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Your words always wielded power. It was one of the reasons Jumin was intrigued by you. While he was a figure who commanded respect through his presence and status, you were someone with an air of quiet confidence. It was the kind of subtlety that people tended to overlook, but impossible to unsee once they saw it. Jumin might stand tall in front of everyone, his confidence formidable and magnetic, compelling the whole room to focus their attention on him, but one word from you would bring him to his knees.
Not that he minded.
He knew what kind of hold you had over him and would give in to you without a second thought. You were the person he loved. You were the person he admired. You were the person who knew the exact things to say to stimulate both the intellectual and sentimental parts of his brain that no other person could, except for Jihyun. If it weren't for social constructs, Jumin would gladly roll out a red carpet wherever you went and worship the ground you walked on.
Elizabeth the 3rd was treated like a princess. You, a human whom he cherished above all the fortune he possessed, should receive a treatment fit for a queen. Racking his brain for more things to give and do for you was his daily routine.
Tonight, both of you were inebriated from the numerous glasses of alcohol—champagne for you, wine for him—swiped from the corporate gala tonight, you considerably more so than him. With your red heels strewn out on the polished marble floor, the strap lacing trailing behind and stray confetti stuck on the sole of the right stiletto, you left them as they were while you slumped against the side of the white sofa. It had been a long night, and the back of your feet was throbbing. Elizabeth the 3rd was nowhere to be seen, but she was most likely asleep in her bed of posh design and hand-carved frame.
Jumin had crashed on the floor alongside you when your knees buckled from exhaustion. You had entered the penthouse together, his arm around your waist, steadying you as you snickered at things incomprehensible to anyone but you. You waved languidly at the bodyguard posted outside the door while Jumin gave him a brisk nod.
How the bodyguard didn't appear weary at this ungodly hour was beyond you. You grinned at him and threw a hearty good night! before you went in. If there was anything you knew from being with Jumin, it was that everyone could use a little bit of kindness. The irony of maintaining a stoic, emotionless mask was more taxing than living freely was not lost on you.
In your drunken haze, you registered that Jumin had put away his dress shoes and transferred your clutch onto the glass coffee table, a preventive measure to keep you from tripping over them. It wouldn't be the first time you made a fool out of yourself by having poor muscle coordination. The mistakes just had never been made public and you intended to keep it that way. For Jumin, he only wished to keep you from sustaining more injuries.
During the gala, Jumin had noticed the raw chafed skin on your ankles when you made rounds and exchanged amicable banter with the people you had learned only hours before, courtesy of the guest list Jaehee had put together. However impressed Jumin was with you, he couldn't stay still after catching glimpses of you wincing when you thought nobody was watching. Immediately, he requested Driver Kim to retrieve a medical kit.
But despite the pain you were enduring, you glimmered. Your gold sequin dress swirled around your figure as you conversed with other guests, making polite enquiries and occasionally tilting your head back in laughter when the topic entertained you. You had the talent of making your conversation partner felt important and welcomed, like everything they said was interesting and worth your time. You were an attentive listener and an even more suave speaker.
Jumin knew this easy-going character was a front you put up to support him. Although he had reminded you that you needn't play the part of a charmer to boost his image and win him more contracts, you couldn't be dissuaded. The last things you wanted were to stumble and fail spectacularly in front of a respected crowd and tarnish Jumin's reputation. If Jumin had done this his whole life, the least you could do was to understand his ways of survival.
Besides, there was a part of you that found this amusing. It was new and different, and you always welcomed a challenge. And who was to say this was not the real you? You were an amalgamation of everything you wanted to do and everything you had done, and this was one of them. As much of a charade as it was, it was also moulding your personality into something with more depth and complexity. Truthfully, you were tired of always being the same person you were before you met Jumin. You needed a change.
Even if you were not yet as well-versed as Jumin, you were determined to carry yourself with elegance and your head held high. The two of you were a sight to behold. He possessed an assertive demeanour that led him from one person to another with definitive strides, while you lured people in with the unique flair that belonged to you alone. Together, you were a force impossible to break. Everyone knew you had each other's back without making an ostentatious display about it. No one would dare to touch you.
Albeit you had spent the evening largely separated from Jumin, there were times when you would search for the one familiar face in the room that you loved, only to find him already looking at you. Stealing glances amidst the faceless crowd was a game you liked to play. Whenever he caught your eyes, his stern expression would soften, a soft, genuine smile that was exclusive to you would grace his lips, and his shoulders would lose their tension.
A few seconds would pass before he assumed the original stance with his conversation partner. But during that short time, the faces around you would blur and the mindless prattle would fade into the background. It felt as if you and Jumin had entered a peaceful bubble invisible to outsiders, and you could finally breathe. Even when you were not physically attached to his side, Jumin had brought you all that was safe and sound. That few seconds were all you needed to power through the evening. You knew it was also the case for Jumin.
Beneath the opulent crystal chandelier and melodious tune of live jazz, you weren't nervous about navigating the crowd alone. Although you were not the most outgoing person alive—it was exhausting to speak after dabbling in small talks with five people—you were glad that Jumin trusted you enough to handle your part alone. In the beginning, he used to fuss over every little thing, worrying that attending these parties would bring discomfort to you. He reassured you that if you ever needed help, you could signal him and he would come right by your side.
Of course, you knew he would stay true to his word, but you wanted to be capable. If you had to live in this corporate world that Jumin had introduced you to, you would have to adapt and hone your skills. You didn't want to hide behind his protection. Yes, it would be easier if you simply passed all the problems to Jumin and let him handle them, but you also loved yourself, and that meant fortifying yourself enough so that you could hold your own in the face of the public.
Jumin adored the fire in you.
Once he realised you were never going to relent, he offered personal tips and helped you practice as you eased into his world, all of which you gratefully received and implemented. It was unrealistic to sit back and hope for the best when it was only a matter of time before the media criticised you for being a gold digger disguised as an unfortunate damsel. Malicious rumours had begun to circulate the moment your dating news was made public, and it would continue to escalate unless you did something. You had to take control of the narrative before they could define you.
At the present moment, the ghost of the raucous chatter fell away as you felt Jumin's cold fingers wrapped around your ankle and carefully rested it on his crossed legs. "Don't move, darling," he chided. "Your feet are bleeding. Allow me to clean your wounds."
The penthouse was quiet and you were safe. You could let down your shield now.
The only light switched on was in the hallway by the front door. It poured into the living room, its yellow gleam illuminated Jumin's concerned face. The sight of him in his three-piece formal suit while gently dabbing rubbing alcohol on your injury was a pleasant thing to see. Even after a long night, he still looked put together, not a hair out of place.
You didn’t even complain about those heels during the ride home, yet he noticed. You felt love, so much love. "I feel like I am consumed by love. It's like love is coursing through my veins and exploding with fireworks inside." You let out a worn-out giggle. "If you cut me open and study my organs, I bet you could see how much I love you. I bet there would be a whole fiesta going on in my bloodstream and muscle tissues."
Jumin gave you an amused look before plastering a bandage on your ankle. "I do not have to witness you spilling your internal organs to feel your love." He put down your leg and lifted the other onto his lap. "The things you say, truly."
You relished in his tender touch, feeling its cold against your warm skin, running from your exposed calf up to your thigh where the slit of your dress fell off, a golden rumpled sea of glitter around you. "But imagine tiny cells wearing party hats running around inside me. How absurd!"
"Now, where did you get this idea from?"
"The tiny cells just announced it with trumpets and drums in my brain."
"God." Jumin shook his head, but not without good humour.
"Am I scaring you away? Do you fear my"—you let out a dramatic gasp—"unbidden thoughts?"
"I fear for the people who mean you harm. You, however, are still as mesmerising as ever," he said, his striking grey eyes studying your face. "You were captivating tonight. I had to fight off the physical urge to make you the sole focus of my attention. It is so easy to forget about everyone else when you are there." Jumin had finished bandaging your left foot and placed both your legs on top of his, running his fingers up and down across yours.
Shivers crawled up your spine. "So were you. You have the same effect on me."
"You were the highlight of the party. Have you any idea how many compliments I received on how seamlessly you fit into this society? People had been waiting for your downfall, but you put yourself above everyone instead." Jumin smiled at you. "And you didn't even have to try."
"What can I say? I'm a natural charmer."
"And very humble too."
You closed your eyes, a wan smile painted on your lips. The alcohol was catching up to you, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. "No, actually, it was the opposite. I tried very hard." You sighed. "I wasn't always this polished before I took your advice."
"I must be frank with you. I don't think you need all those extra lessons. You have always been excellent at being yourself." You weren't looking at him, but his voice alone spoke of total adoration.
You had never been on the receiving end of such affection. How fortunate you were to cross paths with him, to be loved by him. He had never given you any reason to doubt him and had always treated you well from the moment you met. You were not a believer in fate, but you believed in him.
You flailed your arms at him, motioning him to sit beside you. You yearned to feel the warmth from his body. "How about you? How well do you think you are at being Han Jumin?"
He put your legs down and obliged, shifting to your side, your shoulders nudging each other. There was a stretched silence as he pondered your question. You rested your chin on your tucked knees and gazed up at him.
"There are two Han Jumins in the world—or are there three? The first one is what I present to the public. The second is a mixture of the dutiful son and the loyal friend. The third one is the man I am with you."
The wine must have also brought out the pensive side of him. You had half-expected him to bludgeon your question with his usual brand of self-assurance, listing out his achievements and strengths. You preferred this vulnerable honesty, however rare it was, over the stoic image he put on in front of people.
"I like all versions of you," you said, offering him your own honesty.
"It's unfortunate that I have to create multiple personas to meet everyone's expectations." Jumin craned his neck down to look at you. "There are times I fear that I might lose myself if I play a certain part for too long, but this fear is a paradox in itself."
"A paradox?"
"Which persona is my true self? Have I split myself into too many pieces that they've become indiscernible? If I can't tell which piece is real, then who am I masquerading as this whole time?" He took a deep breath. "Who am I, if I couldn't be put back together?"
"This vulnerable Jumin seems pretty real and whole to me." You took his hand into yours, massaging his palm. "But don't you think it's normal to don multiple masks to survive? I'm not saying we have to be fake, but that's how humans navigate life."
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're getting at."
"See, I am more reserved and polite in front of strangers. I'm careful not to offend people and filter which things to say. But with the RFA, I can be more relaxed and let go of myself. And with you, well, I have no qualms about saying anything that comes to my mind."
"I can attest to that." Jumin chuckled. "But if politeness is a charade, then can we really be genuine in treating people?" You cocked your head to one side. "You may recall that I am trying to be more considerate with my employees."
You scoffed. "I am positively drunk, Jumin. My memory is impaired." You knocked on your temple in quick succession with your knuckle and yelped. Your head instantly felt heavy and your vision spun.
At no time, Jumin was already checking and caressing your head. "Be careful, love. Are you all right?"
You waved it away. "It will pass." You let him continue to card his fingers through your hair. It was therapeutic; every touch from him was. Recalling his musing earlier, you shared your thought, "Even if the act of being polite is a faux gesture—which I don't think it is—don't the feelings of the receiving party matter more?"
"Do elaborate."
"When you're polite to someone, you extend your respect to them. You treat them like a decent human being. It feels good to be treated well, you know." Lowering his hand from your head, you slung his arm around your shoulders and leaned against him. "I know you are indifferent towards niceties because people tend to only be nice to you out of fear or greed, but please hear me out before you debate me on this."
"I am listening to you." Jumin rubbed your arm, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "My experience doesn't cancel out yours, and I'm interested in what you want to say."
You rested your head against his chest, vertigo already subsiding. "I remember when a salesperson tended to me with patience and smiles even when I asked a lot of questions. I felt sorry for that, but it made my experience better than if I had to face a rude person who looks down at me for my ignorance."
"And that improved your feelings."
"You know how when you're having a bad day, everything becomes a chore?" You tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Standing underneath the shower is tiring. Making your bed is almost impossible. Talking with people at work makes you feel like you're drowning further in the mess that is you. Nothing can be smoothed out. Everything is creased."
"I have my maid to tidy up my bed, but I understand the sentiment," Jumin said in all seriousness.
"Well, I was having a bad day, but those three minutes of friendly exchange, even when they were out of obligation, had lifted my mood for three minutes. I had this thought, 'Ah, that wasn't too bad. Maybe I shouldn't shun this life just yet.' Then, my day became a little more bearable."
Jumin placed a kiss on your forehead and murmured, "I would like to meet this person and thank them."
"It was a long time ago, so I can't remember who it was. I remember how it made me feel though, so I reckon politeness has more worth than being a superficial act."
Jumin squeezed your hand three times. You had shown him an article about the gesture, informing him that it meant I love you. Since then, the two of you had made it into a habit to do so. "Your observations never cease to amaze me; this is what I love about you." He was also in the habit of proclaiming his love for you every now and then. "You bring your thoughtfulness wherever you go, that even if you wear thousands of masks, you wouldn't be in danger of losing yourself."
"I didn't know that's how you see me."
"It is. You are so grounded in you that it unnerves me to realise what it says about me."
"What does it say about you?" you asked softly.
"That I am not as connected to myself as I had thought." From the way you were practically lying on him, you could feel his chest rise and fall. "I know who I am. I know my likes and dislikes, my strengths and weaknesses. But knowing things aren't the same as owning them."
"Because they don't feel like they are part of you?"
"I don't know if they are true to my character. I slip on new faces quite easily," Jumin went on. "You know how I used to deal with contracts."
You remembered what Jaehee said aeons ago when you just joined the association. Jumin was a businessman who used his good looks to hook potential business partners into signing contracts with him, especially women who clambered onto him without the slightest shred of dignity, only to quit cold turkey on them once the contract was over.
It wasn't the most morally correct thing to do, but you also thought it was an apt response to people who merely wanted to take advantage of his wealth. "It's a necessity for you. If you have the leverage, why not use it?"
"You seem to contradict yourself," Jumin said. "This competitive edge had left many women heartbroken, as I recall."
"Maybe I just feel inclined to defend you and put your happiness first." You shrugged. "And once again, I am drunk."
"You are running out of chances to use the drunk card."
You hummed while tracing the buttons on his white dress shirt. "How many chances do I have left?"
"One."
At this, you straightened up and swivelled your body to face him. "What kind of rule is that?"
"My rule. I can do anything I want if it contributes to my happiness, as you very kindly declared." Jumin smirked.
Your brain was too muddled to come up with a counter-argument, so you merely huffed and sat back in silence. Jumin picked up the skirt of your dress that had bunched up between you two, rolling the sequins from one finger to another. The only sound wafting through this nearly dark penthouse was the crinkle of the gold coins embedded on your dress.
You wished every night was like this. Being together in peace, talking about things you would barely remember the next day. The dim yellow light cast long shadows beneath the outline of your figures, and you knew that this moment would stay forever bursting technicolour in your mind.
"You're judging yourself too harshly," you said after a while. "You just started discovering your emotions and learning how to dissect these layers that you had long buried. It's not fair to yourself if you expect an immediate result by using my progress as your benchmark. Not when I've been in touch with my inner self for longer than you have."
"Except I'm usually a fast learner."
"Usually." You bumped his leg with your toes. "It's about time you're not the best at something."
To your surprise, Jumin laughed at your statement. It was a crisp, freeing laugh that you had never heard before. You jumped at the sound, but it only made him laugh harder. His voice sent tremors down the hollow of your bones. Then suddenly, you also cackled, imagining all the bones in your body quivering because of him. What a ridiculous thought! But how funny!
Soon enough, none of you could stop the fits of laughter. You, doubling over with a hand on your stomach, the curtain of your hair streaking over your already blurred eyesight. Jumin, shoulders shaking from trying and failing to stop, one arm rounding your waist, the other straightened out, hand clenching at his thigh.
Nothing made sense, but nothing had to.
Years later, after you and Jumin had moved out of the penthouse for a place that you owned together, this was what you would remember: in the dead of night, two souls were alive with giddy lightness, as bubbly as the champagne you had downed, as intimate as the mutual understanding you had shared. In your long span of life to come, this was the memory you liked to come back to. This one evening with him might be brief, but it made your life more bearable.
That was the only thing that mattered.