Chapter Text
San does the hundredth push-up and gets up, his arms feeling like they would fall off any time soon. “Yunho, can you pass the towel?” He groans out, one arm lazily reaching to the side.
Instead of Yunho’s big hand, a much smaller one presses the linen into his palm. He looks over, surprised, and sees the future love of his life, nervously retracting her arm and pushing her glasses further up. Her employee tag says, “Celeste Wishes.” San passes out, overwhelmed by her sheer grace and beauty.
San wakes up slowly and looks into a blurry face with black hair like a dark halo around an angel’s face. His eyesight sharpens and he focuses on an actual angel—Celeste. Desperately, he uses an American pickup line to woo her.
“Ya like jazz?” He says, smirking to mask his utter lack of confidence.
Celeste makes a disgusted face and punches him with strength to rival Jongho’s, and San is unconscious once again.