him. 

I danced to it.

Ha! I guess that is a good thing.

I grew up listening to boy bands, pop rock, and EDM, 

so your music is like a mix of them all, but with better rapping. 

It made me feel young and carefree. 

It reminded me of sneaking out to go to concerts, 

driving around for hours with friends, 

and blasting our favorite music in the car. 

And those are happy memories?

Yes, of course.

Good. 

Now go to bed.

I just got to my building. 

We have a longer day tomorrow, so no scrolling. Just sleep. 

Yes, sir.

Nuna. 내 말 들었어? (Did you hear me?)

I quickly translate his message. 

That’s the thing! I don’t know what you are saying. 

Just type it here. 

아니야 (no)

Ugh! 

Good night, Nuna.

Good night, Christopher.

While texting him, I was testing a theory. When I call him ‘sir,’ he reacts. Now I have to figure out if using sir has a different meaning in Korean culture since he seemed to use ma’am in a jesting manner last night. 

I stand in my bathroom waiting for the water in the shower to get hot, and as my mirror starts to fog up, I think about other reasons he would react to being called sir. “Could it be…? No, definitely not, right? He’s cute and happy, like a puppy. It’s not that, for sure.”

I’m not totally convinced as I step into the shower, but I figure that it’s not a good idea to think about my boss while I’m naked. Instead, I try to run over plot points from my latest script and make mental notes of anything I might need to change before my next pitch. 

For the next two days, Chris spent most of his time on set or making content for his group’s YouTube page. In the evenings, Mr. Park sends a car to take Chris to a gym, where he could lift weights, do pilates, and work on choreography for the movie and his upcoming shows. 

It’s almost 11 PM on Friday night when he finishes up at the gym. “How do you have trouble sleeping? I’m tired just watching you.”

“Occupational hazard, I think,” he replies, wiping sweat from his face and hair with a small towel. 

“You’re off to LA in the morning, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back late Sunday and then back on set Monday.”

“Do you need help packing?”

“It’s late, and you need your sleep. I can manage.”

“I left a few carry-on suitcases and your duffles in the second room. The larger suitcases are in storage.”

“I shouldn’t need those until I pack up to leave.”

We are standing in the gym lobby, and Chris is waiting for the hired car to arrive. “What are your plans for the weekend?” he asks. 

“Since you will be away, I scheduled the cleaning service to come on Saturday afternoon, so I’ll be at the apartment to supervise. I’ll bring some of my things over as well.”

“Hyung is flying back to Korea from California after the award show.”

“Are you going to need me to stay Sunday night?”

The tips of his ears get red, and he shrugs. “Up to you.”

I give him the side eye but don’t say anything else on the topic. The SUV pulls up outside the gym, and we walk outside. 

“Text me when you get home,” he calls out to me as he jogs to the vehicle. 

I wave to him as the SUV pulls away from the curb and don’t start walking to the subway station until I see the vehicle make a turn and disappear. I get home a little after midnight and send Chris a quick text. 

Home safe.

Good. Have a good weekend, and try to relax a little. 

Do something for yourself. 

That’s rich coming from a workaholic.

I will, if you will. 

Deal.

I want to joke that I’ll need photographic proof that he spent time for himself, but I didn’t want to shame him for being passionate about his music, his group, and his fans. 

I wake up to a picture of him on an airplane. He’s wearing a black face mask. I’m sure it’s to help hide his identity, but also, he can’t afford to get sick. I wish him luck in Cali and then review the schedule for next week and set reminders on my phone. 

I have to be at the apartment to let the cleaners in at two, so I start my morning with a run around the neighborhood. I’ve been so busy this week that I’ve neglected my personal form of stress relief. I’ll have to pack my shoes and some running clothes to get in a workout while Chris is at the gym. 

I grocery shop and clean up around my apartment before gathering some personal items. I picked up a second toothbrush and some travel-sized toiletries at the store. I’m not sure how many nights I will be spending uptown over the next two months, but I don’t want it to appear like I’m moving in. 

I pack some clothes into a weekend bag and head to the subway. I get a text from Mr. Park that groceries will be delivered at 1:30, just ahead of the cleaning crew. I arrive at the apartment at one and find an empty drawer in the second bedroom to store my clothes. I put my toiletry bag under the sink in the bathroom since I will share that space with Mr. Park when he is in the city. 

Right as I finish up, the groceries arrive. I put them away and made mental notes of the items that were ordered. Some were traditional foods like pasta and ground beef, but there were also some Asian foods. I’ve never seen so much instant rice and pineapple juice in my life. 

The cleaners arrive, and I have them start downstairs. I feel awkward letting them into Chris’s room, so I go upstairs, put away any of his personal items that were left out, and strip the bed. Fresh sheets are in the built-in cupboards, and I make the bed. 

Next is the bathroom, where I change out the towels and wipe down the countertop and the mirror. I organize the toiletries on the counter and note the Korean skincare. “His skin is amazing…maybe I should try this.” I type some of the names of the products into my phone for later. 

I tell the cleaners that I’ll wash the sheets and towels from the primary bedroom and thank them for their help. I’ll return tomorrow morning and finish a few things before Chris arrives. I take the subway back to Brooklyn, settle in to watch the award show, and see if I can catch a glimpse of Stray Kids.

I take an Uber to the apartment early Sunday morning. I have a bag of my laundry sitting next to me. There is no way I was lugging that through the subway, and I’m sure no one would mind me washing my clothes at the apartment—anything to avoid using the old machines in the basement of my building. 

I do a load of towels first and then put in my clothes. The laundry room is on the first floor of the apartment, and I bite my lip as I take a moment to listen. Everything is quiet, and I follow the plan I came up with last night. I strip down, throw the clothes I wore into the wash, and wrap a towel around my body. 

I pause at the laundry door, and when I hear silence, I sprint up the stairs to the primary bedroom. In the bathroom, I see the bubble bar that I set out earlier and start to run the tub. “When was the last time I had a proper soak?” I ask myself. “He did tell me to relax this weekend, and I can’t think of a better way.”

When the tub is half full, I toss in half of the bubble bar, set my towel on the counter, and step into the warm water. 

I only turn off the water once it has covered my chest and the bubbles come up to my ears. The tub is so deep I can practically float, and as I let myself relax, I sigh and close my eyes. 

My head is leaned back, and I can hear my heartbeat through the water. I feel weightless, and I hum lazily to myself. The bubbles cover the surface of the water, making the room smell wonderful, and the oils make my skin feel so soft. 

The water has started to cool, and I think about turning the tap with my foot to add more heat, but I’m startled when something touches my forehead and pushes my face under the water. 

I flail my arms and catch the sides of the tub while my feet push on the bottom. Even though I’m only under for a split second, I gasp for air when I surface. I hear his laugh as I wipe the bubbles from my face. 

“Christopher!”

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I was surprised to find a woman in my bathtub.”

“So your first thought is to drown her?”  I’m sitting in the tub, holding onto the rim so my chest stays pressed to the side and below the water line. He shrugs at me, and I wipe more bubbles out of my hair. “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be back until this evening?”

“I promised that I would do something for myself, so I came back early to relax.”

I smile feeling proud of him, but then I remember the situation I am currently in. “I’m glad you are back, even if you scared the hell out of me, but can we maybe continue this conversation when I’m not naked in a bath that is rapidly getting cold?”

Chris’s eyes go large, and then his gaze darts from the discarded towel to my bare shoulders and wet hair, and then he looks lower and blushes before turning around. “Right. Take your time. I’ll be–um–down stairs so you can–yeah.”

He darts out of the bathroom and at least remembers to close the door so I can have some privacy. “Adorable,” I say to myself and step out of the tub. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

I get out of the tub and dry off. I think about just wrapping the towel around my body and making a run for it, but think better of it. So I grab the robe off a hook by the door and secure it around my waist. 

I peek out from the bedroom and see the empty landing before rushing into the second bedroom. The clothes I bought with me are mainly pajamas since I am picking outfits out of my clean clothes once they finish washing. “Shit,” I curse to myself as I grab underwear and a bralette. 

Dipping into the other bathroom, I put on my underwear and then pull back on the robe. “He wasn’t supposed to be here,” I tell myself in the mirror before flipping my head over to put my wet hair in a messy bun. 

I take a few more deep breaths before exiting the bedroom and heading downstairs. Chris is sitting at the dining table with headphones on and a laptop in front of him. He looks my way and moves one headphone away from his ear while I watch his eyes trace me from head to toe. “Before you ask,” I say and hold out my hand. “I’m wearing something under this,” I pull the top of the robe to the side to show the strap of my black bralette. 

Chris’s mouth pops open but then closes it the next second. “I wasn’t going to ask about that .”

“Then–” I bite my lip. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to ask if you enjoyed your bath.”

“Oh…” I blush. 

I haven’t moved from the base of the stairs, and Chris is sitting, but now he is gripping the edge of the table. “Did you?”

He isn’t teasing me. He isn’t being an asshole. He genuinely wants to know. “I did,” I reply in a breathy tone that if I had half my wits about me, my response would make me die of embarrassment. 

“Good,” he says, releasing the table and flexing his fingers. “Feel free to use it any time; maybe next time, give me a heads up.”

“You weren’t supposed to be home,” I pout. 

“I know, and I’m sorry for walking in on you like that. It won’t happen again.”

Thank God the sound of the dryer finishing prevented me from telling him that I didn’t mind. 

“Washing?” He looks toward the front hall, where the laundry room is. 

“Yeah, that’s the whole reason for this,” I gesture to my state of dress. 

“Ah,” he nods. 

I awkwardly point down the hall and then hurry into the laundry room. I pull the towels out of the dryer and put them into a hamper before transferring my wet clothes. 

“I can help.”

I scream and turn so fast that I stagger back into the wall. “What the hell,” I gasp and hold my hand over my heart. “I’m going to need to put a bell on you.”

“비명 지르게 하고 싶으면 어쩌지? ( What if I want to make you scream? )”

He steps closer to me and grabs the lapels of the robe. My heart is racing as he has me pressed to the wall. “English?”

“아니요.” (No.) He smirks.

When he moves his hands, I look down to see that he is closing the top of the robe. I didn’t even notice it became loose when I spun around. Once my chest is covered, he traces his hand down the front of the robe and tightens the tie around my waist. 

“There,” he says, steps back from me, grabs the basket full of clean towels, and then leaves the room. 

As soon as he’s gone, I double over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “Get a grip,” I tell myself. 

I hide out in the laundry room until my clothes are dry and bless Chris, but he doesn’t come to check on me and see me in all my flustered glory. I wonder if he knows what he’s doing or if this is how he treats all of his female staff. He seems so wholesome in all of the content online, but then I remember my friend telling me how censored the members’ personal lives are. 

I quickly shake off those thoughts and take my clean clothes upstairs to the second bedroom. The primary bedroom door is closed, and I hear Chris speaking Korean. He’s either on the phone with someone or filming content, but regardless, I stay as quiet as possible. 

“Three outfits should be enough,” I tell myself as I pack more clothes into my drawer and then fold the rest into my laundry bag to tote home. I check my watch; it’s nearing six o’clock, and the door across the hall is still shut. 

I text him.          

  I’m going to head out if you don’t need me for anything else.

“잠깐만. ( Hold on.)” He says from inside the room. I hear footfalls, and then the door opens. “Nuna.”

He has his phone pressed to his bare chest, and black basketball shorts are slung low on his hips. I guess this is the state of undress he warned me about. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to go home.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I put the robe in the wash if you want to switch it over.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

We stare at each other briefly, and I try not to fidget. 

“Are we good?” He asks with concern. 

I sigh and release the tension out of my body. I’m an adult. I can express my feelings to another adult. “Yeah, I’m just embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. This place is nicer than I’m used to also. So how about we make a deal to both take advantage of it?”

How is he so cool? How does he set me at ease and make me feel like we are on the same team? 

He is waiting for my reply. “Deal?” He asks and holds out his hand. 

“Deal,” I smile and shake his hand. 

“Good. Now get home safe and text me when you get there.”

I snort a laugh and wave him off. “Go back to your call. I’ll lock up and see you in the morning.”

“잘 자 누나! ( Good night, Nuna! )”

It’s still dark out when I get the text from my friend. Rain has caused schedule changes with the shoot. I roll back over with the momentary joy of being able to sleep in, but then I remember Chris. I groan as I sit up and hit the call button on his contact. 

It rings a few times before going to voicemail. I leave a message and then text him as well. I get up and use the bathroom to prevent myself from falling back to sleep. When I return there is still no response from him. “Looks like I’m going out in the rain.” 

I order an Uber, thinking the $40 fare is better than walking blocks in the rain at 5 AM. Traffic is lighter at this time of morning, and I make it to the apartment in just over half an hour. I try calling Chris two more times during the drive, and I start to worry when he doesn’t answer. 

He isn’t the biggest fan of mornings, but is always on time, even at last week’s 6 AM call time, so not being able to reach him has me considering taking the stairs instead of the elevator. 

When I enter, the apartment is dark, and the soft foyer lights come on. I peek into the kitchen and see a few dishes next to the sink. His laptop is still on the dining table, but there are no other signs of him. 

I quietly climb the stairs. The door to the primary bedroom is ajar, and I leave the lights off in the hall. I push the door open and tip-toe across the floor. I see his mop of dark hair against the light gray pillow and move to his side of the bed. 

“Chris,” I whisper, seeing his face twitch in sleep. 

“Christopher,” I try again, nudging his bare shoulder. 

The sheets move, and I hear a groaning sound as another head of dark hair pokes out from the blankets, and the other person nuzzles their face into Chris’s chest. 

I freeze in shock. Walking in on Chris in bed with someone is the last thing I expected from this job. Not because I didn’t assume he has relationships or because I am jealous, but because I expected him to perhaps warn me about something like this beforehand as a courtesy. 

As my mind is swimming, Chris wakes. He looks up at me with sleepy eyes. “Nuna?” he whispers, and the person lying on his chest groans again. 

Chris’s eyes go wide, and now he is fully awake. 

“I’m so sorry—” I start, but he puts his finger over his lips, gesturing for me to hush. 

Chris gently picks up the head on his chest and moves it onto the pillows as he gets out of bed. I catch a glimpse of the other person’s features, and with the short hair, strong jaw, and muscular back, there is no mistaking the person for a man. 

I look between Chris and the man in the bed a few times, and finally, Chris grabs my wrist and leads me from the room. We descend to the lower level, and he releases me when we are shut inside the downstairs bathroom. 

He is standing in front of me in black boxer briefs and nothing else as he shifts on his feet. “What you saw up there…”

“I don’t care,” I blurt out, and his expression flashes with hurt. “I mean, it doesn’t matter to me. No judgment if you are gay.”

“I’m not–” he rolls his lips between his teeth in thought. 

“I just thought…”

“What did you think?” His question is not accusatory but rather curious. 

I can’t help my eyes roam over his bare chest as he gets goosebumps from the cold air in the apartment. “You are charming and flirtatious, so I figured you were into women.”

“I am.”

“But?” I point to the ceiling. 

He nods. “That too.”

“So you’re bi?”

"I don't really put a label on it,” he shrugs. 

“No. No label needed if you don’t think of it that way. It’s none of my business who you–” I swallow. “Take to bed.”

“It’s an arraignment or situationship or something…”

“You are an adult, so you can do whatever you want.”

“I don’t want you to think–” He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nuna, 이거 알아야 해. ( You need to know this ).”

“English, Chris,” I beg.

“He’s one of my members. He flew in from LA last night to spend a few days with me. I should have told you.”

“Your members?” I point to the ceiling again as if either one of us needs reminding of the half-naked man in the bed upstairs. 

“Yeah, it’s complicated and simple all at the same time,” he says, pacing the few feet across the small bathroom and then back. “We can’t have relationships out in the open, and it would be selfish of me to ask someone to be with me but also never see me because of the group’s schedule. It gets so fucking lonely, and the eight of us–we are all we have, so it just happened.”

I reach out and catch him by the shoulders to stop his pacing. “I get it,” I say, and his eyes search my expression, trying to see if I’m being truthful. “Loneliness can eat at your soul, and if you have found someone you trust and who brings you comfort, it shouldn’t matter who they are.”

His body relaxes under my touch, and I rub his upper arms with my hands to help warm and reassure him. “You’re not disgusted or see me differently?”

I smile softly and think about how much it must hurt for him to yearn for closeness with a partner and not be able to experience it outside of his group members. “Of course not. And if I did, then you could tell me to fuck right off.”

“You American women and your blunt ways.” His smile is back, but his expression still shows apprehension. 

I return his smile, “I could tell within the first 24 hours of knowing you that you are a wonderful person, Christopher. You deserve comfort and to be cared for just like anyone else. I’m glad that you have–”

“Channie!” 

We both look toward the bathroom door and hear yelling from the second floor. “What the hell is that?” I laugh. 

“That would be Han,” Chris replies with a fond smile. “Would you like to meet him?”

I pull my hands from his shoulders and take a step back. “Only if you promise to both be dressed.”

Chris seems to notice that he is standing in his underwear and cups his hands over his crotch as his ears turn red. “Yeah, I should probably do that.”

“Just come down when you are ready. No rush.”

“What time is it?” He asks and looks down at my watch. 

“It’s 6:30.”

“We’re going to be late!”

“There will be no filming this morning due to rain.” I smile as he relaxes again. “I tried calling you to tell you, but you didn’t pick up, so I came over.”

“Bang Chan!”

Chris rolls his eyes as he hears his name echo around the apartment. 

“You better go,” I laugh.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

I take a moment to collect my thoughts in the bathroom before I exit and go to find the bag that I set on the dining table. I hear movement upstairs and busy myself opening my laptop and checking the email for the new filming schedule. 

"Noona!"

I jump at the joyful yell that echoes around the living room and turn to see Han trotting down the stairs. "Loud one, isn't he?" I ask myself. 

He bounces across the room, and I can only describe him as an adorable cartoon character who has come to life. "안녕하세요, (Hello),” he says and bows. 

"Oh God, we're bowing. I don't know the etiquette." I bow back, thinking it is the respectful thing to do. 

"It's polite to bow to the elderly," Chris smirks as he walks down the stairs. 

"Elderly?" I say in mock horror. 

Han looks at Chris but hooks his thumb toward me. "그녀 몇 살이야?" ( How old is she? )

"서른하나." ( Thirty-one ).

“Oh, 아줌마! (Ahjumma).”

"Wait! I know that word!" I look between the two men and point to myself. "I'm Nuna, not Ahjumma."

"She's funny," Han says in perfect English. 

"Told you," Chris replies and walks into the kitchen. "You want coffee?"

"Yes, please!" Han and I both speak at the same time. 

We laugh, and Han grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the end of the dining table. 

"Nuna, sit with me while Appa makes coffee."

"Appa?" I ask as I sit down at the head of the table. 

"그게 무슨 뜻인지 절대 그녀한테 말하지 마. ( Don’t you dare tell her what that means. )” Chris says from the kitchen.

Han smiles knowingly and shrugs. "Just a nickname we have for him, but you call him…"

He pauses and looks at me expectantly. "Um–Christopher?"

"Right, right. Cause that's his name." Han shifts his gaze to Chris than myself. 

I look between the two again. "Should I be calling you something different?" I ask Chris. 

The tips of his ears are red as he fills three cups of coffee. "Chris, Christopher, Bang Chan–"

"Channie?" I question the name Han yelled out earlier. 

"Oppa?" Han teases. 

"아니 ( No ),” Chris shakes his head, and his hair falls over his eyes, but he can't hide his smile.

He sets the coffee cups on the table. His and Han's are black, while mine are a pale cream color. "Just a hunch," he says, sitting to my right. 

"So, no filming today?" Han asks. 

I point to my laptop, and Chris passes it to me. "They are going to shoot some night scenes instead. They sent over the pages for you to review. Call time is at 6 PM. Do you have anything on your calendar tonight that we need to move around?"

"Oh," Chris says, setting down his cup and pulling out his phone. Typing in a few commands, he points to me, "Check your phone."

I pull my phone out of my pocket and see a new notification: ' Christopher Bahng would like to share a calendar with you .' My brows pinch together as I hit accept, and then my calendar app fills up with Chris's schedule for Stray Kids. "Wow, do you ever take a break?"

"It just so happens that today has freed up."

Han claps and bounces in his seat. "Let's do something fun!"

"I'll leave that to Nuna."

I sip my coffee and think, "Well, with the rain, we can't do too much outside, and it will depend on whether you want to do something low-key, like a museum or something more active."

"Active!" Han chimes in. 

I point my thumb at Han and look at Chris. "Does he always have this much energy in the morning?"

"Unfortunately," Chris deadpans. 

I give them instructions for outfits for the day–something comfortable that they can move in, layers, and tennis shoes. Chris comes downstairs wearing all black, of course, and Han has on jeans and a baby blue shirt. They each have a lightweight jacket and baseball hats. 

Chris has a camera in his hand, and I point to it with a tilt of my head. "I need to do some vlogging for the Stray Kids YouTube channel. With Han here, it will make for good content." He answers.

"Oh," I nod and bite my lip. "Could you make sure I'm not on camera? It's not that I'm shy–”

“That’s an understatement,” He says out of the corner of his mouth. 

I narrow my eyes at him and finish, “But you have millions of fans, and I don't know if I can put myself out there like that."

"It's all good, Nuna. I'm sure the company will edit you anyway. Heaven forbid we are around an unauthorized female." He air-quotes the last two words and cuts his eyes toward Han. 

I remember Chris telling me that the members could not have public relationships, and rumors could spread like wildfire if I appeared in his videos over the next few months, even if he clarified that I am only working as his assistant. 

I order an Uber, and the guys rummage through the kitchen for something quick to eat. I dig a protein bar out of the bottom of my purse. My phone pings that our ride has arrived, and we head down to the street. There is an awning in the front of the building, but I feel someone walking close to me, and I look over to see Chris holding his jacket over my head as we approach the car. 

His hat is pulled down low to conceal his face, but I can see him clearly from my shorter height. He is looking forward, but I see the upturn of his lips, and I swear my heart skipped a beat—stupid boy and stupid heart. 

As the guys sit in the back, I slide into the front seat next to the driver. "Chelsea Piers Driving Range, please, and if you don't mind, they have some content to film, so could you turn off the radio for the ride?" I feel awkward asking, so I give the driver a $20 tip to make up for any inconvenience. 

"It's more common than you think," the driver reassures me. 

"Did you say golf?" Han asks as he pops his head up between the front seats. 

I laugh. "Yes, now sit back and buckle up." Why do I feel like today will be akin to watching my little niece and nephew?

The GPS says it's about a thirty-minute drive, and when we are about halfway down 67th Street, I hear Chris's voice. 

"안녕 STAY. 나는 뉴욕시에 있어, 그리고 한이 나랑 같이 있어. ( Hello, STAY. I'm here in New York City, and Han is with me. )”

"안녕! (Hello!)” Han says and waves at the camera  

At a stop light, I dig my lipgloss out of my purse and flip down the visor to use the mirror. Chris is sitting behind the driver, and I catch his gaze in the mirror. He winks at me, all the while speaking Korean to the camera. I flip the visor up and turn in my seat to look at him, ready to tell him to behave himself, but he turns the camera toward Han and puts his finger over his lips. 

I purse my glossed lips and narrow my eyes at him, which makes him laugh, and I can't stay fake mad at him when he shows me his dimples. 

Han must have asked him a question because Chris focuses back on the camera and leans in so they are both in the shot before he starts to speak again. It’s amazing to me how he can be shy one minute and turn the charm on the next. 

The guys vlog for about fifteen minutes, and when they shut off the camera, Chris leans forward. "Hey man, thanks for being cool with us filming."

"No problem. Where are you guys visiting from?"

"Korea."

"You famous over there or something?"

"Not really," Chris answers, and I bite my lip. "We are just documenting our trip to show our friends."

"Oh, that's cool. You'll like the Gulf Club. You get to drive balls out toward the Hudson."

"Yeah?" Chris replies, but I can tell he doesn't get that the Hudson is the river. 

"You'll see when we get there. Perfect for a rainy day."

When we arrive, the guys thank the driver again, and then we head inside. Chris pulls out his credit card and pays for the three of us, and we are given a spot on the second level. 

We pick out our clubs, and Chris carries the buckets of balls. 

"We're right on the water. Very cool!" Han says as we set up. 

"Yep, that's the Hudson River, and New Jersey is across the way."

When the waitress comes around, we order non-alcoholic drinks and some snacks. Han sets up first and does a few practice swings. 

"This was a good idea, Nuna. Han will enjoy himself." Chris says as he sits next to me. 

"Since when did boys not love hitting balls with a stick?" I laugh. 

Chris smiles, and he throws his arm over the back of our seats as he crosses his legs. 

"It's not just that. He battles with depression." He juts his chin toward Han, who is setting up his first ball. "It was bad a few years ago, and I try to keep an eye on him. When he’s happy, I’m happy."

I nod, "I'm sure people assume that just because you are famous or your dreams are coming true, you don't have the right to be depressed."

"The pressure, isolation, loneliness–it gets to all of us."

"The expectation for perfection and lack of grace when you make a mistake," I say wistfully. "I can understand that."

"Appa! Eomma! (Dad! Mom!) Watch!" Han yells back to us before Chris can respond to me. 

Chris cups his hand to his mouth and calls out. "카자 (Let's go), Hannie!" 

Han's smile shows all of his teeth in his cute chipmunk mouth, and I clap my hands together. "You got this!"

Han sets his feet and squares his shoulders before swinging the club and making contact with the ball. 

"Whoa!" I say in shock as I hear the ball wiz through the air and hit the net on the far end of the driving range. 

"I have to try this," Chris says, rising from his seat next to me and grabbing his club. 

The guys chatter back and forth in Korean, laughing and making wagers from what I can gather from their banter and how Han is keeping score. 

"Nuna, do you want a go?" Chris asks and I decide to mess with them. 

I approach the tee with my club, and Han takes my seat. I set up a ball while standing in the most ridiculous stance and take a choking hold on the club. I almost can't hold my composure as I make the worst swing of my life. 

"Wait, wait. Try this," Chris says as he comes up behind me. He nudges my feet with his to straighten my stance and touches my hips to straighten my posture. “Hold the club like this," he spreads my hands farther apart. 

"Like this?" I ask.

"Yeah, looks good."

"You think I can get it to the farthest green?"

"Maybe." Chris is being kind. 

"What were you guys betting on? I want to wager, too."

Chris laughs. "I'm going to owe him so much food when we get back to Korea."

"You wanna bet on lunch?"

"I want burgers!" Han chimes in. 

"Okay, so if you make it out to that green, I'll buy lunch," Chris agrees. 

"Shake on it," I say and hold out my hand. Chris pumps my hand twice, and I look at Han and wink. I adjust myself to my normal driving stance and roll my shoulders. Once Chris steps back, I send the ball sailing toward the far green. 

"What the–" Chris says, and when I look back at him, I see that he has his hands on his head while Han is cracking up. "What? You–but how?"

"She hustled you, Chan Hyung!" 

"I have golfed with my dad since I was young, and I was all-state in high school." I twirl my club and pull another ball out of the bucket. "Second green," I call it like a pool player would call a pocket and send the ball in a perfect arch to the green. 

"Nuna! Show me how you do that!" Han trots over, and his joy rubs off on me. I can't help but return his smile. 

Chris sits back with his arms across his chest and smiles as he watches Han, and I send balls down range. I can tell how much he loves to see Han happy, and I can't imagine the energetic kid in front of me being depressed and a shell of himself. But I've been there, too, and I've hidden it from the people closest to me. I'm glad that Han has Chris, which makes me respect my boss more. But why does my heart hurt? Like there is a thread stitched in my chest and someone keeps pulling on it?

We go through our buckets of balls and turn in our drivers as we exit the Gulf Club. "Han, you said burgers, right?" I ask. 

"Yes! Milkshakes and fries!"

I do a quick search on my phone and see a place a few blocks away. The rain has stopped, but the streets are still riddled with puddles, and we walk toward the restaurant. 

We get a table in the back corner, and the guys keep on their baseball hats. The menu has about ten different burgers, and my mouth starts to water. The waitress comes around to take our order, and I rattle off what I want while Han is still picking between two options. 

Chris goes with a bacon cheeseburger, and Han gets a breakfast burger with an egg on top. Handspun milkshakes come out to the table first with a large basket of fries, and I immediately pick up a fry and dip it into my chocolate milkshake. The guys look on in horror. 

"Oh god, don't tell me you have never tried fries and a Frosty?"

They look at me with confusion. "Wait—" I pull out my phone to Google. "Man, Wendy's left Korea in 1998. That is like a key piece of childhood right there! Come on, Han. You’re the brave one. Try it."

Han shrugs, picks up a fry, and gets a scoop of my chocolate milkshake before popping it into his mouth. His brows raise in surprise at the taste. "Oh, Hyung. You have to try this."

"I don't know how it will taste with strawberry," I say, pointing to Han's milkshake. But you should try it. The salty and sweet combination is perfect."

I'm about to dip a fry for Chris when our burgers come out. I do a happy dance in my seat as I see the teriyaki sauce dripping out of my burger. I unroll my silverware, cut my burger in half, and get ready to dig in. 

"What is that?" Chris asks with his face scrunched. 

"Pineapple with teriyaki. It's so freaking good. You want a bite?" I offer up half of my burger, and Han laughs. Chris still looks bewildered. "Wait. What am I missing?"

"Pineapple on a burger?" He looks between my face and the food I’m still offering him. 

"I thought you like pineapple. There is enough pineapple juice in the apartment to kill a horse."

"파인애플로 말 죽일 수 있어?, ( Can you kill a horse with a pineapple? )” Han asks.

Chris waves off Han's comment and goes on to say, "Pineapple has many health benefits, but it is questionable on pizza and burgers."

I take a bite mainly because I'm starving and also out of spite. "Doesn't pineapple juice erode your teeth?"

"My teeth are fine," Chris quips and starts to eat also. 

"Now I'm curious." I take another bite, lick the sticky sauce off my fingers before picking my phone up, and search for the health benefits of pineapple juice. "So immune boost with the vitamin C, digestive support, muscle recovery which I’m sure is good after training, and oh–oh no." 

I can feel my cheeks flame, and Han leans over the table. "What does it say that has you turning red?"

"Nothing," I reply while still scrolling and smirking. 

"Now you have to tell me."

Chris's expression is passive as he shoves fries into his mouth. 

"I heard this when I was a teen but never actually looked it up, but apparently pineapple juice can…" I lower my voice and avoid eye contact with Chris as I speak to Han, "Help with erectile dysfunction, improve sperm health, and improve the taste of male–uh, fluids ."

Han looks completely scandalized and is holding back his laughter as Chris chokes on his food. I finally look at him and tilt my head. "Are those health benefits important to you, Christopher?" 

He folds his hands over the bill of his hat and lowers his head so that we can't see his face. His ears are red, and Han is making this more apparent by flicking Chris's earlobe. 

"Chanie, it's okay. Nuna will keep your secret."

"Eat your food," Chris says while playfully pushing Han away. "You, too." He looks up at me for a split second before he becomes very interested in his plate. 

"I will," I say victoriously. "I think there is a lesson here about not judging someone else's taste in burgers."

Chris rolls his eyes and say, "너를 어떻게 해야 할까?" ( What am I going to do with you? )

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

After lunch, we take a cab back to the apartment. Han falls asleep on the ride, and once we are upstairs, Chris sends him to take a nap before we leave for the evening. 

“Chris,” I call his name and nod my head toward the kitchen. He follows me, and I lean my back against the island counter. “I want to apologize.”

“For what?” He asks, but he’s already blushing, so he might already have a clue to what I am going to say. 

“I keep forgetting that this is a working relationship and that we aren’t actually friends.”

“We aren’t?”

“Are we?” I ask.

“Can the two not exist at the same time? Business and friendship?”

“I suppose, but we are going off into the weeds. I’m apologizing for making you uncomfortable. Boss or friend or whatever we are, I don’t want to embarrass you.”

He scratches his fingers through his hair a few times before responding. “I’m used to the ribbing from the guys. It’s a bit strange coming from a woman.”

“I grew up with two brothers,” I laugh. “It’s my only excuse for the lack of filter from my brain to my mouth.”

“You say what’s on your mind. It’s honest and refreshing but also disarming at times.”

“Well, you told me our first night that if I respect you, then you will respect me. So I’m sorry for disrespecting you and your copious use of pineapple juice.”

He laughs. “You are forgiven, and who knows, maybe one day you will also discover the benefits of pineapples.”

“Perhaps,” I reply, giving him the side eye as I pull a bottle of water out of the fridge. I take a drink and replace the cap. “Are you okay with me catching a nap too? If I don’t sleep now, you’ll have to carry me home when filming wraps.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m going to edit the footage from today.”

“Should you try to sleep?”

He is already setting up his laptop and video camera and points to himself. “Vampire, remember?”

I scoff and walk up the stairs to the second bedroom. I kick off my shoes and fall face-first into the bed, not bothering to get under the covers. 

“Nuna?” 

I wake up to Han shaking my shoulder. I’m tangled in a throw blanket and wonder which of the guys covered me up. “What time is it?” I ask and rub the sleep from my eyes. 

“4:30. Hyung wants to get to set early to go over the choreography.”

I sit on the edge of the bed and stretch my arms above my head. “Thanks, Han. I’ll be down in a minute, and we can head out.”

The hired car takes us to an industrial dock complex in Jersey. Chris quickly gets through hair and makeup, and they dirty him up a little. He chats with the stunt coordinator, and they run through the scenes for the night. 

Chris is shooting chase scenes through the warehouse. The stunts range from sprints and simple parkour jumps to more complex wired stunts. Han tells me they have used wires in the past for music videos, so Chris should catch on quickly. 

I introduce Han to my friend, and she again asks how Changbin is doing. We sit outside with some of the sound crew and watch the monitors to see what’s going on inside the warehouse. 

“He’s really good,” Han comments and points out the stunt that Chris just executed perfectly. 

“When we perform, we have to remember the moves, the words, how our expressions should look, and also be aware of the other members around us. All those years in training has Chan making this look easy.”

We watch the monitors for hours, only getting up for restroom and coffee breaks. Han even manages to find donuts and brings us each two of them as a midnight snack. 

Around 1 a.m., my friend texts me that they are wrapping up for the night and that we can wait in the wardrobe trailer for Chris–well, she calls him Bang Chan. Han and I find the trailer, sit together on a loveseat, and wait. 

It is over an hour later when I hear the rest of the crew start to break down the equipment. I’m not upset that it took so long to get the shots right. That is part of the business, but when Chris calls out ‘Nuna’ and sticks his head into the doorway of the trailer, I press my finger to my lips and shush him. 

Han fell asleep a while ago with his head resting on my shoulder. He reminds me of my younger brother, so I don’t mind, and really, I’m just surprised that he finds my bony shoulder comfortable. 

Chris steps into the trailer, and he looks worse for wear. He needed to look scuffed up for the scenes, but after hours of shooting, he now looks truly exhausted. Han is right, the years of training and dancing for hours each day prepared Chris for this kind of work. I wouldn’t be able to walk for days if I just did all of those action shots.

He crouches down and puts his hands on Han’s knees. “Han, 일어나 ( wake up ).”

“다섯 분만 더 ( Just five more minutes ).”

The way Chris looks at Han is endearing, and I can tell how much they mean to each other. It makes me feel something–not jealousy because I am happy for what they have, but maybe a longing for the type of connection they have. 

“I’m going to call for the car. Are you good with him like this for a while longer?”

I nod as Han curls himself toward me and nuzzles into my shoulder. “I don’t mind,” I say with sincerity so Chris will believe me. 

When the car arrives, Chris wakes up Han, who is still half asleep and helps him into the back seat. The ride back to the apartment is quiet, and when we get into the lobby, Chris turns to me, “Stay the night.”

I’m already dead on my feet and don’t know how I would manage to make it home without falling asleep in a cab, so I am thankful for the offer, but still give him an out. “I don’t want to intrude on your time together.”

“Nuna, it’s 3 a.m.. Come upstairs and go to bed.”

“Okay,” I give in with absolutely no fight.

Once in the apartment, we go into our respective rooms and I change into pajamas before falling into bed. 

Han stays for two more days. Chris asks me to take Han around the city during filming so that we won’t sit on set for hours on end. 

We start with a walk in the Park, and then he does some shopping on Fifth Ave. He offers to buy me something, but I politely decline and instead allow him to buy us yummy treats at NYC’s largest candy store.  

We go to the top of the Empire State Building, and he holds my hand as he looks over the edge. “Don’t let me fly away,” he says in a panic. 

I look at the towering fence around us and smile. “I won’t let go of you.”

Han buys a stuffed King Kong for Chris in the gift shop.

He wants to see Ground Zero, and even though it’s only a few weeks after the anniversary, the memorials are still decorated. I was only 8 when the attacks happened, but I feel like they were something etched into all of our memories. It’s a beautifully solemn place, and Han respectfully walks around reading the different plaques for each monument. 

We sit by the water and watch the ferries go back and forth to Liberty Island as Han eats some questionable street vendor food. 

Before we know it, Han is packing his bag for his flight home to Korea. Han and Chris hug in the living room as I wash out our coffee mugs. 

“매일 연락해, ( Call me everyday, ) Okay?” Chris says as he holds Han at arm’s length. 

“당연하지. ( Of course, I will. )

I walk out of the kitchen to see Chris cup Han’s face and place a kiss on Han’s forehead. I turn away to give them privacy, but Chris calls out to me. “Nuna! You’re going to make him miss his flight.”

“Eomma!” Han yells. “Kaja!”

I roll my eyes and grab my purse from the table. As I pass Chris, I say, “I’m going to miss the kid, but not the noise.”

Chris laughs, walks us to the door, and waves as we get into the elevator. 

The car ride to the airport takes a while due to traffic, and Han babbles away about how excited he is to come back to the States for their shows in a few weeks. We exchange phone numbers during the ride, and Han promises to Facetime me and show me all the food he’s going to eat once he is home. 

As we pull up to the airport, he puts on his baseball hat and mask. I help him check in and go as far as the TSA checkpoint. “I know Korean culture isn’t big on hugging, but–”

I don’t finish my statement before Han has his arms around me, lifting me off the ground for a rib-crushing hug. “You’re Eomma. You get hugs.”

I laugh and hug him back before I demand to be put down. Even with a mask covering half his face, I can tell he is smiling as he goes through the checkpoint and turns around to wave at me. I wave back and watch him until he turns a corner to find his terminal. 

As I take the subway back to the Upper West Side, I am surprised at how easy it has been to be around New York with the guys and not get mobbed by fans. Chris told me that his vlogs won’t go up for a few weeks, so beyond publicity for the movie, his management isn’t being forthcoming with the details of his stay in the city. Han’s visit wasn’t announced, so no one would expect him to be here, and he wore his hat and mask the entire time. 

“It might change after our shows,” Chris warns me that night when he is done filming and we are at the gym. “With everyone here together, it will be harder to get around.”

I nod as I stretch and get ready to run on the treadmill. I hope that Mr. Park will be back by then to help me navigate what I suspect will be a crazy week with the Stray Kids. 

“Where are we going?” I ask as the car we are in merges onto the Brooklyn Bridge. 

“Brooklyn,” Chris quips back. 

“No shit,” I laugh. 

“I rented out some recording studio space. I can do some mixing on my laptop, but I need to lay down some guides for the guys to check out.”

I have no idea what a guide is, but figured I was about to get a crash course on music recording. 

We turn down Atlantic Ave., and onto Smith St., I look around as we pass familiar places. “We’re right by my house?”

“You don’t say,” Chris says while facing the window. I see a hint of a smile through the reflection. 

“Such a coincidence.” I narrow my eyes at the back of his head. 

The building we stop at on Warren Street is a restored turn-of-the-century warehouse. The sun is already going down as we get out and go up to a nondescript door. The owner meets us in the lobby, and he and Chris clasp hands. 

“Hey, Rod. Thanks for allowing me to use your space.”

“Happy to have you in my humble studio.” We follow the owner into a room with soundproof titles on the walls and ceiling. There is a computer with a piano keyboard, mixer, and soundboard. A microphone is in the corner behind a glass divider. 

Chris sets his bag down in the chair by the mixing equipment. “Here’s the keys. The place is yours for as long as you need it. There are two other studios in the building, so you might bump into a few other people, but come and go as you please.”

“Cool, man. Again, I appreciate it.”

“You’re gonna have to let me listen to a few of your tracks before you leave.”

“Will do,” Chris smiles and waves as Rod walks out of the room and closes the door behind him. 

There is a loveseat on the wall with the door, and Chris gestures at it. “Make yourself at home.” I could just tell him I want to go home and walk the few blocks, but I am curious about Chris’s musical process. 

“I’m going to vlog some, but for most of this stuff, I cut out the sound and speed it up, so if you need me, speak up.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say and sit down on the loveseat. “I have a new book that I wanted to start.” I pull the copy of A Duke of One’s Own out of my purse and can’t wait to dive into the spicy Regency romance novel. 

Chris takes his laptop out of his bag and plugs it into the other equipment. He puts on his headphones, and I’m a little disappointed that I won’t be able to hear the music, but I figure it will mostly be mixing and setting down tracks. 

I start sitting on the loveseat, then slouch, and then lie in the fetal position as time goes on. Chris stands from the chair, and I look up to see if we are done for the night. Instead, he takes off his zip-up hoody and drapes it over me without saying anything. 

“Thanks,” I whisper, and he smiles like a third grader who just pulled my pigtails before returning to his chair. 

I’m not sure what time it is when he wakes me up. He’s standing over me, holding my book and scanning over the pages. “Don’t think that will be your taste.” I say with a dry mouth from sleep.

His eyebrows raise, and he looks at me. “And it’s yours?”

I shrug as I sit up and stretch. “A girl’s got to get her kicks somewhere.” I take the book from him, dogear the page, and put it back in my purse. I pull out my phone and see that it’s past midnight. “It’s late.”

“We can head out.”

I groan as I stand up and stagger on my feet. I won’t last two months if Chris keeps up with his work pace. I need at least seven hours of sleep to function, and as much as I don’t want him to think that I’m a slacker for dozing off, I think he prefers my quiet company. 

Chris locks up the studio room, and we head down to the street. “Which way?” He asks. 

“You aren’t getting a car?”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“Sure,” I say and point to the left.  

It’s a six-minute walk to my tree-lined street. We stop in front of my building, and Chris smiles. “It’s like on TV. This is exactly what I think about when someone lives in Brooklyn.”

“I was lucky to get this place a few years back.”

Chris rocks on his feet and fidgets with his fingers. 

“Do you want to come up?”

“Yeah–I mean, if it’s cool with you?”

I wave for him to follow and open the main door with my key. I check my mailbox, and then we head for the stairs. “It’s a walk up,” I say over my shoulder as we climb up the four floors. “The apartment isn’t much, but it’s mine.” I unlock my door, push it open with my shoulder, and flip on the kitchen light. 

Chris walks in behind me, taking off his shoes at the door, and he looks around the small space.  “Told you it’s not much,” I say.

“No, it’s perfect. Very you,” he comments while taking in the colorful walls, upcycled furniture, and art that covers the space. 

“Let me give you the tour.” I sit my purse down on the kitchen counter and point behind us. “The bathroom is over there, the kitchen you are in, and the living room-bedroom combo is over there.” I’m thankful that I made my bed this morning and that my clothes aren’t scattered all over the floor. 

“There’s a fireplace,” he says, walking further into the apartment. 

“It doesn’t work, but I have those LED candles in there, which sets a good mood.”

“I’m sure it does,” he says, almost too low for me to hear, as he walks around and looks at the art on the walls. 

“That one’s my favorite,” I stand beside him and look at a framed print. 

“It’s beautiful.”

I smile and admire the picture, but I’m surprised by Chris’s growling stomach. 

“Hungry?”

“A little,” he says sheepishly. 

“Come on,” I wave him over and tell him to sit on one of the barstools I have tucked under my kitchen counter. I open my fridge and look around for what I have. “You like grilled cheese?”

“Yeah.”

“Soup?”

“If you’re having some, then I will.”

He’s too polite to ask for something for himself. “Soup and sandwich coming up!”

When the food is ready, he eats his sandwiches, and I offer him an extra half of mine. We eat in silence until he is full, and he sits back while rubbing his stomach. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, thank you,” he says but then yawns. 

I look at the clock on my microwave and see that it is past 1 a.m.. “Guess you are staying here tonight, then.”

“What?” Chris says and looks around the apartment. 

“You don’t need to be going all the way back into the city. Stay here, and we will ride in together in the morning.”

“Right,” he looks behind him at the bed. 

“I’m going to wash up and put on some PJs. Make yourself at home. Feel free to turn on the TV if you want. The remote should be on the nightstand somewhere.”

I disappear into the bathroom and wash my face. “It’s okay. Just like a slumber party. You can sleep next to someone of the opposite sex. No big deal.” I groan at how ridiculous I sound before I brush my teeth. 

After changing into sleep pants and an oversized shirt, I walk out of the bathroom and see Chris standing on the far side of the bed. He’s holding something black in his hands and examining it before slapping it against his palm a few times. 

He holds up the device for me to see. “It’s not turning it on,” he says, pointing it at the TV while pressing a button. 

“Jesus H–Christopher, no!” I yell at him. 

He freezes and drops the device when it starts to buzz. I cover my face with my hands and groan, “It turns something on, just not the TV.”

“What…”

I uncover my face when I hear the buzzing stop and see him holding the device and looking at it from all angles. I rush over to him, snatch it out of his hand, and hide it behind my back. 

“What is it?” he asks with genuine curiosity, trying to peek around me. 

I tilt my head at him in disbelief. “You have a music video where you are tied up with chains and bondage rope doing the whole Roxanne thing, but don’t know what a clit sucker is?”

Chapter Music

Roxanne - Referring to song by The Police. 🚨

The Police - Roxanne

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

“A clit–oh, oh God.”

He is beet red, and I figure it serves him right. “That will teach you not to go digging around in a woman’s drawers.”

“You told me,” he points at the nightstand, “to find the remote.”

“ On the nightstand, not in it!” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. I step forward and grab his wrist to pull his hand away from his face. He looks at me with surprise. “Go wash your hands, Christopher.”

I’m holding the toy in my other hand, which hangs limply at my side, and he looks from it to his fingers. I see his hand twitch as if he wanted to rub his fingertips together. I squeeze his wrist, and his gaze lifts from his fingers to meet my eyes. 

When I write these scenes into my scripts, the main character has a feeling of standing frozen and feeling stripped bare before someone. I think I finally understand how that feels. 

I have to break the stalemate, so I step to the side, pulling him forward and pushing him toward the bathroom. Once he’s in the kitchen and I know he won’t turn back, I call to him, “I left a toothbrush out on the counter for you.”

Once the bathroom door closes, I fall on my bed. “Of all the people to find you,” I say to my toy. Giving myself a moment to die mentally, I decide to wear my big girl panties and get up to put my toy back into the drawer. To Chris’s credit, my TV remote is not on the nightstand, and I have to shift around my blankets to find it in the bed. 

By the time he walks out of the bathroom, I have the TV turned on and Netflix queued up. I’m sitting on my side of the bed, the side closest to the kitchen.

“Can I get some water?” He asks. 

“Yeah. Cups are above the coffee maker and there is Brita in the fridge. Don’t trust the water out of the tap.”

I scroll on the TV to pull up the next episode of the K Drama I started a few days ago. I hear Chris close the fridge, and I look over to see him holding a coffee cup. Oh God, he is going to think that I’m a deviant.

“What?”

“Nothing,” but I know my face says it all, and my eyes are locked on the cup. 

He turns the otherwise bland white cup around to read the writing on the front. “Just remember, your mouth can’t get pregnant. Wow, good to know,” he deadpans. 

“Would you believe me if I told you it was a gift from a friend?” I cringe, not even believing myself.

“Have you lied to me yet?”

I take a second to think. “No…”

“Then why would you start now?” He drinks the rest of the water out of the cup and sets it down next to the sink. 

I take in a calming breath and then point to the TV. “Wanna come watch something?”

Chris pauses in the kitchen. “If I’m going to stay here, you should know something.”

“What?” I smile. “Do you talk in your sleep?”

“No,” he laughs. “That’s Lee Know.”

“Okay, so…”

“I snore. Like really bad.”

I process for a moment and wonder why he looks so ashamed. “Is that it?”

“It’s a medical condition.”

“Like sleep apnea or a messed up septum?”

“Yeah, I wake up a lot when I stop breathing.”

“Don’t you have a CPAP or something?” When he looks at me confused, I wave off his worry. “My dad has sleep apnea. They tried the mouthguard and the nasal surgery on him, but he sleeps with a CPAP now.”

“So you know what it’s like?”

“Oh yeah, he sounds like a freight train is running through the house.”

“I don’t really like sleeping around other people.”

I bite my lip. “You don’t have to stay if you really don’t want to, but I’m telling you it’s okay.” He seems to relax, and I remember something. “Hold that thought!” I get out of bed and trot past him to the bathroom. I rummage through my under-sink cabinet and find what I’m looking for.

I come back to the main room and hold up a pair of earplugs. “I used to have a really noisy downstairs neighbor.”

“You would tell me if it’s too much? You can kick me out at any time.”

“It won’t, and I won’t, so please come watch this drama and explain to me what the hell is going on.”

He smiles with his lips pressed together as if he is still considering bolting, but instead he goes to the far side of the bed and sits down when I make myself comfortable on my side. “Which one are you watching?” I push a button on the remote to remove the screen saver, and the drama pops up on the TV. “Ah, this one. Han likes this one.”

“I know. He told me to watch it.” Chris looks at me, and I shrug. “He’s my source for everything romantic dramas.”

“Of course,” Chris laughs as I start the episode. He plays on his phone occasionally, but he follows along and tells me what is going on when I ask. 

I pause the show and turn to him, “I have a Korean question.”

“Okay…”

“So you call me Nuna, and that means sister or older female friend.”

“Right.”

“Han called you Hyung, and you called Mr. Park that also, so it’s not a name.”

“No, they are all honorifics or titles for different social relationships.”

“So, Hyung means?”

“A younger male would call his older brother or older male friend, Hyung.”

“But Han also called you something else too. I think they just said it in the show. Oppa?”

“He called me Appa, with an A.”

“Appa?”

“It means dad.”

My face scrunches with thought. Knowing the intimate relationship between Chris and Han I ask. “Is that like a daddy kink thing?”

“What?” Chris coughs in surprise at my question.

“Sorry, I just assumed that calling your boyfriend dad would mean–”

“Yeah, naur. I’m the leader and the oldest, so it just became a thing for all the members to call me dad, and I joke that I have seven children.”

“Ah, okay. So no daddy kink then,” I say more to myself. 

“Well…” Chris starts.

I quickly hold up my hands, “It’s none of my business.”

“Right,” he agrees.

“So what does Oppa mean? The guy in the drama seems to like the girl, and he wants her to call him Oppa.”

“Oppa is what a younger girl would call an older brother, older guy friend, or older boyfriend.”

“So I wouldn’t call you Oppa.”

He swallows, “No, Nuna. You wouldn’t.”

“So if I can’t call you Oppa because I’m older, and I can’t call you Appa because you’re not my daddy, then what do I call you?”

He’s staring at me again in a way that makes me feel like every emotional wall I’ve ever built is useless to keep him out. “Christopher. You call me Christopher.”

I must be imagining the tension between us, and I feel the need to lighten the mood, so I smile. “Well, that’s no fun.” I pick up my phone and open my translation app. “What about…Agi?”

He laughs. “You want to call me baby?”

I shrug. “It’s easier than pronouncing the word for little brother.”

“Namdongsaeng,” he says with perfect pronunciation.

I test out the word but my mouth doesn’t want to make the right sounds, so I huff. “I guess Christopher will have to do.”

“I’m glad we got that all worked out,” his tone drips with sarcasm. 

I roll my eyes at him and wiggle against my pillows to get comfortable again. “Wait!” I sit up again. “Han called me something else. When we were at the Gulf Club. What was it…oma?”

“Eomma,” Chris says off-handedly and looks like he immediately regrets it. 

“Eomma,” I repeat the word. “What does that mean?”

Chris sinks down into the pillows on his side and covers his face. “It means mom.”

My mouth pops open, and I look over at him. “If you are dad and I’m mom, does that mean we have a child together?” He moves his hands away from his face to look at me, perhaps to gauge my level of crazy. “If that’s true, then custody will be hard between the US and Korea.”

“Nuna.”

“Han is of age, so he can tell us who he wants to live with.”

“I told him not to call you that.”

“Right, right, I’m too young to be the mother of a…how old is Han?”

“Twenty-four.”

I’m about to make another quip remark, but a yawn keeps me from talking. “You should go to bed,” Chris says. 

“I am in bed.”

“Nuna, you need sleep.”

I reach for the remote and exit out of Netflix. “I sleep to rain sounds. You okay with that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

I open the YouTube app on my smart TV and pull up my favorite ambient noise channel. “You can get comfortable,” I comment, looking at him fully dressed and lying on top of the covers. 

“I’m fine.”

“Christopher, get comfortable,” I command. “I’ll even turn off the lights.”

I switch off the bedside light, and the room is only lit by the TV screen, which has a dark forest scene with rain. Chris sighs as he gets out of the bed and unbuttons his jeans. I roll over so my back is to him, and I hear him remove his pants. “Shirt stays on,” I say into the dark, and he scoffs. 

I pull the extra pillow from under my head and put it between us as I roll over to face him. He’s lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “Just think of this as sleeping next to one of the guys.”

Chris nods, “Right,” but he still stays stiff. I figure he will relax once I’m asleep, so I curl up with a pillow between my knees and my hands tucked under my cheek. 

After a while, I feel the bed shift and hear him adjusting. He’s also lying on his side, probably to keep himself from starting to snore. I listen to his breathing and try to match his rhythm. My ears ring in the quiet of the room, and I can’t hear him breathing. I reach out my hand across the pillow barrier and blindly rest it on his chest. 

“Nuna,” he whispers. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you are breathing,” I say, half asleep. “My mom would do this to my dad.”

Chris hums and places his hand over mine on his chest as I drift off. 

My 5 a.m. alarm buzzes on my watch, and without opening my eyes, I try to tap the screen to snooze it. But as I raise my arm, I realize that something—no, someone—is blocking me. 

I crack open one eye and see Chris lying on my arm. He huffs in his sleep as I reach over his shoulder to tap my watch. I’ve not been the big spoon before, and it feels oddly endearing to have a man who is larger than life on stage, curled up in my arms. I sigh and lay my head back on my pillow. 

His head is almost tucked under my chin, and if I leaned in closer, my lips would touch his forehead. The pillow I put between us is gone, and I have no idea which of us moved it in the night.

“Nuna, what time is it?” His voice is thick with sleep. 

My body stiffens. He is clearly aware of who he is in bed with, and am clueless as to how he will react to our current closeness. I try to answer him without sounding anxious, “Just past five.”

He groans, scoots closer to me, and his nose touches my collarbone. “Ten more minutes, okay?”

I’m sure he heard me swallow the lump in my throat. “Sure. Ten minutes.” I lay my free arm over his side and lightly pat his back as I hear him snore softly. 

I am usually a master snoozer, coveting those nine minutes between alarms, but I can’t go back to sleep, and I become hyper-aware of each one of his breaths. 

My watch vibrates on my wrist again, and I look at the time over his head. “Did I keep you up last night?” he asks but doesn’t move. 

“No, I slept well.”

“Good,” he rasps and then rolls onto his back and out of my arms. He sits up, back hunched over, and his eyes still closed. 

I sit up cross-legged and take him in. His hair is an absolute mess and has a slight curl to it. I can see a purple hue under his eyes, and I remember him telling me repeatedly that he doesn’t sleep. 

I wish I could call in a sick day for him, put him back to bed, and let him sleep as long as his body and mind needs it, but I feel that he would beat himself up for not showing up for his responsibilities and letting down the people around him. 

“You look like you could use another ten minutes,” I joke. 

“I’m good, just not a morning person.”

“I can see that,” I chuckle and push his hair out of his face and cup both of his cheeks in my hands. “You are going to have to open your eyes eventually.” He cracks one eye open and looks at me. “There you are,”  I smile. 

Chris huffs and closes his eyes again, letting his head fall forward so my hands support his face. “Come on,” I lift his face and playfully pat his cheek twice. “We’ve got to go into the city and get you cleaned up before the call time.”

He groans again, and as he gets out of bed, he reminds me of a grumpy toddler. He shuffles into the bathroom, and I get up to make the bed. I see a pillow on the floor on the far side of the bed and look at the closed bathroom door, wondering if it was him who moved our sorry excuse of a barrier. 

I go into the bathroom after him and take my change of clothes for the day with me. When I come out, he is sitting on the side of the bed with his bag already secured across his body. His hair is still a mess, and I can’t help but smile. “You thinking about going back to bed?”

“Thought crossed my mind,” he looks up for only a split second to make eye contact before focusing back on the floor. 

I am about to speak when he stands and pulls a black beanie from the back pocket of his pants. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” I say, shoving things into my purse. “I can call an Uber.”

“We can take the subway.”

“Are you sure? Won’t you get recognized?”

“It’s early, and I’ll wear a mask.”

“If you say so,” I reply and pick up his black hoodie, which had been thrown over a chair. 

We walk a few blocks to the subway station, and Chris puts on his black face mask and pulls down his beanie. I pay for his trip with my metro card, and the subway car is half empty at this hour. Chris pulls out his earbuds and pops them in as he looks down at his phone. 

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my purse and see a text from him.

I’m not trying to be rude and ignore you.  

I get it. You want to keep a low profile.

We have to transfer trains once we get into the city.

Also, the view when we go over the Brooklyn Bridge is pretty cool if you want to see it.

He nods a few times but doesn’t look up from his phone, so I know he is acknowledging me. I nudge him when we get to the bridge, and he casually looks up. We watch the sunrise sparkle off the building as we approach the city. 

We make it back to the apartment with no issues, and Chris disappears upstairs to shower and change. I make coffee and have a cup waiting for him when he comes down in fresh clothes. 

“You don’t have to be on set until after lunch, but you have a live stream with your members in about 30 minutes.” I check my phone and google the time difference. “Yeah, it will be 8:30 p.m. for them.”

Chris nods and opens his computer to turn it on. “You hungry?” I ask. 

“I can fix something,” he replies and joins me in the kitchen. He puts a pan on the stove and pulls out the carton of eggs. “You want some?”

“Sure. Scrambled, please.”

He cracks five eggs into the pan and then breaks up the yokes with a pair of chopsticks. I sit on the counter, sip my coffee, and watch his back as he cooks. “Are we good?” I ask the question that usually comes out of his mouth. 

His shoulders raise as his back becomes tense. “About what?”

Oh, so it’s going to be like that? I put my coffee mug down next to me. “About us sleeping together.”

He turns his head to look at me over his shoulder at my choice of words, and I raise my brow at him. “You slept, I slept, we slept, yes?”

“Fair,” he concedes and walks across the kitchen to put a bowl of instant rice into the microwave. I can see that the tips of his ears turn red. 

“I don’t want you to worry about me thinking this is more than what it is.”

“And what is this ?” He walks back to the stove. 

“Friends who slept,” I say plainly. 

I jump down from the counter, pull two plates from the cabinet, and bring them to the stove. I lean my hip against the counter and try to catch his eye. “So, are we good?”

He divides the eggs between the two plates as the microwave goes off. I keep looking at him as I pull open the door before it can finish beeping. 

“Friends who slept,” he nods and repeats my words, but his tone is still unsure. 

I pick up my plate of eggs, grab a fork from the silverware drawer, and smile at him as I take my breakfast and coffee to the dining table. “I’m glad we are on the same page!”

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Chris’s schedule is jam-packed for the next few days, and I feel like I’m forcing him to go to bed before I stumble into the second bedroom in the apartment and crash. He has long filming days and then video chats with his members while they work on new songs. At midnight, I always convince him to shut down his computer and sleep. 

Chris doesn’t mind if I work on my writing on those late nights. He sits at the head of the table, and I set up one seat down to his right. On this particular evening, I’ve already showered and have on my PJs as I hunch over my laptop and work on my latest script. I consider what Chris said when we first met and wonder if I could turn my work into a novel. It would be a whole new world of writing, but I love a challenge.

I’m pulled away from my computer screen when Chris stands and walks to the kitchen. I hear the guys talking on the other end of the video chat line and think I hear Han’s voice. 

When Chris comes back to the dining room, he has two mugs in his hands and sets one down in front of me. I furrow my brows, and he whispers, “It’s tea.”

I mouth back a ‘Thank you’ since I try to be quiet while he is working with his members. Apart from the group and Mr. Park, no one else at the company knows that I exist. 

He sits back down at his computer and starts talking to the guys. As I let my tea cool, I take a break to stretch my arms above my head and straighten my back. I make a hushed moan at how good it feels to move after hours of typing. 

“너 산만해, ( Are you distracted) , Channie?”

My arms are still over my head when I look over at Chris. His gaze rakes from my hands to my chest and then back to my face. I let my arms fall to my sides and shrug at him, mouthing, ‘What ?’ He’s seen me in pajamas before, so what’s the big deal?

“아니야, ( No ),” he responds to the guys. He looks at my chest again and then turns back to the computer.

I look down at myself, wondering what the hell is going on. I’m in a tank top that I’ve slept in before, and well–okay, maybe my nipples are a little hard because of the cold AC in the apartment, but they are just nipples…right?

Chris is back to work, and I decide to brush the whole thing off. I sip my tea and start writing. 

Every few minutes, I feel like I’m being watched, and I glance over to see him staring. After the fourth or fifth time, he sighs and stands. He shrugs off his zip-up hoodie and drapes it around my shoulders. 

“I’m not cold,” I whisper, looking up at him. 

“이건 내 마음을 위해서야, ( It’s more for my sake ),” he replies.

I don’t fight him on speaking English since he is already back in his chair. The hoodie is warm from his body heat, and I slip my arms into the sleeves. Needing to read back over the last page of dialogue, I pull my knees up to my chest and throw my arm on top of them. I rest my chin in the crook of my arm and start to scan the page. 

As I read, I smell something heavenly. After a few sniffs, I realize it’s the hoodie. I sit back, pick up the opened front of the sweater, and bury my face in it. I am going to have to ask him what cologne he uses. 

When I uncover my face, I see Chris looking at me again. I mouth, ‘Sorry’ thinking that I am being too loud. The tips of his ears are red, so he must be upset that I’m keeping him from his work. 

My phone buzzes on the table next to me, and I pick it up to read the text. I smile when I see who it’s from. 

Eomma!

Yes, honey cakes?

I decided that Han needed a nickname that was as adorable as he is. Han turned to Hannie, turned to Honey, and then we came up with 꿀떡 (kkul-tteok), which is a Korean term of endearment meaning honey rice cakes. 

Quit distracting Appa. 

I look over at Chris and see him intently focusing on the computer. 

I’m doing nothing of the sort!

I am writing and minding my own business.

Yeah, sure. 

But Eomma!

Yes, Han?

We will be back in the US in a week!

I’m trying to convince Hyung Park to let us fly in a day early and surprise Chan for his birthday. 

Chris’s birthday? I pull up Safari on my laptop and Google Chris again and see his birthday is on the third of October. 

He didn’t tell me his birthday was coming up. 

He probably doesn’t want you to make a big deal about it. 

That sounds very much like Chris, and I look over at him working. I hear him say Han’s name, then I can only assume that he chews him out in a mix of Korean and English words, and it makes me giggle to think that now Han is being chastised for being distracted. 

You should be focused on your leader and not texting with me. 

Yes, Eomma. 

But promise me you won’t let him be alone if we can’t make it for his birthday. 

I promise. Now, pay attention.

I set my phone down and go back to writing. I am getting to a good part where the main characters get themselves into a spicy situation, and with the hoodie on, I am getting a little warm. I look around and see a pencil sitting on top of a notebook. I grab it without thinking while gathering my hair into a bun at the top of my head and treading the pencil through it. 

“작가 도깨비 스타일이 좋아 ( I like the writer gremlin look) .” Chris says, looking at me.

“야! ( Hey !)” A surprised voice comes across the computer. “뭐!? ( What? )”

“작가 도깨비 ( Writer gremlin?)” Another voice laughs. 

“쳐다보지 마 at Eomma! ( Stop looking at mom!) ”

“닥쳐! (Shut up!)” Chris yells, slumping back in his chair with his eyes shut.

“Eomma!”

I chuckle because that has to be Han. 

Chris groans and turns his laptop toward me, and I see two guys on the screen. Of course, there is Han, and the other is…I rack my brain to recall all the members and then remember it’s the one my friend likes, Changbin. I smile and wave at them. 

“그거 그의 후드티야? ( Is that his jacket? )” Changbin asks. 

“예 ( Yes ),” Han answers with a smirk.

I look to Chris for translation, but he still has his eyes closed and is rubbing his temples. “Are you guys stressing out, Appa?” I ask.

They all look at me at the use of the honorific. Chris still has his fingers pressed to the side of his face, but he’s squinting at me with his mouth curled up on one side as if saying, ‘What did you just do?’

“우리? ( Us? )” Han laughs and points to himself.

Chris makes a sound of sucking air through his clenched teeth, then says, “아이고 ( Aigo/OMG but with pain/suffering. )” 

I see the time on the computer is nearing 2330, and I don’t want to take up any more of their time. “I’m so happy to see you both, and I can’t wait for you to be here next week!” I look at Chris, “How do I say ‘good night’ in Korean?”

“잘 자 (jal ja).”

I turn back to the screen. “Jal ja, Kkul-tteok. Jal ja, Changbin.” (Kkul-tteok - Han’s nickname for Honey rice cakes or just honey cakes)

The guys laugh, tell me good night and wave to me. Chris stands and comes up to me, and I smile at him before he grabs the pencil in my hair and pulls it free. My hair falls around my face, and I look at him, shocked. 

He smiles and shows his dimples, so I can’t be mad at him for taking back his writing utensil. 

“Don’t stay up too late,” I point at him and use my best mom voice. 

“Yes, Nuna.” He says, sitting back in his chair. 

“Jal ja!” I say once more and wave at the screen as Chris turns it back toward himself. 

I close my laptop as the guys chatter in Korean. Chris’s look tells me they are ribbing him and I will leave them to it. I rinse my empty tea cup in the kitchen before heading for the stairs. 

“Bed in thirty,” I call out, and he sucks his teeth at me. “I mean it, Christopher.” 

“Yes, Nuna,” he says, sounding like a teenager who has been told to turn off his video game for the night.

“Yeah, Christopher,” someone says in a high-pitched sing-song voice through the computer. 

“죽을래? (Do you want to die?)” Chris says in his leader’s tone, and I laugh as I go to the second bedroom and close the door. 

In the morning, I look at Chris’s schedule and see that he has a night free in a few days. I open a new calendar event and type ‘Christopher—Don’t Schedule Anything Here!’ before saving it to his Stray Kids calendar. 

He has full days of filming and another appearance on a radio show to help promote their upcoming concerts in the Tri-State area. He seems more stressed as the days pass, and I figure he is nervous about performing after being away from his group for a month. He has been spending hours at night in the gym running through his dance routines, but I can see on his face that he misses his members. 

“Hey, Nuna. Why do you have my schedule blocked?” Chris asked me as he is getting cleaned up from filming.

“I’m taking you out for your birthday,” I say proudly. 

“Who told you?”

I rock on my feet and shrug. “Well, Han, but also the internet.”

“Ah, your Kkul-tteok.”

“Yes, my honey cakes told me.” I can’t read his expression at the mention of Han’s nickname but he quickly regains his composure and starts to shake his head.

“Nuna, I don’t–”

“What if I promise that you will have fun.”

“How can you promise that?”

I think for a moment and decide to use his people-pleasing against him this once. “What if I promise that I will have fun?” 

He laughs, knowing what I am doing. “Fine. As long as you have fun for my birthday.”

I tell him to put on something dressy but casual. He raises an eyebrow at me. “Decent pants, no holes in them even if they are designer, and a short-sleeved button-down will do.”

I send him on his way to the primary bedroom to get ready as I admire the dress I brought from home. I take it into the bathroom attached to my room and hang it on the back of the door as I get ready. I put on light makeup but darkened my eyes a little with eyeliner and mascara. The final touches are a little lip stain and a few spritzes of my favorite perfume. 

My dress has a v-neck corset top with spaghetti straps and tiers of lace for the skirt. It’s a dark storm blue with rhinestones sewn into the lace that will sparkle under the lights. The skirt comes down to my mid-thigh, and I make sure to wear bike shorts underneath. 

I pair the dress with black-on-black Converse hightops and spin in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom. 

“Oh!” I say in surprise. Chris is standing in the dressing area of the second bedroom. He is wearing black pants, a tucked-in black tank top, and a black button-down shirt hangs in his hand. He looks at me, and I feel his gaze taking in each piece of my outfit. I put my hand on my hip and smiled, “I see you are going for something colorful tonight.”

He laughs and looks down at his outfit. “A literal rainbow,” he jokes. 

I watch him pull on the long-sleeved button-down. “You’ll get hot.”

“I have a solution,” he says, rolling up the cuffs. I definitely do not notice the veins pop on his forearms and hands. He tucks the shirt in and then turns to me. “How do I look?”

I walk up to him and fasten one more button on his shirt to hide the logo on his undershirt. “No need to advertise for Fendi tonight.” 

He hums and turns back to the wardrobe. “Jewelry?”

“We’re trying to make you not look like yourself, so no.”

“Right,” he agrees, leaving only his silver hoop earrings in. He pulls his black Chucks out of the closet and sits down on the sofa to put on his shoes. 

“Twins!” I say and lift my foot to wiggle it at him. 

“I see that,” He chuckles while looking up the length of my bare leg and then stands once his shoes are tied. 

“Come here,” I tell him, and he stands before me. 

I rough up his hair with my fingers, and he grabs my wrist. “Hey! It took me ten minutes to get it to look like that.”

“Exactly. You look too put together.” I scrunch his hair some more and mumble about wanting to see his curls, but once I’m done, I step back and look at him. “Perfect. Kaja!”

I have my phone, ID, and debit card slid into the pocket of my bike shorts. Chris grabs his wallet and phone from the dresser in the primary bedroom, and then we head downstairs. We grab a cab by the park, and I give directions to the Lower East Side. 

As we pull up to the building, Chris looks at the line of people and the neon lights boasting the club’s name on the brick facade. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yeah, just don’t act famous.” I pull him out of the cab, and we trot to the end of the line. 

Chris gives the bouncer his Australian driver’s license, I pay our cover, and we get into the club with no issue. “We are going to the second floor,” I tell him as we head for the stairs. 

The club is dark except for a disco ball at the center of the dance floor and random lights that flash with the beat of the music. Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Want To Have Fun is playing, and I can’t help but start to bounce to the upbeat song. 

“I think we are the youngest people here,” Chris says close to my ear to be heard over the music. 

“That’s the point!” I tell him. 

“You saying that I don’t have older fans?”

“No, just that maybe none of them would expect you to show up to a club on a Tuesday for 80’s night on the Lower East Side.” I smile and shrug as I pull him toward the dance floor. 

We blend in with the rest of the people around us, and Chris looks around for a few moments before he starts to loosen up. “Now, don’t dance too well. That will be a dead giveaway.” I tell him.

“So I should dance like this?” He does a lousy rendition of the robot. 

I throw my head back and laugh, “Yes, please! More of that!”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

There is something refreshing about seeing Chris let loose and dance like an idiot. He bounces around to 99 Luftballons, and we belt out A-ha’s Take On Me. I crack up when Men At Work - Down Under comes on, and he proclaims it’s his National Anthem. I have to slap his hands down when he threatens to become kangaroo Chris. 

We are unbothered for song after song. We Rocked the Casbah and yell out ‘Tin Roof, rusted!’. We take the highway to the Danger Zone and sing ‘How Can I Get You Alone?’

“How did you find this place?” Chris leans into me to ask. 

“My friends and I came here a lot during undergrad.”

Chris gets a smile on his face as if he is trying to imagine me as a young 20-something. 

“Are you having fun?” I ask.

“Are you having fun?” He counters. 

“Of course I am. There’s good music, good company, and now all I need is…” I tap on my lips, pretending to think. “A good drink. You want one?”

Chris chews on the side of his lip and then nods, “Just one.”

I grab his hand, and we head toward the bar, weaving through the other dancing bodies as we go. I order a gin and tonic, and when I turn to Chris, he says ‘Same’, and I hold up two fingers to the bartender. Chris tries to pull out money, and I push his hand away. “No way, Birthday Boy. Tonight is my treat.”

We take our drinks and find a quiet area against the wall to take a break. Chris pulls at the front of his shirt to get air, and I scoff. “I told you that you would get hot in that.”

“I’m fine. I do whole shows in long sleeves. I mean, I sweat through them, but it can be done.”

I snort as I take a drink, and I’m thankful for my little dress. 

Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody comes on, and Chris says, “Aw, man. This is a classic.” He starts to sing along as he leans against the wall. He looks very cool doing so, if you ask me. 

I down the rest of my drink and join in on the song. As the song speeds up, I set my empty glass with Chris’s on the table next to us. I know what part is coming and I can’t wait to see Chris head bang. 

I’m happy that the impact of Wayne’s World hasn’t been lost on him, and I am not disappointed when he goes all-out rocker. I swing my hips with the beat and bob my head. As the song slows down again, Chris is still singing, and I take a breath as I look around the club. The lights pan over the crowd of people on the dance floor, and I catch a woman pointing our way and talking to her friend. 

I see the red spotlight coming toward us, and I know I have to cover Chris before anyone can get a good look at him. I grab his face with both of my hands, press my thumbs over his lips, and kiss my knuckles as I move in front of him. 

“Nuna?” He says in shock as he grabs my forearms.  

When he talks, I can feel his lips brushing mine through the barrier of my thumbs. “Shh, I think someone recognized you.”

“So what are you doing?”

I pull my face away from his and cringe, “Protecting you?” I groan at the fact that I acted before I could think. 

He tries to look around my head at the dance floor, and I pull his face back. He huffs and releases my arms but grips my hips and spins us so that my back is against the wall, and his body presses to mine. “Can you see if they are looking?”

I still have my thumbs pressed over his mouth, and I feel his lips move under my fingers. I tilt his head to the side so to an outsider it looks like a couple making out, and peer beyond his temple, trying to find the woman on the dance floor. 

She’s still there but focuses on dancing with her friend, but then she glances our way, and I squeak and hide behind Chris again. “It’s your stupid nose and lips that give you away.” 

“Stupid?” His expression pinches with hurt, and I finally take my thumbs off his lips.  

I roll my eyes. “That’s your issue right now?” He doesn’t answer, but his eyes bounce around my face. “Fine, your adorable nose and perfect lips give you away. Better, Christopher?”

“Adorable?” He chuckles. 

“Yes,” I say with a smile and look at his nose. “Perfect for Eskimo kisses.” He seems confused, and I sigh. “You Australians,” I joke and perhaps the gin is getting to me. 

“We are by the south pole, Nuna. We only have penguins.”

“Eskimo kisses,” I repeat, then rub my nose against his. Chris’s body stiffens as my face makes contact with his, but once I move away, he relaxes and presses into me again. 

He hums in understanding and moves his hand to hold my face. “Like this?” He asks and then nuzzles his nose against mine. It doesn’t feel innocent as his gin and citrus-tinged breath puffs against my lips, and his forehead rests against mine. Eskimo kisses go side to side, but he nudges his nose up against mine, and I know that if I tilt my chin even the slightest amount, our lips will touch. 

My hands cup either side of his neck, and I feel his pulse racing. I have to break the moment if I don’t want it to go any further, and I press up on his jaw with my thumbs. My chest is heaving as I’m trying to slow my breathing, and I school my expression so it won’t look like I’m not wanting to ask him to please pin me to the wall. “You did it wrong,” my voice breaks. 

“I did?” He looks between my eyes and lips–no, he is looking at my nose, not my lips, just my nose, I convince myself. 

“Yes. First, scrunch your face,” I demonstrate, and he half-heartedly mimics me. I’m still holding his neck, so I roll onto my toes, bring my face in, and rub my nose against his. I rock back down on flat feet and look up at him. “Like that. Got it?”

He finally laughs, and I feel relief that the moment is defused. “Got it. Appreciate the lesson.”

“Any time,” I smile and remember the whole reason for our current situation. I look around his head again and don’t see the woman or anyone else looking our way. “We should make a break for it while we can.”

“Kaja,” he says, taking one of my hands from his neck and pulling me toward the exit. 

We are both laughing as we reach the sidewalk, and Chirs stops to look back at me. “Are we closer to Brooklyn? Should we go back to your place?”

I’m sure he made the suggestion to be thoughtful of my commute, but I’ve written enough, ‘and there was only one bed’ scenes into my scripts to know better. I pull my hand out of his and smile as I wrap my arms across my chest. “Let’s go back uptown. You’ll be more comfortable in the apartment.”

Chris looks at my closed-off body language and nods. I wave for him to follow me to the curb, and I hold my arm out to get us a cab. 

I get a text from Mr. Park the next day. He is sending me instructions on how to set up Chris’s birthday backdrop for his YouTube Live. He also informed me that the group would be flying in on Chris’s birthday and were going to surprise him during the Live. I am to, under no circumstances, spoil the surprise. 

When I read the text, I was so excited that Chris almost caught me. “What has you smiling like that?”

I look up from my phone like a deer in headlights and then press the phone to my chest. “Oh, nothing. My friend just sent me a funny meme.”

His expression tells me he doesn’t believe me but he doesn’t push. I get another text that the car is waiting down on the street to take Chris to set, and I hurry us out of the door. 

While Chris is filming, I go to a local party supply store and get a backdrop, decorations, and a balloon arrangement. I watch Felix and Han’s Birthday Lives so that I have an idea of what to prepare.  

Mr. Park let me know that he ordered a cake from a local bakery and that I would need to pick it up and have it ready for the guys to bring it in for Chris. I remember there is a mini fridge in the storage room on the first floor where I can hide the cake. 

Chris doesn’t have filming on his birthday, so I let him sleep in. Around 9 a.m., he comes downstairs looking like a bear coming out of hibernation, and I laugh as I pour him a cup of coffee. 

“Do I smell bacon?” He asks. 

“You do,” I open the oven to check on the food. “Birthday boys get a special breakfast.”

He snorts a laugh and takes a sip of coffee. 

I tell him to go sit at the table, and he does without any fuss. I pull the bacon out of the oven and plate up his breakfast of a large stack of pancakes with a smiley face with fruit for eyes and whipped cream for the grin. I stick a single candle in the middle and light it. 

“Happy birthday to you…” I start to sing and finish the song as I put the plate in front of him. 

He’s grinning like a kid on Christmas, and I tell him to make a wish. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and then blows out the candle. “Take a picture for me,” he says, pulling out his phone. 

“Wait one second!” I run to the kitchen and come back with a birthday princess crown made for a six-year-old. I place it on his head and try to flatten out some of his curls before grabbing his phone. “Say ‘old man’!”

He looks unamused at me calling him old, but when I scrunch my face in an attempt to look cute and innocent, he cracks and finally laughs. He holds up his plate and smiles as I snap a few pictures. 

He starts to eat and I grab my laptop from the end of the table. I open it, and Facetime call Han’s phone. When the call connects, Han silently waves at me and then sets his phone down on something as the guys all get into the frame. 

“Hey, Chris. I wanna show you something,” I say, turning the laptop toward him. 

“생일 축하해! (Happy Birthday!)” They all yell at the same time.

With a plain wall behind them, there is no way Chris would suspect his members are at the airport in LA waiting to board the last leg of their trip to NYC. 

They start to chat, and I only look over when I hear my name. “Nuna made 팬케이크 and 베이컨 (pancakes and bacon),” Chris says and holds up his plate. 

I think I hear Han say he’s hungry and wonder if that kid ever stops eating. I let the guys talk and go into the kitchen to make another few pancakes for myself. 

They wrap up their video call, and Chris happily brings his empty plate into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” I ask when he starts to wash the dishes that I dirtied making breakfast. 

“Washing up?”

“Will you stop that? It’s your birthday. I can clean up here.”

“I don’t mind,” he says and keeps scrubbing. 

I could physically push him out of the kitchen, but instead, I sip my coffee and let him be. I peg him as the kind of person who would feel indebted for any kindness shown to him. “Your Live isn’t until this evening, so what do you want to do today?”

“Would you be upset if I wanted to get some work done?”

I scrunch my face at him. “Why would I be upset? You can do what you want with your day.” He looks relieved, but I point my finger at him. “My only condition is that you go to the park with me this afternoon so you can get some fresh air at least once today.”

“Deal,” he laughs, holding his hand out for my dirty plate. 

I tell Chris to work in the den so that I can set up his backdrop in the dining room. I triple-checked the email that they wanted black decorations and almost wanted to get rainbow colors out of spite and force that little rain cloud of a man to be colorful, but I also didn’t want to make Mr. Park mad. For some reason, I had a feeling that would be a terrible idea. 

With Halloween around the corner, it was not hard to find black decorations, and I set everything up on the buffet on the far wall of the dining room. That arrangement would also put Chris in the perfect position to see the guys walking down the stairs to surprise him. 

I texted Chris to let him know I am running out to pick up lunch and that he should be ready for our outing when I get back. There is a deli next to the bakery that made the cake, and I needed some excuse to leave the apartment. 

To my surprise, two cakes are waiting for me at the bakery. I text Mr. Park, who tells me to give Chris the smaller cake for the Live but hide the larger one for the members to bring in. I order two sandwiches from the deli and carry everything a few blocks to the apartment. I stow the larger cake in the storage room and put the smaller one in the kitchen. 

“You ready?” I call out. 

Chris comes trotting down the stairs in black basketball shorts and a black tee. He slips a baseball hat on and nods toward the dining room. “Looks good.”

“Thanks,” I say and cock my hip to the side to admire my work. “I was thinking about going into business decorating for funerals.”

“Har, har,” he laughs. 

“Hey, I’m not the one who dresses like I want to be adopted by the Addams Family.”

He holds his arm toward the door. “I thought you were forcing me to get fresh air.”

“Right, right. Let’s go.”

I grab the bag from the deli and a throw from the back of the couch, and we leave the apartment. We are half a block from the park, and it’s an easy walk to Sheep Meadow. The main green is a little crowded, so we find a nice spot on the north green, and Chris points to a shaded area. 

I spread out the blanket and we sit with our sandwiches. I pull up the hem of my maxi dress and hang my legs out into the sun. “Do you run on solar energy?” Chris asks as he stays in the shade. 

“I think so.” I close my eyes and tilt my head back to soak up the early fall warmth. “You are so pale,” I comment, rolling my head to the side to look at him. 

“I keep telling you, vampire,” he points to himself while taking a bite of his sandwich. “Also, it’s in the contract.”

I’m not sure if he is talking about the movie contract, which, of course, would outline that a character must look the same throughout the movie. However, I also understand there is an Asian beauty standard for pale skin. I wonder what he would look like if he were left to his own devices to roam the beaches and soak up the sun in his home country. 

After eating, we walk along the shaded path by the Cherry Hill fountain and over the Bow Bridge. The leaves are just starting to change and I remark about loving fall in the city. We walk through the Ramble and over the Oak Bridge before coming down West Drive and heading back to the apartment. 

Chris has about an hour before he starts his Live, and he showers and changes. I set up his equipment and test it to make sure it is connected and ready to go. Once he starts, I will have to sneak the guys in, so I won’t be able to be around for tech support. 

I get a text from Han that they are in the van and about 10 minutes out from the apartment. Chris comes from the primary bedroom, and I slip my phone into my back pocket. 

“The camera is ready to go if you want to log in.” He sits down at the table in front of his backdrop, and I pull the smaller cake out of the fridge, put a single candle in it, and then set it on the table with a lighter. “You got everything you need?” I look around the room.

“Thank you again, Nuna, for setting this up.”

“Of course,” I wave him off. “I’m going upstairs, and I’ll stay quiet.”

Over the past few weeks, I have become familiar with Chris’s expressions, and the one he is wearing now tells me that he hates that he will be alone. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I can’t wait to see his face light up when he sees that his members are here. 

I trot up the stairs and check my phone. The guys just pulled up. I close the second bedroom door and exit the apartment through the door on the seventh floor. I go down the elevator, and when I exit the lobby, I see a large black van parked at the curb. 

Han is the first out of the van, waving and trotting up to me. “Eomma!”

“Kkul-tteok!” I call back, and he hugs me. 

“How’s Chan Hyung?”

“He’s playing it off that he’s okay, but I know that he’s missing you guys.” I see movement behind Han and Mr. Park, and the six other members are getting out of the van. 

As I wave them into the building, we don’t have time for proper introductions. Han follows me to the storage space and takes the cake from me. We pile into the elevator, and it’s a strange feeling to have eight sets of eyes on me as if they know something I don’t. 

The elevator dings, and we exit on the seventh floor. I let them into the second bedroom. I always thought the room was large until nine people squeezed into it. 

I busy myself with taking the cake out of the box and putting seven candles into it. I joke with Han that I’m not sure I can trust him with the lighter. The other guys hang back, and I hear them talking among themselves. They are speaking Korean, so I can’t understand them. I know there will be time to get to know each of them later, but for now, I will focus on getting them ready to surprise Chris. 

We hear Chris start his Livestream downstairs, and I hand Han the cake. Changbin must have the same idea as me about allowing Han to have access to fire, so he takes the lighter.  

The guys all line up, ready to head out. “Good luck,” I say and open the door. The blonde one, who looks like he belongs in Rivendell–Felix, smiles and waves at me from the back of the pack. I mouth ‘Hi’, smile, and wave in return. 

When they are on the landing, Changbin lights the candles, and they start to sing, 

“생일 축하합니다. 생일 축하합니다. 사랑하는 방찬 씨!” (Happy birthday song).

“Miss,” Mr. Park says to me, and I turn to look at him. “I’m sure Mr. Chan has missed his members very much and would like to spend his birthday with them. You can head home. I’ll take over your duties leading up to the concerts.”

I can hear Chris yelling with excitement downstairs, and I want to see the look of joy on his face, but Mr. Park is not leaving any room for me to argue. “Yeah, no problem. I guess just call me if you need me to do anything.”

Mr. Park doesn’t look like the type of man who would need help, but I wanted to offer either way. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with myself over the next few days since Chris has off from filming until after the concerts. 

I gather my purse and leave out of the seventh-floor exit. I wish I could at least say goodbye to Chris and Han, but the Livestream just started, and I can’t be in any part of it. If past birthday streams are the norm, he won’t be done for a few hours and I don’t want to text him or interrupt his interaction with his fans. 

I take the subway home, and I feel empty for the first time since meeting Chris.

Music Mentioned in this Chapter:

For all you youngsters out there. 😂

Nena - 99 Luftballons

a-ha - Take on Me

Men At Work - Down Under

The Clash - Rock the Casbah

The B-52's - Love Shack

Kenny Loggins - Danger Zone

Heart - Alone

Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

When I return to my apartment, I shower and get into comfortable sweats for the rest of the evening. I warm up something for dinner and then climb into bed with my laptop to watch the playback of Chris’s Live. 

When he starts to record, I can tell that he is excited to interact with his fans, but his smile is tight. About a minute in, the guys start to sing and walk down the stairs. I hug my knees to my chest and bite my thumb as I watch the confusion and then absolute joy pass over his face. 

It feels like his happiness is flowing through the screen and into me, and I have to wiggle in bed to shake some of the emotions off. I watch tears form in Chris’s eyes as he hugs each of his members. They gather behind him and put the larger cake in front of him. “Make a wish!” Felix says. 

I know he is thinking that his wish has already come true with the guys around him, but Chris pauses to close his eyes and concentrates before he blows out the candles. 

“We need a knife,” Chris says, looking around, then his brow pinches. 

He turns to Han and mouths something, and I swear I see his lips form the word ‘Nuna .’

Han looks around, too, and then disappears out of the frame. A minute later, he comes back, and Chris looks at him as Han shrugs and mouths back something that I can’t make out. 

I feel a tear fall down my cheek before I realize that I’m crying. “You’re being silly,” I tell myself. “He wasn’t looking for you.”

I close my computer, not able to watch any more of the Live, flip on Netflix, and fall asleep watching a K drama. 

The next day, I clean my apartment, do laundry, and restock my fridge. I have lunch with my friend, and she tries to press me for information about working for Chris, but I keep my lips sealed. I absolutely do not tell her that I informally met all the guys the night before. She would have held me hostage until I told her every detail about Changbin. 

The day after, I sit in my apartment and look at the blinking cursor on my laptop. I need to rework my script, but my heart isn’t in it. 

I sigh and make myself a cup of tea. Sitting back at my desk, I open a new document and decide to write a new idea for a novel that has been swimming around my mind for the past few days. 

I’m not sure how much time passes when I wrap up writing chapter two, but the intercom buzzing breaks my focus. I'm not expecting anyone, and I look at my watch and see that it’s 11 and wonder if someone pressed the button for the wrong apartment. 

The buzzer sounds again, and I get up to walk over to the box by my door.  “Hello?”

“Eomma! Open the door!” 

It’s Han. I look at the intercom box with confusion before it buzzes again, and I finally hit the button to let them in the door. 

I look down at myself and groan. I run over to my dresser and put on a bra before pulling on a clean tank top. My sweatpants will have to do because there is a knock at my door. 

I run across the apartment, and my socks slide on the floor as I get to the kitchen. I unlock the door and see Han and Chris standing in the hall. 

“What are you guys doing here?” I am slightly out of breath. 

Chris shifts on his feet from his place behind Han. “We were at the studio this morning, and Han said he missed you.”

Han looks back at Chris and points to himself. “나? (Me?)” 

“예. 너. (Yes. You.)” Chris pokes Han in the back. 

“Oh! Yeah, it was my idea to come see you.” Han nods his head and looks like a hostage. 

I have to cover my mouth to hold in my laugh. “I see.”

“You disappeared the other night,” Chris says and I can see the same hurt from the Live when I meet his eyes. 

“Mr. Park dismissed me for the night, and well, for the next few days.”

“Right,” Chris says, rolling his lips between his teeth. 

Han patiently looks between Chris and me as we talk, and I remember my manners. “Oh, goodness! I’m making you stand out in the hall. Come in, please.” 

Han pushes past me, throws down his cross body bag, kicks off his shoes, and walks around the apartment like he owns the place. “Sorry about him,” Chris says as he enters and also removes his shoes. 

I see he is holding a plastic shopping bag, and I point to it. “What’s that?”

“Appa is going to cook for us.”

“You came all the way here to cook for me?”

Chris steps around me and starts to unload items from the bag onto the counter next to the stove. “I told you, we were already in the neighborhood.”

Han and I exchange looks across the apartment. “Can we watch something?” Han asks and points to the TV. 

“Yeah, I think I’m on episode twelve.” Han is still sending me his K Drama recommendation. 

“Where’s the remote?”

“Stay out of the nightstand!” Chris calls across the apartment while pointing at Han.

“어! 거기 뭐가 있어? (Oh! What’s in there?)” Han asks, zeroing in on the piece of furniture. 

“그건 네 알 바 아니야, ( That’s none of your business, ) Chris replies.

I grab the sleeve of Chris’s shirt and get close to his side so I can whisper in his ear. “Did you just tell him about my vibrator?” 

He looks down at me, and his gaze drops for a second to see my breasts pressed against his arm with our closeness, then he looks at my face again. “No, Nuna. I told him to mind his business. 진동기 얘긴...그런 건 나만 알고 있으면 돼. (As for your vibrator...that’s only for me to know.)”

He mutters the last part to himself and the tops of his cheeks and ears turn red as I step back. Changing the subject seems like the best course of action so we can get off the subject of my sex toy. “What are you making?”

“Ramyeon,” he smiles as he sets out the ingredients. He asks me where certain items are in the kitchen, and I point to the cabinets and give him a few eggs out of the fridge. 

“Eomma!” 

Chris and I look into the apartment, and Han is already sitting on my bed with Netflix on the TV. “I better go entertain our child before he throws a tantrum.”

Chris snorts a laugh as I leave the kitchen. I sit beside Han on the bed, and he hits play on the drama episode before I can speak. I try to pay attention to the subtitles, but I keep getting distracted by Chris moving around my kitchen. He works in silence, and a few times, I almost get up to help him when he opens a cabinet and scratches his head looking for something, but he always finds what he needs and goes on to the next step. 

Halfway through the episode, Han looks at me. “Bathroom?”

I point at the door past the kitchen and I pause the show when he trots across the apartment. I watch Chris cook as he adds a little of this and that. 

Han comes out of the bathroom and gestures behind him with his thumb. “Why are there two toothbrushes? Do you have a roommate, or a boyfriend?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. 

“It’s for me,” Chris answers without looking up from the pot he is stirring. 

Han is standing next to Chris and Chris looks at Han and then focuses on me before he says, “내 거야 ( It’s mine ). 

“당연하지, 그녀야. ( Of course, she is .) Han pats Chris on the shoulder and then comes back over to sit with me on the bed.

I don’t want Han to get the wrong idea and think that I am trying to sway Chris away from him. I hold up my hands and chuckle. “This is only his second time here, and the first time we just slept, promise. Nothing to worry about.”

“Not worried, Nuna,” Han smiles and we start the show again. I keep looking at Han to see if there are any hints of anger or suspicion, but he acts like his normal bubbly self and I am relieved. 

A few minutes later, Chris calls out that the food is ready, and we pause the show to eat. Han and I sit on the barstools at the kitchen counter, and Chris stands on the other side of the counter to eat. “It’s not too spicy?” I ask. 

“No,” Han laughs as he snaps apart a pair of chopsticks. “Appa can’t handle spice either.” 

“I’m Australian. I can’t help it,” Chris replies, setting out a fork for me. 

“I know how to use chopsticks,” I say, pulling the set out of his hand while giving him the fork.

Chris takes a new set of chopsticks out of the shopping bag and splits them apart before rubbing them together to remove the splinters. He holds the set out to me, and I will let him have that small act of kindness. “Thank you,” I say and hand him the unbroken pair. “Anything I should know before I eat this?”

“Nope, just enjoy,” Chris says. 

“Yeah, Appa is a good cook,” Han replies with his mouth full of noodles. 

“Chew your food,” I jest and poke Han’s cheek. 

Chris hasn’t started eating yet, and I look at him to see that he is watching me. I give him a quick smile as I adjust my chopsticks, stir the ramyeon in the broth, and slurp a mouthful of noodles. “Oh! That’s good!”

“It’s the MSG,” Han says with his cheeks still full of food. 

Chris finally starts to eat, and my tiny kitchen fills with the satisfying sounds of friends enjoying delicious food. I drink every drop of broth and pat my full stomach when I finish. Chris gathers our bowls and takes them to the sink. 

“I can do that,” I tell him when he turns on the tap. 

“Just let him take care of it,” Han says without taking his gaze off Chris. “그가 너를 돌보고 싶어 해. ( He wants to take care of you. )”

I wait to see if Han will translate, but he doesn’t, and Chris seems very focused on washing the dishes. 

“Let’s watch the rest of the episode!” Han says, jumping back into my bed. 

Chris joins us when he is done in the kitchen. Han is lying on his stomach, his head propped up on his hands and his feet swinging mindlessly as he watches the drama. A few times, Chris has to swat Han’s feet to prevent getting kicked in the face. 

As the next episode starts, we hear a soft snore from the bottom of the bed, and I laugh. “It looks like the baby needed a nap.”

“He can fall asleep anywhere. I envy him for that.”

I watch Chris look at Han wistfully. “Are you sleeping better with him here?”

Chris shrugs. “It’s amazing having them all here. Thank you for arranging the surprise for my birthday.”

I wave him off. “It was all Han and Mr. Park. I just let them into the apartment.”

He looks at me like he disapproves of me for being humble, but he just gives me a side eye and says, “You were very good at lying to me.”

I fake offense. “I did not lie. I just didn’t tell you.”

“Ah, yes. I see the difference.” He jokes. “But really, that was the best birthday I’ve had in a while.” He pauses for a moment and picks at his fingers, “You should have stayed.”

That empty feeling in my chest from a few days is gone, and now I feel like my heart is overflowing. “I’m sorry I didn’t. Can I make it up to you?”

“당신은 이미 그랬어. ( You already did. )”

“English?”

He smiles at me, and I know I’m not going to get a translation from him. I scoot down so my head is on the pillows and turn to the side to face him. “How long do you have?”

Chris looks at his phone and then mimics my position. “About an hour. We are rehearsing for the next two days.”

“You can nap also, if you want,” I say and yawn. 

“Looks like you need a nap, Nuna.”

“You put me into a food coma.”

“You can sleep. I’ll set an alarm.”

My eyelids already feel heavy. “You’ll wake me up when you leave, right? You won’t just go?”

“Of course, Nuna.”

“Good,” I say, reaching for my arm across Han’s legs to put my hand on Chris’s chest. 

I hear him chuckle and feel his hand rest on mine as I fall asleep. 

I wake to an alarm going off. I crack open my eyes and see Chris lying on his side, facing me. He’s awake and looking at me, but as I open my eyes fully and groan as I stretch my legs, he closes his eyes. 

I smirk and tap my fingers on his chest where he still holds my hand. “I know you’re not sleeping.”

“You know nothing,” he replies with no hint of his regular morning gravel to his voice and tries to suppress a smile. 

“I do know that you need to get up before you are late to rehearsals.”

Chris opens his eyes and sighs. 

“You going to wake the agi (baby)?” I ask. 

He looks down at Han, still sleeping on his stomach with his head by our feet. Chris kicks at Han’s shoulder. “일어나 ( Wake up ).”

Han groans and swats at Chris’s foot as I playfully push Chris’s chest. “Be careful with him. He’s delicate.”

“He’s not,” Chris replies as he sits up and slaps Han on the butt. “Get up, or you’ll get another one.”

I hear the teasing tone in Chris’s voice and chuckle when Han rolls over while holding his rear and saying, “아야 (Ouch)!”

“Don’t hurt kkul-tteok (honey cakes)!” I say but can’t keep the amusement out of my voice.

“He likes it,” Chris jests and raises his hand to slap Han again. 

“안 해 (I don’t )!” Han argues.

“Looks like you like it more than he does,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, and Chris snaps his gaze at me. 

“그럼 내가 하면 어쩌지? ( So what if I do?)”

“English?”

Han starts to laugh, and Chris pushes him with his foot. “내가 뭘 했어?? ( What did I do? ) Han cries out and tries to hide on the other side of me.

“As much as I would love to see you two wrassle, I don’t want you to break my bed.”

Han gets a mischievous look on his face, and Chris points at him and says, “말하지 마 ( Don’t speak ).” Chris moves off of the bed. “We should get going anyway.”

Han rolls out of the bed, stands, and then holds his hand out for me. He helps me stand as well, and I chuckle. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face, but you are also a gentleman.” 

“고마워 (Thank you)!” Han says and takes a bow. 

I point at Han, “I know that one! It’s a version of ‘thank you’!”

“아주 잘했어, Nuna!” Han claps his hands. I tilt my head at him, and he laughs. “Means ‘good job’.

“Gamsahabnida, which also means thank you!” I say excitedly. “Jjajan (ta-da)!” I wiggle my fingers, feeling very proud of myself.

“Oh God, she’s learning Korean from dramas,” Chris says as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“그녀가 너를 이해할까 봐 걱정이야? ( Are you afraid that she will understand you? )”

“아니. ( No .)” Chris answers shortly and then looks at me. “다른 방법으로는 진실을 말할 용기가 없을 것 같아. ( I don't think I would have the courage to tell the truth any other way. )”

I see conflict on his face so I don’t push and instead give him an out. “You guys are going to be late.”

“Right,” Chris says and Han follows him to the door. They put on their shoes and pick up their bags. “Thank you for having us over.”

“Thank you for feeding me. You can come and cook whenever you want.”

Chris looks like he wants to say something else, but he rolls his lips between his teeth and then nods. “Our first show is in Philadelphia, but we will be back in New York after that.”

I hate that it hurts my heart to not see him everyday, so I try to play it cool. “Well, have fun and be safe.”

“I’ll text you.” He replies. 

“You don’t have to,” I say before I can think better of it, and I see hurt cross Chris’s face. “I mean, I know you will be busy, and if I didn’t hear from you, I wouldn’t be upset or anything.”

“Nuna. I’ll text you." His tone is firm and leaves no room for questioning. 

“Okay,” I say contently. 

“Whew, I’m glad you two worked that out,” Han says while pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. 

Chris grabs Han by the shirt and pulls him out of the door, saying, “아씨 (Aish / Ugh – exclamation when feeling annoyed or frustrated)!”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

You up?

Did you really just ‘you up’ me?

Should I not?

Isn’t that a booty-call thing?

I wouldn’t know. 

Oh, right.

It’s not that I haven’t

I see the three dots appear and disappear a few times, and I smile so hard my cheeks hurt. He is too adorable for words. Then his reply comes through, and I wonder what he really wanted to say but deleted before deciding:

But you know.

Yeah. 

Sorry, I got us off track.

Yes. I’m awake. 

You should be sleeping. 

I snort. It is just like Chris to ask if I’m awake just to tell me to sleep. 

It’s been a few days since his visit with Han, and as I look at my clock, I see they must have just finished the show in Philadelphia. 

How was the show?

It was amazing. It felt so good to be up on stage with my members.

Acting has been fun, but I think music is where I’m supposed to be. 

You always light up when you interact with your fans. 

I’m jealous that you are so sure about your passion.

And you’re not?

Loving something and having it actually work out are two very different things. 

Putting your energy into what you love is never a waste of time. 

I believe you can do anything you put your heart to.

How is it that whenever I compliment him, he turns it around to take the focus off him and instead will encourage me?

You have no idea if what I write is good or not. 

Let me read something.

Absolutely not. 😅 

Do you think romance isn’t my thing?

No, it’s not that. 

I can’t be responsible for corrupting your innocence with the spicy scenes. 

Innocence?

Yes, you beautiful, sweet summer child. 

Beautiful?

Would you rather I go back to calling your nose and mouth stupid?

No. 

That’s what I thought. 

I will never understand that man’s need for validation about his looks. He had a stadium full of people willing to put everything on the line for a chance with him. I sigh and have to chastise myself. Wanting someone only for their looks or for what they can give you is never a good foundation for a relationship. Perhaps he finds the attention only goes skin deep or that he is not deserving of true and deep love from his fans or from a partner. I wonder who put the self-doubt and negative self-talk in his head. 

You’ll be back in the city tomorrow?

Yeah. We have a meet-and-greet in a few minutes, 

and then we’ll be back at the hotel for the night.

Tomorrow, we have a radio show in the morning, 

rehearsals during the day, and then the show at 7. 

When will you sleep?

I’ll be fine. 

🙄

Nuna

Yes?

All the guys will be at the apartment tomorrow night. 

Will you be there?

Should I be?

I want them to meet you

And you to meet them

Of course

I don’t want to overstep with Mr. Park

You won’t. I’m asking you as a friend, not as my PA. 

In that case…

Good

See you tomorrow

Got to go

Nuna...

Yes?

Go to bed. 

Yes, sir.

I’ll let him stew with that last reply and giggle as I throw my phone onto the bed next to me. I get a second wind and continue to write my novel well past midnight. I finally give up and put away my computer once I start to fall asleep while typing. 

The following day, I sleep in until 9. When I wake up, I get a text from Mr. Park instructing me to prepare the apartment to house the members for the night. He sends a list of tasks to complete and items to purchase, reminding me to keep the receipts and submit them for reimbursement. Always the professional.

I roll out of bed, shower, change, and head into the city. When I arrive at the apartment, I see the foyer filled with suitcases, and as I look at them, I see Korean characters written on each. I go to the kitchen to find a pen, and Post-it notes in the junk drawer before returning to the bags. 

I use the camera feature on my translation app to read the characters, write each member’s name on a post-it, and then stick it to the bag. There are seven bags, and I scratch my head as I think about the available sleeping space in the apartment. 

I need your help.

Where are you? 

Are you okay? 

Oh, I’m good. I’m at the apartment. 

Mr. Park asked me to get everything ready for tonight. 

But I have a member question. 

My member?

Your members, with a S…but yeah  

Right. 

What’s up?

I’m trying to figure out where everyone is sleeping tonight. 

There are pull-out couches in the den and the dressing area, and then my bed upstairs. 

I figure you and Han will be together in the main bedroom. 

Yes, Han will bunk with me. 

Bunk? That seems like a strange way to say that he is sleeping with his lover, but I wave that off for the bigger issue at hand. 

Where do I put the others? Who is bunking with who?

Put I.N. and Seungmin downstairs in the den

Felix, Changbin, Lee Know, and Hyunjin can be upstairs.

Got it! Thank you!!

I start to sort out the luggage and almost use the elevator to take the bags up stairs, wondering what they travel with that makes the suitcases so heavy. I’m sweating by the time I finish, but there is still a lot of work to do. 

I pull out the sofa beds in the den and dressing area and stow away the extra cushions. I put fresh sheets on all of the beds and wash the used ones from the king and queen beds upstairs. 

Following Mr. Park’s emailed instructions, I place orders for food to be delivered to the apartment after the show. I also place an order on Amazon with same-day delivery for the other items in the email. 

Eomma!

Yes, honey cakes?

Chan Hyung says you are staying with us tonight!

I’ll be here when you are done with the show and 

there will be plenty of food for you to stuff in your cheeks. 

Can’t wait! But Eomma, you should text Appa. 

Aren’t you guys about to go on stage?

Yeah, but he is acting nervous.

What can I say to make him feel better? 

Shouldn’t you go comfort him?

Just trust me. Text him this 🫰 It means good luck. 

👍 On it!

I open my text with Chris and send the emoji. 

🫰

Nuna

Why did you text that?

Shouldn’t he know what it means? I think about all the times we have texted and realize that Chris never uses emojis. I decide to say something encouraging without hinting that Han is worried about him. 

I was just thinking about you

I know you will do great tonight. 

You were thinking about me?

I know he always feels better when he can laugh, so I switch on my humor and sarcasm. 

Yep and about how excited you must 

be for all those ladies screaming for you. 

Screaming.

For me.

I can imagine him smirking and pretending that he has no idea what I’m talking about. 

Of course. You know you make all of them go crazy.

All?

What about you, Nuna?

Oh me too, Christopher.

Out of everyone, you drive me the most crazy.

He doesn’t answer for a minute, and I wonder if they are getting ready to go on, so I send one last text and then plan to finish the last-minute touches to the apartment. 

Hey Chris!  🫰🫰🫰

See you tonight!

It’s just past 11, and Han texts me to let me know that they are pulling up on the street. I look around the apartment one last time to ensure everything is in place. The food is on the dining table with plates and silverware, and drinks are in the fridge. The games Mr. Park suggested were delivered by Amazon hours ago, and I have them by the coffee table so the guys can pick which ones they want. 

I look down at my outfit and cringe. I didn’t think to bring something nice to wear, and sweat had soaked through my clothes while getting everything set up. The only clothes I had at the apartment were a pair of leggings and a tank top. At least they are clean, and I smell like the soap in Chris’s shower. 

“It will have to do,” I say to myself as I stand in the foyer, ready to receive the guys. 

I hear the elevator ding out in the hall, take a deep breath, and open the door. “Oh!” I say in surprise because Chris is standing on the other side of the threshold with his key in hand. 

He looks at my shocked face, and then his eyes drag down to my chest. I look down and confirm that he is staring at my exposed cleavage. Gazing back up at his face, I catch his eyes boring into mine, and I place my hand over my chest to cover myself. 

“그들이 우리를 들어가게 해줄까? ( Are they going to let us in? )”

I look beyond Chris to see who spoke but am overwhelmed with six sets of eyes appraising me. 

Their expressions range from bored to intrigued, and at the very back is Han smiling and waving at me. 

Chris takes his cross-body bag off and puts it at his feet as he unzips his hoodie and rolls it off his shoulder. “Arms,” he says to me, and I slip my hands into the sleeves of the hoodie before he zips it up to cover my chest. Satisfied, he nods and then nudges my hip to get me to move so the other members can enter the apartment. 

There is a bank of built-in closets in the foyer, and as the guys enter, they take off their bags and shoes. I stand next to Chris since he has not moved, and once the last member has finished getting comfortable, he touches the small of my back to guide me forward. “Nuna, this is–”

“Wait, wait. I studied for this,” I smile and look over my shoulder at Chris. “Let me try.” He returns my smile and I stand in front of the tallest member. 

“안녕하세요 누나 ( Hello Noona ),” the member bows in greeting.

“Nice to meet you, Hyunjin.” I return his bow. 

I get the same greeting from Seungmin and Jeongin in unison. 

The next member is my favorite elf, and I wave. “G’day, Felix.”

Chris snorts a laugh behind me, and Felix bows, saying, “G’day, Noona. Annyeonghaseyo.”

“Beefcake,” I say to the next member and then shake my head. “I’m sorry. My friend is obsessed with you, and that is what she calls you. Cause you know–your muscles.”

Changbin looks over my shoulder at Chris and asks, “이 친구를 봐야 해? ( Do I need to see this friend? )”

“내일 ( Tomorrow ),” Chris waves him off. 

“Changbin, it’s nice to finally meet you in person,” I say. 

“You too, 작가 도깨비 ( writer gremlin ),” he replies with a bow. Chris coughs behind me like he choked on his spit, and I’ll have to ask him for a translation later.

The next member looks like he would rather be doing anything other than meeting me, but I don’t take it personal. “Hello, Minho.”

“너 도깨비지, 맞지? ( You are the goblin, right? )” 

“누나는 너의 선배야, 민호 ( Nuna is your senior, Minho. )” Chris replies with a gentle tone.

Minho rolls his eyes and bows, “Annyeonghaseyo, 도깨비 ( goblin ).”

Han is the last one standing, bouncing on his toes with excitement. “Eomma!” He cries out and hugs me. 

“Kkul-tteok!” I say with the same enthusiasm and hug him tight. 

“Kkul-tteok?” I hear Minho say and see him looking at Han and me, embracing. That kid has no poker face, and I see the distrust in his narrowed eyes. 

Chris makes the sound where he sucks air through his teeth, and I wonder what kind of warning that is because it makes Minho turn and follow the rest of the guys into the apartment. 

Han holds me at arm’s length and follows my gaze to Minho’s back. “He’s like that with everyone. Even us. You’ll get used to it.”

As much as I want to believe Han, I know that I’m an outsider, even though I have become close with Chris and Han over the past month. I can understand Minho not being as trusting, but that won’t stop me from trying to show him that I genuinely care about his group members. 

Han, Chris, and I walk into the apartment, and the guys are already milling around the dining table and filling their plates with food. 

“This is great, Nuna. Thank you,” Felix says with an already half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand. 

“There’s drinks in the kitchen. Can I get you all anything?” I ask. 

“I’ll help you,” Chris says, following me to the kitchen. 

Once in the kitchen, he turns to me. “Sorry about this,” he says, playing with the zipper on the hoodie, pulling it down to the bottom of my sternum. “Showing off too much of this,” he circles his hand over his chest, “isn’t appropriate in our culture. Plus, you are short and 여기서 다 보이는데 ( I can see it all from up here ).”

I follow his eyes to my chest and playfully slap his hand away from the zipper and pull it up. “If you can see, then stop looking.”

His eyes widen, and his ears become red. “Did you understand me?”

I take a step closer to him and whisper, “What I understand is that you are a man with eyes, and I am a woman with tits.”

“Fair point,” he croaks. 

“야! ( Hey !)” 

“뭐? ( What? )”

I jump when I hear yelling in the living room, and Chris laughs while rolling his eyes. 

“I forgot how loud Han can be,” I laugh. 

We take the drinks from the fridge and out to the guys. Felix walks up to me. “Chan Hyung tells me that you are a writer.”

“Yeah, I’m a scriptwriter but have recently been trying to write a novel.”

“Very cool. Are you able to tell me what it’s about?”

I shrug, “Just a classic boy meets girl. I like to write complicated romances.”

“They often are–complicated, that is,” Felix says while looking across the room at Chris. 

“No kidding,” I scoff with a smile. 

“작가 고블린! ( Writer gremlin! )” Changbin yells, and I sort of recognize those words from earlier.

I look at Changbin and point to myself. He nods and waves me over. “Please excuse me,” I say to Felix, and he nods with a smile. 

When I approach Changbin and Jeongin, he asks, “How can we play music on the TV?” 

“Can I?” I reach out and grab the remote. “There are music channels by genre, or we can play music through YouTube.”

“YouTube,” Joengin says, and I go through the features to get the app open on the TV.

“Make sure to pick something with a good beat,” I joke with them as I hand Changbin the remote. 

The guys are grouped into twos and threes, doing their own thing, and I walk back into the kitchen. “Oh, hi, Minho,” I say, seeing him standing at the counter. He makes a grunting noise in acknowledgment, and I go to stand next to him. “Do you like banana bread?”

“바나나? (Banana?)” he asks and points. 

“Yeah. I made them this afternoon. This one has walnuts, and this one doesn’t.”

“너가 만들었어 ( You made )…made this?” He finishes his question in English.

“Sure did! I hear you like to cook and bake. You will have to tell me what you think!”

“그녀가 너가 요리하는 걸 좋아한다는 걸 알고 있고, 한 조각 먹어보라고 했어. ( She said she knows you like to cook and that you should try a piece ).”

I look over and see Felix sitting at the bar between the kitchen and dining room, and I smile at him for the translation. I watch Minho pick a corner off of the sliced banana bread and put it in his mouth. He gives away nothing as he chews. 

“괜찮아 ( It’s okay ).”

“He says it’s good,” Felix says. 

“Oh, ho! I said okay, not good. 내 대신 말하지 마! ( Don’t speak for me! )”

“I’ll take it as a compliment either way. I’m just happy you tried it,” I say with a chuckle, take a piece with walnuts for myself, and wander back into the living room. 

I go into the dining room and make a plate of food. Sitting off to the side, I eat and watch the chaos. 

“So what do you think?”

Chris is standing behind my chair, and I look over my shoulder at him. He’s gazing out across the living room at his members. I chuckle as I finish chewing. “It’s what I imagine having a large family would feel like.” Changbin and Han are yelling at each other, and my face scrunches at the noise. “But it also makes me thankful that I only have two siblings.”

“Me too, but my poor sister had to grow up with two brothers.”

“It has its benefits—being tormented by brothers. I told you it made me who I am, and I think that I can hold my own because of what they put me through.”

“I have no doubt.” He replies.

I finish my food but have a small piece of banana bread left, so I hold it up. “Try this.”

I expect him to take it from me, but Chris leans down over my shoulder to eat the treat. I feel his teeth and lips run over my fingers. His tongue pushes between my thumb and forefinger to drag the morsel into his mouth. His lips pop off my fingers, and he starts to chew. “Mmm Nuna, it’s good.” 

My hand stalls midair, and my gaze locks on Chris’s mouth as he chews. His tongue peeks out to lick the sweetness from his lips, and I swear I have forgotten how to breathe. He smiles, knowing exactly what he is doing to me.

“야! ( Hey !)” 

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

“야! ( Hey )!” 

Chris and I look up and see Changbin staring at us over the back of the couch. 

“Nuna, do you want to come play a game with us?” Felix asks.

Chris and Changbin are still staring at each other, perhaps having a silent conversation, so I excuse myself. Chris takes my plate from my hands and lightly pushes the small of my back, encouraging me to go into the living room with the guys.

Changbin is walking toward Chris as I get to the seating area, and Felix is patting the spot next to him on the couch. “What are we going to be playing?” I ask. 

Felix shuffles through the bag of games that Mr. Park had me buy and pulls out a box. “How about this one?”

“Oh, this will be fun,” Seungmin says, clearing a space on the coffee table. 

Everyone except Chris, Changbin, and Minho are ready to play. Felix starts to explain the game in Korean, and I look across the room at Chris and Changbin as they talk. 

“We’re 그냥 친구 ( just friends) ,” Chris says. 

“‘그냥 친구는 그렇게 쳐다보지 않아. ( Just friends don’t look at each other like that) ,” Changbin argues. “아니면 서로 손가락을 핥아. ( Or lick each other’s fingers ).”

Chris rolls his eyes but a blush rises on his cheeks, and Minho walks up to them while eating a piece of my banana bread. “누가 누구를 핥고 있어?? ( Who is licking whom )? 무슨 일이야 ( What’s going on )?”

“Chan Hyung 조심해야 해 ( needs to be careful ),” Changbin says to them both. 

“I am,” Chris replies. 

We have started the game, but I try to watch Chris’s body language to understand what they are talking about. 

“왜 이렇게 하는지 이해가 안 돼. ( I don’t understand why you are doing this).” Minho says. 

“뭘 하는 거야? ( Doing what )?” Chris asks. 

"도깨비를 좋아하는 건 무의미해. 너는 떠날 거고, 결국 안 좋게 끝날 거야. 그러니까 왜 애쓰는 거야? (It’s pointless to like the goblin. You will leave. It will end badly. So why bother? )”

"너는 어떻게 끝날지 몰라. ( You don’t know how it will end. )”

“너랑 한이 둘 다 속기 쉬워. ( You and Han are both gullible.) ”

Chris puts his hands on Minho’s shoulders. “네가 이해할 거라 기대하진 않지만, 내 선택은 존중해 주길 바란다.  ( I don’t expect you to understand, but I do ask you to respect my choice. )

Minho nods and starts to walk away. Chris comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his junior in a bear hug. “그녀를 알게 되면 너도 좋아하게 될 거야. ( If you get to know her, you will like her too. )”

Minho looks back at Chris with a doubtful expression and shrugs out of Chris’s hold. 

“Guys! Come play!” Felix calls out, and the three other members come wandering over. 

Felix reads out each prompt in English and Korean. The point of the game is to throw down a card with the best meme to match the prompt. I quickly learned that Jeongin has a killer sense of humor, and his picks have us all laughing. 

Some of the cards Changbin puts down don’t match the prompt, making his choices even funnier as he argues with Han. They are so loud that I have to cover my ears, and as I look across the table, I see that Minho is doing the same. Felix breaks up the bickering by pulling a new prompt, and we go around until all the cards are played. 

I don’t think there is a clear winner of the game, but my sides hurt from laughing so hard. 

“다음에 이 게임 하자! ( Let’s play this game next!) ” Seungmin says and holds up a box. 

I recognize it and look at Chris, then point to the foyer. “The whiteboard and markers are in the hall closet.”

He stands to get the items, and I walk into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. I look at the plate of banana bread and see that the one with nuts is already half gone. I smile to myself and pick up two napkins, placing a piece on each. 

As I return to my seat, Chris sets up the board while Hyunjin unpacks the markers. Without a word, I set the napkin and banana bread in front of Minho and then sit in my seat. I know that if I acknowledge the peace offering, he will reject it. 

“Okay! We have nine people, so let’s do three teams of three,” Chris calls out as he stands in front of the group. 

“Nuna and Minho are on my team!” Felix stands and points to the two of us. 

Felix seems like the type that wants everyone to be comfortable. He made an effort to include me in the games and read the prompts in English. He could have just handed me the cards to read myself, but he doesn’t want anyone to feel like they are treated differently. 

Just like now, he ensures that I’m on a team with him so that he can translate. I also suspect that he wants to see me go head-to-head with Chris, which is all in good fun. 

Chris, Hyunjin, and Jeongin team up, and then Han, Changbin, and Seungmin are team three. With Han and Changbin together, I expect a whole lot more yelling. 

“Too bad Nuna and Chan didn’t team up, we could have called them Team Old!” Seungmin says while laughing. 

Chris rolls his lips between his teeth and looks so done. I laugh, not feeling hurt by the ribbing from a 24-year-old kid. “Then maybe I would name your team, Team Mouth, since none of you know how to shut it,” I clap back. 

Han, Changbin, and Seungmin’s mouths hang open in surprise and Jeongin laughs while pointing at them as they literally proved my point. 

“We are Team Sunshine,” Felix says with a large smile. I smile as well and we both look at Minho who has an unenthused expression on his face. 

“Well, maybe Team Mostly Sunny,” I whisper to Felix. 

“We are Team Spicey,” Jeongin speaks up and everyone turns toward their group. 

I look at Han, “I thought Christopher doesn’t like spicy stuff.”

“No, it’s because we’re so 섹시 ( sexy ).” Jeongin gestures toward Chris and Hyunjin like a Price is Right girl showing off a fridge and freezer set that is part of the Showcase Showdown.

Chris scrunches his face and his cheeks turn red as he looks at the ceiling like he is summoning God to come take him. “Oh, I see. Yes, yes, of course. Perfect name,” I say as Han and Minho try to hold in their laughter. “So Team Mouth, Team Mostly Sunny, and Team Spicy,” I wink at Chris when I point to their team and he groans as if in pain. 

The game is Pictionary, and one person from each team steps up to play rock, paper, and scissors to see who will go first. 

Changbin wins for Team Mouth, and all the members erupt into yells of surprise as Changbin runs around the room, holding his fingers in scissors position, the move he used to beat Hyunjin’s paper. 

“I think this is the first time he has won at rock, paper, scissors, ever,” Felix leans over to whisper to me. I laugh and watch Changbin do one more lap around the room before he steps up to the board. “Are you ready for defeat?” He asks while cracking his knuckles and picking up a marker. 

I’ve seen some videos of them doing weird competition games, but it seems like they take this kind of thing very seriously. Chris pulls up a one-minute timer on his phone, and the game starts. 

Han is calling out his answers in Korean, so I’m not sure what he is saying, but by the look on Changbin’s face, each guess is wrong. In the last few seconds, Seungmin finally guesses right, and Changbin exhales with relief. 

“Nuna, you up?” Felix asks. 

“Sure!” I reply and step up to the board that Changbin wiped down. I pull a card out of the box and have a few seconds to think about my prompt before I start to draw. 

Minho makes a guess in Korean, and Felix immediately translates. When my drawing is done, I turn toward them, and Felix translates each of Minho’s guesses, making sure to point to Minho so I know whose guess it is. 

“자전거!” Minho yells out. 

“Bicycle,” Felix says. 

I point at Minho to let him know he is close and then turn back to the board to add to my drawing. 

“Motorbike!” Felix guesses. 

I add one more piece to the drawing, and Minho calls out, “더트 바이크!”

“Oh!” Felix snaps his fingers and searches for the word. “Dirt bike!”

“Yes! You got it!” I point at Minho to give him all the credit, and he looks surprised for half a second and then smug. 

We go for nine rounds so that everyone has a turn, and by my guess, the other teams are using a lot of Korean swear words. Chris has been keeping score, and when the last team doesn’t get its guess right, he adds up the tallies. 

“Looks like the winner is…” he gets a confused look on his face, counts again, and then looks up. “Team Mostly Sunny.”

Everyone looks our way with a stunned expression, and Felix leans over to me. “He never wins at these things,” he says, pointing his thumb toward Minho. 

“야! ( Hey !) 너희들이 다 못해서 내 잘못이 아니야! ( It’s not my fault that all of you suck! ) 누나만 이거 잘해! ( Nuna is the only one who is good at this! )”

“방금 그녀를 칭찬한 거야? ( Did you just compliment her? )” Chris asked with a smile on his face. 

“I heard my name!” I say and look around. 

“내가 번역해줄까? ( Do you want me to translate?)” Chris says with a raised brow. 

Minho folds his arms across his chest and huffs. “Nuna’s okay,” he says shortly, but I can tell by the look on Han’s face that it took a lot for Minho to admit. 

“I like you, too.” I nudge my elbow into his arm. 

“나는 그녀를 좋아한다고 한 적 없어. ( I never said I like her. )” Minho wiggles away from me, and I don’t care what he says; I can’t help but giggle at him. 

Chris stands and claps his hands. “Let’s get cleaned up for the night. We have rehearsal and a schedule in the morning.”

I stand as well. “Jeongin and Seungmin, you are in the den. Everyone else is upstairs. The den has a half bath, but the two showers are upstairs if you want to wash up.”

Chris sends the two youngest to the second level to shower first as the other guys start to pick up the games and pack away the food. “Eomma! Sit with me,” Han says and pulls me to the couch. 

“Shouldn’t you be helping?” I ask. 

“They would tell me that I’m in the way.” Han flicks his hand in the direction of the dining room, and Changbin sucks his teeth in response. 

“Then maybe I should help them.”

“Appa wouldn’t let you,” Has says with a cheeky smile. 

“He wouldn’t?”

“You’ve done enough for tonight. He would tell you to relax.”

I laugh but kick my feet up on the coffee table, leaning into the couch’s soft cushions. I see the two youngest members come down the stairs and disappear into the den. Felix and Hyunjin are next up the stairs to shower, but Minho tails after them. 

“Jal ja, Minho!” I call out to him, and he turns to give me a robotic wave with a completely flat expression. I figure that’s the best I can expect from him. 

Han shifts on the couch and lays his head on my lap, looking up at me. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“I did,” I sigh and sweep the hair off Han’s forehead. 

He hums contently and closes his eyes as I absentmindedly rake my fingers through his hair. It’s like petting a puppy curled in my lap and I let my head relax on the back of the couch. I close my eyes, not realizing until now how tired I am from the day’s work and staying up way past my bedtime. 

“You trying to steal my boyfriend?”

I crack my eyes open and see Chris standing in front of me. He’s smirking, so I know he is joking. I look at Han, who appears to be sleeping in my lap. 

“그게 내가 해야 할 말이야, ( That is what I should be saying), ” Han says without opening his eyes but then he smiles. “Eomma, are you staying?”

I had not thought about it and assumed I would go home, but I check my watch and cringe. It’s almost 3 a.m. I look up at Chris, and he chews on his lower lip. 

He knows I’m waiting for him to decide, and he nods. “You should stay.”

“Yeah, it’s late. I’ll take the couch down here.”

Han opens his eyes and looks at me like a puppy begging for scraps. “You can stay with us. You and Appa have already slept together, right?”

I hear someone coughing behind us and look over my shoulder to see Changbin choking on the water he is drinking. 

“우린 그냥 잤어! ( We just slept)!" Chris practically yells and then looks at the ceiling in defeat. 

“난 끝났어 (I’m done ),” Changbin says, throwing up his hands and heading for the stairs. 

“Does he think we…” I point between Chris and myself and let my question hang. 

“I’ll go take care of it,” Chris says, wiping his hand over his face. “Can you lock up down here and then come upstairs.”

“We’ll be up in a few,” Han answers for me. 

Chris rushes up the stairs two at a time, and I playfully smack Han’s head. “Did you have to say it like that?”

“Don’t worry. 우리 둘 다 찬 형이 아무것도 할 용기가 없다는 걸 알고 있어. ( We both know that Chan Hyung hasn’t had the guts to do anything .)” He smirks. 

“English, Han.” He keeps smiling at me, and I push him away and get up from the couch, knowing I’m not going to get an answer. I check that the front door is locked and turn off the hall lights. I grab a few bottles of water from the fridge and then turn off those lights as well. 

Han waits for me, and as he starts up the stairs, I pause at the bottom. I want to think this all over, but I know that thinking will just end up with me on the train at 3 a.m., and I’m too tired to put up with the commute home. “You coming?” Han asks, and I sigh before climbing the stairs. 

I follow Han into the primary bedroom, and Chris comes out of the bathroom in black boxer briefs and a black tank top. “나 샤워할 거야 ( I’m going to shower ),” Han says and then goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

“Did you need to…” Chris points behind him to the closed door. 

“Oh, no. I took a shower before you all got here.” I look down at the hoodie I’m still wearing. “Am I allowed to take this off since it’s just us?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Just–” he walks across the room and closes the door as I set down the bottles of water on the nightstand. 

I slide down the zipper and roll the hoodie off my shoulders. Chris steps up to me, and I can smell his soap on his skin. He holds out his hand, and I place the hoodie in his open palm. “Now turn around,” I tell him, and he stares at me. I twirl my finger, and he slowly turns his back to me. I reach behind me and unhook my bra.

“Did you have a good time? Do you like the guys?”

“Yeah, they are great. That was the most fun I’ve had without sex or alcohol involved.”

Chris turns at my statement, and I watch his eyes trace me as I slip my arm through my bra strap and then pull the garment out of my tank top. “I told you to turn around,” I laugh, fold my bra on itself, and put it on the nightstand. 

“Maybe we should just,” he stutters and then tosses his hoodie over my bra to hide it from view. 

I laugh and sit on the side of the bed. “Are you sure you are okay with me sleeping here?” 

He rubs the back of his neck and won’t make eye contact with me. “Yeah, I mean, it would be shitty of me to make you go home this late.”

“I meant in your bed–with Han. I don’t want to come between you two.”

“I told you it’s not like that. I’m not some 변태 ( pervert ) who can’t control myself.” He walks around the bed and gets in on his side, sliding under the blankets to hide himself. 

I narrow my eyes at him, “Why do I feel like I need to know what that word means?”

“You don’t.”

“Han will tell me what it means,” I joke, and on cue, Han walks out of the bathroom with a towel draped around his neck. 

“I’ll tell you what?”

“Chris, say the word again so Han can translate.” I playfully hit him through the blankets. 

“안 돼! ( No )!” He cries out and hides himself entirely under the covers. 

Han jumps on the bed and straddles Chris–or rather the Chris-sized lump in the blankets. I laugh as Han tries to tickle Chris and as Chris starts to fight back I finally look at him. Han has a slimmer build than Chris or Changbin, but what catches my eye when he rolls off Chris to lay between us is the large tattoo on his chest. 

“You have a tattoo!” I turn toward him and trace the compass and script. “I didn’t take you for the tattoo type.”

Chris finally emerges from hiding and props his head on his hand as he turns toward Han and me. “Do you have any?” I ask Chris. 

“Nope, but I think they are cool.”

“Do you have any, Nuna?” Han asks. 

“I do,” I say with a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes. Chris seems to catch this as his brows pinch together as he looks at me, but Han is oblivious and sits up. 

“What is it? Can I see it?”

Now, I let out a real laugh. “It’s in a place that would not be appropriate to show you.”

“Oh,” Han looks over my upper half, which is above the blankets. “Is it on your butt?”

I crack up, and Chris swats at Han’s shoulder. “미쳤어? ( Are you crazy?) ” 

“No, but I would have to be in a very intimate relationship with someone for them to see it.” 

“알겠어 ( I see ),” Han says and then turns to Chris. “형, 그거 보고 나면 뭐인지 알려줘. ( Hyung, let me know what it is when you finally see it. )”

“아씨 ( Aish ),” Chris exclaims and covers his face. 

I can tell that Chris is reaching his limit with Han, and I tap the younger member on the shoulder. “Go turn off the lights. You both need to sleep.”

Han bounces out of the bed and turns off the lights before launching himself back into the space between Chris and me. He burrows under the blankets and says, “Good night, Eomma.”

I chuckle, “Good night, Kkul-tteok.”

“Good night, Appa.”

“Han, 자 ( go to sleep ).”

“Appa!” 

Chris sighs, “Jal ja, Kkul-tteok.”

I snicker and imagine this is what it would be like to have a kid. I’m sure Chris will be a great dad one day, but I can understand his patience running thin with the 24-year-old toddler who is flipping over to sleep on his stomach. 

Han is soon softly snoring, and I hear Chris whisper in the dark room. “Nuna? Are you awake?”

“Barely,” I respond, curling up on my side and with my eyes closed. 

When he doesn’t say anything, I crack open an eye and see him looking at me. He reaches over and grabs my wrist, pulling my arm over Han’s back, and as he lies down, he places my hand on his chest. 

I can’t help but smile and try to hide my face in my pillow as I scoot closer to Han and feel Chris’s heartbeat under my fingertips. 

I wake to the sound of whispering, and I want to swat at whoever it is, like they are an annoying bug. I burrow deeper into the covers and against the warm body next to me. 

“What is this?” says Felix’s deep voice. 

“절대 안 벌거벗어야 해! ( They better not be naked )!”

“We’re not naked, you cunts.” Chris grumbles, his voice thick with sleep. 

I push at Chris’s chest, where my hand still rests. “It’s too early to be calling someone a cunt.” I understand it’s a common Australian slang word, but outside of my romance novels, I’ve not heard anyone use it in a long time. 

“그들이 쓰리섬을 가지고 있었나? ( Did they have a threesome? )” Felix asks.  

Han groans from his spot, sandwiched between Chris and me. 

“만약 우리가 그랬다면, 너 그녀의 비명을 들었을 거야. ( If we did, you would have heard her scream. )” Chris responds in an offhand and tired tone. 

Han pops his head up and looks at Chris while Felix gasps and Changbin yells, “야! 진짜? 용복이 충격받았어! ( Hey! Really? YongBok is scandalized! )”

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen

I peek out from under the blankets and see Changbin holding his hand over Felix’s eyes. “I knew this was a bad idea,” I say to myself, throwing the covers off my body. 

“Ah!” Changbin cries out and covers his eyes as well. 

“We’re dressed!” I huff and then look behind me at Chris and Han, who are shirtless. “Well, at least I am.” 

I get out of bed and grab my bra from the nightstand. Changbin makes another noise and I wave around the garment, “Oh my goodness! My unmentionables,” I hiss sarcastically to myself as I walk to the ensuite bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. I hear the guys speaking Korean through the door, and I can only imagine what they are saying. 

I go pee, wash my hands, and then use Chris’s products to wash my face. I put my bra on before walking out of the bathroom to find Changbin and Felix are gone. 

Han springs from the bed and walks toward the bathroom. “Eomma, can you make us pancakes, like you did for Chan Hyung’s birthday?”

“I’ll see if there are enough ingredients,” I reply, and Han smiles before shutting himself in the bathroom. 

Chris is sitting up in bed, his eyes barely open and his hair wild. I will admit, from an outsider, it does kind of look like he was thoroughly fucked the night before. My body shivers at the thought, and I have to shake my head to get rid of the image. 

I turn and start to open drawers in the dresser across the room. “What are you doing?” Chris grumbles. 

“Looking for a shirt,” I reply, finding one of his black short-sleeved tee shirts. 

“For what?”

I thread my arms through and then pull the shirt over my head. “To cover my tits, remember?”

My blunt statement has Chris looking at me wide-eyed and I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I’m trying not to feel embarrassed, or like I’m doing the walk of shame in front of the rest of the members. It is evident from their reaction that finding Chris and Han in bed with a woman is something that happens–well, never. 

I take my hair tie off my wrist and hold it between my teeth as I pull my hair up and out of my face and secure it in a high pony. “I’m going to start breakfast. I expect you to clear up any misunderstanding about our relationship with your members.”

“Nuna–”

“I assume they are shocked because we have become closer than you are with your staff back home, but I won’t be looked at like a groupie or a toy that you and Han are playing with.”

“They don’t think that.”

“You don’t know what they are thinking.”

Chris finally gets out of bed and walks over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “They know me . They know that I would never treat a woman like a plaything. 이미 네가 다르다는 걸 알아 ( They already know that you are different) .”

His expression is genuine, and his eyes are begging me to believe him. I sigh and feel only slightly better. “You know, one of these days, you’re gonna have to actually say all these secret Korean things to me in English, right?”

He breathes out a laugh and smiles. “Yeah, I know.” He rubs his hands on my upper arms and then tucks a stray hair behind my ear. “Are we good?”

“Yes, but I mean it. If there is any talk, you shut it down.”

“Yes, 자기 ( dear) .”

I pinch my brows at his response. “That’s a new one.”

He smiles. “It is.”

I know I won’t get anything else from him as he rolls his lips between his teeth. I reach up and squeeze his forearms since he still holds onto my shoulders. He releases me, and at that moment, Han steps out of the bathroom. 

“Eomma! Pancakes!”

I roll my eyes and point at Chris. “I blame you for raising him like this.” Before Chris can respond, Han grabs my hand and pulls me from the room. 

Most of the guys are already up and milling about the apartment. A few are lounging on the couches, scrolling on their phones. Changbin and Minho are at the dining table looking at a laptop. I feel all of their eyes on me when I enter the living room, but Han pulls me to the kitchen. 

“What do we need?” Han asks and starts to open the cabinets. 

“Flour, eggs, baking powder…” I start to rattle off as I pull the large griddle plate out of the warming drawer and set it on the gas stove top.  

The guys in the living room start chatting, and I figure Chris must have come downstairs. I go to lean against the doorway to the kitchen. I want to see if he keeps his promise. 

He holds up his hands in a gesture to silence everyone. “아무 일도 없었어. ( Nothing happened ).”

“아직 ( Yet ),” comments Minho. 

“존경해. ( Be respectful ).” Chris points at him, and his tone leaves no room for argument.

“너 진짜 그녀를 좋아하는구나. ( You must really like her ),” says Seungmin. 

Chris sucks air through his clenched teeth and then sighs. “그래 ( I do. )”

Felix comes over and pats Chris on the shoulder before giving him a hug. “I’m happy for you, man.”

I feel satisfied and dip back into the kitchen before anyone can tell I was listening. Chris walks into the kitchen a few seconds later. “Nuna, did you get coffee yet?”

“Not yet,” I say as I start to measure out the ingredients. I’ve never fed nine people before and will have to work in batches. 

The griddle is hot, and I throw a pad of butter on it before pouring out six pancakes. Chris sets a cup of coffee next to me and touches my waist as he stands behind me. “Do you need any help?”

I look over my shoulder at him, “No, not right now. I’ll let you know when everything is ready.”

“Okay,” he smiles, releases my waist, and walks out of the kitchen.

Han is sitting on the counter, swinging his feet, and says, “너무 귀여워. ( How cute ).”

I roll my eyes at him and turn back to the griddle. The finished pancakes go onto a sheet pan and into the oven, which I have on low heat. It takes me five rounds of pancakes to have enough to feed all the guys. I fan myself and wonder how large families do this every day. 

“Christopher!” I call out. A few seconds later, he pokes his head into the kitchen. “Can you grab some plates and silverware for everyone?”

“Yeah, sure. Hey Hyunjin. 와서 도와줘 ( Come help )!”

“Han, can you get the containers of cut-up fruit from the fridge?”

The kitchen becomes crowded as the guys move in and out to set the table, grab drinks, and start a new pot of coffee. The dining table seats ten, so there is enough room for us all, and they leave a chair at the head of the table for me. 

“하나, 둘, 셋– ( One, Two, Three–),” Felix counts. 

“감사합니다, 누나, ( Thank you, Nuna ),” they all say in unison and bow to me from their seats. 

“You are all welcome,” I smile, recognizing the words. I turn to Felix, who is sitting on my left. “How do I say ‘eat up’?”

“We say, mashitge ch'seyo ( enjoy your meal ),” he whispers to me. 

“Mashitge ch'seyo!” I repeat. 

“잘 먹었습니다 (Thank you for this meal),” they say together again.

Minho looks at Jeongin expectedly, but then Chris speaks. “Nuna,” he says, gesturing to my plate. 

Jeongin shrugs, but Minho appears upset as he looks from one member to the next. 

A few other members shrug and then they all look at me. Minho still has an unamused look on his face and I realize that they are waiting for me to take a bite. “Oh, right,” I say to myself, cut off a piece of pancake and chew it very self consciously since there are eight men watching me eat.

The chaos that transpires next can only be compared to the imaginary dinner scene from the beloved Robin Williams movie Hook . As Jeongin and Minho fight over who gets the syrup first, Han yells at Changbin for taking all the strawberries out of the fruit, and Seungmin complains that Hyunjin took too many pancakes; I feel rather like Wendy with the Lost Boys. 

Chris is sitting opposite to me, and even though he is chastising Minho, telling Changbin to share, and giving one of his own pancakes to Seungmin, I can see how happy he is to be with his group. 

I take another bite of my breakfast and look around the table. Something is missing, and I stand and walk to the kitchen. Pulling the container out of the fridge, I remove the lid and then walk to the far side of the dining table to place the cup of cut-up pineapple next to Chris.

His face lights up, and he stabs a chunk with his fork and pops it into his mouth. I laugh when he does a wiggly happy dance in his chair. I remember being just as excited about my burger when Han visited the first time. I love that I get to see the many sides of Christopher, and if I am honest with myself, there isn’t a part of him that I don’t admire or find absolutely adorable. 

“Nuna, eat,” he tells me, and I feel my cheeks heat since I’m unsure how long I’ve been staring at him. I steal a piece of pineapple and go back to my seat. 

“너를 좋아해 ( She likes you ),” Felix says.

Besides smiling and eating another chunk of pineapple, Chris doesn’t respond. 

The guys all help clean up, and then there is a mad dash to get ready for rehearsals. “Nuna,” Chris calls over to me. “I really hate to give you more work…”

“It’s okay. What do you need?”

“Can you do a sweep of the apartment and make sure the guys aren’t leaving anything behind? Staff will be by in a little to pick up their bags.”

“They aren’t staying tonight?”

“No, they are flying out early tomorrow, so they have a hotel by the airport.”

I nod and see in Chris’s expression that he is already feeling the loss of his brothers. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” he smiles and fidgets in front of me. 

“Good luck tonight.”

His brows pinch, and then he turns quickly as if he has forgotten a pot on the stove. “I should have asked you sooner,” he comments, walking over to his bag in the foyer. He comes back with an envelope. “Come to the show tonight.”

I glance from his face to the envelope and then take it from his hand. Looking inside, I see two laminated passes. “VIP?” I ask with a smirk. 

“And backstage access,” he quips. “If you are lucky, you might even get to meet the group.”

I lean in close to him and hold my hand up to my mouth to whisper, “I hear they are kind of boring.” 

“Well, that can’t be helped,” he jokes, and we both chuckle. 

I pull one of the passes out of the envelope and examine it. Chris rocks on his feet and asks, “So you’ll come?” 

I smile, and my heart clenches at his hopeful expression, but I still have to mess with him. “Say, please?”

His face goes from surprise to something darker, and it makes me feel like I did something right and wrong at the same time. He takes a step closer to me, and I hold my breath. He doesn’t speak, just looks over my face, and I squeak out, “Sir–”

“고했어 (You were warned).” His voice is low, and it rattles something in me. 

“Appa! Did you give Eomma the tickets?” Han yells as he comes out of the den. 

Whatever is locking Chris and me so close together breaks, and I take a step back from him. “Yeah,” I answer Han. “I’m very excited. I can’t wait to see you all up on stage.”

“Nuna, 친구 데려가 주세요 ( bring your friend ),” Changbin yells across the living room.

“He wants you to bring your friend. The one that calls him Beefcake, right?” Chris laughs. 

I palm my face and groan. “I will tell her to behave if you tell him the same,” I throw a glance at Changbin. 

Changbin flexes his arms a few times and kisses his bicep. “I’m irresistible.”

The guys make a medley of sounds in disapproval, and two of them throw empty water bottles at Changbin. 

Mr. Park comes to collect the group a short time later, and they file out of the apartment. “Bye, Minho!” I call to him since he is the last one out. He pauses at the door, turns to me, and gives me the cutest and most sarcastic wave I have ever seen. I feel like that is about as much progress as I can hope for with cracking the nut that is Minho. 

Once I’m alone, I immediately call my friend. “Please tell me you don’t have plans tonight. Screw that, if you do, cancel them.”

“What’s going on?”

“How much do you love me?” I tease. 

“You know you are my favorite person,” she replies like she has through our whole friendship. 

“Well, good, because I have two VIP passes to see Stray Kids tonight.”

I hold my phone away from my ear as my friend screams. “You’re shitting me, right?” She yells. 

“I shit you not. And…are you ready for this? You might want to sit down, but Changbin asked if you were going to come with me.”

“Changbin knows who I am?”

“Yes, Beefcake asked about you specifically.”

“I can die fucking happy now,” my friend sighs longingly. 

“Well, at least wait until after the concert. I don’t want to go by myself.”

“Right, right. Good idea. Meet Changbin, then die happy.”

We plan to meet at her place since she lives in the city, but I still have to wait for the staff to pick up the suitcases, and then I need to go home and get ready for the concert. 

I stand in front of my mirror with my friend on Facetime and hold up another top, “What about this one?”

“With what shoes?”

“These,” I hold them up to the camera. 

“Yeah, try that on, and let me see.”

I don’t know why I’m putting in so much effort. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding, I know exactly why I’m putting in effort and why my apartment looks like my closet threw up everywhere. 

I pull on the top and zip up the side, reaching into the bra cups and pulling my chest up and together. I slip my feet into my boots and step back for the camera. 

“That’s hot,” my friend says, asking me to spin. “You still have that black jacket?”

“Yeah,” I reach onto my bed and pull on the black denim cropped jacket. 

“Yes! Go with that! It’s perfect!”

I take another look at myself in the mirror, and then I see a text come through. I swipe up to read it, and it’s from Han. 

Eomma, make sure to come early. 

You can watch the soundcheck and see backstage

Thank you, honey cakes. See you soon!

“Han wants us to come early. I can leave in a few minutes if you will be ready to head out by the time I get to yours.”

“Of course, girl! I’m so excited!”

“Me too,” I smile, and then we give each other air kisses before ending the call. 

My friend has had her concert outfit picked out since she heard that Stray Kids were planning a world tour. She modeled it for me at the beginning of our call, and Changbin doesn’t know yet that he is playing with fire. 

I put on a little makeup and then throw my hair up into a high ponytail. My natural waves give it bounce and movement. For jewelry, I have a black beaded wrap necklace that will hang down my chest and dangly earrings with a faux cuff. 

I slip my phone, keys, ID, debit card, and VIP passes into my jacket pockets and then head for the door. I take a cab over to my friend’s apartment on East 15th Street in the Flatiron District. Her place is only a 30-minute walk from Madison Square Garden, but we decide to take a cab and make it a 10-minute ride instead. 

She offers me a drink before we go, but I have a feeling I will want to keep my wits about me tonight, so I decline. Han told me Mr. Park will meet us at the gate and show us in, so I text him when we get in the cab. 

My friend squeals and jumps up and down when we get out of the cab, and she sees the banners for the tour. “I can’t believe we are here!” 

“Let’s find out where we need to go. Mr. Park is not someone I want to keep waiting.”

The venue staff are very friendly and guide us where we need to go, and as we approach the entrance, I see Mr. Park standing off to the side in his usual suit. “Good evening, Mr. Park. This is my friend–” She sticks out her hand and introduces herself. 

Mr. Park looks us up and down, then sighs, “This way, please. They are waiting on you.”

“Did you hear that?” My friend whispers to me. “They are waiting on us !”

We walk through the arena, and I am in awe of the massive stage and lighting setup. “Keep up,” Mr. Park says as I get distracted looking around. 

Mr. Park walks past security without fuss, but my friend and I flash our passes. The back side of the stage is even more impressive with all of the lights, fog cannons, lifts, and God knows what else. It looks like an engineering marvel and what I wouldn’t give to watch the stage get set up.

My friend drags me along so we don’t get lost as we enter the maze of hallways under the stands. The halls are lined with photos of athletes and performers who have graced the stages and courts of the Garden.

“Through here,” Mr. Park says and points to a set of double doors. 

“Are you ready?” My friend asks, even though she looks like the one about to hyperventilate. 

“Are you ready?” I joke. 

She nods her head, and I open the doors. 

“Eomma!” Han yells as soon as he sees me. 

“Did he just call you mom?” My friend asks. 

“It’s a long story,” I get out before Han is hugging me and lifting me a few inches off the ground. 

He puts me down and looks over my shoulder. “You must be the producer.”

“And you’re Han.” She says in shock. 

He looks down at himself and then pokes his cheeks. “I guess I am.”

“Quit teasing her,” I poke him in the shoulder, and he acts like he’s been stabbed. “Stop being a dramatic baby, and let’s go introduce her to the others before she faints.”

We hear some of the members warming up in a sitting room off to the side, and as we enter, I see Minho, Jeongin, and Seungmin singing. Hyunjin is sitting with headphones on, and with how fast his lips are moving, I assume he is going over his raps. 

“Nuna’s here!” Han announces to the room. 

Hyunjin bows in acknowledgment but keeps listening to his music. Seungmin stands and walks over to me, looking at me up and down.. “Damn, Nuna. Looking good.”

“Oh!” I say in surprise, not expecting any of them to outright compliment me. “Thank you,” I reply and I can feel myself blushing. I turn and look behind me to see my friend frozen in place. I grab her hand and pull her forward. “This is the friend I’ve been telling you about, and she’s one of the producers on the movie Chris is in.”

She waves and whispers, “I can’t believe I’m in the same room as Lee Know, I.N., and Seungmin!”

“Do you want me to pinch you?”

“I could die happy if only–”

“우리는 언제야… ( When are we… ),” Changbin walks into the room in a tight white tank top and gray sweatpants. I swear I have to catch my friend by the elbow so she doesn’t fall as her knees get weak. “근육남 ( Beefcake )?” Changbin asks Han while pointing our way. 

“Yep!”

“Aish,” he says while rolling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest. He walks toward us, and I have to cover my mouth to hold in my laugh. 

“He’s so big,” my friend whispers, but she is in shock, so of course we all hear. I can practically sense Minho rolling his eyes from across the room. 

“안녕 ( Hi ),” Changbin says with his mouth curled up in a smirk as he takes her in, head to toe. 

“Hi,” she replies in awe. 

“Nuna.”

I look over Changbin’s shoulder and see Chris. I turn to Han, “She’s in good hands with him, right?” Han gets a wide-eyed look on his face and shakes his head no. “Good. Have fun,” I say as I pat my friend on the shoulder and trot over to Chris, who is standing by the door. 

I feel his eyes rake down my body, and I fidget with the cuffs of my jacket. He keeps looking between my chest and face, and I gaze down at myself to ensure I’m still presentable. “What is it?”

“Did you forget your shirt?” He asks so just the two of us can hear. 

I hold open my jacket and look at my top. “No. This is a shirt.”

“거의 아무것도 아니야. ( There is almost nothing to it ).”

“Hey, don’t give me attitude.” I don’t have to know what he said to understand what he is saying. “I worked hard to put this together. I think I look good.” 

“You do… that’s the problem.” 

Both of us jerk with surprise. “Ah, Chris, I think you were supposed to say that first part in Korean.”

He sucks air between his teeth and bobs his head. “Yeah, yeah, I was.”

“And don’t worry about it. I’ll fit right in. Your fans are also dressed amazing like me.”

“But, 너가 아니야. ( They are not you. )”

I smile because he is back to hiding his feelings behind a language barrier. “There you are.” I scrunch my face at him. “Does that feel better?”

“응 ( Yes ).”

I decide to tease him just a bit more, and I cock my hip to the side and pose. “Plus, I know I look good. You are allowed to notice. Hell, even Seungmin said I look hot.”

“Hey, hey, hey!  한테 가 섹시하다고 말했어?? ( Did you tell her she’s hot? )” Chris yells across the room. 

“좋다고! '좋다고' 했어! ( Good! I said ‘good’! )”

“죽을래? ( Do you want to die? )” 

“Chris,” I put my hand on his chest. “It’s okay. He’s too young for me anyway,” I joke.

“아, 제발!! ( Oh, come on! ),” Chris replies, and it looks like he wants to back me into a corner. 

Maybe my teasing went too far. I put my hands on his shoulders and hold him at arm’s length. “Let me look at you. This is my first time seeing you in Bang Chan makeup.”

He has a dark shadow smudged on his lash line, a little warm-toned eyeshadow blown out on his lids, and maybe a little stain on his lips to make them pop, but otherwise, he looks like my Christopher. He is wearing black sweatpants and a black short-sleeved button-down that is open at the top. I see something that looks like dark lipstick on his chest. “What’s that?” I ask and try to pull at the shirt. 

His hand comes up to cover mine to stop me from seeing. “It’s nothing,” he says, then buttons his shirt when I let my hand fall away. 

“Soundcheck in five!” Someone by the door calls out, and the guys start to move around. 

“Mr. Park will show you to your seats. You have access to the JYP box. There’s food and drinks up there.” Chris instructs. 

“Okay,” I nod, finally feeling a little awestruck that I’m about to watch Chris and the guys perform a sold-out show at the Garden. 

“Nuna.”

“Yeah?” I gaze up at him and maybe my tone is a little too breathy. Why does he have to look at me like that? It makes my brain malfunction.

“Hang around after. We’ll go home together.” He reaches out and buttons up my jacket to cover my chest.

My heart flips, and I press on my chest to stop it. He’s just being nice like he always is. I don’t need to read any further into his words. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” 

“Miss,” Mr. Park says from the door. 

“Coming,” I answer Mr. Park. “Good luck,” I tell Chris. 

“Fighting,” he replies and holds up his fists. 

“Miss, aren’t you forgetting something?” Mr. Park says to me as I get to the door. 

I pat down my jacket and then hold up the pass around my neck. “No…”

“Your guest,” Mr. Park deadpans and flicks his eyes to where my friend is touching Changbin’s biceps as he flexes. 

“Oh, shit,” I curse. “Sorry,” I say to Mr. Park and then go to retrieve my friend. As I pull her from the room, she holds her hand up to her ear, telling Changbin to call her. 

Chris covers his mouth as I pass him, and I can tell he is laughing, so I cut my eyes to him. “Not a fucking word.”

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Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen

Mr. Park takes us back down the maze of hallways, and before we leave backstage, he stops and faces me. “As Mr. Chan said, you can access the JYP box. As such, you are expected to be on your best behavior. You represent not only Mr. Chan, but his group, and the company.”

“Understood,” I reply and stand at attention. 

Mr. Park shifts his gaze to my friend, and she nods. “Absolutely.”

“Great,” he says with zero enthusiasm. “Let me show you to your seats.”

We exit on stage right and climb a set of stairs that is roped off to the public. In the main corridor, Mr. Park takes us to the Lexus Suite. There is a muscular Asian man standing at the door, and the two men nod at each other in acknowledgment. “These two ladies are guests of Bang Chan’s. They can come and go as they please.”

The guard nods in acknowledgment and  bows to us as we walk by. I whisper a quiet ‘Thank you’ as I bow in return. 

The suite is huge, and a few people are already milling about. Mr. Park walks us over to a tall man. “사장님, 만나야 할 사람이 있다고 생각합니다. ( There is someone I think you should meet .)”

The taller man nods and stares at me. “Mr. Park, this is Bang Chan’s assistant in New York. 그녀는 영어만 합니다. ( She only speaks English ).” I look between the two men and catch that they are both named Mr. Park. I scrunch my brows briefly, and Chris’s manager adds, “No relation.”

“Ah,” I nod and then turn to the other Mr. Park. Man, this is going to be confusing, I think and then bow and say, “Annyeonghaseyo.”

“Quick learner, I see,” Mr. Park says, holding out his hand to shake mine as I tell him my name. “You can call me JYP if you want. Park in Korea is like Smith here.”

“JYP,” I whisper. “As in the company JYP?”

“The one and only.”

“Well, it’s an honor to meet you, sir. Thank you for having us.” I pull my friend forward and tell JYP that she is a producer on Chris’s movie, and they chat for a few minutes about how filming is going and if Chris is acclimating to acting. 

“Check, check, check.”

I hear screams from the floor seating and turn to look out of the box. The guys are walking out onto the stage in their sweats, and I watch how their fans are drawn to them. 

“Let me take you to your seats,” Mr. Park says from behind me. 

I nod and go to politely excuse my friend from her conversation with JYP. Mr. Park takes us out of the suite and down a level. There are groups of stage-level seats, and he takes us to the one closest to the front. 

“These are reserved for our suite, so you will need to show your pass if you come and go, but you will have the best view from here.”

“No kidding,” my friend says as she stands at the first row of seats and waves. 

I look at the stage, and Changbin is standing at the closest corner and gives us a head nod. My friend squeals excitedly, and Mr. Park reminds me again that we are representing the company. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself or Christopher,” he says. 

I want to roll my eyes at Mr. Park, maybe tell him to get the stick out of his ass, but he’s right, and he knew what he is doing by not saying Mr. Chan. He’s not dumb or blind, so he knows that Christopher, not Bang Chan, is important to me. 

Mr. Park leaves us, and I turn toward the stage. Han is standing on our side, and he waves before holding up his hand with his thumb and forefinger pressed together. It looks like the emoji that he had me send Chris the other night. 

I look down at my hand and position my fingers before holding the sign up to him in return. Han taps Chris on the back and points our way. I flash the same sign to Chris and give him a smile that he can see from the stage. 

He blushes and hastily returns the sign while smiling and shaking his hand by his side before he gets into position. 

“Why are you throwing around finger hearts like that?” My friend asks. 

“Finger hearts?”

“Yeah,” she mimics the sign. “It’s a heart.”

“No…this is a heart.” I hold my two hands together, fingers arched and thumbs down. 

“Oh, sweetie, no.”

My mouth pops open, and I hold my hand out in front of me with what is apparently a finger heart. “Han told me it means good luck.”

“Then Han is a diabolical genius.” My friend laughs. 

I hide my face in my hands and groan. “So I’ve been just giving out hearts left and right.”

“Like a finger heart hoe!” My friend replies while laughing at my expense. 

The guys run through a quick check to ensure their mics are working, and then they interact with the small crowd here for the soundcheck. “They usually do a few songs as a warm-up,” my friend tells me, and I watch as Chris gets into formation at the back of the group. 

A deep drum beat starts, and then Felix steps out front. “Un, deux, trois, run along with the Gods…”

Chris sings his verse, and then Changbin is rapping, and I am blown away. They are in street clothes, just doing a warm-up, and I already have chills running over my body. 

Han starts to rap, and I hold my hand up to my mouth. “Is honey cakes actually cool?” I ask myself.

The beat drops, and I can’t help but start to move. My friend is singing along and hits each of Changbin’s raps. “Welcome to the Stray Kids Hot Megaverse,” she sings along with Felix. 

It’s incredible how they seem to move as one organism. Even as they flow around each other and their backup dancer, everything is flawless, and I almost don’t know where to look because there is so much going on. 

One song rolls into the next, and I hear a plucking sound before Han starts his rap. I don’t know how to reconcile the bouncy kid that I have known for the last month with the man making the ladies go wild with his hips. 

Chris and Seungmin have the next verse and Chris has a focus to him that I’ve only seen when he is working. The shy man who says God knows what to me in Korean is nowhere to be found. I do have to chuckle when I hear his Aussie accent come through when he sings, ‘Charmer.’

“Hyunjin and Minho are such amazing dancers,” I lean over to comment to my friend. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” she says with a knowing smile, and just then, Chris, Felix, and Jeongin pull up their shirts to show their abs. 

I cover my eyes and say to myself, “Not the baby! Now I’m scandalized.”

Changbin starts his rap, and my friend sings along, waiting until the end to say, “Damn, he’s so hot.”

By the end of the song, Chris and Han are messing with each other on stage, and I can’t help but smile along with them. 

The music starts for the next song, and I jump up and down. “I know this one!”

My friend and I rock to the beat and then say in unison, “Ne sonnim!”

Chris has more singing parts in this song, and I watch how the crowd reacts to him. He was right when he told me that his true passion is music and his group. I’ve not seen him come alive like this when he is on set, and just like off stage, he keeps an eye on his members while executing the choreography and hitting his vocal marks. 

I am in awe of him, plain and simple. 

“What did you guys think?” Chris asks the crowd once the song has ended. 

The audience claps and screams for him, and I smirk when I see his smile, dimples and all. I remember our last text exchange, about how he makes the ladies scream, and am thankful to see him in his element firsthand. 

The guys chat with the audience while Chris works with the stage crew to make some adjustments. “He’s such a good leader,” my friend says, pointing toward Chris. 

I hum in agreement, and we watch the guys walk off the stage. My friend wants to return to the suite for food and a drink. We show our passes to the guard by the door, and he nods us in. 

I get a bottle of water, and my friend, who is always the social butterfly, finds someone to chat with. My watch buzzes, and I pull out my phone to check my texts. 

Appa looked good up there, didn’t he?

I smile at Han’s message and lean up against the wall to reply. 

Yes he did

But you all looked good.

We can see you really well from the stage.  

Then you will see me dancing 

poorly but having the time of my life.

BTW honey cakes. 

Why didn’t you tell me about finger hearts?

I have no idea what you are talking about.

You are lucky you are grown, and I can’t ground you. 

Don’t worry, Eomma. I’ll tell Appa that you say good luck 🫰😉

🤟🫶

My cheeks hurt from smiling at my phone, and I see JYP staring at me from across the room when I look up. I give him a small wave and then go to find my friend. 

The arena fills up, and I see the place come alive with fans with light wands. My friend explains the wands are called Light Sticks and that each K-Pop group has their own, and sometimes each member can have a distinct light stick. “I guess it beats lighters and setting someone’s hair on fire,” I joke.

We walk back to the seats on the lower level to have a better view of the stage, and right as we set down our drinks, the arena goes dark, and the crowd goes wild. Music that sounds like a UFC fighter walkout song starts to play, and the crowd begins to chant, “Stray Kids everywhere, all around the world!”

The lights come up, and Jeongin stands in the middle of the group, calling out the first notes of MOUNTAINS. 

They are in coordinating tan and white outfits, each a little different, but it still makes the group look like they are moving as one as they run through the first number. Chris ends up on our side of the stage a lot, and I shamelessly admire that his outfit shows off his assets. 

“These seats are great!” My friend says to me over the music. 

“I know,” I reply. I can see every vein and ripple in Chris’s arms.  

I’m on my feet the entire time. I try to take in everything from the lights, crowd, backup dancers, and watching each member dance and sing. 

The lights go down again, and Han is alone in a black and white outfit on the stage. “They have solos,” I say to my friend in surprise.

“They are so talented,” she agrees. 

Han’s song has a rock beat, and it takes me back to my younger days listening to pop punk. 

Two songs later, they play another one I know, and I sing along with the crowd. “Stray Kids still gonna rock on the Hellevator, yeah, we head to the top. Stray Kids! Stray Kids, run ’til we’re done, do whatever we want, yeah, we don’t give a fuck!”

I love watching Han and Changbin rap. Hyunjin’s personality on stage is so captivating, and I try to figure out how the kid with the youthful smile from last night can look like he is ready to devour his fans. 

The crowd goes wild when they start Chk Chk Boom, but I like the tone of the next one, which reminds me of 90s R&B song. Chris comes to our side of the stage and crouches down to sing to the crowd. “Cause we don’t give a…”

“Fuck!” calls back the crowd when he holds the mic out to them. He flashes a cocky grin and then goes back to the center of the stage.

A song comes on with a slower beat, and Chris steps forward, “Cookin’ up a storm, piece of cake. Spittin’ out that fire feel the blaze.”

I’m dancing and smiling while watching my friend sing every lyric, and then I stop when I hear ‘Finger lickin’”. “Did they just…?” I say to myself because no one else can hear me. I try to listen to the rest of the lyrics, and watching them dance, I have to fan myself and whisper, “Jesus, they are not talking about cooking.”

The starting notes of LALALALA come on, and I am so excited to see the choreography to the up-tempo song. They don’t disappoint, and Felix’s low notes rumble the whole building. 

I tap my friend and tell her I’m running to the restroom, and she waves me on. I go out to the main corridor and find the lady’s room. There’s a line, but it’s not long, and I wait for my turn. I can still hear the music and the crowd cheering from the bathroom and hum along with the songs that I know. 

I start down the stairs, returning to the seats, and my watch buzzes. I flash my pass to the seat attendant and stand beside my friend before checking my phone. 

Eomma, are you watching?

I snort a quiet laugh and reply. 

Yes, Han. 

Ok. Good. 

Appa has something for you.

I look around the dark stage and have no idea what Han is on about. 

A single spotlight comes on, illuminating Chris on the stage in a black suit. He is dragging a metal chair toward a platform.

Deep bass makes the hair on my arms stand on end, and the stage lights turn red. He climbs onto the platform with his chair and sits facing my way. 

He starts to sing, and my whole body clenches. It feels like a Weeknd song–like the ones you get fucked to, and I lean against the railing in front of me to try and get a better look at him. 

“Yeah, this train never sleeps. Brace yourself, take a seat. Don’t you care about the casualties, casualties. ’Cause it’s safe when it’s just you and me, you and me.”

He is making love to this song, and my body feels it. The same man that mumbles Korean when he can’t say what he means in English is singing about slow fucking, and I refuse to wrap my head around why Han would say this is for me.

As he repeats the second chorus, he steps up on the platform with his back to the crowd. He turns forward and glances my way, biting his lip and then looking down with a knowing smile. Chris works the buttons on his blazer, and I see his bare, pale chest in the red lights. As he rolls the jacket off his left shoulder, I see what was drawn on his chest earlier. A large X is marked over his heart. 

He turns and slides the jacket off his back to reveal more marks–no, writing. Chris tosses the jacket to the side and flexes his back as the light catches the writing. I see that it says, ‘Say Please’.

Chris turns again, facing the audience, and then looks at me as he falls backward at the song’s closing notes. 

The lights go dark again, and my body feels like a live wire. 

Felix’s solo is next, and as much as I love that kid, I have to sit down and consider all of my life choices that have brought me to this point. I half convince myself that Han is messing with me. I want to text him and ask, but am too scared of the truth. 

If they are toying with me, then I should quit working with Chris, find a hole, and die in it out of embarrassment and a need to guard my heart. I would have to admit that I’m a thirty-one-year-old woman who got duped by a pretty face, abs, and an accent. 

But Chris told me he doesn’t toy with women, and nothing in his behavior or character would make me believe otherwise. He’s been nothing but honest, charming, caring, and an overall stand-up guy since I’ve met him. 

Then what does it all mean?

Why would Han be instigating? He’s with Chris in whatever capacity their relationship entails. Maybe it is all a joke to him? A test of Chris’s loyalty? But that doesn’t seem like Han, either. He’s bubbly and funny and wants to see people around him happy. 

“Is it a throuple thing?” I ask myself and thank God even my friend can’t hear me over the music.

However, all the members were shocked to see the three of us together, so I assume it is uncommon for Chris and Han to open their relationship. So why me? 

I’m so confused, and I keep playing back my stupid comment to Chris this morning, asking him to say please, and then there was that look in his eyes, the one that makes my heart ache. 

“You’re going to miss Han rapping!” My friend says and pulls me to my feet as DOMINO starts. 

The next set is full of bangers, and I am momentarily distracted from my inner turmoil. They perform God’s Menu again and then Venom, which your friend tells you her outfit is based on Changbin in the video. 

I am almost to the point where I can enjoy myself without questioning everything that has happened over the past month when the lights go down and the sounds of breathing echo in the arena. 

Red lights come on the stage again, and I see a collar surrounding Chris’s neck. “I cannot breathe without you being right by my side…”

“I’m so fucked,” I say to myself, and my breathing picks up like I just ran a mile. I shrug out of my jacket because my body is so hot and I need air. 

The guys take the collars off their necks to move around the stage, and as Chris walks to my side, he makes eye contact with me, and I try to fan myself. His eyes rake down my exposed shoulders and chest, and his face twists into a snarl as he sings. “도저히 널 가만히 둘 수 없는 ( I just can’t leave you alone ).”

His gaze pins me, and it feels like forever, but it is only a few seconds before he rejoins the group at center stage. 

The stage goes dark as Hyunjin wraps his hand around Chris’s neck, and I am beside myself. I slump back in my seat, and now I know what Lauryn Hill was singing about in Killing Me Softly . 

Felix’s deep voice fills the arena as MANIAC starts, and I don’t want to think about what Chris would think, seeing me sitting here, unable to function. I put my hand over my heart and wait to see if it will calm on its own. 

I down the rest of my water and they perform two more songs beforeI feel like I can stand and focus back on the show. A poppy song starts, and I recognize it as Case 143. I remember the video where Chris looks like a police officer from The Village People. 

The guys split off and go to different sides of the stage. Han, Chris, and Minho are on my side, and Chris holds the mic to his mouth, “A-B-C-D-E-F-G-I wanna send my code to you. Eight letters is all it takes, and I’m gonna let you know, oh!”

As he sings, he scrunches his face at me and puts his finger to his nose to wiggle it back and forth. I remember our night at the club and Eskimo kisses in a dark corner, and I’m back to my brain misfiring with what the hell this could all mean. 

Over the last month, out of all the time we have spent alone, it is now, on stage in front of thousands of people, that he has the courage to outwardly flirt with me. “What am I going to do with you?” I say while shaking my head and clapping as the song comes to a close. 

They play three more songs, including my favorite, MIROH. They end with Haven, and the arena roars with applause and screams as the stage goes dark for the last time. 

“Encore! Encore! Encore!” the crowd chants. 

Three spotlights come on to illuminate the front stage, and Minho, Felix, and Hyunjin stand under the lights.   

“Oh, this one is so good. It’s called TASTE,” my friend leans over to say as she winks at me.

After the concert finishes and the house lights come on, I feel like I need a nap, a cigarette, or a stiff drink. 

“A stiff something…” I joke, then slap myself on the back of the hand. “No. Bad brain. None of that.”

“Ladies, follow me, please.” Mr. Park is standing behind us, and as I look up at him from my seat, I notice that he kind of reminds me of Lurch from The Addams Family.

I pick up my jacket from the back of my seat, and Mr. Park looks at me and clears his throat. I put on my jacket and fasten a button in the middle.  “Where are we going?” I ask as we follow him up the stairs. 

“Press schedule,” is his only reply. 

When we get to the corridor, I pause. “Can we maybe…restroom?” I point toward the line that has already formed. 

He sighs and walks us to where the arena is blocked off behind the stage. He holds his hand out toward a lady’s room, and my friend and I walk in. 

“That was amazing!” my friend says from the stall next to me.

“It was,” you agree.

“Bang Chan really spent a lot of time over on our side tonight.”

“He did?” I feign ignorance.

We both exit our stalls and stand at the sinks. “Yeah. I think he was showing off for you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I answer a little too quickly. 

My friend gives me a look through the mirror as we dry our hands, and I blot my face with the paper towel. “That new song of his though! So hot,” she comments. 

“Yeah. I had no idea his songs were so–suggestive.”

“And the ‘say please’ written on his back was classic!”

“What do you mean?”

My friend waves me off. “It’s from one of his old lives. A fan asked him to pin her to the wall, and he joked with her to say please.”

“Oh,” I chew on my lip and feel tears sting the back of my eyes. I look in the mirror and want to curse myself for being so stupid.

It wasn’t for me. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen

"Ladies, we need to go!" 

Mr. Park calls from the bathroom entrance, and I sniff and wipe under my eyes, muttering about my mascara smudging. I want to make a run for it, go back to my apartment, and tell my heart to forget about ever feeling anything for Chris. But I have a job to do, and I'm a big girl who has had her heart broken before. 

We exit the bathroom, and Mr. Park has a black leather jacket draped over his arm. "From Mr. Changbin," he says, holding it out to my friend. She lights up like a kid on Christmas, taking the jacket and holding it to her nose. Mr. Park on the other hand, looks like he drew the short straw and would rather be anywhere else.  

"Put it on," I tell my friend. She feels like she is on cloud nine, thinking that Changbin did something nice for her, but I know the truth. The guys don't want to be embarrassed by us in front of the press. Mr. Park's words from before the concert ring in my head and leave a sour taste in my mouth. 

I double-check that my jacket is buttoned up as we walk to a conference room on the closed side of the arena. The guys are sitting up front, and reporters take up the rest of the room. No one notices when we enter, and Mr. Park stands near the front with JYP. 

Chris and Felix translate for the rest of the group, but when Chris sees Mr. Park, he canes his neck around the reporters to catch a glimpse of me. I give away nothing with my neutral expression, and his brow pinches in concern as he continues to talk. 

Good, he should feel as confused and out of sorts as I do. 

The reporters go on for almost an hour. My feet fall asleep, but I don't dare move or draw attention to myself. Han looks like he could crash if someone allowed him to put his head down, and the guys throw glances at JYP a few times, hoping that the company owner would wrap it up. 

I look at my watch and see that it's after midnight. The guys are still in their performance clothes, and if the members stay by the airport, it will take at least another hour and a half before they are able to get cleaned up and rest. 

Chris is the one to finally call it, and he has all of the members stand, and they thank the press for coming with a bow. They stand together for more pictures, then file off the small stage and leave the room. He says a quiet "Nuna" to me and tilts his head, wanting me to follow. 

JYP pops out of the conference room when we are in the corridor and calls out, "Chan."

I tell my friend to go ahead with the guys, and I stand about twenty feet down the hall like the dutiful assistant. I stare at the wall opposite me but can see the two men talking in my peripherals. They look at me a few times, but I stay steadfast. 

"Great show tonight. Keep it up, and the US tour is going to be a hit," JYP says as they wrap up their conversation. 

Chris thanks him and then heads toward me. His feet drag, and his shoulders slump. I can tell he is exhausted. "You okay?" He asks once he is standing in front of me. I want to roll my eyes, firstly because even in his tired state he is worried about me, and second because how dare he play with me and then ask if I’m okay. 

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" I say with far too little emotion to sound like myself. 

He looks me over, and his body closes in on itself even more when he doesn't find what he's looking for. He seems on the verge of collapse. 

"Let's go so I can get you back to the apartment." I keep a professional, the exact opposite of what Chris said earlier about us going home together.

We walk down to the backstage area, where the guys have already changed into street clothes. My friend runs up to me and gets close to my ear. "Changbin wants to get something to eat." 

I turn my head to meet my friend's eyes, which shine with possibilities. "You sure?" I ask. She is my age and Changbin is two years Chris's junior. 

"I'm down if he is." she shrugs. 

Changbin calls her name, and she kisses me on the cheek before trotting over to him, and they disappear through the door. 

Chris comes out from changing into his regular clothes in time to see the two leave the room. "I did not see that coming," I say to myself. 

"Are you worried about her?"

I look behind me, and Chris stares at me. "He's a little young for her, don't you think?"

"Should age matter if you have a connection to someone?"

There is that look again, like he is begging me to believe him. I'm at war with hope and guarding what only started to mend. "Whatever. Just don't blame me if it turns out badly."

"I won't."

Why do I feel like he is talking about us? But he can't be when I am the puppet, and he is pulling the strings. "Let's go. I'm tired."

"You should say goodbye to Han. He'll be upset if he doesn't see you before going back to Korea."

Knowing Chris is right, I sigh and find Han in the seating area. We hug and I tell him how good he was. I tell him that it's not proper for a mother to watch her son seduce an arena full of women. I tell him that I'm going to miss him. I demand he call me and send me all his romance drama suggestions. 

As I’m talking to Han, Chris says his goodbyes to the other members and then comes to stand behind me. "You ready?" Chris asks me and my face must have clued Han in on something. 

"Are you mad at Appa?"

I give him a tightlipped smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "No. No, I'm not. I'm just being silly. I'll be fine. I promise."

"Whatever it is, you'll work it out. Chan Hyung says you have always been honest with him."

Han's words feel like a dagger in my heart, but he's right. Even in our most awkward or embarrassing moments, Chris and I have been able to come out of it with a stronger friendship on the other side. Friendship–it will always have to be just a friendship. I will make peace with that. "You're right, honey cakes. Thank you for helping me see the way."

"I'm not just a pretty face, remember?"

"But the pretty face sure helps," I quip back, pressing his cheeks between my hands. My smile drops, and I look at him with a sincere expression. "Thank you, Han. For everything."

I lean in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek, and he blinks at me. "Eomma, this isn't goodbye forever."

"I'm sure you are right, but I don't know when I will see you again, so take care of yourself and make sure to check in on Chris. He will be lonely without you around."

Han appears to want to say something as he looks between Chris and me. "하지 마. ( Don't) ," Chris says, and Han nods. 

I step back from Han and wave at the remaining members. "Travel safe. Thank you for the amazing concert."

"Bye, Nuna!" Seungmin says, and Jeongin echoes. 

"Let's go," I tell Chris, and he follows me out of the room. 

An SUV is waiting at the back of the arena, and we duck into the backseat before we draw attention. It's a 20-minute drive straight down Ninth Ave, but we hit some traffic, and about halfway to the apartment, I hear Chris's soft snores next to me. The tough shell that I've tried to build since the end of the concert is cracking at the sight of him. He has such trouble sleeping, so for him to pass out in the car must mean he is completely drained. 

We pull up at the apartment, and I shake his shoulder. He groans at me, and I sigh while stepping out of the SUV. I walk around to the sidewalk side and open his door. Unbuckling his seat belt, I guide him out of the car. "Thank you," I tell the driver when I have Chris standing with me on the sidewalk. 

I put his arm around my shoulders, and we walk into the building. "We're almost home," I tell him when we get onto the elevator. He is getting heavy, so I prop him against the wall, and in the process, I trip over our feet and end up pressed against him. His arm is still around me, and he rests his forehead on my shoulder. 

Friends do this for friends, right? I think to myself and feel another crack in my armor. 

I take us straight to the seventh floor because there is no way I'm getting him up the stairs in the apartment. I get him to the primary bedroom and sit him on the bed. He falls back with his arms outstretched, and his eyes closed. 

I kneel and start to unlace his shoes, throwing one and then the other across the room. "Ouch," I hiss as some of the rhinestones on my fishnets dig into my knees. I stand and look down at my outfit. "I'll be right back."

I go into the second bedroom and open my drawer. "Shit," I say, seeing there is nothing in there but a few clean pairs of underwear. I wore the last of the clothes last night and, of course, didn't bring anything else with me. 

I unbutton my jacket and throw it on the bed. My Docs come off next, along with my stockings. I go into the attached bathroom and dig out the tee shirt I wore this morning from the hamper. I pull off my top and skirt before slipping on the shirt. "This will have to do," I say and look at my bare legs. 

Chris is in the same position when I enter the primary bedroom. "Come on," I say, pulling him up by his hands. "Let's get you cleaned up."

I take him into the bathroom and prop him against the vanity. "Stay," I tell him, opening the glass shower door to turn on the water. I go back to Chris and tap his arms, "Up-up."

He raises his arms, and I pull off his shirt. "Nuna, you don't have to."

"You take care of everyone else," I say and pull the drawstring of his sweatpants. He grabs my wrist and opens his eyes to look at me. If it were possible to see into someone's soul, he would witness my heart laid bare. "Who takes care of you?"

"I care. I always care. I have to. 그 문제는 내 것이다. ( That's my problem) ," he says and releases my wrist, giving his unspoken permission for me to continue. 

I strip Chris down to his boxer briefs, and as I look behind him in the mirror, I see 'Say Please' still written across his back, and I remind myself that it's not for me and I'm just here doing a job. I get him into the shower and have him sit on the built-in bench. The water soaks us both, and his black tee shirt sticks to my body. 

"You can't push yourself this hard," I tell him as tilt his head back and swipe his hair out of his face. 

"I'm the leader. If I don't, who will?"

I pump cleansing oil into my hand and massage it onto his face to break down the makeup. "Just because you carry it well doesn't mean it's not heavy, Chris."

He softly huffs a laugh before I rinse his face. I hold his head and guide him to lean back against the wall so I can wash the makeup from his chest. I start to rub oil on the X, and he grabs my hand to press my palm over the spot, and I feel his heart racing. "I need to get you cleaned up. You can sleep in a little bit." I need him to let me go before I fall back into delusion.

When I look at him, his eyes are open, but then he sighs, releases me, and closes his eyes again. I get the X off his chest, then lean him forward to get the words on his back. His shoulder presses against my stomach as I watch the makeup start to break down. I feel his fingers graze my bare thigh and feel goosebumps cover my legs, even in the warmth of the shower. 

In reverse order, I wash his back, chest, and face with a cleanser to get the last of the makeup off him. He groans when I scrub shampoo into his hair and rake my nails over his scalp. With each minute that passes, I can see his body relax, and he finally gives up control. 

"You've needed this," I whisper, and he presses his lips into a frown and squeezes his eyes shut as if trying to hold back his emotions. I rinse his hair and say, "You have to let someone in."

"그래. ( I am). " He stands up, moving so close to me that I must step back into the shower spray to keep some distance between us. 

I blink as water droplets gather on my lashes, and he reaches out to push the wet hair out of my face. He threads his fingers under my hair tie and pulls it free as my hair falls around my shoulders. 

Chris is looking between my eyes and lips, and I can't keep letting him toy with me. He's getting too close, and I put my hand on his chest to guide him back a few inches. "Since you are awake now, I'll let you finish up."

I step around him and drip water all over the floor as I put on the robe hanging on the back of the door. I exit the bathroom and leave the door ajar as I run to the secondary bedroom. I lock myself in and pull off my wet clothes. 

I jump in the shower, wash my face, and do a quick scrub down before I get out and wrap myself in a towel. Out in the dressing area, I pull on a clean pair of panties and then look in the drawers for a shirt to wear. All his regular tee shirts are in the dresser in the other bedroom, so I look at what's on the hangers. 

Everything has a designer logo on it, and I steer clear of them and find a plain black button-down shirt tucked in the back. I throw my towel to the side, pull on the shirt, and button it closed. The hem comes down to my mid-thigh, and I'm thankful that it provides some coverage. I roll up the sleeves a few times so that the material hits just above my wrists. 

I go back into the primary bedroom, and Chris sits on the side of the bed. He's in his usual sleeping attire of nothing but black boxer briefs, and I walk over to him. "Do you feel better?"

"Not yet," he answers while looking at my feet. 

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

His gaze travels up my legs, bounces around the shirt I'm wearing, and lands on my face. He looks desperate for something, I just need to hear him say it. "가지마."

"English, Chris." 

He takes in a deep breath and then releases it. "Don't go."

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen

“Don’t go.”

He reaches out and touches the hem of the shirt I’m wearing, and I feel the backs of his fingers graze my bare leg. “Get in bed, Christopher.”

He sighs and releases me before laying back with his arms over his face. I chew on my lip for a few seconds, thinking about the consequences of staying or leaving. I feel like if I go, I am shutting the door of possibility forever, and if I stay, then I am grasping to something that isn’t mine to have. 

The feeling of regret sinks in my stomach as I think about walking away, and I decide to follow my body and heart over reason. I turn off the bedside light and then lift the covers, poking his hip with my knee. “Scoot over.”

“Nuna, what are you–”

“You asked me to stay.” I look down at him and see his worried expression in the moonlight. “Did you change your mind?” My heart feels like it stops for a few beats, waiting for him to answer.

“No,” he says, grabbing my waist and pulling me into the bed. I wrap my arms around his shoulders so I don’t crack my head against his, and I’m surprised at how easily he moves me around. Chris has me on my back, and after adjusting me to where he wants me, he rests his head on my chest. 

Once he settles with his right arm wrapped around my torso and his right leg thrown over my thigh, I move one hand to his arm, and the other combs through his hair. The intimacy of our position is not lost on me, but I also can’t deny a deep feeling inside that is telling me to comfort and protect Christopher. “Are you okay?” I ask. 

I hear him take a deep breath through his nose. “Now–yeah.”

The room goes silent but I know he is still awake because he toys with the shirt’s fabric at my side. “What did I do?” His voice is quiet and raw. 

I know what he is asking, but I need to hear him say it. “What do you mean?”

He lifts his head to look at me. “Back at the venue. You were upset with me.”

I twist one of his drying curls around my finger and sigh before I answer. “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself.”

His brows pinch together. “Yourself? You didn’t do anything wrong. If it’s about the top you wore, it’s okay, I was just being–”

I let out a sad but amused chuckle as I cut him off, “No, it’s not about my outfit. I was just starting to believe something that turned out not to be true.”

He tightens his hold on me, “What was that? What did you believe?”

I shake my head, not brave enough to tell him. If I’m wrong about his feelings and right about being used, I’m not sure I could face him again. 

He presses his lips together and then lays his head back on my chest. “You can tell me, you know.”

I let the silence hang between us as I continue playing with his hair but then finally speak. “Chris, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he answers without lifting his head.

“Your solo performance,” I feel his body stiffen, and I squeeze his arm to reassure him. “Why would Han say it was for me?”

“He did?”

I take a deep breath, hoping Chris doesn’t feel my chest shudder with nerves. “He was probably just messing with me.” I try to pass it off. 

“He wasn’t,” Chris replies quickly. 

“Oh,” I stop twisting his hair and try to look down at him. “But the ‘say please’ was because of what you said on a Live, right?”

“A Live?” he turns to me again with a confused expression. 

I look at him wide-eyed and try to process what it would mean if Han’s text was the truth, but I have to clarify one more thing. “My friend said it was an inside joke with your fans. That during one of your Lives, a fan asked you to pin her up against a wall, and you told her to say please.” 

“But, Nuna, I pinned you against a wall, remember?” He tightens his hold on me, and his warm body is firm against mine. 

My mouth feels dry when I confirm. “You did.”

“You made me say please,” he looks at my lips. 

“And the Eskimo kisses during 143?” I whisper and am thankful that he can’t hear my racing heart. 

“You told me to let someone in.” He brushes hair out of my face and rests his hand on my cheek. His thumb traces my lower lip. “너는 하나입니다. ( It’s you ).”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” my voice cracks. I understand what Chris said by the way he looks like he wants to devour me.

He slides his hand from my face to rest it on my collarbone as he drops his gaze, “I know I’m not good enough…”

I move my right hand to hold his jaw in order to keep him from belittling himself and lift his head so he has to look at me. He pulls himself closer, sliding my hand further around his neck so his throat presses into my palm. I search his eyes, but all I see is desperation. “Who hurt you?” I ask with concern and wonder how this beautiful and caring man could ever think lowly of himself.

“내가. ( I have ).” His voice hums against my palm, and he’s so close our noses touch. “So 제발– (please–).”

“English, Christopher. You have to tell me what you want,” my voice is just as needy as his. 

His hand moves from my chest to cup the side of my neck. “You .” He brushes his nose against mine, “I want you.” 

“Don’t start this if you don’t mean it,” I half-heartedly warn.

“I won’t,” he whispers and leans forward.

When he kisses me, he groans against my lips, and I feel it under my fingers, still wrapped around his throat. I need more, so I move my hand from his neck to his hair and pull him closer to me. He grabs my hip and holds me still as he shifts between my legs. When he settles into the cradle of my thighs, I feel he is hard, and I moan as I instinctually roll my hips against him. 

He responds to my eagerness, pressing against me and kissing me with a passion that I haven’t felt in years. He thrusts against me, and I whimper, letting my hands roam over each muscular divot of his sides and back. 

I feel his hand on my chest, and he works to unbutton my–well, his shirt. He breaks our kiss to run his lips down my neck, and I feel his teeth nip at my exposed shoulder. “Slow down,” I say, trying to catch my breath. 

He immediately freezes and lifts himself off me. “I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly. 

I grip his hips with my thighs and wrap my leg around his rear. “I didn’t say stop.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again and hangs his head. “I’ve wanted–I’ve been 예방하고 있었어 ( holding back ) for a long time.” 

I take his face in both hands and lift his head to look at me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When he dips down to kiss me, this time, it is gentle and deep, like he wants to savor it. He settles his weight back on me and gives me pressure where I can feel my heartbeat between my legs. I sigh and dig my nails into his back, showing him I want more. 

I haven’t been dry-humped by someone since college, but with Chris, it feels intense and intimate. The month of built-up tension and flirting has brought us here, and there’s no patience, just a desperate need for connection. It feels like two magnets pulled together, and I know I’m in trouble. I feel overstimulated in the best possible way as his hands and lips attempt to touch all parts of me, and I crumble. 

He has my shirt unbuttoned down to my navel and is kissing down my sternum. “이거 핥고 싶었어. ( I wanted to lick these ),” he mumbles against my breast and swirls his tongue around my nipple before taking the peak into his mouth. 

My head tilts back, and I reach down between my legs to cup his bulge. I stroke him through his boxers, and he groans against my chest before he bites down. The pleasure-pain shoots through me, and I squeeze him in my hand out of reflex. 

Chris reaches down and places his hand over mine. He pulls our hands up over his abs, and I whine at the loss of him, but then he lowers our hands under the band of his boxers, and I feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock against my palm. 

I let out a relieved huff at the feel of him, and he rests his forehead on my sternum as I move my hand over the length of him. “Christopher,” I say, gripping his throat with my free hand and pulling his mouth to mine. 

One of his hands moves to my hair, and the other is on my breast as he kisses me. I continue to pump him in my hand, and his body quivers when I circle the sensitive head. I can tell he is close, and there is something powerful about making him fall apart. Topping from the bottom, I think to myself and bite his lower lip.  

He grips my hair so tight that it almost hurts as his back bows and his body coils. He’s no longer kissing me, just breathing against my lips and making the hottest fucking sounds as he falls apart. I feel some of his cum land on my shirt and the sliver of exposed skin on my stomach. Most of it is in my hand, leaking between my fingers and dripping onto my panties. 

“I’m sorry,” he pants, not able to meet my eyes. “It’s been a while and you are–well, you .” 

“Don’t apologize. I take it as a compliment, and that is exactly what I wanted for you.” He lifts his head and pinches his brows at me, so I continue. “For you to lose control.”

“나를 믿어, 누나, ( Trust me, Nuna ), I have been controlling myself.”

“Good to know,” I smirk, pulling my hand out between us. 

I study my coated fingers for a few seconds, and then he asks, “Nuna, what are you doing?”

I hum, “Testing a pineapple theory,” before sticking my thumb in my mouth. His taste coats my tongue, and I pull the digit out clean. 

“씨발 (Fuck).”

I meet his eyes and then lick my palm. A darkness comes over his face, and he grabs my wrist, wraps his lips around my forefinger, and sucks it clean before pulling me in for a kiss. He pushes his cum into my mouth with his tongue, and I moan at how fucking good he tastes. 

He repeats the process with each one of my fingers until my hand is clean. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says before kissing me again. 

After a minute, he does slow down and gives me a few soft pecks before he sits up. “I’ll be right back,” he reassures me before he gets out of bed and trots to the bathroom.  

Chris comes back with a washcloth that is wet with warm water. He takes my hand and carefully wipes it down before he does the same for my stomach and panties. 

He sits between my legs, and I unashamedly let my knees fall apart, and my thighs spread open for him. “I can–if you want,” he says, looking from my panties to my eyes while running his hand up my inner thigh. 

“Can you?” I tease. 

“너를 어떻게 해야 하지?” ( What am I going to do about you? )” He says and rubs his thumb up my slit over my panties. When he puts pressure on my clit, I hiss, and the side of his mouth curls up. He must be very proud of himself. 

After a few strokes, he runs his thumb over the elastic hem at the crux of my leg and looks up at me, asking permission with his gaze. I nod, and as he slips his thumb under the gusset of my panties and as I feel his skin touch mine, my legs quiver with need. 

His free hand moves to my thigh to hold me open as his thumb moves up my slit and circles my clit. “젖은 ( Wet ),” he says so quietly that I believe he is speaking to himself, but I nod, somehow knowing what he said. 

As he starts to stroke my clit, I unbutton the last of the shirt and expose the rest of my torso. I palm my tits and put pressure on my nipples. Chris releases my thigh to run his thumb under my left breast. I know he’s tracing my tattoo, but he doesn’t ask about it, just keeps a steady rhythm on my clit. 

“I need,” I pant, and I feel like I can’t catch my breath. 

“Tell me,” he demands. 

“Inside.”

He drags his thumb down my slit and circles my opening. “Here?”

“Yes,” I hiss.

Chris repositions his hand, and he collects my moisture on his middle finger before pressing it at my entrance. He pushes his finger into me, and I clamp down around him. He hums, but it sounds frustrated, so he pulls his hand away from me. 

I whine at the loss of his touch, and then he is gripping the waistband of my panties. I lift my hips as he undresses me. “Better,” he says as he tosses my panties on the bed. I feel his middle and ring finger circle my clit and then travel down to press inside of me. 

His fingers are the perfect size to clench down on. It’s been over a year since I’ve been with someone, and I appreciate the foreplay. Looking down at him, I see he is hard again, and I also appreciate his youth and vigor. 

He leaves his fingers in me, lightly taps on my g-spot, and he uses his other thumb to stroke my clit. My body is rushing toward orgasm, and my legs shake. “반응이 좋은 ( Responsive ),” he comments and watches my face contort with pleasure. 

I watch the muscles in his chest, shoulders, and arms flex with each of his movements, and when I look at his face, I see the dark determination in his eyes. “Chris–don’t–,” I plead with him to not stop. 

My body shakes as I start to feel the coil in my lower abdomen, and I close my eyes and throw my head back against the pillows. Chris moves his left thumb off my clit but replaces it with his right, and then I feel him gripping my jaw. 

The pad of his thumb slides against my lips, and I open my mouth to suck my taste off of his digit. With his finger in my mouth, he tilts my head down and my eyes roll back with how he is commanding my body. “Look at me,” he stresses each word, demanding that I comply. I feel helpless and open my eyes, praying that he will give me what my body is racing toward. 

“Do you need to cum?” He asks with his thumb still hooked over my lower teeth.

I nod as my chest heaves and my heart races. He pulls me forward and sinks his fingers deeper into me, and my breath shutters. “Say please,” he whispers and then pulls his thumb from my mouth and catches me around my throat before his lips smash against mine. 

“Please, please, please. Chris, oh God…” I beg against his lips. 

He squeezes my throat as I feel my cunt start to flutter, and I can hear how wet I am over the sounds of our breathing. My mouth opens in a silent scream, and I clamp down on his fingers. 

“That’s my good girl,” he says and slows his strokes over my clit. 

I remember how to breathe a second later and groan as my cunt pulses. My body jumps each time he passes over my clit, and I cry out at being overstimulated. I try to put my knees together, but he releases my neck and holds my thigh down. “조금만 더 ( Just a little more ).”

Finally, my body goes slack, and I have no energy to fight him as he continues to play with me. Each time my body jerks with after-shocks, he hums a chuckle, sounding very satisfied with himself. 

“You’ve needed this,” he echoes what I said to him earlier, and I let out a breathless laugh as my body continues to feel blissed out. Chris pulls his fingers from inside of me and strokes down my slit a few times. 

When he pulls away from me, I finally look at him and watch him stick his fingers in his mouth. “Jesus, Christopher.”

His lips make a popping sound when he pulls his fingers from his mouth, and he gives me a cocky grin. “What?” 

“That mouth of yours,” I say and huff a laugh. 

He moves to lay over me, his elbows resting by my shoulders to hold him up. “What about my mouth?”

I am very aware of the one layer of fabric that separates his hard cock from my cunt as he presses against me. It would be so easy to let him in, to tell him that I want–no need, more. As he lightly kisses me and grinds against me, I know he would give me anything I ask for, but I have to admit to myself that I’m already starting to freak out about what this all means. 

“Chris,” I say his name, and he hums as he kisses down my jaw and neck. “Not tonight.”

He shifts his head so we can look at each other and brushes the hair back from my face. “I know.” He kisses me one more time, deep and slow. He then sits back on his heels and starts to button my shirt. “Do you need these?” He asks, letting my ruined panties hang from his finger. 

“No, those are soaked,” I laugh and sit up. “I’m going to go in there,” I point to the bathroom, “and you are going to get me my last pair of clean underwear from the other room.”

He has that same proud look on his face and smiles, “Yes, ma’am.”

“God, you’re cute,” I say as I stand from the bed. 

When Chris doesn’t move, I look back at him, and it seems like he is trying to hold back a smile by tightening his lips. “You think I’m cute?”

The man that was knuckles-deep in me a few minutes ago and called me a good girl when he made me cum, has the audacity to act bashful over being called cute. I roll my eyes at him, “Yes, you idiot.” I laugh to myself as I walk to the bathroom and close the door behind me. 

I pee, ’cause you know, UTIs are a bitch, and as I wash my hands, I catch my reflection in the mirror and see that I look wholly wrecked. As I dry my hands, I notice that my shirt is buttoned wrong, and I start to fix it before I see the statins at the bottom of the shirt. “Shit,” I curse to myself and take the shirt off. 

As I hold the shirt up to look at it, I see the label and want to throw up. 

Chris knocks on the door and then enters the bathroom, stopping in his tracks at me standing naked, but then he smiles and says. “이거에 익숙해질 수 있을 것 같아. ( I think I can get used to this. )”

“This is Givenchy,” I say in shock. 

“Yeah,” Chris says and comes up behind me to wrap his arms around me, below my breasts. 

“I ruined it,” I cringe, having no idea how much it would cost to replace. 

Chris kisses my shoulder and sees the stains that I’m freaking out about. “Actually, it looks like I’m the one who ruined it.”

I huff and turn in his hold, but he kisses me before I can argue. I push on his chest enough for our lips to part. 

“I feel bad. I know it has to be expensive.”

He shrugs and pulls me tighter against him, “이제 내가 그 셔츠를 입으면 좋은 기억이 생길 거야 ( Now when I wear that shirt it will bring back good memories), and it was worth it.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen

Chris kisses me again, and goosebumps bloom over my body. “I’m feeling a little underdressed,” I say as one of his hands rests at the small of my back, and the other slides down to cup my rear. I’m not embarrassed by my nakedness, but do feel at a disadvantage. 

He hums as he rocks us side to side. “Should I dress down too?”

With Chris wearing just his boxers, I can only see one thing happening if he were naked also, and I’m not ready. “Insatiable,” I joke. 

“I finally have you naked in my arms. Are you surprised?”

I smile at him and lean back so I can see him better. “Did you bring my panties?”

His ears immediately turn red at the mention of my underwear, and I have successfully defused the moment. He looks at the vanity counter behind me, and I turn in his arms. “You’re going to have to let me go.”

I feel his arm tighten around my middle and look back at him. His expression pinches in thought, and I reach up to touch his cheek and get his attention. “I told you I’m not going anywhere.”

Chris sighs and finally releases me. 

I step into my panties and turn to him. “Did you bring me a shirt?”

He looks down at himself and then at me before smirking. “But we match.”

“Shirt, now,” I laugh and point to the bedroom. 

I use some of his moisturizer on my face and neck, and when he reenters the bathroom, he is carrying a black tee shirt and my toiletry bag. He hands me the shirt and sets the bag on the counter, fishing inside for my toothbrush and then placing it in the cup next to his. “This stays here now, okay?”

I have to press my lips together so I don’t smile like an idiot and I nod. “Okay.”

“Good,”  he says, taking my hand and leading me into the bedroom. 

We climb into bed together, and he pulls me into his arms. Once we settle in the darkened room, he asks, “Are you okay?”

The question slightly throws me off, but I reply, “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good?”

I sigh with amusement and look up at him. “What are you trying to get at?”

“I know that this–I mean me, I mean–I know it can be a lot.”

I raise my eyebrows at him and chuckle. “Is this you boasting?”

“Naur, naur, it’s just you saw me perform tonight, and then this happened, and I don’t want it to be because of–you know.”

It appears that even when he speaks English, I can’t understand him, but I try to read between the lines and pick up on his tense and hesitant body language, even as he holds me. “Are you asking if I went to bed with you because I realized how famous you actually are?” 

“Nah, yeah.”

“In Aussie, that means yes, right?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

I sit up cross-legged in bed and face him. “If something is bothering you, then we need to talk about it. So come on, you won’t hurt my feelings. Lay it on me.”

Chris sits up as well, and we sit knee to knee. “Okay,” he blows out a breath to release his nerves. “Are you with me because I’m famous?”

“No,” I answer immediately. “Next question.”

“Are you really okay?”

“Yes, best orgasm I’ve had all year.”

He smiles and laughs, looking relieved that we can talk openly, but then he looks down and plays with the hem of the sheets. “Do you like me?”

I lift his chin so he has to look at me. “I wouldn’t have let you get this close if I didn’t.”

“For how long, Nuna?”

“For a while,” I sigh. “I turned out liking you a whole lot more than I planned to.”

He leans forward and closes the distance between our lips. He lays us down in the bed and continues to kiss me as he settles between my thighs. “Chris, we have to sleep,” I say with a smile against his lips. 

“No, we don’t,” he replies, and I throw my arms around his neck to keep him close. 

The next morning, I surprisingly wake up before Chris and get out of bed without disturbing him. I use the bathroom in the second bedroom, pull the sheets off the bed, and the pullout couch while I’m there. Downstairs, I start the wash and also gather the bedding from the den. 

I pull up my favorite playlist on my phone and set about cleaning up the kitchen, going through the leftovers that won’t keep well, and putting away the clean dishes from breakfast the day before. 

One Of The Girls by The Weeknd is playing, and I’m swaying my hips to the sultry beat as I stand at the sink. I feel arms wrap around my middle and squeak with surprise. Then Chris presses my back to his front, and he keeps moving us to the music. 

“I told you I needed to put a bell on you.”

“And I told you that I wanted to make you scream,” he says with his lips grazing my neck. 

I turn toward him, “That’s what you said to me?”

Chris hums and kisses my lips. I think about how long ago he caught me in the tub, and I wonder if he wanted this the whole time. But I’m distracted by his hands roaming over my body, his hips moving behind me, and his voice at the pulse point on my neck. 

“I wanna take your light inside. Dim me down, snuff me out.” He sings and snakes his hand between my breasts and wraps his fingers around my throat. “Hands on my neck while you push it out, and I’m screamin’ out.”

My head falls back to rest on his shoulder, and I feel him move our bodies together. I reach over us and thread my fingers into his hair while I take his hand that is not around my neck and guide it between my legs. 

He bites my neck as he puts pressure on my clit through my panties. “No marks,” I half moan, half scold him. 

Chris plays with me until I’m squirming in his hold and more than a few songs have played through my phone. “배고파 ( Hungry ),” he says against my neck, then turns me to face him before kissing me. 

He walks me backward out of the kitchen, releasing me to lift the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. “What if Mr. Park…” I mumble into our kiss. 

“He’s on a plane to Korea,” Chris answers, and I feel my butt hit the edge of the dining table. He lifts me onto the table top and continues to kiss me as his hands move over my bare chest. 

Standing between my spread knees, Chris pushes my panties to the side and runs two fingers down my slit before pushing them inside of me. He groans at how wet I am and I whine and squeeze his fingers. 

Hurts So Good by Astrid S plays from the kitchen as Chris puts his hand on my chest and slowly pushes me to lie on the table. I moan, and my back arches as his fingers slide deeper into me.

“Chris,” I pant. “You have filming today,” my protest is half-hearted. 

“What time?” he asks as he kisses a trail down my sternum. 

“Ten,” I recall since I planned to wake him up soon. 

He grabs my hand and checks my smartwatch. “Then we better be quick.”

I can hear the smirk in his voice as he drops my hand, grabs my hip, and then I feel his lips over my clit. I cry out as he sucks, and I lift my head to see his stupidly perfect nose pressed against my mons and his dark eyes watching me. I brush the bangs out of his face and grip his hair to pull him against me as he curls his fingers inside me. 

Chris makes me cum before the song ends, and I’m a boneless mess, spread out on the table where I had breakfast with his group members the morning prior. He stands, and I look up at him with his swollen, wet lips and heaving chest as he catches his breath. 

“Nuna, come,” he holds out his hand. 

“Just did,” I sigh and have no desire to move. 

“Get up, or you’ll get another,” he quips. 

I raise my eyebrow at him, “I think you need a better bargaining tactic.”

He wipes his lower lip and takes a step toward me, and I laugh while rolling into a ball. “Okay, okay, I’m getting up.”

We go upstairs and into the ensuite bathroom. Chris starts the shower and then comes toward me. He pushes my panties down and lightly slaps me on the ass. “Get in.”

I scurry into the shower, and a second later, he follows me in and closes the glass door behind him. He starts to wash my body, but I see his cock standing proud between us and wrap my hand around him. 

Chris kisses me, and I stroke him until he finishes on my stomach. His forehead rests against mine, and his chest heaves as he comes down from his orgasm. 

“Go out with me,” he pants. 

“Like be your girlfriend?” I look up at him.

“Well, that, and I want to take you out.”

“How about you ask me when I’m not holding your dick?”

“Let go, and I will.”

“Don’t wanna,” I bite my lip and give him another upstroke. 

“Then you can explain to production why I’m late,” he has that hungry look in his eye again.

My brain finally remembers that there is a world outside of the little bubble with Chris, and I release him as he chuckles at me. He washes my stomach and then turns toward the water to wash his hair. As I watch the water run over the muscles of his back, I wonder if people will be able to tell what we’re doing just by looking at us. 

Chris turns off the water and pulls a towel off the door, patting me down before he wraps the towel around his waist. When I step out of the shower, he holds out a robe for me. Then he walks into the bedroom to pull on boxers and throws an extra pair and some black sweats on the bed. 

“You packing for something?” I ask. 

“No, I ruined your last pair of underwear.”

His bluntness and the fact that he said it in English throw me off, but he turns to me and gets down on his knee, holding out the clean pair of boxer briefs. “Foot,” he says, and I step into the underwear. 

He opens the robe and pushes it off my shoulders as he rolls the waistband of the boxers a few times. Chirs runs his hands up my sides, holding me around my ribs, and runs his thumb over the tattoo under my left breast. I know he wants to ask about it, but I’m not ready to tell him. “I don’t have a bra here.” I say to avoid any other questions.

“Your top from last night is basically one.” He has a darkness in his eyes, as if he is offhandedly telling me I showed too much skin at the concert, but I don’t take the bait. Instead, I bend to give him a quick kiss on the lips. 

“Good idea,” I say cheerfully, then trot to the other room to find my top. 

I return to the primary bedroom in my lacy top and boxers and lean up against the doorframe. “Now, this is an outfit,” I joke. 

“불장난하고 있어 ( You are playing with fire ),” Chris answers while bringing me a hoodie. 

I rock off the doorframe and hold my hands up in the air while giving him an innocent look. My silent request for him to continue dressing me makes him smile and shake his head at me while he slips the hoodie over my head. “Good?” I ask, looking down at my outfit. 

“Pants,” Chris deadpans and points to the sweats on the bed. 

“Good catch. Can’t forget those,” I joke, pulling on the pants and tighten the drawstring. 

Chris gets a text and looks at his phone. “Car is here.”

“Already!” I look at my watch and then run from the room to pull on my boots and grab my jacket, which still has my keys in its pockets.

I find Chris downstairs, and he holds my phone out to me. “Are you good to get to set on your own? I don’t think it would be a good look for me to show up in your clothes.”

“Right,” Chris says. “Ride in with me and then have the driver drop you at home. I’ll call you when we wrap for the day.”

“Okay, sounds good,” I reply, hurrying toward the door. 

As I’m about to touch the handle, Chris grabs my hand. “One more thing,” he says and pulls me into him and kisses me within an inch of my life. We part, and he smiles at me, “Now we can go.”

I don’t trust my voice to respond.

He holds my hand down the elevator but releases me when we walk through the lobby. He touches my waist as he lets me get into the back seat of the SUV first. He pulls out his phone as I give the driver directions to where they are filming for the day. 

My phone buzzes, and I pull it from the hoodie pocket. 

Nuna, don’t make plans tonight. 

I look at Chirs, and he points to his phone, waiting for me to reply. 

Okay…what do we need to do?

I watch him read my text, and then he smiles to himself and types his reply. 

You told me to ask you when my dick wasn’t in your hand, so…

Will you go on a date with me?

I swat him in the chest with the back of my hand. “You ask me over text?” I whisper hiss. 

He rubs his chest, pretends to be hurt, and types again. 

Would you rather me say it in front of our driver?

I read the text and then give him an incredulous look. 

“Hey, Nuna!” he announces. 

I lean over the space between us and put both of my hands over his mouth. 

“Because this isn’t suspicious at all,” he mumbles behind my palm. 

“Well, you didn’t have to yell.”

“So, is that a yes?” he whispers as I lower my hands. 

I chew on my lip in thought and then nod. 

Chris smiles and then picks up his phone again. 

I’ll pick you up after we wrap. Wear something comfortable. 

👍

He scoffs at my reply, which makes me giggle. 

We pull up at the filming location a few minutes later, and my friend is standing out front with her clipboard and waves at us. 

As Chris opens the door, she comes closer, “I didn’t get to tell you last night, but the concert was amazing!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Chris answers and steps out of the SUV. 

My friend looks at me, “What are you wearing?”

I look down at my entire outfit of Chris’s clothes and try to hold the blush off my cheeks. “Oh, I didn’t have anything clean at the city apartment. I’m heading home now to change.”

“I’m going to head in,” Chris tells us to excuse himself. 

“Oh, Chris! Make sure you get something to eat from the food truck!” I call out to him.

He looks me dead in the eyes and says, “Don’t worry. I had breakfast,” winks at me and then walks off. 

My mouth pops open in shock, and my friend looks between me and Chris. “What was that about?” she asks while hitching her thumb Chris’s way. 

I fix my face as quickly as I can and reply, “Oh, nothing. I was just upset that he didn’t offer me anything to eat.” To my own ears, the end of that sorry excuse sounded like a question. 

“Right,” my friend narrows her eyes at me, and I know she can read me like a freaking book. Thankfully, someone from the production team calls her name. “Be right there!” she yells behind her and then turns back to me, “We are not done here, but by the look of you–the both of you,” she points between me and where Chris walked on set. “You and I had very similar nights.”

My eyes go wide, and my mouth opens again. “You didn’t!”

My friend shrugs with a cocky smile. “A lady never tells.”

“Until you have a few drinks in you, then you won’t shut up,” I quip back. 

She leans into the backseat to whisper the next part, “You’re not the only one who had to sign an NDA.”

“Okay, great. That means we can stop talking about this and never mention anything ever again.” She narrows her eyes at me again, and I point behind her. “Don’t you have to go?”

“I’ll be calling you later,” she says in warning and then closes the SUV door. 

I breathe a sigh of relief, and then the driver asks, “Where to, Miss?”

“Amity Street, Brooklyn, please.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty

With all that happened last night, I completely forgot that I left my apartment an absolute mess. 

I sigh as I kick off my boots and look around me. Clothes are scattered over every surface and I remove the hoodie and top I wore last night and pull on a tank. I stay in Chris’s boxers and sweatpants because they are so damn comfortable. 

I make a mental note to pack more clothes to take to the city apartment. My body flushes when thinking about needing to bring extra panties, especially if Chris is going to keep up the pace of making me soak through them. 

I turn on an upbeat playlist and set about cleaning up my apartment. I stay busy and try not to linger too long on any thoughts about how, in just one night, my relationship with Chris has drastically changed. 

When I first met Chris, I couldn’t deny his attractiveness, but I was content to do my job and let him go on his way after the two-month contract. But now–

“Two months?” I say to myself. “And we’re already a month down. Do I want to start something that is just going to end?”

I pace around my apartment and pick up more clothes before I scoff at myself, “A little late to ask if I want to start something, don’t you think?”

I could pass last night and, well, this morning off as lust and a high from watching him perform. I could tell him that I didn’t want to go any further with a physical relationship, and he would respect my choice. I could deny my feelings for him and his feelings for me. I could pass it off as a combination of relative proximity, our loneliness, and a result of our fun banter and flirting. 

But all of those excuses make my heart ache and my stomach twist. Saying any of those reasons are true would cheapen the connection I feel in my bones, and if Chris’s enthusiasm is any indication, I think he would agree. 

So, I decide to let our relationship play out over the next month. I know he will leave, that he won’t stay with me and that I can’t go with him. I know it will hurt, but I also know that being with him is unlike anything I’ve felt before.

Feeling resolved, I take a load of laundry down to the basement and then head out into the neighborhood to grocery shop. It’s still a few hours until Chris wraps filming, and I’m doing anything I can to not be nervous about the date he planned. 

I text my friend, and she replies that filming should be done in the next hour. I take a shower and then stand in front of my closet. He said something comfortable, but I still want to look nice, so I pick out a pair of black linen pants and a cream-colored off-the-shoulder V-neck sweater. It’s early October, and heat still hangs in the city, but the evening can get chilly. 

Not knowing how much we will be walking, I slip on off-white canvas sneakers that are slightly dressier than my Converse but still comfortable. I clip my hair up and then apply a little makeup.

My phone chimes from the kitchen counter, and I check the incoming text. 

Nuna. I’m in the car headed your way. 

Ok. Let me know when you get here, and I’ll come down. 

We won’t have time for dinner, so eat something to hold you over. 

I’ll feed you when we get back to the apartment.

I bite my thumbnail and think about spending another night with him in the city. I will at least ensure I have clothes to sleep in. I pack my weekend bag with a few changes of clothes, pajamas, and, of course, extra panties. I washed the clothes Chris dressed me in this morning, and I put those in the bag as well. 

I’m too nervous for a full meal, so I pick at a little of this and that until I feel full. I have a handful of almonds and stand by my window to watch the street. I see a black SUV pull up, and my heart starts to race. I turn off the lamp by my bed and grab my purse as the buzzer for the door sounds. 

“I’ll be right down,” I say as I press the intercom button. 

“Nuna, let me come up.”

“Okay,” I say shyly and press the button to open the door. I have no idea what has gotten into me. I feel like a teenager getting picked up for homecoming. 

There’s a knock on my door as I put on my crossbody purse. I grab the weekend bag before answering. Chris stands in the hallway, looking handsomely nervous, holding a cluster of flowers. 

“Hi,” he says with a smile. 

“Hi,” I answer back, feeling shy, like he hasn’t seen me completely naked and didn’t make me cum twice since last night.

“These are for you,” he says, holding out the flowers. 

I peek inside the simple brown wrapping to see red and yellow tulips. “They’re beautiful, but you didn’t have to.”

“I’m trying to do this right,” he replied. 

“Well, thank you,” I say, turning in my kitchen to grab a vase and put the flowers in water. “How did you know I like tulips?”

“The painting,” he says and points across my apartment. 

It’s an older piece that I found at a second-hand store, but I was drawn to the colors, and I do, in fact, love tulips. I’m just surprised that he noticed and remembered. He’s only been to my place twice. 

The stems look freshly cut, so I unwrap the flowers and then put them in the vase, fluffing them a little to give each bloom space. I place the vase on the countertop that separates my kitchen from the living area so I can see the flowers from every part of my apartment. 

I touch one of the red flowers and then turn toward Chris, “Should we go?”

“One last thing,” he says, stepping forward, pulling me into his arms, and kissing me. “I can finally do that,” he sighs when we part. 

“Have you waited a long time?” I ask, partly joking and entirely breathless. 

He hums, but that is the only response he gives. “Are you taking this into the city?” He points to my bag. I nod, and he picks it up to carry it out for me. 

Chris waits at the top of the stairs for me to lock my door and then takes my hand as we descend. He only lets go when we exit the building, but he holds open the back door of the SUV for me. 

He must have already told the driver where we were going because Chris gives no instructions as we pull away from the curb. “Any hints? I ask as we head toward the bridge. 

“Nope,” he smiles. 

As we ride into the city, he reaches across the seat between us, and I feel his pinky finger tracing patterns on the side of my thigh. I look to the rearview mirror and see the driver is looking ahead, but I still playfully slap his hand away. 

We are finally near the Park, but bypassing the street the apartment is on and a few blocks down, I have an idea where we are going. “Are you taking me to the museum?”

“Maybe,” he says slyly. 

I look at the time on the dash of the car. “Aren’t they closed? It’s already dark out.”

“So many questions,” he teases me. 

We pull up to the curb in front of the Natural History Museum, and Chris leans forward to put my weekend bag in the front set. “Can you drop this by the apartment, please?”

“Yes, sir,” the driver replies. 

Chris steps out of the car first and then holds his hand out to me, “Nuna.”

I take his hand long enough to get out of the SUV but then drop it when we are on the sidewalk. We quickly walk into the museum entrance, and Chris pulls up a QR code on his phone, which the attendant scans and then wishes us a good evening. 

I’ve been to the museum before, but never after hours. We walk into a lobby, and I see the exhibit marque. “Are we here to see this?” I ask, pointing to the illuminated board. 

“Yeah,” Chris plays with his right earring nervously. “I know you like this kind of thing–”

My brows pinch in confusion. “How do you know that?”

“When I stayed at your place, I woke up in the middle of the night and scrolled around your YouTube.”

“You didn’t mess up my algorithm, did you?” 

He laughs, and I see some of his nervousness melt away. “No, Nuna. I left all of your ambiance channels, How It Is Made episodes, and nature documentaries alone.”

“Good,” I quip. “Wouldn’t want to be bombarded by K-Pop content.”

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want that at all,” Chris jokes. 

I’m happy that our easy banter has not changed with the status of our physical relationship.  “So I guess the cat is out of the bag, and you know that I’m a big nerd.”

Chris shrugs, “Well, I can’t expect everyone to be as cool as I am.” 

He cringes after saying this like he doesn’t believe that he is cool at all. I scoff and roll my eyes to give him a break, “Right, international pop stars are the opposite of cool.”

“Now you get it,” he smirks and I grab his wrist to pull him into the exhibit. 

The room we enter is dark, but illuminated mushrooms line the path to a theater with bench seats. The title of the exhibit, ‘ Life That Glows ,’ is displayed on the screen, and Chris takes us to some open seats near the back. 

There are perhaps thirty people in the room, and within a few minutes, the museum staff closes the doors, sinking the room further into darkness. Then, one staff member steps to the front of the room. 

“Good evening, and welcome to the Life That Glows exhibit, brought to you by Sir David Attenborough and the Natural History Museum. We hope you will all enjoy the fascinating information, stunning visuals, and innovative interactive exhibits prepared for you tonight. Now, without delay, we give you a message from Sir Attenborough.”

The small group claps, and then the screen shifts to show an older man introducing his research and equipment, which he developed to see bioluminescence in all its glory. I can’t take my attention off the screen as we are given a sneak peek at the organisms we will see in the exhibit. 

I can feel Chris watching me, and I reach over to him in the darkened room and hold his hand, squeezing it to convey to him that I’m enjoying myself. 

We are ushered into an adjoining room, and my eyes light up as I try to take it all in. Chris hasn’t dropped my hand, as he trails behind me. The room is decorated like a forest, with trees towering up the walls. The path through the exhibit is framed with fallen logs and large ferns. Glowing mushrooms are scattered around the exhibit, and bioluminescent bugs are projected around the landscape. 

“It’s like walking into Pandora,” I whisper to Chris over the audio narration from Sir Attenborough. 

I reach my free hand into the air in front of one of the projections, and it looks like the glowing animated centipede crawls down my arm. “So cool.”

The next room looks like a familiar landscape with grasslands and oak trees. Lights start to sparkle around us as Sir Attenborough talks about fireflies. I close my eyes, listen to the sounds of night, and think about standing by the lake at home. It makes me long for my family. 

“Are you okay?” Chris whispers to me and squeezes my hand. 

I open my eyes and turn to him. “Yeah. It reminds me of home.”

He smiles at me as he looks over my face like he wants to remember the happiness I’m projecting. 

We wander into the next room, and I am hit by the sound of lapping waves. “On the shores of Tasmania,” Sir Attenborough says over the speakers, and I turn to Chris. “Your neck of the woods,” I say with a smile but then I gasp as the floor lights up where I step. 

We are experiencing bioluminescent bacteria that glow when touched. Each wave lights up as it hits the shore on the opposite side of the room and each step that the guests take glows a bright blue. “It’s beautiful,” I say in wonder and watch the rippling glow as I take another step. 

Chris squats down and, with his free hand, draws a heart. The interactive technology illuminates any movement near the floor, and the blue heart glows in front of me before fading into rippling water. 

He looks up at me from his squatted position, and then I gasp as the animation changes to outline the shapes of sea life swimming through the bioluminescent bacteria. Their outlines are highlighted in blue glow against the dark ocean around them, and I feel tears prickle in the back of my eyes as a pod of dolphins swim around the room. 

Chris stands and pulls me close. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I tell him, feeling silly for crying. “It reminds me of the stingray from Moana. It makes me miss my grandmother.”

“Oh,” Chris says, not knowing what to do, but rubs my arms in comfort. “Your grandmother, is she…”

I pinch my brows for a second, then understand. “No, no! She’s still alive. She lives with my parents, well, on the same property, but I haven’t been home in a while.”

“Family is important,” he tells me, cupping my cheek. “You should go home soon if you miss them this much.”

“I know,” I say, averting my eyes from his intense gaze as the room glows around us. He ducks down to catch my eyes again, and I chuckle. “Fine, fine. I will. Promise.”

“Good,” he says and then drops my hand. “Watch this!”

He jumps a few feet away, and the floor blooms blue around his feet. I laugh and then slide my foot along the floor, and think that Singin’ In The Rain would be so much cooler if bioluminescent bacteria was involved.

The next room has tanks under UV light, and as fish swims around, the blue glow follows in the water like a glow in the dark smoke. A few of the bioluminescent insects crawl around natural habitats, but I’m drawn to a screened-off corner filled with fireflies. 

Chris comes up behind me and takes my hand. “Follow me,” he smirks, pulling me with him. 

We go two exhibits back to the room filled with sounds from twilight in the country. There is a faux oak tree in one corner, and he walks over to it before sitting down and taking me with him. 

“The water room was cooler. We can go back to that one if you want,” I offer. I don’t want him to get bored sitting in a fake field with me. 

“It is, but you are right. This feels like home.”

“Like Korea?” I ask. 

“Naur, Sydney.”

I hum in acknowledgement, and we sit cross-legged, arms stretched out behind us so we can recline and watch the dancing lights above us. 

“Before moving to Korea, I would go to the park with my friends from school and play soccer until well after dark. Walking home, I would see fireflies everywhere.”

As he speaks, I realize that we have not really gotten to know each other over the last month that Chris and I have spent together. I know about him because of the little that I have read on the internet, but I want to know everything about him. 

He must be reading my thoughts because he tilts his head toward me. “Where are you from, Nuna?”

“Montana,” I chuckle because no one ever expects me to be from the literal middle of nowhere.

“That’s…” he squints his eyes at me. “North?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “We share a border with Canada. I think we have more cows than humans living in the state.”

“So much I don’t know about you, Nuna,” he teases. 

“We’ll have to give you the crash course then.”

He leans over and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Christopher,” I whisper and then look around the darkened room. A few other couples mill around, and apart from the low light, he is doing nothing to conceal his identity. 

Chris smiles and stands, holding his hand out for me. “Come on, let’s go play in the water.”

In the next room, I lie on the floor and make snow angels in the interactive water. I’m laughing and remembering winters back home when I look up at Chris and see him holding his phone. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

He squats down next to me and turns his phone to show me the photo. “Am I not allowed to?” His question is more teasing than serious, but I know that he would delete the picture if I asked. 

I sit up and look at him. “I’m not allowed to take pictures of you.”

“Why not?”

“The NDA,” I remark, and he looks at me like he is remembering that we also have a working arrangement. 

“What if I say that you can.”

“I would say that you are either stupid or you must trust me.”

His expression pinches. “I do trust you. We wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t.”

I know by ‘this’ he means starting a physical relationship and not necessarily ‘this’ as us being on an outing together. “I know,” I say. “And I didn’t mean to insinuate that you are stupid.”

“Just my nose and lips are,” he quips, not taking my comment personally.

I can’t help but smirk. “Now that I know what those stupid lips can do, I think I am liking them more and more.”

His gaze toward me darkens, and he flexes his hand that hangs between us. I wonder if he is wanting to wrap it around my neck. 

“Should we get out of here?” I ask just above a whisper. 

“You read my mind,” he replies. 

He helps me up from the floor, and as he does, projections of illuminated sea turtles swim under us, and my heart flutters. Chris holds onto my hand, and we head for the exit. When we are in the lobby, he stops us. “Hold on a second.”

He walks up to an older couple, takes out his phone, and points back to me. The couple nods, and he smiles as he trots back over. 

“What are you doing?” I say out of the side of my mouth as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. 

“Smile, Nuna.”

My face must have read as uneasy for the first pictures because the couples tell us to move closer together and smile. I relax as Chris pulls me to his side and I look up at him for a moment before turning toward the camera and smiling. 

The older couple walks to us to return Chris’s phone, and he thanks them. “You two look good together,” the wife says. “How long have you been together?”

I stammer and don’t really know how to answer the question, but Chris speaks up, “A month.”

The couple looks surprised. “Could have fooled me,” says the husband. “They look natural together, don’t they, dear?”

“They do,” the wife confirms. “Enjoy this phase of new love. One day, you will wake up and realize you’ve been married to your best friend for 45 years.”

“That’s what anyone can hope for,” Chris answers, squeezing my shoulder, and I smile and laugh nervously. 

The couple wishes us a goodnight, and Chris pulls me toward the exit. 

The documentary that inspired this date, and yes I did cry thinking about the grandmother stingray in Moana. Gets me every time. 

David Attenborough | Life That Glows | Bioluminescence

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-One

We decided to walk back to the apartment and head down Columbus Avenue to 67th Street. We could take Central Park West, but I worry about Chris being seen on the busier street. We keep a leisurely pace and make it to the apartment within twenty minutes. 

Chris moves close to me in the elevator, and I look up at the camera on the ceiling and tell him to wait. He huffs at me but listens. 

I use my key to let us into the apartment, and once we are in the door, Chris backs me against the foyer wall and kisses me. His left hand holds my neck, and his right slides down my body to palm my rear and pull me tighter against him. 

“Hey, mister, slow down. We have time,” I say as our lips part, and I catch my breath. 

“We don’t,” he whispers, and I bet he wished he had said that in Korean. 

I’m strangely comforted that he is also thinking about the ever-ticking clock which is his time in the city, but it’s the kind of solace that comes from knowing that someone is hurting in the same way I am. 

I cup his cheeks and hold his face a few inches from mine. His hand falls away from my neck, and he holds my hips. “You promised to feed me.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips. “I did.”

He steps away, and I see my weekend bag sitting on the foyer floor. “I’m going to take my things upstairs. Can we watch a movie tonight?”

“Sure, Nuna. What do you want to watch?”

“Avatar?” I smile with my shoulders raised, like a kid asking for a candy bar in the grocery line. 

“Good choice,” he nods and then gives me one more quick kiss before he walks into the apartment and turns left toward the kitchen. 

Upstairs, I put away my clothes in the second bedroom but leave out a pair of pajama pants and a tank. I quickly change and pull on Chris’s hoodie before putting his clothes in the primary bedroom. 

In the kitchen, Chris is at the stove, finishing stir-frying chicken and veggies. He tells me to take the instant rice out of the microwave, and I also pull two bowls from the cabinet.  When he finally turns away from the stove and sees me in his hoodie, he looks me up and down before stepping up to me and pulling on the closed zipper. 

When he sees that I’m wearing a tank under the hoodie he sucks his teeth in disappointment. “What?” I laugh. “Did you expect me to just walk around here topless all the time?”

“You would hear no argument from me.” 

I playfully scoff and pull the zipper from his fingers as I point to the stove. “Focus on dinner, or it will burn.” 

He relents, does one more flip of the ingredients in the pan, and then spoons our dinner into the bowls. Chris hands one bowl to me, and I tip the whole container of rice on top of my chicken and veggies. He tilts his head at me. “Do you keep it separate?” 

“Usually.”

I shrug and mix my rice into the dish. “It’s like a jambalaya.”

“A what?”

“Oh, man. If you guys go to New Orleans during your tour, you have to get some true Cajun food. So good.” I take a bite of dinner and hum. “This is good too. Thank you for cooking.”

“Any time,” he replies. 

We eat in the living room as he cues up the movie. I’m immersed in the world of Pandora when we finish eating, and Chris pulls me between his legs so I can lie back against his chest. He pulls the clip from my hair, and I feel his long fingers lightly brushing through my waves.

“Nuna,” he says my name and wiggles under me. 

“Hum?”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“What?” I blink, not realizing that I had fallen asleep. “The movie is still going,” I say weakly.

“We can finish it upstairs.” 

I hum at his reply but don’t move. “Are you going to get up, or do I have to carry you?” He threatens and pokes my side. When I still don’t move, he wraps his arms around my middle and starts to roll us from the couch. 

“I’m up! I’m up!” I giggle and sit up on my own. 

Chris stands up with a bounce in his step. “I’m going to go shower.”

He has that look in his eye like he wants me to join him. “I’ll clean up down here, and then I’ll come to bed.”

With a nod, he heads upstairs. I pick up our bowls from the coffee table, rinse them in the kitchen, then put them in the dishwasher. I get a bottle of water from the fridge, make sure the front door is locked, and then turn off the TV and lights. 

When I enter the primary bedroom, one bedside light is on, and the bathroom door is open. Leaning up against the doorframe of the bathroom, I see Chris standing at the vanity with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. 

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and he holds out my toothbrush for me. I chuckle and go up to the second sink. “How domestic,” I joke as he also hands me toothpaste. 

I start to brush my teeth and wonder if Chris has been this sweet in his past relationships. 

“Oh my God!” I say in shock, with my mouth full of toothpaste. 

“What?” Chris asks, surprised by my outburst. 

I look over at him wide-eyed as I feel like I might cry. He washes out his mouth and looks back at me. “What?” He asks again. 

“I’m a homewrecker!” It comes out slurred because my toothbrush still hangs from my mouth. 

“A what?”

I spit in the sink and say again. “A homewrecker.”

Chris looks confused as if he is going through every meaning of the word and trying to make it fit. “Han!” I yell and hide my face in my hands, “Oh my sweet kkul-tteok, how could I do this to him?”

“Han?” He finally makes the connection. “Han doesn’t care.”

“Spoken like a true cheater,” I cut my eyes to Chris. “I should know,” I say under my breath.

I watch his jaw tick and his head tilt. “I’m not that .”

“Han welcomed me–trusted me. He calls me mom, for fucks sake. I was too caught up. I didn’t think.” I’m rambling because I can’t make any part of this situation feel better. 

“Right, he calls me dad and you mom. You never thought that was strange?”

“That’s just Han being Han,” I say so offhandedly that I forget that I’m talking to the one person who knows Han better than anyone, and Chris is looking at me like he is thinking the same thing. 

“Do you want me to call him?”

“And tell him what? That we fucked up?” I cock my hip. “What excuse do you have for us that you think won’t hurt him?”

“Nuna, we didn’t fuck up. I should have explained better. I will tell Han everything,” Chris says with all the breath in his chest. 

He leaves the bathroom, and I stand at the sink, trying to collect myself. I wash out my mouth and wipe the tears from my face. I try to take a calming breath before I walk into the bedroom. 

Chris is sitting on the side of the bed, wearing pajama pants. I guess he thinks we shouldn’t have this conversation with him sitting in just underwear. He holds his phone in his hands, flipping it end over end with his fingers. He looks up when I step toward him. “Come. Sit.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from him. “Speak English. I want to understand what you are saying.” He looks me over and then nods as he presses Han’s contact on his phone. 

“안녕 (Hello),” Han says as he picks up the call. 

“I’m here with Nuna,” Chris replies. 

“Annyeong, Eomma!”

My heart hurts, and my lip quivers at hearing Han’s cheerful voice. “Hi, Han,” my voice is thick from the lump in my throat. 

“괜찮아? (Are you okay?)”

“English, Han,” Chris says.

“Eomma, what’s wrong?”

“Han, I’m so sorry,” I start, but Chris holds up his hand. 

“Nuna and I are together.”

The other end of the line is quiet for a moment, and then Han laughs. “Well, duh. I’m talking to you both right now.”

“No, Han. Nuna and I are together,” Chris says again. 

Han is quiet again. “Like together , together?”

“Yeah,” Chris sighs, and I brace myself for Han’s breakdown. I wait for him to yell and cry and for him to tell me that he never wants to talk to me ever again. 

I close my eyes, ready for the worse, and the last response I ever expected was the one I got. 

“It’s about damn time!” Han joyfully calls out over the phone. 

My eyes pop open, and I look from the phone to Chris. His expression is hopeful but also guarded. “Han, I don’t think you understand,” I start. 

“That you and Chan are hooking up? I understand perfectly.”

Chris’s ears turn red. “And you are okay with this? With us? I thought you two were–” 

“Chan Hyung, 바보야! ( you’re an idiot )!”

“He called me an idiot,” Chris immediately translates and hangs his head. 

“I thought he told you about our arrangement. That’s why I’ve been pushing you two together.” Han says.

“You’ve what?” I look at the phone, dumbfounded. 

“Eomma, I’m happy for you and Appa.”

“Oh,” my cheeks heat, not only because now someone else knows about Chris and me, but also because I feel I may have overreacted and most definitely hurt Chris’s feelings. 

“Thank you, Han,” Chris says.

“그래서 그녀의 타투 어디 있어? ( So where is her tattoo? )” 

“Not now, Han,” Chris sounds exhausted. 

“Fine, 잘 돼 ( I hope it goes well ). 안녕 ( Goodbye ),” Han says and then ends the call. 

The silence hangs between us, and I wipe a tear from my cheek. “I’m sorry I called you a cheater.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel like we were betraying Han,” Chris answers. 

“I’m going to need you to take it from the top.”

Chris nods and holds out his hand to me. I take it, and he pulls us further into the bed, where we sit cross-legged, knee to knee. “So about Han and I.”

“You told me you are bi.”

“I told you I don’t label it.”

“Right,” I think back to our conversation in the downstairs bathroom. “You said it was an arrangement, but then you called him your boyfriend.”

“And Han calls Lee Know his husband.”

“I’m so confused.”

Chris smiles, and it finally reaches his eyes again. “My relationship with Han isn’t sexual.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” Chris chuckles. “Not that I don’t think he’s a good-looking guy, but it was more of a comfort and companionship type of deal.”

“But you slept together.”

“Yes, Nuna. The same way that you and I slept together.”

“But–”

“It seems like you want my relationship with Han to be more than it is,” he teases. 

“You guys are so cute together,” I weakly argue. 

“You are cuter,” he nudges my knee with his. 

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

My heart feels lighter, but I’m still left with so many questions, not only about Chris but about us . 

“So if you don’t like to put labels on things, then what are we?” I ask. 

“You are Nuna, and I am Christopher.”

“Right,” I say, picking lint off my pajama pants. 

He taps his finger under my chin to get my attention. “If you are asking if we are dating, then yes, I would like that.” 

“Me too, but I don’t know what that means.”

“What else would dating mean?” He asks. 

“Well, it could be an understanding–a situationship for the time you are here.”

“Situationships always turn toxic, with feelings that aren’t voiced and jealousy that makes the relationship rot.” He recites this like it is something he experienced before. 

“So either friends with benefits or all in, I guess.” 

Chris gives a shy smile. “We are friends, and I want to explore all the benefits, but I told you I don’t toy with women. So I’m all in or nothing.”

“Oh,” I blush as he looks at my lips, the same hungry gaze that I’ve been explaining away for weeks. “I always wondered what was going through your mind when I would catch you looking at me like this.”

“I was holding myself back. Trying to convince myself that you wouldn’t want me.”

“How could I not want you?” I reach for him, tracing his features. I run my fingertips over his soft brow and down the slope of his lovely nose, finally ending with his plush lips. 

He exhales like he was holding his breath while I responded and touched him. “You kept your distance, stepping away when we would get close.”

“Because I knew you were not mine to have.”

“But you do,” he whispers.  

“But I won’t,” I say solemnly. 

We wear the same expression, knowing that our time is limited, but Chris sighs and reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp. “You should sleep,” he says, pulling me into his arms while covering us with the blankets. 

I settle my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. I remember finding him and Han in a similar position, and I can tell that Chris is able to relax when he is focused on providing comfort to others. I think about when he is gone, when I am here, and he is across the world. He says he is all in, but for how long?

“I think you should continue your arrangement with Han,” I say into the darkened room. 

Chris is playing with my hair, and I feel him stop. “That’s not necessary. I’ll respect a boundary if you set it.”

I must have been quiet for too long because Chris rolls over, pressing me to my back as he hovers over me. He tries to gauge my feeling by my expression, and he must be able to read me quite well. Chris runs his thumb under my left breast, over my tattoo. “I’m loyal, almost to a fault. I won’t make you feel like you are an afterthought.”

Chris is complicated; his life, career, and the path he’s on are all things I will need to come to terms with if our relationship continues past his time in New York. “Christopher, don’t promise that.” His face pinches as if he is upset that I would question his intent and character. “I know I will come second to your music, your group, your fans, and your life outside of the delusional bubble we have created.”

He seems to want to reply and tell me I’m wrong, but he can’t, so he presses his lips together. 

“I’m trying to tell you I’m going into this with eyes wide open. I have to adjust my expectations and manage my reactions when you pick something else over me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers. 

My smile is somber but understanding. “I know you won’t.”

He looks down at my chest and presses his thumb against my ribcage. “He hurt you.”

Chris isn’t asking a question. He knows what the name tattooed on my body means. “He did.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris says and lays down next to me. 

I hope my chuckle doesn’t sound patronizing. “It’s my fault anyway.”

Chris holds me closer, and I sense he wants to tell me I’m wrong, but he doesn’t know the details. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

I knew this would come up, and I clearly still carry around baggage from the past relationship, so I feel that Chris has the right to know. “He’s my ex-fiance.”

“Fiance?” Chris pops his head up to look at me. 

“I’m thirty-one,” I laugh. “By society’s standards, I’m old enough to be a divorcee, but thankfully, I ended things before the wedding.”

Chris chews on his lip as he looks over my face. “I’m guessing he cheated?”

“Among other things,” I sigh. “We were together for almost six years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“It was, and I’m an idiot who didn’t pick up on the patterns of behavior. I thought living together would fix things, and when it still didn’t feel right, I foolishly thought, let’s get engaged. I thought that he would settle after we were married. I thought he would stop gaslighting me if I tattooed his fucking name on my body.

“I knew I was doing it for all the wrong reasons. People back home were already having kids, and I was still the one who moved to the big city and didn’t have my shit together.” Chris doesn’t talk, just trails his fingers up and down my side. “Looking back on it, I hate that I wasted all that time. Now I’m in my thirties, starting over.”

“How long ago did you break up?”

“Little over a year.”

“So when you said I gave you the best orgasm all year…”

I look up at Chris as he holds me. “You’re the first person to touch me since him.”

Chris hums and pulls me in closer. He kisses my forehead, and I think I hear him mumble ‘Good’ against my skin. I wiggle against him to get comfortable and close my eyes. He holds me and I listen to the steady sound of his breathing as my body relaxes. “Thank you for telling me, Nuna,” he whispers as I start to drift off in his arms. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Two

I wake up alone the next morning. Chris’s side of the bed is cold, so I know he’s been up for a while. Looking at my watch, I see it’s just past seven, and I stretch out on the bed before getting up. I use the bathroom and then walk downstairs. 

Chris is sitting at the dining table with his headphones on and working on his laptop. He looks up at me when I move across the living room. “Good morning,” his voice sounds thick as if this is the first time he’s used it since waking up. 

“Morning,” I reply, walking over to him. I push some hair away from his eyes and ask, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” he says, and even though his tired eyes tell a different story, I don’t push. “Sorry, you woke up alone.”

“It’s okay,” I smile. I want to say that I’ve been alone for the past year, and in another month, I’ll be alone again, but it’s too early for heartache. 

Chris reads me like a fucking book, and he pulls me into his lap. I sit across his thighs and rest my head on his shoulder, burrowing into his neck. I inhale, wanting to memorize the smell of his skin. His arms come around me, and he starts to work on his computer again. 

After a few minutes, I nuzzle his neck. “We should get moving.”

His right hand moves away from the keyboard and grips my thigh. “Just for a little bit.”

“Okay,” I whisper and wrap my arms around his neck to keep us close. 

I almost fall back to sleep as he finishes working, but I feel him rubbing my back, and then I hear his laptop close. “Nuna, come on,” he says gently. 

We get dressed and grab something simple for breakfast before we use the car service to get to set. I’m not sure if it is because of emotional exhaustion, but somehow Chris and I are able to act like we aren’t dating. 

My friend watches us as Chris goes into the hair and makeup trailer. “Did you two fight?”

“No, why?”

She narrows her eyes at me, and I raise my eyebrows to return her challenging look before she says, “Something definitely happened with you and him, and you are not a good enough actor to fool me.”

“I’m his assistant. So I’m working,” I pull out my phone and gesture toward the trailer before walking away from my friend to review Chris’s upcoming schedule. 

He had some downtime after the concerts, but his engagements are about to ramp up for the next week, not to mention longer filming days since the movie will wrap in three weeks. 

Chris is sitting in the makeup chair when I enter the trailer. “I will order the car to take you to the studio tonight. Do you need me to confirm anything with Han?”

At the mention of Han, we both freeze and look at each other, remembering the phone call from last night. “I can text him if you don’t want to,” Chris offers. 

“No, no, I can.” I figure it would be good for me to talk to Han to alleviate any remaining guilt. “Do you need me to do anything else while you are filming?”

Chris chewed on his lower lip for a second and then nodded. “I’ll text you,” he cut his eyes to the crew in the trailer, and I nod in understanding. 

I walk outside to find the food truck and my phone chimes. 

Would it be okay if I kept some clothes at your place?

I’m going to be in the studio a lot for the next few weeks and figured…

I stare at my phone, wondering how to answer. I mean, I have clothes at his place and we have toothbrushes at each. We only have a month left together, and I can’t deny that I want to spend every one of those nights with him. 

I don’t have to. It was dumb of me to ask. 

Shit. I took too long to reply. 

You could have given me one more second to respond, Christopher.

Sorry, Nuna.

What were you going to say?

I bite my lip and smile. 

That I think it is a great idea and you should come to my place tonight.

You read my mind. 😉

OMG Christopher used an emoji!

I'm just full of surprises

“There’s that look! I told you, you can’t hide it from me. Something is going on.” 

My friend caught me smiling at my phone, and I know I’m busted. “If I tell you that I can’t talk about it, will that give you your answer?”

She must see the nervousness on my face because her expression softens. “We will have to ask the stuffy asshole Mr. Park if we can at least talk to each other with those stupid NDAs.”

I will leave that conversation with Mr. Park up to my friend, and I slip my phone into the pocket of my jeans. “I need to run some errands for Chris. Can you text me if anything changes with the filming schedule?”

“Will do!”

I leave set, take the subway back to the Upper West Side, and pack four changes of clothes into the weekend bag I brought over last night. I place an order on Amazon for some of the skincare items he uses so that he will have doubles at my place, and then I take the subway over to Brooklyn. 

My apartment is tight on space, but I clear out a drawer for him and put away his clothes. I get a sense of deja vu and have a small spike of fear that Chris and I are moving too fast. I take a calming breath and have to remind myself that my time with Chris already has an expiration date. 

Speaking of an expiration date, I open my bedside table and reach toward the back, pulling out the strip of packets. Turning them over, I see they expired six months ago. “Looks like I’m going out,” I sigh to myself, closing the drawer and throwing the packets into the trash. 

As I grab my purse, I see the tulips on my counter and smile as I touch the blooms. I add a little water to the vase and then head out of the door and down the stairs to the street. 

I stop by the drug store and the hardware store before looping back home. 

Sitting at my desk, I finally have the courage to text Han. I check the time difference and see it is still early in Korea. 

Hey Han, Chris wanted to confirm that you 

guys are still on for studio time tonight/this morning.

It takes about thirty minutes, but Han finally replies. 

Yeah, Binnie and I will be there. 

Okay, good. 

Eomma. 

Yes, kkul-tteok?

Are you and Chan okay?

We are. 

Are you okay?

I’ve watched Chan Hyung focus on taking care of us for years

Only getting affection in, you know, the ways that we can. 

So I’m really happy that he has you.

I was scared that we betrayed you.

I was scared that I hurt you. 

I’m just sorry that you and him don’t have more time.

“Me too, Han. Me too.” I say to myself. 

I have to go. Will you be with Chan Hyung later?

I will. See you then.

And thank you, Han. 

For being an amazing friend.

Anytime Eomma.

I spend the rest of my time at home working on my novel. 

Chris texts me when he gets to the studio, and I grab us something to eat as I walk over. He meets me at the door, and we go upstairs to the rented studio together. “How was filming?”

“It was good. More action stuff today and tomorrow.” 

“Did you work up an appetite?” I ask. 

He gives me a cheeky look and smirks. “Always.”

I laugh, “For food, you idiot.”

“That too,” he quips back. 

We eat as he sets up his computer and gets the equipment started. “Oh! I have something for you.” I say and dig around in my purse. 

I pull out a small white paper envelope and hand it to him. Chris takes it and is surprised it has some weight to it. “What is this?”

“Open it,” I laugh. 

He opens the flap of the envelope and dumps the contents into his hand. Chirs stares at his palm and then moves his gaze to me. “Nuna, keys?”

I shrug. “I know that you will pull late nights in the studio, and this way, you can come sleep without waking me up.” He continues to stare at me, and I start to feel like I am moving too fast. “I mean, I have keys to your place in the city, so it’s only fair, right?”

Chris grips the keys in his hand and moves across the room to sit next to me on the loveseat. He answers me by pressing his lips to mine. “Thank you, Nuna.”

When I’ve been thoroughly kissed, he returns to his chair and puts his black backpack in his lap. He pulls out a keyring from the front pocket and threads my keys onto it. 

“Is it true that you have combination locks on your doors in Korea? Like in the dramas.” I ask. 

“Yeah. It’s easier as long as you remember to change the batteries.” 

I see a black fob attached to the keys and point to it. “You have a car?”

He chuckles. “I do.” With my keys secured on the ring, he tosses the keychain to me so I can get a closer look. 

“Sometimes I miss driving, but having a car in the city doesn’t make sense.” I turn the fob over in my hand. “Audi, safe, reliable, good choice. It’s always funny to see American cars in dramas, and they are treated like classy imports, but I guess over there, they are imports.” 

“When the new Mustangs came out, everyone wanted one,” he laughs. 

“What are these keys to? Other girlfriend’s apartment?” I tease and hold up the ring. His playful expression slips, and I hold up my hands. “Okay, I crossed a line with that one. I get it; you are loyal. I won’t joke about that anymore.”

“Good,” he says and points to the keys. “See that other big one? That’s to the backdoor at JYP. Then I have studio keys and keys to my parent’s house.”

“In Sydney, right?” I ask and he nods. “Do you miss them?”

“My family?”

“Yeah.”

“All the time,” Chris says with a sad but somehow comforting smile. 

“I guess we both need to go home more often.”

Chris’s laptop rings with an incoming video call, and he answers it. Han and Changbin pop up on the screen. I grab my purse, get up from the loveseat, and walk over to Chris. I bend down to wave. “Hey guys!”

“Hey, Nuna,” they both respond. 

I turn to Chris, “I’m going home, so I won’t be distracting. Let me know when you are heading over.”

“Okay,” Chris says, looking between my face and the screen before he puts one of his hands over the camera and uses the other to bring my lips to his. 

“Ugh, we can still hear you!” Changbin says over the laptop. 

I chuckle against Chris’s lips, and he gives me one final peck before I head for the door. When I stand in the hall, I almost wish the rooms were not soundproof so I could hear the ribbing Chris is getting from his members. 

The next few days go by about the same. Chris shoots for the movie during the day and works late at the studio. He walks the few blocks to my apartment after and crawls into bed with me to get whatever sleep his insomnia will allow. 

One night, I’m surprised to get a text just after eleven that he is done for the night. I’m still awake, plugging away at a script I want to sell, but I close my laptop and sit by my window to watch him come down my street. 

He uses his key to enter the building, and I go to my door and listen for his footfalls on the stairs. As he finds the key to my apartment, I open the door and prop myself against the frame. “Well, hello,” he says with a laugh. 

“Hello to you,” I answer, looking him up and down. The past few nights have been amazing to sleep by his side, but my body yearns for his touch. 

He seems to get the vibe I’m giving off and shifts his backpack off his shoulders. “You’re in a good mood.”

I shrug as he steps into the apartment, kicks off his shoes, and sets down his bag. “You’re home, how could I not be in a good mood?”

Something about what I said lights a fire in him, and Chris pulls me to him, shuts my door, and then presses me against it. He holds my face to kiss me and palms my ass, and something between a laugh and a moan escapes my lips. “I would say you are in a good mood also.”

“I wrote amazing music tonight,” he says while kissing down my neck. 

“So this is inspired Christopher?”

“Yes,” he says, gripping my thighs and picking me up. I wrap my legs around his hips, and he carries me to the bed, laying me down on my back, and I keep him close with my ankles locked behind him. 

The apartment is dark, apart from one bedside lamp and an ambiance channel I have playing on the TV. Chris is kissing me, and his hands move from my thigh to my ribs to my face, touching everywhere he can. I grip the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, letting my fingers play over his abs and back muscles. 

I push on his chest, and he takes his weight off me so I can scoot back on the bed, laying in the middle with my back against the pillows. I gesture with my finger for him to join me, and he crawls over me, resting between my thighs. 

“If I knew you wanted this, I would have left the studio early last night, too,” he says, looking into my eyes before he pushes my tank top up and kisses my stomach. 

“You need to work,” I half tease, because what he needs is a break, but I don’t want to be the reason he falls behind with his members. 

“I need you,” he mumbles against the skin at the base of my sternum. 

My body feels warm at his words, and I wiggle out of my top, and his mouth goes right to my exposed breasts. I pull his face up to mine, needing to kiss him, and as our hips press together, I feel he is hard, and I rock against him. 

We part only due to the need to breathe, and he sits back on his heels, gripping and pulling off my pajama pants. I run my bare foot up his thigh, letting my arch hug his length as I toe at the waistband of his basketball shorts. He removes his shorts with the grace of a dancer but also the hurried awkwardness of a guy about to get lucky, and I giggle as he leans back over me to kiss me. 

I roll my hips up against him to get friction but whine when he moves down my body, and I no longer have pressure on my clit. He kisses down my chest and over my belly, nipping at the skin over my hips as he slides his fingers under the hem of my panties. 

“Wait,” I say, and then cringe. 

“What, Nuna,” his tone is impatient, but not in an asshole way, more in an if he does not get me naked this second, he might explode kind of way. 

“Why does my brain have to do this now?” I say to myself. I look down, and his forehead is pressed to my stomach; his back heaves as he tries to slow his breathing. “I think we need to have the talk.”

“I’ve had sex before, Nuna. I know how it works.” He hasn’t lifted his head. 

“But we should be on the same page with things like, you know, no babies.”

This gets his attention, and he looks up at me. He must see the worry on my face because he sits up, grabs my hands to pull me toward him, and we sit knee to knee, which seems to be our go-to position for serious conversations. 

“So the company has us do health screenings every six months, and my last one was before I came here,” Chris starts us off. 

“I haven’t been with anyone since my ex and I had a full screening after we broke up because, you know, he was seeing other people.”

“Right,” Chris reaches out and rubs my thigh. Even though I’m sitting in just my panties, I feel comforted by his touch, and not like he is trying to hurry me along. 

“But still, condoms, obviously,” I say. 

“Yes, condoms,” Chris agrees, then looks at his bag. “Shit, I don’t–”

“I got some the other day,” I cut in. 

He looks at me like he wants to eat me, and I feel my cheeks get hot. “You did?” He asks.

I nod because I don’t trust my voice, but then squeak, “Oh, I have a birth control implant, but it’s due to be replaced soon, so we should still be careful.”

“Right, because no babies,” he repeated my words from before. 

“You don’t seem like the type to take a condom off during sex without asking first…”

“Definitely not.”

“But if it breaks or something happens, tell me right away, okay?”

His hand moves further up my thigh as he looks down at my almost naked body. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

“I’ll take Plan B. I’ll show you that I’m not trying to trap you with anything. A kid isn’t in the cards for me or you right now.”

“It wouldn’t be on purpose, for either of us, I know that,” he says, moving his hand to my hip, and his thumb rubs the skin under my belly button. “But if it did happen,” he moves his gaze from watching his thumb up to my eyes, “you would tell me, right?”

“Of course,” I brush my fingers over his worried brow. “But nothing like that will happen. We’ll be careful.”

Chris looks over my face, trying to read something, but when he looks into my eyes, I feel too vulnerable and drop my gaze to my lap. “Did I ruin the moment?”

“No,” he puts his finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him again. “I find your assertiveness refreshing and sexy,” he smiles when I smile, and the tension breaks. “But if it’s okay with you, I want to do ungodly things to you now.”

I hiccup at his bluntness and am glad he finds my surprised expression amusing. Two can play at his games, and I lay back, slide off my panties, throw them onto the floor, and spread my legs for him, “Yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Yes, sir.”

“You keep saying that like you don’t care about the consequences.” 

I tilt my head and raise my brow, calling his bluff. “And what would those be, sir ?”

“I’ma show you, just wait and see, little girl.”

He reaches over me, pulling a pillow from behind my head, and then he slips his arm under my hips. Chris pulls me down the bed closer to him, then easily lifts me to put the pillow under my rear. 

There is no hiding in this position. He has me spread open and completely exposed. He looks at my pussy like he wants it to be one of his main food groups and then runs his middle and ring fingers down my slit to spread the absolute mess of slick that already gathers at my entrance. 

When he slides his fingers into me, I groan as his knuckles give me enough stretch to clamp down on. He places his left palm flat on my stomach, right above my mons, and pushes down as his fingers curl inside of me. “Fuck,” I sigh, and my head tilts back. 

“Are you going to be good?” He asks, keeping a slow but steady pace. 

“Yes,” I hiss. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He presses his thumb to my clit and gives it a rough up stroke. “Yes, who?”

I tilt my chin to look at him, trying to gauge what he wants from me. His expression is dark and demanding. “Yes, daddy ?”

He freezes, his fingers deep in me and his thumb on my clit. I try to determine if he is satisfied or disgusted. Chris tilts his head and flexes his neck, “Close, but try again.”

His thumb strokes my clit once more, and it makes my thighs quiver. “Christopher,” I moan. 

“Yes…” he curls his fingers. 

I look at him, and he has a smirk on his face. “Oh God, you wanted me to say your name.” I close my eyes as I speak because I feel the familiar warm coil in my belly. “You could have told me,” I weakly protest. 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

I groan as he takes his thumb from my clit. I am so close. “Aw, were you about to cum?” He asks and then clicks his tongue in disapproval. I pout out of frustration and squeeze his fingers inside of me, trying to get enough pressure to build again. “Sounds like you understand the consequences now.”

I nod and whimper, “Please.”

“Since you asked nicely,” he quips, and then I feel his lips wrap around my clit and suck. 

My eyes pop open, and when I look down, he is staring right at me. “Fuck, Christopher, what are you doing to me?”

“소유하기 ( Making it mine ),” he mumbles against my clit, and I don’t give two shits what he just said. 

I throw my leg over his shoulder and press my heel into his back. He pulls my hips toward him like he needs me closer. With his free hand, he grabs my breast and then my neck, and I think he wants to feel the vibration of my moans against his palm. 

I’m helpless under him. I’m almost there, so I cup my breast and pinch my nipple with one hand while the other covers my mouth. Chris grips my wrist, pulls my hand away from my mouth, and pins it to the bed. 

“I need–need,” I release my nipple and grab his arm to put his hand back around my neck. He squeezes my neck as he puts pressure on my g-spot and I shatter. He lets go of my neck so he can hold my hips down as I ride out every pulse and twitch of my orgasm. 

By the time he takes his mouth away from my clit, I feel boneless, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Chris starts to pull his fingers from within me, and he strokes my clit as he does, causing my body to jump. “Christopher,” I laugh, putting my foot on his chest and pushing him back. 

He kisses my ankle, “Told you I wanted to make you scream.”

“My poor neighbors,” I chuckle and look down at him to see he has his fingers in his mouth. 

He drags his fingers past his lips and smirks at me. “Aji wa ( tasting ) devine, Nuna.”

“Your stupid mouth,” I smile and throw my arm over my face. 

“Do you think I’m done with you?”

I scoff. 

“Nuna, condoms.”

I smirk, throw my arm off my face, and point toward the nightstand. “Drawer.”

He shifts my legs so he can move off the bed, and I eye his cock straining against his boxer briefs. Opening the drawer, he pulls out the box of condoms, ripping off two packets and throwing the rest back into the drawer. 

“Two?” I say with wide eyes. 

“Two,” he answers in all seriousness and tosses the condoms on the bed before he crawls over me. 

I welcome him back between my legs, and he rests his weight on me as he kisses me. He brushes the hair off my forehead and makes eye contact. “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

“How could I refuse after you promised me two more rounds?”

He looks over my face for any hints of apprehension. “I mean it.”

“And Christopher, I mean this,” I give him a pointed stare. “If you don’t take off your underwear right now, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

He breathes out a laugh and rests his forehead on mine, kissing me once more before he rocks back on his knees and kicks off his boxers. 

I sit up as well, grabbing one of the condom packs and palming his cock, giving it a few strokes. I release him to tear open the wrapper and look up at him. “I trust you, but is it okay if I–”

He cups my face in his hands and kisses me, and I take that as a yes as I roll the condom down his length. Once I reach the base of him, he lays us back as he continues to kiss me. “Tell me you want me,” he whispers, and I hear a vulnerable neediness in his rough voice. 

“Christopher,” I say his name, and he looks into my eyes. “It’s you.”

As he kisses me, his hand moves between us to guide him, and as he enters me, we both gasp at the feeling. 

He starts slow, feeling the tight drag as he pulls out and then presses deep. He mumbles Korean words against my neck, and I hear things like boji (pussy), nomu joh-a (so good), and na michyeoss-eo (I’ve lost my mind). He grips my ribs right under my left breast, and I know he is covering my tattoo, not because he is bothered by it, but because he doesn’t want my ex to have any part of our connection.

Chris works me into a mess, and as my breathing picks up, so does his pace, and I grip his biceps to ground myself under his powerful thrust. He looks over my face, taking cues from my moans and cries. He’s found a spot inside me that makes my thighs grip his hips, and I pant, “Please–don’t–” but I’m cumming before I can finish my sentence. 

“Shit,” he curses, slowing his thrust as I grip him. He gives me a moment, then hooks my knee over his forearm and starts again. 

It feels like every nerve in my body is firing at the same time, and his mouth closing around my nipple makes me clench. It’s almost too much, and when I look at him, he has a focus, as if he wants to push my body to the limit. 

“Chris,” I hold his hip. 

“I want more,” he rasps to himself but slows. 

His damp hair starts to curl, and I push his bangs out of his face. “You don’t have to work so hard. I’m already impressed.” I wonder how many orgasms he is expecting to pull out of me.

This breaks the tension, and he hangs his head to laugh and catch his breath. I run my hands up and down his sides. “Just do what feels good to you, and it will feel good for me too.”

He chews on his lip, considering what I said, then nods as he drops to his elbows, bringing us in close, and he gives a slow and deep thrust. He watches my face as my mouth pops open, and I moan. He cards his fingers into my hair, holding the top of my head as he thrusts again, kissing me as he does. 

The sounds that he makes has me clenching, and I have never wanted to watch someone fall apart so fucking badly in my life. 

Chris keeps us close, holding me and grunting, sighing, and moaning against my lips, neck, and shoulder. I don’t cum again, but my body burns with the need to feel him pulse inside of me. 

And he does.

I wrap my arms around him, letting my nails dig into the skin on his back as my legs lock over his hips. The moan he lets out is one of pleasure and relief, and I hold him inside of me long after the last twitch as he slowly kisses me. 

He pulls out before there is any chance of the condom slipping off, and he gives me a quick peck before walking to the bathroom. I stay in bed, laid out like a starfish, as my body calms down, and I try to wrap my head around the fact that Chris and I just had sex. 

I giggle to myself and then sigh contently. 

Chris comes out of the bathroom and returns to the bed, but he grabs my ankle and pulls me toward the side. “Go pee before you get a UTI.”

I stand up as I laugh since my legs don’t want to work. I spin and look over my shoulder at him, “Yes, sir.” 

“내 손가락을 다시 너 안에 넣으라고 강요하지 마 ( Don’t make me put my fingers back inside you) .”

His tone is threatening, and I cover my mouth in faux shock. “I’ll assume you just said something very sweet and caring.”

Chris presses his lips together to try and suppress a smile, “Depends.” 

“On what?”

He closes his eyes and swallows down his laugh before he turns to me with a sexy and serious expression. “On how sore you want to be tomorrow.”

Now I am shocked. “Jesus, Christopher!” I laugh and fan myself. 

“What?” He says while blushing and finally letting his shyness take over. 

“Was this absolute dirty talking menace always hiding right under the surface?”

“Maybe…” he says while clenching his jaw, looking nervous.

I lean down to be at eye level with him and grip his chin. “Well, bring him out to play more often.”

I kiss him, and he finally has to laugh and wiggle to release his nervous energy. “You just fucked me so good that I couldn’t move. You don’t get to be this adorable afterward,” I tease him. 

His expression turns dark, and he grabs my throat. “Is this what you want instead?”

“God, yes,” I breathe. 

He smiles and gives me a quick kiss. “Good to know. Now, bathroom, go.” He points across my apartment and smacks my ass when I turn. 

I pee, wash my hands, splash water on my face, and put my hair back up into a high bun. 

When I exit the bathroom, Chris sits in the center of the bed, beckoning to me with two fingers. “Come here, Nuna.” I scamper over to him, and he pulls me into his arms, my back pressed to his chest. 

He wraps his arms around me and kisses my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“If you keep this up, I fear I am in danger of dehydration.”

His brow furrows, and I take his hand and press his fingers into my sopping cunt. “Oh, that,” he smirks and sinks his fingers into me. “Are you saying that I need to fuck you again?

“Well, you did say two.”

He sucks his teeth, a habit I’ve learned means he isn’t quite sure what to do with me, but he then bites my shoulder. With the hand that is not inside me, he pulls my leg over his thigh so I am spread open, and he leisurely plays with my cunt. “I am a man of my word.”

He fingers me until I’m begging for more, and only then, when I say please, does he lay me down, put on the second condom, and then enter me again. 

I’m not sure who he enjoys edging more, himself or me. Chris brings us so close before he stops, kissing me as I whine and roll my hips under him. “Frustrated?” He asks and I can feel the smirk on his face. 

“Yes,” I say, biting his lower lip. 

“What are you gonna do about it?”

I groan and squeeze his hips between my thighs. “I’m about to pin you down and have my way with you.”

He stills, “Promise?”

“Christopher,” I warn. 

He pulls from within me and picks me up so we are both kneeling on the bed. He smiles at me and sits with his back propped against the pillows. He taps his lap, “Come on, Nuna.”

As I climb over his thighs, he keeps smiling at me, puts his wrists together, and holds them over his head against the headboard. I narrow my eyes at him as I grip his cock and notch it at my entrance before sinking down on him. 

“Forgetting something,” he asks. Chris glances from my eyes to his hands still above his head, and I sigh as I grab his crossed wrists and pin them to the headboard. 

I grind down on him, and even though I am sore, it feels so good to have him deep in me. I ride him until he is panting and trying to pull his hands away from the headboard so he can touch me. I dig my fingernails into the skin of his wrist as a warning. 

“Nuna,” he helplessly warns me that he is getting close. 

I tilt my hips forward so that my clit is also getting friction, and warmth shoots down my spine. I gasp and swear I feel him get bigger in me. “Fuck,” Chris curses, breaking his hands out of my hold to grip my hips and keep me moving for the last few seconds before he twitches, and I crash over the edge with him. 

Chris wraps his arms around my back and holds me to his chest as we both come down from bliss. I lay my head on his shoulder, and he hums softly while running his fingers up and down my spine. I shiver, not from the cold, but because of the intimacy of the moment with him. I didn’t know that sex could be like this, and I close my eyes as they sting with tears I refuse to let fall. 

“Nuna,” he says quietly and kisses the top of my head. “Let’s get washed up so you can sleep.”

I nod and lift off his lap, cringing as he slips out of me. He notices, of course, and reaches down to press his hand against my pussy. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, somewhat embarrassed. “It’s just been a while.”

He gets out of bed and holds his hand out for me. He leads me into the bathroom, releasing me only to throw away the second condom, and then he turns on the water in the shower. We step under the warm spray, and even though my shower is smaller than the one in the city apartment, Chris washes me, and I may have let a few tears wash down the drain. 

When I’m clean, he holds my hand as I step out of the tub. He wraps a towel around my shoulders and smiles at me before he pulls the curtain closed so he can wash up. I dry off, get a glass of water in the kitchen, then dress in pajamas. 

I pull a pair of his boxer briefs from the drawer where I keep his things and take them into the bathroom. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and takes the boxers from me. I take our toothbrushes from the holder, squirt a dollop of toothpaste on each, and hand him his. 

We brush our teeth, he downs a glass of water in the kitchen, and then he pulls me into bed. He holds me close and kisses my forehead. “너 어떻게 포기해? ( How am I going to give you up? )”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Four

I wake up to the sound of clicking on a keyboard. Chris is sitting next to me in bed with his laptop open and headphones on. He must feel me move because he uncovers one of his ears and looks down at me. “Good morning.”

I groan and stretch, my whole body is sore. Chris chuckles and brushes the hair away from my face. “You can sleep more if you want,” he says. “I have night filming tonight.”

“I should get up,” I say, not meaning a single word. 

Chris hums, apparently also not believing me. I roll toward him, threading my arm across his hips, and pull myself close to him so I can press my forehead to his warm side. “Cute,” he says, rubbing the arm around him. 

“You don’t have to lie. I know I’m not a cute sleeper,” I mumble and nuzzle my face against him. 

“You are very cute,” he counters. 

“My brothers say I look like a dying Victorian child.”

“정확한데 귀여워 ( Accurate, but still cute ).”

I tilt my head to bite at the skin above his hip, and Chris laughs and tries to wiggle away from me. I hold him tighter and kiss his side before pressing my body against his leg and settling to get a few more minutes of sleep. 

“Nuna,” Chris says and rubs my back to wake me. “Get up and I’ll make you breakfast. We need to go into the city.”

I roll away from him and get out of bed before slowly making my way to the bathroom. When I come out, Chris is standing in the kitchen, cooking eggs on the stove. I pop a few slices of bread into the toaster and then pull a container of strawberries out of the fridge. 

I wash the fruit and cut off the tops as Chris finishes the eggs. Chris catches my elbow before we eat, and I turn toward him. “One more thing,” he says, bringing me in for a quick kiss. 

“Only one?” I ask, with my face tilted up, and I smirk. “I thought you liked things to come in twos.”

He chuckles, and his ears turn red before he kisses me another time. 

We sit on the barstools in my kitchen, and I squirm on the hard surface. “You okay?” he asks. 

“Sore,” I say, trying to get comfortable. 

“I’ll share my pineapple juice with you when we get back to the city. It will help your sore muscles.” He winks at me, fully aware that he is the reason for the condition of my body.

“You know what else is good for muscle soreness?” I quip, and he raises his eyebrows. “Not dating a 27-year-old.”

“Yes, that would be easier,” he agrees. “But definitely not as fun.”

I call the car service for the ride back into the city and get a text from our usual driver with his arrival time. 

Chris holds my hand down the stairs but releases me when we reach the lobby. We walk out onto the sidewalk, and he grabs my waist as I climb into the back seat of the SUV. I glance over my shoulder at him since he seems to have no issue getting handsy with me. 

We head toward the bridge, and Chris reaches for me as he scrolls on his phone. I try to be subtle with how I slap his hand away from my thigh. 

“Hey, Herman,” Chris says to our driver without looking up from his phone. 

“Yes, sir?”

Chris meets Herman’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Do you care that I’m dating Nuna?”

My mouth pops open, and I look over at Chris. 

“No, sir. You make a good-looking couple,” Herman answers and flicks his eyes to me in the mirror. 

“I think so, too,” Chris says, reaching over to grab my hand.

“You just couldn’t help yourself,” I whisper-hiss at him. 

Chris leans in closer to me, “I have three weeks with you, I don’t want to have to hide all the time.”

I sigh, relax in my seat, and allow Chris to continue holding my hand as he chatters about what the guys are up to in Korea. I meet Herman’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and I give him a soft smile and mouth ‘Thank you’ to him, not only for being so understanding but also for his discretion. 

We reach the apartment, and I confirm with Herman that he will pick us up later in the afternoon to take Chris to set. 

Chris wraps his arms around my waist in the elevator and pulls me against him. “I have to wash up before my live chat with the guys. You should join me.”

I push at his shoulder as he tries to kiss my neck. “No, sir. I now know what that look in your eye means, and I will not take the blame for you being late to your schedules.”

We get to the sixth floor, and I playfully push him away and exit the elevator. He grabs my hand and pulls me back to him as we walk to the door. Before I can put my key in the lock, he presses me to the door and kisses me. 

“Christopher,” I warn. 

“Nuna,” he teases back. 

I roll my eyes and open the apartment door. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able to walk right for a week.”

“That’s the point,” he jokes, but the smile falls from his face. 

“그가 방금 들어왔어요 ( He just walked in ).” I hear a voice from within the apartment. Chris pulls me through the foyer and we see Mr. Park standing in the middle of the living room. “어디 갔었어? ( Where have you been? )”

Mr. Park’s gaze shifts from Chris’s face to our joined hands, and I try to pull away, but Chris holds me tighter. 

“그래서 사실이네 ( So it’s true ).”

“응 ( Yes ),” Chris answers. 

“이게 무모한 거 알지? ( You know this is reckless, right? )” Mr. Park points at me, “그녀가 만약… ( What if she… )”

“Hold on,” I say, stepping forward to stand next to Chris. "If you are talking about me, please speak English.”

Mr. Park doesn’t look at me but addresses Chris. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I’ve been attending all of my schedules, and I’m entitled to personal time.”

“I see that,” Mr. Park says and finally looks at me. 

I pull my hand from Chris’s and clasp them in front of my hips. Chris looks at me, and his brow furrows. I’m not embarrassed to be with Chris, but I will also not flaunt our relationship in front of someone who clearly disapproves. 

“Did you two think this through?”

“We understand that I’m leaving at the end of the month,” Chris says. 

“I know we can’t be public,” I add because that is what I feel Mr. Park is most worried about. 

“Of course, you can’t,” Mr. Park scoffs. “The optics of this is a mess.”

I turn to Chris. “Is it because I’m American?”

“It’s because you’re an employee,” Mr. Park answers. 

“She doesn’t work for me or JYP.”

“Have you checked your employment contract?” Mr. Park asks me, and I stare back at him wide-eyed. “That is what I thought, and that doesn’t even cover the public’s opinion about the fact you are paid to spend time with Chan.”

“Paid to spend time,” I roll the word around in my head. “Are you saying people would think that I prostituted myself out to him?”

“Aish!” Chris calls out and threads his hands through his hair as he walks away for a second before doubling back. He sucks air between clenched teeth and ticks his head to the side. “다시는 그녀에 대해 그런 말 절대 하지 마요. 이해했어요? ( You will never say anything like that about her ever again. Understand? )”

I didn’t need to know what Chris said; I can see the meaning clearly in Mr. Park’s expression. 

“I didn’t say that is what I thought–”

“And it is your job to make sure that no one else would think to question her integrity either.” Chris points at Mr. Park and leaves no room for rebuttal. 

An alert on Chris’s phone goes off, and he looks at it. “Shit. I have to get ready for a live stream with the guys.” He looks at me and puts his hands on my shoulders, “Are you okay?” I nod and give him a tight-lipped smile. He turns to Mr. Park, “Are we in agreement?”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Park responds. 

I know so many other aspects of our relationship will need to be discussed, but Chris is busy; I have to get used to the interruptions and the late nights, the distance, and the loneliness. 

Chris kisses my forehead, and Mr. Park looks away before Chris goes upstairs to prepare for his live. 

“Miss,” Mr. Park says to me. “Would you please join me for coffee? We have a few things to discuss.”

I think about going to tell Chris that we are leaving, but Mr. Park is already heading for the door, and I decide to text Chris to let him know we will be back after his schedule with the group. 

We walk to a coffee shop a block away. Mr. Park gets an iced Americano, and I order a cold brew with cream. We head toward the park and walk along the winding paths. 

“I’m not trying to be difficult with all of this. My goal is always to protect Chan.”

“I understand,” I say with sincerity. I take a sip of my drink and look forward. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Mr. Park sighs. “I’ve not seen him like this before. He had someone in Australia–”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Park,” I interrupt. “With all due respect, if I’m going to hear about Chris’s past relationships, I think it should be from him, and only if he chooses to tell me.”

He presses his lips together and nods. “Right, I was just trying to say that this situation will be different.”

“Situation?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Relationship,” he concedes, and I take another drink of my coffee in victory. 

“He has a larger fan base now, more eyes, and more cameras to catch his every move, and I’m not sure what the reaction would be if it came out that he is with you.”

I grew up listening to boy bands and, at one point, thought that I had ownership over my favorite member, so I guess I get it. It was always heartbreaking and disappointing when my celebrity crush went off the market, even though I knew I had zero chance with them. 

But I also think his fans are being protective of him. They may think I’m only with him for his fame, or I am using him somehow, manipulating him, or trying to trap him. I know that my looks, my age, my job, my family, and even me being American will be picked apart. When I told Chris that I’m going into this relationship with eyes wide open, I meant that I understand that I am opening myself up to be torn apart if we ever went public or were caught. 

“We are being careful,” I try to reassure Mr. Park. 

“Nothing in public?” He asks. 

I think about our date and cringe. “Well, maybe one outing.”

Mr. Park rolls his eyes. “All it will take is for someone to see the way he looks at you, and it will be plastered all over Twitter.”

My phone buzzes, and I see the incoming text. 

Where did you go?

We are taking a walk in the park while you work. 

We will be back when you are finishing up.

Don’t let him intimidate you. 

You are allowed to stand up for yourself.

I snort out a laugh and reply. 

Did you forget who you are talking to?

I have no problem fighting for what I care about. 

You care about me?

🙄 Shut up, Christopher, and focus on your live.

Yes, Nuna.

When I look up from my phone, Mr. Park is staring at me. “You really like him.”

“I do,” I say with a soft smile. 

“What’s the plan after he leaves?”

I take in a deep breath and then release it. “I don’t know. Our relationship is so new, and I’m not naive enough to expect him to promise me anything.”

“You’re different.” I think Mr. Park is trying to ease his own anxiety, but he still looks at me with suspicion. 

I shrug. “I’m a realist. What happens after the movie is done will be something that Chris and I decide together.”

“Of course. There’s no dating ban anymore, so he is free to have a relationship.”

We walk in silence for a while, and finally, Mr. Park clears his throat. “You are being safe, with you know–”

“That,” I point at Mr. Park. “Is also something that is between Christopher and myself.”

He nods and says,“I guess all that is left is the contract.”

“I’ll review my employment contract, but I don’t think I remember there being limitations on fraternization.”

“I meant the relationship contract.”

“The what?” I look up at Mr. Park. 

Mr. Park points toward a bench, and we walk over to sit. He puts down his coffee and pulls an envelope out of the inner breast pocket of his jacket. “I had a feeling this was happening, so I came prepared.”

He holds the envelope out for me, and I look between him and it. “What if I refuse to take it?”

“Just look at it,” he insists. 

I take the envelope, pull out the papers, unfold them, and scan the text. 

The first few sections outline what is in the NDA but expand it to what happens privately in the relationship. It has rules and boundaries about not purposely outing the relationship if it has not been made public and endorsed by the company. 

I read the following paragraphs and look to Mr. Park. “What’s this about?”

He sees where I am pointing and straightens his suit. “If you are caused any physical or emotional harm during the course of the relationship, it outlines that you cannot sue Chan or JYP, but you will be compensated.”

My face screws up, and I ask. “Does he know about this?”

“Chan has not needed to use this contract, but other members have and do.”

I read over the last few sections and shake my head. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s necessary.”

“So this says that no matter what, I keep my mouth shut and that I will get paid if he hurts me or if we break up?”

“That is overly simplifying it, but yes.”

“And people sign this?”

“If they want to continue the relationship,” Mr. Park replies. 

“So Chris and I can’t continue to date if I don’t sign?”

“We can’t force you to do anything, but you won’t have the protection of the company without the contract.”

I chew on my lip. “But the company would still protect Chris, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” I say, handing the contract back to Mr. Park. 

He takes the papers and puts them back in his jacket. “How did I know you would be difficult?”

I lean back and cross my arms over my chest as I turn toward him. “You know, for someone who said that the public might think I’m whoring myself out for being with him while getting paid, you are actually paying people after being in relationships with your idols.”

“Whoring?” Mr. Park repeats, looking very flustered by my word choice. “I never said–”

“You implied,” I give him a pointed glance.

He sighs and leans back on the bench as well. “I don’t think you understand how your life will be picked apart.”

Mr. Park’s phone pings, and he looks at the screen. “I have a meeting. Do you want me to walk you back or–”

“No, I’m fine here. I can get back on my own.”

He stands and pats his jacket. “Think about the contract. It’s there to protect you also.”

I hold out my hand, and Mr. Park gives me the papers again. He slightly bow and then walks towards Central Park West. 

I sit on the bench and flip through the papers before I sigh. I pull up my phone, find my employment contract in my email, scan through the pages, and stop when I see a section about fraternization.

“Shit,” I say to myself and then dial a familiar phone number. 

It rings a few times before the call connects. “Hey, Dad. I need your help.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Hey, Dad. I need your help.”

“What’s up, peanut?”

“Dad, I think I messed up.”

“Are you in jail?”

“No…”

“Did you kill someone?”

“Come on, would I call you from my registered phone number if I had?”

“That’s my girl,” he jokes. “But seriously, what’s up?”

“I might need your help getting out of a contract.”

“The one with the production company?” He asks. 

“Yeah.”

“I looked it over before you signed. It’s a solid contract and I thought you were excited about the opportunity.”

Having a semi-retired lawyer in the family has its merits, but not when I have to tell my dad that I’m the one that fucked up. “I might have breached it.”

He sighs and then groans as he sits down. “Lay it on me.”

I give my dad the PG details about how I started a relationship with the person I was hired to assist. He puts me on speaker, pulls up the original email with the contract, and reads it over while I talk. “It says that friendly relationships are allowed but not sexual. So you’re telling me that–”

“Yes, dad,” I cringe. “Don’t make me actually say it. Just tell me how to get out of this.”

He reviews a few other clauses and then says, “You will need to resign or stop the relationship, which, by the sounds of it, you don’t want to do the latter.”

“I can’t, daddy.” My body hurts with the thought of walking away from Chris without seeing the month through. 

“He’s good to you?”

“Very. He’s the best man I know–apart from you.”

“Good answer, peanut.”

I can imagine the smile on my dad’s face, making me miss home even more. “So I resign. Any other penalties?”

“Of course, you won’t get paid for the rest of the contract, and you might have to pay back any wages because you are the one breaking the contract. That will be up to their HR.”

He is silent while I think, but then he asks. “Have you sold any work?”

“No,” I sigh. “I’m reworking the one Hallmark turned down, and I started a novel, but nothing is on the hook right now.”

“Do you need to talk to your grandmother?”

I know my dad doesn’t see me as a failure or disappointment. I know that I could go back home and work for the family and not rely on my trust when times get hard, but they also know that I would be miserable out in the middle of nowhere doing the same thing day in and day out.

“Yeah, I’ll give her a call. It’s only until the end of the month; then, I’ll get something else going.”

“I have faith in you, peanut. You’re resilient like your old man.”

“Thanks, dad. For everything.”

“Of course, and let me know if the company gives you a hard time.”

“I might need some help because I can’t actually disclose my relationship because of an NDA.”

“But you told me.”

“You are my legal counsel. You don’t count.”

“Right,” my father deadpans. “Hopefully, you didn’t tell that friend of yours. When you brought her for a visit last time, she didn’t stop talking the whole time you were here.”

“Oh, that’s a whole other story, dad. One that I actually can’t tell you,” I laugh. 

“Good, I don’t want to be guilty by association.”

“The secret is safe with me,” I promise. “I’m going to call Babcia ( grandmother - Polish ).”

“She should be at her house watching her stories.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“And peanut, how about you call me sometime when you don’t need legal advice.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t called. It’s been crazy this past month.”

“Right, young love.”

“Dad,” I laugh and can’t help the blush that rises on my cheek. “I’m going to hang up now before you can embarrass me any further.”

“Alright, alright. Love ya!”

“Love you too, dad.” I hang up the call and slump back on the bench. I know my grandmother will understand, but I don’t want to make the call. 

The phone rings twice before she picks up, “Skarbie ( My treasure - Polish) !”

“Hey, Babcia! How are you?”

“You know me, I’m just getting into trouble any chance I get.”

I laugh, “That’s good to hear.”

“How is my favorite granddaughter?”

“I’ve been better,” I admit. 

“Opowiedz Babcia o tym wszystkim ( Tell Grandma all about it) .”

“So I met a guy…”

At the end of our call, she agrees to let me access my land trust so I will have living expenses for the rest of the month. Her one condition was that I come home for Thanksgiving, which I wholeheartedly agree to because I miss her even more after hearing her voice. 

I’m about to hang up when I hear someone running toward me. 

“Nuna!”

“Christopher?”

“Oh, is that the young man?” My grandmother asks. 

“Yes,” I reply to her, then watch Chris run the rest of the way to me and stop with his hand on his knees to catch his breath. “Did you run all the way here?”

“Yeah, you didn’t pick up your phone, and Hyung said he left you in the park.”

“So you came to find me?”

He stands up and tilts his head at me, “Nah yeah–I mean, I was worried about you.”

“Oh, he sounds nice, skarbie.”

“He is,” I say into my phone, and Chris furrows his brows. “I’m talking to my grandmother.”

“Oh, halmeoni, annyeonghaseyo (hello, grandmother ),” Chris says with a bow. 

“She can’t see you,” I laugh. 

“I’m trying to be respectful,” Chris whispers to me. 

“Bring him home with you next month. I want to meet this young man.”

“I don’t think that is possible, Babcia.” I don’t have the heart to tell her that I will probably not see him again after the end of the month.

“Put him on the phone,” my grandmother demands. 

“She wants to talk to you,” I hold my phone out to Chris.

He points to himself like there is anyone else around that my grandmother would want to speak with, and I nod. He takes the phone and holds it to his ear. “Hello, halmeoni-kkeoseo.”

I’m only privy to one side of the conversation, and by the look on Chris’s face, I see he is getting the full experience that is my gran. 

“Yes, ma’am, I’m Korean but from Australia.”

“Yes, your granddaughter is very special. I like her a lot.”

“Oh, Thanksgiving in Montana?” He looks at me, and I put my face in my hands. “It would be an honor to meet you. I will see what I can do.”

I mouth, I’m sorry , to Chris, and he waves me off. 

“Yes, halmeoni, I’ll make sure she eats. Yes, yes, okay, here she is.”

He hands the phone back to me, and I roll my eyes as I put the phone to my ear. “Babcia, you can’t just be inviting my boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner without asking me or mom.”

“I can, and I did, skarbie. Now take care of that contract so you can be with that nice young man, and I’ll take care of the trust.”

“Thank you, Babcia. Love you.”

“Kocham cię ( Love you ) too, my treasure.”

I hang up the call and slide the phone into my back pocket. “Sorry about her. She has a habit of saying whatever comes to her mind.”

Chris smirks, “It’s nice to know where you get it from.”

“Hey!” I laugh and try to pinch his stomach. 

He giggles and jumps away from me. I lunge after him, and he catches me around my waist, pulling me against him. “I like that you don’t have a filter.”

“You say that now,” I laugh and wrap my arms around his neck. 

“On your left!”

A biker wizzes by us, and I’m reminded that we are in the middle of Central Park. I pull away from Chris and look around to see if anyone has noticed us. “We should get back.”

“Yeah, we need to head out in a few.”

I pick up the folded papers from the bench and shove them in the back pocket that isn’t occupied by my phone. 

“What’s that?” Chris asks. 

“Nothing important. I can show you when you get back from filming.”

He looks me over but doesn’t push, and we walk back to the apartment. Chris showers again since he ran to find me, and then Herman picks us up and drives us to set. 

I bring my laptop to draft a resignation letter. 

When there is a filming break, my friend sits next to me. “What are you working on?”

“I have to quit,” I see no point in lying to her since she was the one that got me the job. 

“Quit listening to 80s pop, quit eating from the questionable food stall on 9th, or quit letting those shity TV networks dictate what you write? You will have to be more specific.”