Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Up on stage, Dohwa saw many faces but never the face he wanted to see. Each time she came to mind, he thought, what was the point of that confession back when he was 18? He still kept seeing her face everywhere—when he was wandering anonymous in a foreign crowd, when he was jogging along the Han River in the dead of dawn. 

If someone’s laugh carried in a cafe in the same cadence as hers, he couldn’t help but turn. If the curve of someone’s neck to shoulder was exactly like hers, his gaze would linger. 

But what was the point? 

If he caught her image in the glass of a department store, what then? He had already promised himself that he would move on. He was so bad at that. In fact, he thought he was bad at most things—bad at belting out notes, bad at moving his body to a beat, bad at stringing words into a lie, but most of all, bad at forgetting a girl who peered into his soul. In these past four years, she probably saw his face plastered everywhere and he would see hers never. 

It was already April yet the air was still crisp with the scent of rain showers. The promotional event had just ended late past midnight and he finished bowing and thanking every person on set.

“Good work, Dohwa,” his manager said, whisking him away through the exit and towards the company van. 

The moment he stepped out into the streets, he realized he was near a college campus. It was a bit bittersweet. What kind of life would he have led as a college student? He imagined an ordinary scene drinking with friends in someone’s dingy apartment and laughed to himself. 

“Manager, you can drive back yourself. I’m going to walk.” 

“Wait, what? By yourself?” 

Dohwa had already started down the sidewalk and it was clear to his manager that he wasn’t going to listen to any protesting. 

“Fine, just tell me where you end up and if you’re going to do anything stupid, can you please tell me? Before you’re going to do it! You hear me? Before!” 

He waved his hand without looking back—yeah, yeah, sure. 

At this odd hour, the world felt like it was his. The dampness left by the evening rain made every light and reflection brighter. Without the hum of people, he could hear every waterdrop from the gutters tapping against the pavement while the occasional car sped through the alley, whipping straight lines into the air. For once, rather than being at the mercy of the world, he felt it moved for him. 

As he sauntered around, his eyes followed the shadows cast by the buildings lined against the street: an empty cafe, an old-fashioned restaurant, an unlabeled set of doors. 

It was by pure coincidence. A stronger breeze streamed through the narrow street and he followed its direction up into the dark sky. That was when, in the soft glow of lamplights, he caught sight of her.

She wasn’t doing anything special—just holding his universe together with her hands cupped around her face and her elbows propped up on the railing. He watched her a little while longer than he’d liked, letting the edges of her overlap into his world for a bit—just to mend the fraying parts.

Strands of her hair fluttered around her shoulders, longer than what he had remembered and her gaze so fixated on the nighttime atmosphere that she paid no attention to the passersby below her.

Her name caught in his throat—its heat as warm as the last shot of gin on his messiest night, begging him to imbibe just a little bit more. But he knew that if he let this April air know her name, it would just carry it away. So he swallowed it down again so it could sink closer to his heart than his lips. 

He felt her name feeding the greed he had buried in the darkest corner of his heart. If this wasn’t a sign from the universe, then what was? If, in a city of 10 million, they could cross paths like this, then maybe. Maybe tomorrow they could be face to face across a dinner table. Maybe her name would flash on his lock screen in a series of grey boxes and maybe a ping or two wouldn’t be so dreadful. Maybe all it takes is a coincidence where just a look could say “long time no see. I’ve missed you.” But he caught himself. Wishful thinking past midnight never comes true. 

He dropped his gaze and urged his feet onward. 

“Suae!” 

He stopped in his tracks. It was a female voice calling her back in. 

“You’re back! I missed you.” 

Dohwa knew her words weren’t meant for him. 

But he wondered if, one day they could be. 

Chapter Text

“Keep your promise.”

He thought coincidence had brought them together over a dinner table. But when he noticed the hesitation in her voice and then the stack of papers spilling out of a folder tucked behind her purse, he felt a familiar zing in his chest. When reality sunk in more, it hardened into stone. 

Oh, it wasn’t because she genuinely wanted to see him. It was just business. I like your style. I like your image. I like your face. I like you. Can you do something for me? Someone like him—someone forced to live in the limelight—was all too familiar with this type of dance. 

It poisoned the idea of her in his head and looking at her now sheepishly smiling, he felt some shape of anger form inside him. 

Can’t she see him for him? Like before? 

So he made her promise. Meet me again. And no, not for business. Just for yourself. Just you. Please. In his heart of hearts, he knew he was asking for himself but shame wouldn’t allow him to be honest.

People lie to avoid being seen and Dohwa was just that—a person. He had never been a good liar but 8 years of being watched by billions of eyes had worn down his honesty. By now he knew it was better to choose which light to stand under. He will be seen because he let himself be seen. 

Suae was in front of a convenience store one block from the restaurant they promised to meet at. From the way her heels shifted left to right, anyone could see the nerves crawling all over her. 

Across the street Dohwa couldn’t have missed her. He saw the way she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth after reading the time on her phone. Was she that anxious to meet him? Maybe she was actually conscious of him? This thought made him smile under his mask. But it quickly vanished. What was he thinking? She didn’t want to meet him again in the first place. The anger he felt when he learned about her intentions was still vague. 

It had been 8 years already. People change. But what about the way she described how cute and round he was years ago? The way she twirled her finger, tracing a circle in the air, conjured an image of a familiar girl. That’s why he couldn’t help but laugh. It was endearing. 

He could still see glimpses of 18 in the face of 26—her personality preserved in all the years like something normal made precious in amber. It was the part of her he loved most. 

“You haven’t changed at all,” he had told her. But when he saw that pained look on her face, he knew he had said something he shouldn’t have. 

So in that moment—just like how he wanted to be seen by her—he resolved to see her for her too. He thought that maybe holding onto pieces of her mind could bring them closer and maybe one day she’d wake up and like him the same way she liked him. 

Emboldened by this thought, he rushed across the street, hoping to sneak up behind her like a kid playing tag. 

She had her back turned away from the road as she distracted herself with the 1 + 1 ad decal on the convenience store glass.  

But when she recited the ad for the third time, she felt a tap on her head. The sudden sensation made her recoil and she spun around to meet the eyes of someone she once knew well. 

“Are you that thirsty or something?”

“Huh? Who...” 

He pulled his mask down for a moment, smirking. 

“What? Aren’t you happy to see this face?” 

For the brief second without his mask, they both heard sharp whispers swirl around them. A panicked look flashed across her face and her hands flew to his scarf, wrapping it around like it was the most serious wound. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to do this. I’m used to it now,” he reassured her. 

Her hands fell to her sides, embarrassed. 

“Sorry, I just remembered back then you—“ 

“You seem to remember a lot of things.” He spoke before she could finish, but he didn’t allow himself to finish either. 

You seem to remember a lot of things so I can’t help but be reminded too. 

Dohwa’s mind returned to that spring day when he was kneeling at her feet, bandaging up the scrape on her knee because it was his fault. It reminded him of when he had lied about being used to all the judging stares and hushed words only for her to see right through it. So when she offered the cap and placed it on him, it felt like a blessing. 

When memories come back so do old feelings. And when they came back, the walls he had built for the last 8 years felt transparent—almost as though they had never been there. In the maze of knowing and not knowing, he found himself almost ready to give in again. 

He looked at her now with some softness to ease the awkwardness between them. 

There was something written on her face but he didn’t want to read it just yet. 

“Come on, let’s go eat.”

Over dinner, the awkwardness stayed and after each sentence, he sensed restraint. In the space between them, Suae didn’t want to take a step towards him. Whether it was fear of hurt or fear of him, he didn’t know.

“It looks like you’ve been doing well at Marang,” she said. 

He hated talking about work. But noticing how she fumbled her words and how she fiddled with her fork, he relented. 

“Yeah, it’s going too well. Everyone wants my handsome face next to whatever it is they’re selling,” he lamented, “Some days I don’t even know where I am. My manager just drives me to a building and I get out, snap some photos, say whatever people want to hear and then back into the van.” 

As he flippantly shared his work life, he studied her face for every line forming between her brows.

“You don’t get tired?”

Her eyes peered right into his. Was she asking because she was genuinely worried or was it just something people typically asked? He caught himself almost blurting out his usual refrain. He couldn’t lie, not when she looked at him like that. 

“No, I do,” he admitted, dropping his gaze onto his plate, “I’m so tired.”

He gave his best smile while secretly wanting her to pity him so each bit of worry can pile up. So she would think of him more than she thought of him now. If he could occupy her thoughts like this, then perhaps there was something to be had. But when his wishful thinking washed away, he couldn’t help but wonder if pity could ever turn into affection. 

In the dim light of this moody restaurant, he still didn’t dare meet her gaze. If he didn’t know how she felt, then the answer could be both yes and no and they could still sit across from each other like this. They can speak but not really with each other. They could look but not really see. 

In the dim light of this moody restaurant and its mahogany walls and velvet sofas, he realized despite it all, he was allowing himself to be seen.  

She picked at her food, eating her salad by the leaf and he had already finished his dish. It had been 2 hours already and they were still like this—saying words for the sake of saying words. 

He was sick of it. 

His phone started buzzing—it was his manager. Without a second thought, he stood up, “Let’s go.” 

Chairs pushed out, a quick tap of the credit card and Suae found herself chasing him out the restaurant.

“Hey wait up!” 

Outside, Dohwa locked eyes with someone across the street. It was his manager waving wildly on the other side and suddenly he didn’t want to listen to anyone anymore. 

“Sorry, that’s my manager.” 

“Do you need to go?”

Her eyes were almost filled with relief and that pained him. 

“No,” he replied before taking her hand in his and pulling her closer. “But can you run?”

At first they were walking fast, dodging a couple kissing then an aunt picking up after her dog then a group of students huddled outside an academy. 

He could hear his manager shouting and swearing in the distance, his footsteps pacing after them. 

A quick stride turned into a jog, then before they knew it, they both were sprinting down streets hand in hand, laughing as they narrowly missed being hit by the hose of an employee spraying the sidewalk and again when they were chased by the meanest poodle ever. 

Dohwa glanced over his shoulder, shocked to see that his manager had somehow made major headway in his pursuit. 

“Get in here, quick!”

They ducked into an outdated photobooth.  

“Where did that asshole go? Oh god, they don’t pay me enough for this.” His manager brushed by the photobooth curtain and they both leaned into the furthest corner as if they could sink in and become walls in the next life. 

Dohwa instinctively pulled her closer to him, putting his finger to his lips like a prayer. In this small space, with her pressed up against him, he could feel the place on his chest warmed by her breath.

They were so close. He could hear her heartbeat and he knew she could hear his too. Somewhere between bated breath, he wondered if this was the first and last time it would race because of him. 

They waited for what felt like the world’s longest minute and when the coast was clear—or so they thought—, they tiptoed out of the photobooth. 

But they were wrong. 

“Hey! So that’s where you’ve been hiding? You thought you were a bunch of smartasses, huh?” 

“Run!” Dohwa shouted, snatching her hand and sprinting with her in tow.  

They dashed past office workers filing into subway entrances, past new friends loitering outside to smoke cigarettes together for the first time, and again by old friends reuniting at a familiar haunt. 

All these other lives passed by them as they raced down streets with no destination in mind. And somewhere along the way their fingers laced together like it was the only thing that made sense. 

The sun had set now and they found themselves staggering into a park, exhausted. When they spotted the soccer field, they both rushed over, tumbling down onto the open grass and gasping for breath under the mellowed lamplights beaming down at them. 

There was a loud thud like something blunt had fallen onto grass. When Dohwa looked over, he noticed two beer cans rolling out of her coat pockets. 

“You were carrying these the whole time? No wonder you were so slow.” He started chuckling to himself, his eyes meeting hers for what felt like the first time.

They were lying side by side on the damp grass, their faces turned towards each other—close enough for them to feel the heat of their breaths. Maybe too close. She quickly sat up.

“I kinda bought them before meeting up with you because I was so nervous,” she confessed, “But I swear I wasn’t drunk at all when we were at the dinner! It’s just seeing you makes me—I don’t know—wait don’t!“

She lunged over to snatch the can from his hand but it was too late. He had already cracked it open and before he knew it, cheap beer exploded all over his clothes. 

It was so unexpected, ridiculous even.

“Pffft.” He stifled back his laughter, his chin tucked in to keep it all down. In between each breath, images of a gym storage room flickered in his mind. 

She looked at him confused and concerned.  

“Did you do that on purpose?” he asked playfully. 

“I wasn’t the one who made us run. So how could I?” 

Because you keep doing things that remind me of…forget it. He didn’t continue the thought, choosing instead to down the remainder of whatever was left in the can.  

“Wait a minute, what are you doing? Is that ok? You can’t hold your alcohol!” 

“What are you saying? I’m a natural now.”

He said that but his vision was already blurring and his head spinning. 

“If that’s true then stand up right now and walk in a straight line,” she demanded, getting up and pointing to the exact spot she wanted him to perform. 

“No.”

“Why not? Is it because you don’t want to or because you can’t?” 

He looked up at her, unable to resist breaking out into another boyish smile, “Both.” 

Then seeing her face scrunch up in sheer disbelief, he burst into laughter. 

“Why do I find you so funny?” 

And why do I always have fun with you? 

“What are you finding funny? My face?” She came over to his side, swatting his arm with her palms like he was a dirty housefly. 

“Hey you’re hurting a body insured for 10 billion won,” he teased, standing now and dodging each of her follow-up attacks.  

Somehow, under the warm streetlights, they found themselves chasing each other around the field, dying of laughter between every silly insult and reviving again by the same ones. 

It was déjà vu and Dohwa found himself back on that night doing the same thing they were doing now. The nighttime air smelled the same. The lamplights shone in the same shade of gold. The crickets were chirping the same song and the girl in front of him was grinning the same grin. 

Suddenly he was 18 again and ready to give in all over again. 

Chapter Text

Dohwa was sitting in a chair in the dressing room as a team of makeup artists hovered over him, adding millimeter adjustments on every part of his face.  

All makeup teams were like this, fussing over the minutiae and so much so that they never noticed how often they obscured his reflection. He didn’t mind but in the spare seconds when he did catch his image in the mirror, it was always different versions of himself. If he stared long enough, he’d split in two, the mirror self becoming something and his original self left wondering. 

He had originally turned down this ad led by Suae’s company because he was in that era of his career where he wanted to wind down on all projects and adding another high profile one was the opposite of that. Yet after some convincing and forced coincidences, he found himself accepting—mostly because she had been the one doing the pleading. Secretly he also hoped this new atmosphere would stir something inside in her. The kind of feeling you get when you catch a glimpse of the person you see everyday in the perfect suit or dress and suddenly they’re different—captivating and alluring simply because they are standing in a different world in a different dress. Monotony bred complacency and distance always reignited desire. He didn’t want to be someone she was used to. 

Being apart of this project gave him the best excuse to see her. Sure, it was all work and more work and maybe it was true that the office setting amplified different parts of his personality, but having a reason to see her trumped all that baggage. He had hoped that working together meant spending time together but it was already 2pm and she was nowhere to be seen. 

Today was the photoshoot for just the still image ads and much to his chagrin, the morning meeting meant to go over the video script was pushed to after the shoot. 

“Baek Dohwa-ssi?” one of the makeup artists spoke. He snapped out of his daze and gave his most professional smile as if he had been observing their work all along.

“We are done now. Thank you for your hard work.” 

“Thank you for your hard work,” he parroted back. The styling team slowly shuffled out, flashing quick smiles to no one in particular and when the last person softly shut the door behind them, he was finally alone. 

He hadn’t noticed it before but the room unsettled him. The white blinding LED lights sterilized the dressing room and the buzzing from the lightbulbs mimicked the sound of insects. Under these lights, Dohwa imagined his skin burning. But before his skin was fully set ablaze, he suddenly heard a knock. Did one of the stylists forget something? Well, the reason didn’t matter. People came in regardless whether he said yes or no. They always did and this time was no exception. 

He started counting each second before the doorknob would turn. 1, 2, 3, 4. Ten seconds was the average length of people’s patience. But ten seconds passed and he was still counting. Had they given up? But he still sensed someone standing behind the door. Then finally when he counted from 29 to 30, the door clicked open, the hinge creaking from the shyest push. 

Dohwa didn’t turn to face the door, instead choosing to watch in the mirror for whomever it was. 

Their eyes met inside the reflection and his heart started to race. He felt pathetic being taken in like this. 

“Hi.” She cautiously took a step forward as if wading through thick fog.

He didn’t reply, holding back something that felt like everything. 

As she approached, he noticed a small drink cradled in her hands. 

“I heard from one of the makeup artists that you have been stuck in here for hours.” 

She framed her words carefully, constructing all these walls between them and somehow he knew the exact way to walk through every one of them. 

“So,” he smiled, “were you feeling sorry for me?” 

Go on, pity me. Feel something for me, he thought.

“Yes…” The uncertainty in her voice bored a hole in his heart, but he persevered.

“Is that your offering?” He was still smiling when his eyes fell onto her hands holding the banana milk and upon noticing how intensely fixated he was on the drink, her cheeks flushed. 

“Yes,” she said again, “I don’t know if you drink coffee or if you do and you only took it black or if you always need milk or—so I decided to get you something I’ve seen you drink before.” 

He was still facing away from her so she held out the banana milk with both hands to his back, her eyes squeezed shut and her head lowered like a beggar offering bread to a prince. He tore his eyes away from the mirror, swiveling his chair to face her. 

“Suae.” She opened one eye. “Suae, look at me.” 

He lowered his head to match her height and placed his hand gently on hers as she gripped harder on the drink.

“Suae,” he said again as if casting a spell, “I will drink anything you give me, even crappy beers stuck in your pockets for 3 hours. But—” 

He took the milk from her hands, pierced the top with the straw and took a small sip. 

“We aren’t in high school anymore. If you don’t know something about me, ask. Aren’t you the least bit curious about me?” he paused, uncertain whether he should continue or not but his desires took over before he could cast them aside. “Or can I be at least curious about you?” 

She stood there, searching his face for any semblance of deceit and him sitting there, wondering if he had spoken too much too soon.  

He wanted to know what she was like at 20, 25. Had she been well? Did she still like strawberry milk? Does she still listen to only pop songs? Does she still reread the Black Rose of Versailles?

He wanted to separate the present from the past. Does she? Did she? All these questions flooded his mind but underneath the massive sea of mundane questions, he knew the question he didn’t dare ask. 

Did she ever think of him?

“How can I still be someone you’re curious about?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “But I know I don’t want to just remember.“

There was a short silence.

“I see,” her voice couldn’t mask some shade of resentment or was it defeat? “I thought we parted ways already back then.”

From the way she slinked away, he knew she wasn’t ready to reveal herself to him. Whether she would ever be ready, he didn’t know but he hoped against hope that one day she would be. He wondered about the reasons for her quiet rage, his mind sifting through all the possibilities before resigning to the only possibility he wanted to ignore—a possibility that it was his fault. He thought back to a week ago when they were running around in circles at the park. How naive he was for thinking things can be fixed from a single careless night. He thought things were going somewhere but in truth, they were doing just that: running around in circles with nowhere to go. He was a fool to think laughing together meant linking their hearts together even for just a heartbeat. 

Now he was back in this dressing room, staring at a girl who felt wronged by him and a girl he felt wronged by too. He could understand her a little but couldn’t help the prickly feeling that it was maybe unfair. 

“Thanks again for doing this project. I’ll see you later,” she promised but before she closed the door behind her, he called back to her. 

“I drink coffee. Two espresso shots.” 

“I’ll remember that,” she replied, smiling. When her smile crept up her face like that he felt like he was given permission to hope. 

But in the next moments when he was again left alone, he realized she never told him her own drink of choice. 

In the 3pm afternoon haze, the air was warm like heat from a lover’s skin. The droning voice of the production director filled the room in vibrations and the audience responded in tepid tones. Dohwa’s eyes glazed over the thick stack of papers in front of him. They were going over the video script and despite his best efforts, he didn’t care that much. He knew he would have to say several lines—a product slogan or some ad-specific catchphrase—and it would be a success. For some reason, everything he was forced to touch turned to gold. But for the few things he truly wanted, he turned them to ash. 

Leaning back in his chair, his head tilted in Suae’s direction and seeing her squirm in her seat made it painfully obvious how uncomfortable she was to be sitting across from him. So he decided to ignore her now. It was the least bit of kindness he could do. 

By the time the meeting ended, it was well past the hour people normally left work. The long sighs of relief were louder than the clanking of chairs as people stood up to leave. Eventually Dohwa and Suae were the last two in the room but as she scurried over to the door, he called her name. 

“Suae, can I have a quick word with you?” She swung back, her eyes widening with worry. There were too many eyes around to not notice this odd request from Dohwa, a celebrity, to Suae, an average employee. 

“Of course,” she said through a forced smile. Her annoyance was obvious but finding it cute, he didn’t mind. He walked over to her side and perched on the edge of the conference table beside her. This whole time her eyes searched his face again for any clues as to why he wanted her to stay behind. 

“It looked like you were uncomfortable with me during the entire meeting,” he said, “Or am I seeing things wrong?” 

“Haha, maybe a little? Maybe it’s because we haven’t seen or spoken with each other in a while. Don’t worry too much.” 

He looked into her eyes not knowing whether to believe her words or press her more on it. Only when they looked at each other like this did feelings soften between them. Without thinking, he gingerly reached out to hold the tips of her fingers—their skin barely touching. 

“Okay, I’ll let you off easy this time,” he replied, “But have you eaten yet?” He knew the answer was no. They both had been held hostage in this room for the last few hours. 

“You know, you’re not paying me extra to stay in the office like this.” Her little quip was said in pure jest and that revived his hope. 

“If you want me to pay for your time then have dinner with me.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Why not?”

The joking tone evaporated and he noticed her fists clenching. In that moment, he strangely knew they were holding back a torrent of decade-old resentments.

“Do I look that easy to you? Someone who can get over everything from just one night? Seeing you, talking with you, being with you like this feels wrong. It feels like we are just ignoring what happened between us. How can we just smile and laugh it off over one dinner? I can’t keep ignoring it. Because—” she hesitated, “I was hurt. And I hate that I still feel hurt.” 

Why was it that they were both living and feeding off memory? As if their 18 year old selves still clung to them like ghosts? And why, between words spoken and unspoken, did he feel like this hatred bleeding out of her wasn’t meant for him but for herself?

His phone vibrated in a familiar pattern before becoming a persistent buzz. It was his manager’s signature call beckoning at the worst time. Suae’s eyes motioned for him to go ahead and answer and he reluctantly raised the phone to his ear.

“Hello? Yeah, I’m still in the office,” he started toward the door, glancing back at her, “Yeah, I’m walking down right now.” 

The call ended and his arm dropped to his side. There was too much shame, too much regret, too much of too much for him to dare look back at her. He pulled on the door handle and just as he was about to leave for good, he stopped, standing between the gap. 

“You know why I didn’t tell you anything. And you know why I didn’t say goodbye. It’s not that I didn’t want to. I desperately wanted to. But if I didn’t do what I did, I knew I’d end up hurt again. I’m not so clueless as to not know how you felt back then.” 

He waited for her reply only to succumb to the silence compelling him to look back. When he did look back, her face made it painfully clear she wasn’t ready to answer him. So like everything else, he let it go.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I’ll see you later.” But that farewell felt strangely final.  

It was nearly midnight now and today’s commitments were finally over. Stumbling into his apartment in frustrated exhaustion, Dohwa flung his coat onto the floor before rubbing his forehead and eyes with the whole of his palm and fingers. Despite imagining thousands of times how he’d explain everything to her, none of it figured into what he had shared in that room. In a single minute, he squandered all the good the park weekend afforded him. But what he could do about it now except continuing on shamelessly? After all, the universe had granted him only two things in life: love from people he never cared for and resilience as an apology for dealing him the poorest circumstances.

Slowly, he approached the desk with his laptop still glowing against the pitch dark room. His eyes stared at the page he had left off the night before, the bolded title “Becoming the Black Rose of Versailles” hypnotizing against the white background. 

“Sometimes the person we cannot blame is the worst. If we cannot hate the other person, the arrow eventually points back to us.”

He closed his eyes and the image of her face—brows furrowed, mouth shut tight as if fighting back tears, the slightest quiver of her lips, her eyes quaking—burned into his memory. Memory was mixing with his desire and he slumped in his chair. 

She should have blamed him instead. 

Chapter Text

Dohwa had a restless night. Sleep was heavy under his eyes but he couldn’t will himself to fall asleep or out of love. Was it love even? Either he wanted to see her everyday or not at all. In bed, he groaned, recounting what he told her in that room over and over again. Traces of her face, hurt and reddened, dragged across his mind like fingertips on fogged glass. He imagined her crying when he had shut the door behind him. But as he tried to burrow deeper into his memory, all he could recall was the terrible smell of new plastic from the conference table.

When streaks of sun finally broke through the darkness, his thoughts vanished. Nighttime no longer held power over him and he relinquished his entire being to routine. It was another morning and he knew his manager was already waiting for him downstairs.

8am was always too busy for his tastes. Today, rather than being confined inside an office, he was out with the planning team to assess the filming location. People flitted back and forth between sites and he was caught between two groups of staff: one intensely focused on surveying the points of interest and the other huddled together exchanging the latest gossip. 

“Did you hear that Baek Dohwa asked Shim Suae to stay back at the office late yesterday?”

“No way, is something going on between them? They both went to the same high school but I didn’t think they were close at all.”

“I don’t know. She did manage to get him back on this project somehow. I don’t think he would have said yes just for a classmate.”

“Wait, you can’t be suggesting that she did something, are you?”

“You never know. I’ve always felt Suae kept her distance from us like she’s better than everyone or something. So who knows maybe she wanted to climb her way up to the top or on top of someone this time." 

They weren’t even trying to be sly about it. Dohwa, who was standing many steps away from them, could hear every word, every jealous accusation. Controlled by pure instinct, he marched over, doing all he can to choke out his anger. But as he came closer, he noticed a figure hovering behind a building corner. Of course he knew that silhouette—it was the shape that haunted his dreams. And that hair color, that deep purple. He knew it too. How he could not? His mind was stained in that purple.

The moment they noticed each other, Suae quickly shook her head, pleading with her eyes for him to keep silent. Dohwa followed her gaze to the group of gossipers and returned her pleas with a stern look. It only took a second for him to decide that he didn’t care if she got mad at him.

“What are you all talking about here?” he asked, flashing his most practiced smile.

The group was startled, their malice worn down by his charm and the vilest gossiper’s face flushed.

“Don’t you think it’s too early to talk this loudly?” Dohwa warned with his sweetest smile, “Also, if you don’t know anything, just please keep your mouth shut. Suae is my old classmate. Of course we’d be close. Oh, and definitely close enough to have a small chat after work to catch up.”

The entire group nodded like sheep and quickly scattered, feigning work obligations. When the last one finally darted to the nearest camera crew, he came over to Suae’s side. The shadow cast by the building above almost swallowed her corner into oblivion.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he murmured, “Are you okay?”

Her expressions were hidden—distorted almost—in the shade.

“Thanks. I’m fine, really,” she said, “But you didn’t have to do that. If anything, they’re going to talk more now because of you.”

“Should I not have done that?”

There was a short silence as she crept into the sunlight. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Because…” his voice trailed off—he couldn’t. Not now. Not like this. With half of her face obscured by the shadows and the other half illuminated by the morning, he didn’t know which side was talking.

“We are just classmates now, remember?” She looked down at her watch, “I’m sorry. I need to go.”

In the space where she could still turn back and stay, Dohwa wanted to cry out to her, hold her, beg her but he couldn’t. Deep down, he knew that if he wanted to, he could let her go. But maybe it was because letting go meant shutting doors and locking all the rooms—a room where they could be laughing together, a room where they sharing silly stories together, pushing shopping carts together, falling asleep together, just being together. So instead of letting go, all these millions of made-up futures stayed shackled to his heart.

As he watched her figure disappear into the seam where the sidewalk met the sky, he wondered why he kept chasing a girl who never stopped for him.

Tuesday became Thursday and Dohwa was lounging in the backseat of the company van, impatiently waiting for his manager to fetch drinks from the closest convenience store. Through the tinted windows, his eyes followed passersby as they meandered in and out of the buildings and cafes. Over and over, he watched strangers step inside coffee shops and emerge with a cup in hand. Separated by a single sheet of glass, Dohwa tapped his finger against the armrest, wondering which side of the window he belonged to. Was he the observer, watching people go about their lives like it was some kind of zoo? Or was he the one caged up and paraded around for other people’s pleasures?

His eyes followed the outlines of skyscrapers and when he traced the shape of the last building on the street, he remembered. It was from that filming location—the one that cloaked her in grey.

To be honest, he never paid much attention to streets or storefronts when his manager zipped him around the city. No matter how many times he closed his eyes and opened them again, it was always the same: the same studio lights, the same shutter sounds, the same white backdrop, the same smiles. Same, same, same. It was the same even now.

He stared out into the distance, watching his manager exit the convenience store with his arms hugging a pile of plastic bottles. A figure poked out from behind him and Dohwa sat up straighter.

Oh, it wasn’t the same after all.

He threw back the sliding van door and rushed out, possessed and bewitched by this ordinary girl. But unmasked and perfectly done up from the photoshoot in the past hour, Dohwa stood out in the mob of people. Soon the sound of shutters started again but he didn’t care.

“Dohwa! What are you doing? Get back in the van!” his manager snapped, his hands still juggling all the drinks.

“Suae?” Dohwa ignored the babbling coming out of his manager’s mouth, instead fixing his full attention to the girl cowering behind.

Unsure whether she should speak to him, Suae’s eyes darted from Dohwa then to his manager like a thief searching for an escape. She opened her mouth to speak but his manager twisted around, caught a glimpse of her and immediately narrowed his eyes. There was no way he could have forgotten her. This was the girl who made him sprint across Seoul. Caught between manager and celebrity, she could do nothing but smile and nervously laugh.

“Dohwa, get back in the van. I’m begging you.”

“Fine, I will. But only if she can sit inside for a bit.”

“Do what you want. It’s not like you listen to me anyway.”

Pleased, Dohwa held out his hand to help her into the van but Suae dashed past him, hopping into the plush seats without a single glance behind.

“Let’s get in,” she said through a strained smile. Under his breath, Dohwa chuckled. When she was like this, stiff and timid, she reminded him of a cornered animal.

His manager got into the driver’s seat and through the rear mirror shot swear words with his glares.

“Are you actually going to sit there?” Dohwa asked.

“Why? You want me to go? I may drive you but this van is under my name.”

“Fine.” He glanced at Suae to gauge how she felt but she looked as though she was already screaming on the inside.

Then as if the universe heard his wishes, his manager’s phone started ringing, the large letters “Big Boss” flashing on the screen.

“Don’t you need to take that?”

“Yes, yes,” his manager grumbled, opening the driver door, “I’ll be back soon so no funny business.”

By now, Dohwa had witnessed this boss call his manager so many times that he knew exactly how long this talk will take.

“He’s not joking that he will be back soon. We have maybe...10 minutes?”

The timer started but the two of them wasted the first few seconds staring at each other for a moment too long. They quickly turned their heads away, fake laughing to stave off the awkwardness.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I had to come back to fetch the permit for the filming location.”

“Then I guess it was a nice coincidence that I had a shoot nearby today.”

It was strange. Dohwa had spent what felt like years of his life inside this van with its tinted windows and black leather seats. Inside this artificial darkness, he suffocated under his own envy and the envy of others who would lay down their lives for a chance to live between limelight and nothingness—even if it meant being swallowed whole by it.

But with her sitting beside him, this tinted space felt raw and intimate. Like a slumbering world waiting and yearning to be revealed in the daylight.

“I never got a chance to properly thank you for last time,” she started, “I was too worried about what others would think of me—what they would think of you. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt because of me. But I—”

“I don’t mind. I didn’t then and I won’t mind it now.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you…” Her voice faded and he felt something heavy hanging between them.

Maybe being under this dim light made it easier to share secrets—like another dark classroom where it was not them speaking but their ghosts.

“I also wanted to apologize. For what happened in the meeting room. For what I said. For lashing out at you.”

“It’s fin—“

“I never blamed you. Not once in all these years. If anything, I blamed myself for what happened when we were 18 and I still do. I know why you left without saying goodbye and I was being greedy to think that you owed me a goodbye simply because you were my friend—a good friend.” She refused to raise her head, confessing all these feelings to the fists clenched atop her knees. Between each sentence, Dohwa noticed the breaks and pauses—the kind of pauses people made when they clawed back their tears.

“So I understand. And I don’t blame you. I’m sorry for not realizing how you felt back then sooner and for acting selfishly, for clinging to you and asking you for your opinions on ‘The Black Rose of Versailles’ when all you wanted was distance. I was too naive to think someone like you could ever like me. I didn’t know then and I wish I caught on sooner. I’m sorry for hurting you back then. For clinging to you. For using you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

With her head lowered like this, he couldn’t see her face but he could see the damp stains pooling onto her skirt.

“You know, I never managed to say goodbye to either of you. Maybe that’s why I’m still living in the past. So can I say goodbye now?”

Did she want to say goodbye now so she could finally lay her 18-year-old self to rest? He couldn’t be sure. But he hoped that was the goodbye she meant. What about old feelings? Did she still have feelings for Go Eunhyeok? Which version of her still loved him? The her now? Or was it only her 18-year-old self refusing to stop loving that boy even now?

“Yes, you can tell me goodbye,” Dohwa finally said, “But this time, I’m not going to let you go.”

She lifted her head, confused with puddles of tears smeared across her lovely face. In that moment, if he had to die every night to save her from getting hurt again, he would do it a thousand and one times.

“If he left you too without saying goodbye, do you still have feelings for him?” He had to hear it from her lips even if he already knew the answer.

“I…don’t know. I know I feel resentment but—“ she stopped, “I don’t know.”

Ah, there it was. He already knew. But no matter how much someone can expect and expect and expect harder, it still hurt the same.

“Do you resent me?” she asked.

“I never resented you. Not once.” But the hurt came in like angry waves, crashing over and over onto his heart and for once, he nearly let them take him.

He wanted to ask if he had a chance—no, if he was even allowed to like her. But before he could pour out his heart in return, his manager appeared in the distance.

“I guess we have to catch up another time,” she said. 

It was raining now as though the heavens heard and sobbed alongside her.

“Let me give you a ride back.”

“It’s alright. I don’t think your manager would like that.”

So she left him behind and walked out into the crying city.

Chapter Text

It was strange. It used to be just Dohwa and his manager in this miserable van but for some reason, he felt the presence of a third riding alongside them. 

Suae’s words spilled everywhere—on the seats, the windows, the floor—and he was the only one both cursed and blessed enough to see the stains. The scent of her lingered inside, mixing with the dry dust and chemical smell of new leather. As time went on, the finger he had on the window button itched. A part of him was desperate to roll down all the windows so that the scent of rain can flood in instead but when he saw the outside dotted and dashed by droplets, he realized he didn’t want to let anything else seep into his skin. 

The two of them rode wordlessly. Dohwa was in no mood to talk so his manager decided to let him have it even if the persistent pattering on the van roof started to drown out the silence. 

Soon it began to pour and the raindrops peppered the windows to the point where he could only make out vague shapes and colors. Stoplights glowed in blurred reds, yellows and greens as fog slowly bloomed onto his window and the sounds of tires speeding through puddles splashed into the air.

Traffic was at a standstill and Dohwa continued to listlessly look out, wondering if he could have poured his heart out as completely as this sudden rain shower. Leaning against the window, he watched the outside even closer until he spotted the shape of her in a crowd. She was easy to pick out in the sea of umbrellas—a lone figure trudging through the streets with an apathy that stood out against hurried bodies. 

He didn’t think at all when he flung the door open and chased after her. His manager’s voice was lost to the traffic horns. His own thoughts lost in the roar of raindrops. 

He ran after her, pulling his coat over his head to shield from the relentless rain and when he came within centimeters, he held it over her instead. 

She must have noticed it instantly. And when she turned her head to face him, Dohwa realized why she didn’t care about getting wet at all. Gazing down at her, he couldn’t tell which were tears or rain. But it didn’t matter: he wanted to dry them all. 

“Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here.”

Memories of karaoke on a rainy day rose up like haze in his mind. 

Was it because she was wishing for someone else? Wishing for him? 

“Who is supposed to be here then? Who are you waiting for?”

And where can I be if not by your side? 

He caught himself. What a useless thought. He felt pathetic competing against an 18-year-old memory. No one wins against memories. 

So if he couldn’t win against memory, then what could he do? All he had to offer was his body, his presence but maybe being shrouded in this blanket of rain, he could be enough now. Hanging onto this vague hope, he wrapped his arms around and pulled her in closer—the heat of his body embracing the damp coldness of hers.

“I don’t know what’s on your mind but you don’t have to keep holding it in. Let me bear some of it with you. And if you hate it, I’d rather you get mad at me than push me away.” 

There was no reply—just breaths caught between raindrops. Then instead of the anger he expected, she leaned in closer, latching onto him tighter like a lost child. 

“Is this really okay?” she asked between muffled cries. 

“Why wouldn’t it be? I told you I’m not letting go of you this time. Trust me.” 

When he spoke those last two words, she buried her face into his chest and he wondered whether it was because he was the closest shelter or if somehow he felt like home to her. 

With their bodies overlapping like this, Dohwa wanted this moment to last an eternity. But as he clung onto her more fiercely, he couldn’t subdue the guilt for wanting to preserve a broken version of her. He found the tension in his arms leaving him while his sweater softened the sounds of her sobs. 

So they stood in the rain, the streets deserted now with only the cars zooming by to keep them company. The longer they stood, the quieter the world became as the pounding rain drowned out every murmur, every footstep. It was quiet until a car sped through the huge puddle beside them and suddenly they were both drenched in muddy water. 

How could the mood get worse? It was ridiculous. So ridiculous. They exchanged one knowing stare, stifling down their laughter at first before letting it spill out into the streets. 

“Crazy driver! Didn’t he see us?” Suae’s face brightened, a laugh escaping between each word.

“There’s no way he missed us. Rude bastard.” 

“Sorry about your coat,” she muttered, pinching the soaked edges of it with her fingers, “I guess it helped a bit but now it doesn’t matter because we’re completely wet.” 

They could see the shadows of their reflection in each other’s eyes and for once, it felt like their heartbeats were in sync. 

She pulled the coat off her and hung it over her arm. 

“It’s my fault you’re wet. Do you want to come to my place to dry up? It’s not too far from here.”

Dohwa thought back to his high school days. Memories flickered in his mind like film reels—her lying on his apartment floor reading her novel, him feverish and delirious, her coming out of his bathroom looking as if she was wearing nothing but his shirt, that same apartment where they shared ramen together, that same table where they talked and talked until they didn’t. It had always been his apartment, his place. Not once had she invited him to hers. He had understood it like some law of the universe: she belonged to his world but he had no place in hers. But here she was now, going against destiny by simply asking him to come inside. There was no way he was turning this down. 

She didn’t fumble at the door. It was a quick pin and a quiet push. Then they stumbled in. The lights flipped on. There were no scattered plates on tables. No dirty mugs or empty bottles. No clothes strewn on the chairs. No one but them. 

Dohwa felt his palms beginning to sweat and he curled them into fists as he watched her slide off her sweater and socks. 

“Give me your wet clothes and I’ll dry them for you. And here, you can wear these until your clothes are dry. These are oversized but uh,” she looked up at him, “You might be a bit too tall for them. The bathroom is over there.”

“Thanks.” Dohwa shut himself in the bathroom and held up the shirt she had given him. It was clearly too small but what could he do? 

In the bathroom, he couldn’t help but notice her toiletries and bath items. His eyes lingered over her toothbrush and hair comb lining the sink then to the shower shelf holding her shampoo bottles. His mind wandered further into the shower and he imagined her inside, washing her hair with that very bottle. But he hastily shook off the thought, realizing how wrong it was to be imagining her like that while being inside this very bathroom. He chased away the thoughts, stripping off all his wet clothes then shoving his legs through the dry pants before pulling over the shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror. As expected, it was too small. 

He stepped out into the living room and spotted her in the corner already fussing over the drying machine. 

“Thanks for the clothes.”

She spun around and the moment he came into view, she burst out laughing. 

“I look good right?” he muttered, heat rising to his ears. 

“Yeah, it looks good somehow?“ 

He playfully struck a pose in an attempt to diffuse the embarrassment, “It must be because I’m the one wearing them.”

Suae chuckled and held out her arms as if asking for a hug.

“Can I?” 

He hesitated and suddenly it became clear to him: she was eyeing the pile of clothes in his arms and he nearly fell for it. 

He passed them over to her and she held out each article of clothing to examine the washing instructions. But the second she read the brand label on the inside, shock spread across her face. 

“Oh god, it’s Valentino. Can I even dry this in the machine? It says dry clean only…”

“It’s fine. Just throw it in.” Dohwa leaned over her, tossing the coat inside along with the rest of his clothes like rags. Somehow, hovering over her shoulder like this, the air here became cooler than the rest of the room. He glanced down. Beads of water dripped from the ends of her hair onto her collarbone and he watched them roll down her skin and then onto the laminate flooring. 

“You’re still wet. Shouldn’t you change before you catch a cold? I can start the dryer for you.” 

“Oh right! I completely forgot!” She quickly dove into the bathroom and he was left alone outside. In the place where she was standing, Dohwa noticed a small splattering of water on the floor. He squatted down, studying the constellation of droplets she left behind. 

Without thinking, he dragged his finger from one dot to the next, smearing them into thin lines then tapping his fingers together to feel the moisture. He stared at the lines again and wondered if they too could connect in this small space. If there was something between them, it would be easy but if there was nothing, there was no point connecting nothing with nothing. He waited longer for her to come out but enough time passed for him to give up and rest on the cool surface. The heater and dryer began to hum and he hugged his knees together, his eyes transfixed on the map he created from her droplets. But by the time she peeked out from behind the bathroom door, half of them had already begun to evaporate.

“Do you need anything?” She was wearing a new set of lounge clothes now but her hair remained wet. 

“Can I borrow your hair dryer?” He pointed to his hair still clumped together from the rain. 

“Yeah, sure!” She disappeared again and as she rummaged through her drawers, he couldn’t shake the image of her damp hair from his mind. 

“Here.” She motioned to the dining table, plopping down in one of the chairs and handing him her hair dryer once he took the place beside her. 

Wordlessly, he switched it on and ruffled his hair around as hot air blew into his face. In the corner of his eye, he watched her sit still with her head in her hands and her eyes softly shut. She looked like a student again, sitting by a window with music in her ears while savoring a spring breeze. But there was no spring breeze now, just heated gusts from the hair dryer. 

Dohwa continued to mindlessly dry his own hair but in reality, with each growing minute, he felt pieces of himself peeling away.  Somewhere in his messy web of hope, he felt a knot growing inside him. Shouldn’t he be happy being beside her? Where was that glow? That heat under skin? That maybe giddiness? But no, he felt none of that. There was none of that unbridled thrill or that electrifying anticipation. It was just pure silence—as if silence was holding everything in this room by the throat. So that there could be nothing. Because nothing was better than anything. 

Trapped inside these four walls he realized she appeared at the end of every thought. It was as if traces of her lived on in every object—white ceramic plates were tied to that stilted dinner, black curtains on photo booths concealed shared memories of two high schoolers, that ramen brand tasted like spice and blood. Somehow she took up all his thoughts but to her, he was just an afterthought. But feelings are strange: they can still grow in deserts as if holding out for rain promised every thousand of years. 

Dohwa stole a glance back at her again, noticing how much damper her hair was from his and without thinking, he pulled her chair closer to him and aimed the warm air at her instead. 

Startled, her eyes flashed open and she turned towards him. 

“What are you doing?”

“Drying your hair so you don’t catch a cold. What were you thinking letting me dry my hair first?”

“You’re a guest. You’re most important right now.” 

Her words sent a warm surge through his heart but the last two words rang out louder in his head, echoing through all the caverns of his mind. Right now he was the most important but what would happen the moment he set foot outside? Would he cease to exist? Or would she tuck the idea of him away in a corner so she could come back and care for him again? More and more thoughts twisted up in his mind and as he untangled himself from them, he realized his yearning had transformed into expectation. He was expecting things—maybe too many things, too heavy things—from her. He wanted anything but that. Because it was better to love than to expect something back. Dohwa finally understood the bitter knot he was feeling earlier: it was expectation poisoning him. 

“Dohwa?” Her voice pierced through his haze of thoughts and suddenly he was back inside the room. Between his fingers were ribbons of her hair pulling away in wisps as it dried under the hot air. 

He didn’t open his mouth to speak nor did he look her in the eye. Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder, gently spinning her around so it would be easier to dry the back of her head. But he knew it was because seeing her face was enough to stoke impure desires. 

She complied and with her back against him, the knot in his stomach loosened. 

“You don’t have to do this. I was going to dry my hair after you left.”

“Yeah but you look terrible right now so it’s only right I help you out.” He was smiling as he said this, willing every fiber in his body to dispel the poisoned thorns snaking around his heart. 

There was a short silence and his grin grew wider. It was just instinct. Somehow he knew exactly what she was thinking and somehow that was enough to burn away the poison. As if the antidote was as simple as reaching into each other’s thoughts.

“You thought I was being a bit of a jerk just now right?”

“No!” But the way she protested made it obvious he was right. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say but can you please sit still so this jerk here can finish what he started?” 

She stopped squirming. Tufts of her hair whipped across his hand as he tousled it under the dryer. The more it dried, the more he couldn’t help but notice how soft her hair felt running through the gaps between his fingers. Suae didn’t say a word and standing from behind, he noticed her shoulders relaxing as time went on. Soon it was quiet again with none of that earlier tension that entered the apartment with them. In this stillness, Dohwa felt as if he had been given permission to take up more space beside her. So he felt bolder than what he had been all night. 

“I’m not going to pretend I can read your mind but sometimes I see this look on your face and I can’t stop myself from wondering.  What’s on your mind? Are you doing well? Are you hurting anywhere?” He took a strand of her hair, wrapping it gingerly around his finger before releasing it.  

“I feel like I’m not allowed to ask these things because maybe we’re not that close. But right now, at the very least, I want to tell you that I’m here,” he paused, brushing a finger against the tip of her ear. “Maybe it’s a bit reckless to say this because I don’t know what the future holds but I promise I’ll always find a way to stay by your side. As long as you let me. If you will let me.”

His fingertips grazed her neck and he could feel tiny hairs tickling them. She pulled slightly away and he couldn’t tell whether she felt ticklish or if his touch was too much. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not expecting you to answer or anything. For now, just let me take care of you.”

He kept holding the hair dryer, letting the strands of her hair dance in the air. She didn’t answer. Yet he felt some strange comfort knowing she wouldn’t. 

The silence pulled him back into the room and then back further into the reality that, inside her universe, his existence was on lease. His eyes drifted around the room, committing every detail—the height of her book stacks, the temperature of the thermostat, the exact shade of yellow coloring the room—to memory as if it was the last time and as if he could take these pieces of her with him to create something out of nothing. Finally his eyes rested on her laptop perched on the ledge of a side table. The screen was angled at them and open to an active video tab, the person in focus oddly familiar. He squinted and it finally struck him—it was a kiss scene from his last romance drama. 

“Is that me?”

Suae’s head snapped in the direction of the laptop and before he could breathe another word, she leapt across the room and slammed it shut. She stood there, smiling anxiously as she hid the laptop behind her. Beside her hand, he noticed a pink Jellypop phone on the same table. It was outdated in high school and essentially obsolete now. She still kept it? His curiosity ended there but not for the video clip he had just witnessed. 

“Were you watching my drama?”

“Haha, yes. It was concept research for the ad we’re working on together. I was watching it while you were changing because I wanted to see how other people filmed you.”

If this was how she was going to play, then he might as well play the same game. One by one he took a step towards to her. 

“That’s not fair, Suae. You’re spying on me like this?” His lips curled into a playful smirk, “Admit it. You’re a little bit curious about me, aren’t you?”

They were separated by only a few centimeters and he closed the gap even more, cornering her into the table with one arm gripping the edge. 

“What are you curious about? The way I talk? The way I act?” He leaned in closer, dropping his voice lower. “Or perhaps the way I kiss?”

You keep drawing a line between us but yet here you are walking to me with your own two feet. 

“Are you acting right now?”

“Why? Would you rather me act?”

His delivery was confident yet he felt something hollow in his stomach. He was secretly hoping she wanted the real him yet feeling pathetic for hoping at the same time.

“Yes. For research. That’s all I need.”

“Then should I help demonstrate for you?”

He gazed down at her face. Something tightened in his chest and he knew it was his heart. He could never deny it: his heart was horrible at hiding. 

It was so different from when he was on set. All it took was one take. But now? His hands were nearly shaking. Slowly, as if stretching seconds into hours, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Slowly. Gently. Softly. His fingertips brushed her cheek like he had done in that scene. When he felt her skin on his, he caught the smallest wince. Dohwa didn’t remember this from the script.

He leaned in closer and closer and she wasn’t running away. One inch. One more inch—their lips only separated by a single breath. 

Then he stopped. 

“Do you have a better idea now?” His voice just a whisper in her ear. 

She quickly turned her head away, unable to hide a nervous lip bite. Was she nervous because it was him? Or was it something else? Had he stirred something inside her? Or was it an ordinary reaction anyone would have had? Folded into all these questions was a faint warmth sneaking up like feverish heat and when it settled, he knew. In that faded glimmer, he smiled to himself. Dohwa understood her heart more now. 

“Yeah, I got it,” she replied.  

Suddenly, the drying machine chimed and she tore herself away from him. For some reason, timing was never on his side. 

She sprung over, yanking every single piece of clothing out of the dryer.

“Here you go,” she said, dumping his coat, shirt and pants into his arms. 

He tried connecting his gaze with hers to confirm if there truly had been something but she refused. For him, that was enough of an answer. Dohwa slipped into his coat and glanced at the clock hanging above the door. It was midnight, the magic hour where anything could happen. But somehow both nothing and everything happened. He knew now that the answer enclosed inside her apartment was both yes and no and that he wasn’t ready to open it yet. 

“Thanks for having me,” he murmured as he ambled over to the door. This time his back was to her and he felt that if he dared look behind now, she would be lost to him forever. 

“Wait.” Her steps bounded towards him before stopping right at the entryway. 

She stood in front of him, reaching out to fix the collar on his coat and to smooth out the wrinkles on the lapels. It was the smallest gesture disguised as the sweetest blessing. 

So he surrendered himself to her, submitting under her hands and worshipping every touch so that it can brand into memory.

Once Suae finished fixing his coat, she smiled and he felt as though she had fixed everything broken inside him. But deep in the darkest corner of his heart, Dohwa felt that if he offered his mended soul to her now, she would want none of it. But was that really the truth? He thought back to their almost kiss where she stood still in front of him, not fleeing—the sound of his heartbeat full in his ears and the scent of her detergent intoxicating. Maybe he was wrong this time. He hoped he was wrong.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she said as if asking for permission. 

“Yes,” he replied, “Tomorrow.” 

He slipped on his shoes and turned the door knob. Then like it was the most natural thing in the universe, Dohwa shut the door behind him and left her apartment.

Chapter Text

Memories of last night had Dohwa in a chokehold: damp hair, dryers and hair dryers, warm skin on cold skin, water on the floors, water from the skies, water from the eyes. The ticking from the clock hanging on the opposite wall annoyed him. He prayed it’d stop. He felt wound up inside like barbed wires tangled up. Then finally, his manager came bursting in and Dohwa snapped back into the present—he had been inside the Marang building. 

“Dohwa, I need your full attention. I’m telling you this now because it’s serious and I care about you and your career.” 

Dohwa leveled his eyes with his manager. He knew what the concern was. He almost didn’t care. 

“You need to stop loafing around and take all the projects you have right now seriously. Be on time. Be interested. It’s getting harder to book things for you because rumors are flying around and I’ve been working hard to keep them down.” His manager paused, recovering his breath. 

“You’re still popular, yes. But based on the internal reports I’ve been getting, your popularity isn’t exactly growing. It’s stagnating. It’s not going down which is good. But! You have to be perfect. No more being late. No more being uninterested. One dating scandal and you’re dead. So absolutely no scandals. Especially not with that girl you’ve been chasing.”

“Her name is Shim Suae.”

“Yes her. Stop playing around with her.”

“I’m not playing. I’m serious.” 

“Then don’t be serious and don’t play. Now is not the time. I feel like I shouldn’t be saying this but I’m telling you anyway because you’re important to me and I want you to know.”

His manager’s agitated voice dropped to a harsh whisper. 

“Something is happening at Marang. I’m not sure what it is. Things haven’t been as successful anymore—it’s strained. The air is bad. I don’t know. I can’t explain it but it’s a gut feeling.”

Dohwa remained quiet but he knew what his manager meant. He knew because he had felt it too. 

“Something’s off right?”

Dohwa murmured back in agreement. Through the glass walls of the meeting room, he peered down the long hallways. Years ago he had felt the walls here in Marang were gilded with a god’s grace. But looking at them now, they were just ordinary walls. The veneer was gone, the gold stripped down to yellow plaster. The tiles on the floor looked now like an infinite chessboard. He had known it before but it was damning now—he and his manager were just pawns. And Dohwa himself was the poorest pawn. 

His phone on the table began to vibrate and boxes with her name filled up the screen. Shim Suae. Shim Suae. He flipped his phone over. The action stunned him—it was too easy.

In the crowded conference room, Dohwa felt the weight of Suae’s gaze pressing down, nearly suffocating him. Even after the gossip between them subsided, he had been doing all he could to keep the distance yet she couldn’t do the same. He didn’t know whether her glances were of surveillance or clumsy interest. But it didn’t matter. His manager’s advice rang out in his head uninvited. One dating scandal and he was dead. But this type of death didn’t scare him—he had already died by it every year between 18 and 26. Either way, he knew that, in this 26th life, distance was the only way he could protect them both. 

It was one of last few meetings left before wrapping up this ad project. Every project exhausted him so its impending demise brought on relief. But somewhere churning in that relief, Dohwa felt dread as they approached their final hours. If he and Suae were going to see each other after everything was over, it would be because they wanted to. He knew he wanted to but would she? Her eyes were still on him and he lifted his head to finally meet them. Maybe the answer was really yes. 

When the meeting ended, Dohwa felt a heavy arm on his shoulder and he turned to face its owner. It was one of the directors on Suae’s team. 

“Dohwa! You’re joining us tonight right?” 

“Yes?” He had no clue what he was agreeing to but he knew yes was the only answer. 

“This project is going to be a success all thanks to you. Join us for dinner. Your crew can come too. Come, come!”

Everyone in the room knew it wasn’t a request and beholden to the rules and rituals of office life, Dohwa and his staff acquiesced through strained smiles. There was only one thing certain tonight: if things wrapped up by midnight, it would be a good night. 

“This ad is going to be a hit. It’s all thanks to you Dohwa. I thought when you turned us down at the beginning, we were doomed. But you came to your senses. We are going to hit it big. I just know it so thank you, thank you. Here, let me pour you…” The director was slurring his words as he hobbled over to refill Dohwa’s glass with liquor. Excess liquid dribbled over the rim and with all eyes on him, Dohwa had no choice but to down the shot in one go. 

It wasn’t the first pour of the night. It wasn’t the third one either. By now, Dohwa’s head was spinning—the menus on the wall looked more like symbols than letters and the four in front of him now looked like eight. As he wiped away the liquor on his lips, he felt a firm nudge on his arm. 

“Dohwa, are you alright? You don’t look that good.” Suae had been sitting next to him after the director shoved them together as some reward for being high school classmates. 

“Just hand me the drink under the table and I’ll get rid of it for you,” she whispered. It was obvious alcohol had stolen her sense of boundaries and she was leaning in closer than usual. Her voice felt ticklish in his ear and he didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or her voice making heat rise up to his face.  

Why was she taking care of him like this? On outings of this flavor, everyone’s goal was to get Dohwa, the golden celebrity, drunk. Was she nice to everyone or was he special? Tonight, led astray by the liquor, he allowed himself to think he was special. 

“Suae, you’re one to talk because you’re not that much better at holding your liquor than I am.” 

He was speaking the truth: Suae had been knocking over glasses and utensils for the past hour. 

“Dohwa!” It was the director again, coming over with another heavy pour. 

“Let me! I’ll be his black rose!” Suae shot up from her seat, shoving her glass between Dohwa’s and the director’s bottle of soju. The director howled in laughter. Look at this drunk girl, she’s being so recklessly kind. That was the prevailing thought sweeping across the tables. But despite scoffing at her chivalry like everyone else, he poured the alcohol into her glass anyway. She will have to pay the price. Armed with this knowledge, the whole table continued cackling at the situation—how could Suae think she could handle Dohwa’s drinks for him? Dohwa felt they were being made a spectacle—two clowns at the restaurant just for other’s perverse enjoyment. But what hurt more was learning how judgment and liquor could drip from the same bottles.

Powerless, Dohwa could only add to the ongoing laughter with his own. Then like hammer to glass, he felt Suae’s head heavy on his shoulder, her warm breath seeping through his sleeve and onto his skin. That was enough for a sliver of defiance to flicker inside him.  

“Suae, you’re so smart. Now he has to grant you a wish. I wish I had the guts to offer to be his black rose,” one of the female employees lamented.

For drinking his share, Dohwa now owed Suae, his black rose, a wish. But did she even have anything to wish for from him? His head kept spinning, the room flipping upside down then inside out. Each time she took a shot for him, her smile grew brighter and brighter. He couldn’t help but be taken in, its glow mesmerizing in the thick of drunkenness. Slowly, he could feel that familiar greed swelling up inside him again and the more he looked at her, the more he desired. He desperately wanted to hold her face in his hands—so that he could be the only one she could smile for. But someone else’s unfamiliar laugh cut through his fantasies and he took a swig from his cup to flush the rest of them away.

By the end of the night, Suae was still half dozing on his shoulder, visibly drunker than he was. Members of his crew staff had already started vacating and Suae’s team herded everyone outside for taxi send offs. The group spilled out into the streets, high on drunken giddiness and mean carelessness. With Suae gripping onto his arm, her teammates exchanged knowing smirks yet still feigning concern—just enough concern to be polite but not polite enough to be entrusted with drunk caretaking. 

“Oh, Dohwa-ssi. You can help out and call a taxi for Suae right? You two are close enough being high school classmates and all.” 

The alcohol made it impossible for them to disguise their sneering tone. Despite being sober enough to call them out for it, Dohwa reined in his annoyance. No more creating scenes for others to misunderstand. If they had nothing, words would be useless, he told himself. But in reality he knew people will say whatever they wanted and believe whatever they wanted. All he could do was do what he wanted and persevere through the fallout. 

Suae stumbled into him, speaking gibberish into his jacket at first before suddenly snapping upright and cupping his face with her warm hands. 

“You!”

“Suae, shhh. Your voice is a bit—“ Dohwa glanced around him, noticing more necks craning over in their direction. He started to pry her hands off his face but the moment he did, her palms pressed against his mouth. 

“Everyone’s going to notice you. Shouldn’t you be covering your face?” 

But when she noticed Dohwa’s manager approaching, she pulled back her hands slightly. 

“The party was a bit fun. I enjoyed myself. I hope you did too. But Dohwa,” his manager started, sliding a face mask into his hands, “did you forget what I told you this morning?” 

“No.” As he tucked the elastic behind his ears, Dohwa knew he was playing a dangerous game. Here he was, just a bit tipsy beside a drunk girl. And a drunk girl whose touch he didn’t just permit but craved. 

“You should just send her off in a taxi. You can’t afford a scandal right now.”

“I know.” 

Dohwa spoke those words and yet couldn’t quell this twisted voice begging him to throw it all away. There had been only one reason why he chose to walk into the Marang office by himself. Just one reason he got into that company car on that one spring night. Just one reason. But that same reason became the reason the two of them could reunite. If he wasn’t a celebrity—no, if he was someone who had not just a name for himself but someone who was no longer ashamed of himself—would they still be together like this? He thought he’d be alright if their paths would never cross—that if he could only pretend similar silhouettes on crowded subways were her, he’d be okay. Because as long as she could lurk inside memories, it’d be enough. But after 8 years they met again. But after 8 years, it was Dohwa, the celebrity, who met the Suae, the ordinary girl. If he had been just Dohwa, the ordinary boy, would they have met again? He knew the answer but he wished he didn’t. Was it ever going to change? He felt like he would always choose the girl even if she would never choose him. 

“Just let me have this one night and I promise I’ll do whatever you want next week.”

“One month.”

“Fine.”

“But only til midnight, alright? Keep your mask on and come back here by midnight sharp.” 

“I will,” Dohwa promised. 

As his manager walked off to the company van, Dohwa gently shook Suae’s shoulder. “Hey, are you alright? Can you walk?” 

Suae’s head bobbed up and down slowly before turning up to flash a silly grin. What a mess, he thought. 

With her in tow, Dohwa eventually hauled them both to a secluded park bench, away from the leery eyes of passersby. In one heavy heap, she collapsed onto the seat, yawning loudly with her arms outstretched. 

“I feel great!” she shouted into the night but Dohwa sheepishly looked over at her. If this was what great looked like, he didn’t want to know what amazing was.  

“Here, drink this.” He handed her a bottle of water he snuck out from the restaurant. When she took it into her hands, she stared right into his face, closing the distance between them with every sip. It reminded him of that one rainy karaoke night when he called her out for staring long enough to burn a hole into his face. Remembering that evening now, he wished he had been kinder. If he had known how they would end up, he would redo every thing he did that day. 

“Dohwa.”

“Mm?” He gazed back at her, the glow of the lamplights framing her face in a soft halo. 

Everything about her was unsteady except her eyes. He watched them wander from his forehead to the tip of his nose then to curve of his jaw as if she was spelling out her thoughts onto his face. 

Then finally, her head dropped in one heavy sigh as if signing off a letter on his face with a big flourish. 

“It must be nice being so handsome. Your life in the last 8 years must have been so easy. Everyone can’t help but love you.” 

If anything was easy, it was the way she said it. How could it be true? If everyone loved him—and if they always do—then why didn’t she? 

“How could it be easy?” he replied, “I didn’t have you.”

The moment he spoke that last sentence, he caught himself, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t mean to say it—to tell her that he missed her. He wanted to keep it hidden, shoved down deep so only he could feel it. Because his feelings were a burden—a burden only he should carry. Yet, unlike the quick rejection he was imagining, her face flushed red before stammering out words. 

“You make it sound like I’m your lucky charm or something.”

“Well I can’t say my life has been going smoothly since we’ve reconnected.” 

“So you’re saying I’m bad luck?”

He started laughing, wanting to tease her.  “Maybe a little?” 

“Hey!”

“Shouldn’t you be treating me nicely right now? My shoulder hurts lugging your whole body across the park to get here. Plus you’ve been using it as a pillow all night. You should massage it for me.”

“No way! Massage it yourself!”

He was playfully pouting, attempting to elicit some sympathy from her as a way to distract from the near confession made seconds ago. Falling back into old habits like this and papering over honest emotions with low-stakes humor tore up his heart more than anything. As if frivolous things layered over hard things could make anything easier.

They fell silent together, both peering deep into the park foliage draped in nightfall. Then suddenly, Dohwa felt her head on his shoulder again. The way she kept returning to his side made it feel as though she belonged there. How could she do things like this without thinking twice? Was it the alcohol or was it her? 

Soon, her voice broke through the small symphony of crickets and she began chattering away about who annoyed her at work, how the coffee machine took too long, how some meetings were useless but lunch breaks weren’t, what made sense and what didn’t and why she wanted this but not that. In between each heated recounting of life events, Dohwa breathed in laughter, matching her venting with his own. Secret thoughts and not-so-secret thoughts glided out into the nighttime air—the alcohol making it easier for them to admit things they normally kept to themselves. 

How do you know if you’re grown? Or if you’re living somewhere stuck between present and past yet yearning for a future that still looked so much like the present? Why were they wishing for time to move faster, for Fridays to come sooner but for Sundays to never end? Why did they want the future to come now when they had the present? Dohwa lamented out loud about how he spent a lifetime living for others yet lying in shame that it was for himself. And Suae regretting how many minutes, hours and days she spent dragging past into present when all it wanted was to be given blessings for burial. 

They listened to everything spoken and unspoken, offering clumsy advice to each other as if finally stitching together wounds left too long to fester. 

“I think I understand you a little. But sometimes I wonder if, for me, seeking closure was more of an excuse to keep holding on. If I didn’t have an answer then it could be the one I’m hoping for. So I keep holding on even if it hurts me—holding on until I’m ready to accept never knowing.”

“Yeah, I think I’m holding on because I’m not ready to let go. Maybe it’s because I’ve actually never allowed myself to really feel the full depth of everything so they keep bubbling up inside and the moment they come to surface, I shove them back down. Because I don’t want to know what it really is.” Suae’s words slipped out like skin on silk. 

“When I graduated without you and Go Eunhyeok, I felt bitter. Like I was pathetic to think things between us meant more than they actually did. Did I miss something? Did I misunderstand? You two were so important to me and it ruined me thinking I was just a single word in your story when you were so many chapters in mine.”  

Suae let out a long sigh as if expelling something she kept down inside. 

“To be honest, every time I see you, I get more and more nervous. I thought it’d get easier but it isn’t. But when we start talking like this, I forget everything like I’m under your spell and it all becomes so easy. Then I’m left wondering. Was what I was feeling earlier even real?”

She paused, “Why am I so drawn to you? What’s your secret? Tell me!”

In her drunken haze, she still had no concept of personal space, her face nearly pressed onto his. If he wanted their lips to touch, they could. 

He looked down at her, not knowing whether his mouth dry from the alcohol or from her.

“There’s no secret.” 

No one needed to say it. Somehow they both knew. 

“You know, what you asked the other day. About being by my side. I don’t know if I deserve that. I feel like you think I’m this really kind person. But I’m not. I’m not as nice as you think I am,” she said, crumpling the leaves under her feet. He felt like he could hear her last words punctuated with a wistful smile. 

“I’m selfish. I only think about myself. We’re only talking like this because I approached you about this stupid project. Otherwise, we’d still be strangers.”

“But you told me the truth from the beginning.” 

“That was guilt.”

“But you still could have kept it from me forever.”

“Still.”

The lamplight beside their bench began to flicker, the light inside struggling to stay alive. As the park faded between warm yellows and midnight blues, even without the help of lamplights, the world was still illuminated as if covered in a thin veil. Dohwa lifted his head up to the sky speckled by stars, the round moon pinned against a clear night canvas. It was so bright. So golden. Yet, the moonlight felt cold on his skin. 

All he could hear was the swishing of branches caught in the occasional breeze. He glanced over to Suae and she had her head drooped, defeated. 

“Suae?” 

“I—“ Her hand flew over her mouth. “I’m—I think I’m gonna puke.” 

“Wait, are you serious?” 

She held up her other hand as if telling him to stay away. She was perfectly still, holding herself like a statue. 

Then finally, “I think I’m okay.” 

“You sure?” 

She nodded and sprung to her feet. 

“I feel fine now.” 

She smiled, holding out her hand. He hesitated, unsure if she was truly alright—if this was alright. But she dispelled all those misgivings when she reached over, taking his hand into hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Let’s go.”

She knew where they were going and even if she was mislead by alcohol, he still believed her. Into the streets they went, stumbling through the city guided by selves born anew under the month’s only full moon. Dohwa wondered what the real secret was. Because it was always nighttime when their hearts connected. Because it was only when their bodies were bathed in starlight could they be who they wanted to be—share what they’ve always wanted to share and love who they dared to love. 

If she was selfish, then he must be the most selfish person in the world. He wanted to know everything about her. Whether she’s ever fallen asleep with the lights on, whether she sang in the shower or on the bus during her commute or whether she was the type to order the same things at restaurants because she’s been burned by misadventure. He wanted to know how many breaths it took for her to fall asleep, how many seconds she waited before picking up a call. Was it 3? 5? He wanted to know so many things, too many things. 

But with her fingers laced together with his, there was no need to know. She was here. With him. Their hands holding onto each other tightly so they couldn’t lose themselves to the night. 

After walking through more and more streets, they finally ended up inside a convenience store, poring over the ice cream selection. It only took Suae three seconds to make up her mind and she plucked out two of the same kind from the shelf and strode over to cash register.  

After paying, the pair stood outside, licking ice cream faster than it could melt. 

“I was your black rose wasn’t I?” She looked over at him with the sudden realization. It was clear that the alcoholic haze was lifting. 

“You have to grant me a wish!” 

“So what do you want to wish for?” 

He watched Suae mill over ideas in her head before witnessing her holding out a finished ice cream stick. 

“Buy me another one.”

Dohwa chuckled, “You don’t need to wish for that.” 

Her gaze drew away from him as if listening for whispers of permission out in the night.  

“Then, can I wish for you to stay with me tonight?” 

It felt like she was granting him a wish instead. 

Did she know what she was saying? What those words implied? Dohwa shook the idea out of his mind, knowing well that that wasn’t what she was wishing for. Even still, he had no power to grant any wish. It was like they were in a fairytale and the magic vanishes at midnight. 

He looked down at his watch. It was 15 minutes till. The answer was no and he had to tell her no—the night was growing too old too fast. Yet, he felt that one rejection from him would make her never ask again. 

“I’m sorry Suae. I can’t. Not tonight.” He avoided her eyes. His brows furrowed, his eyes shut tight to hold back torment and regret. 

Then in what seemed like the longest moment, he felt cold fingers softly touch his cheek. He opened his eyes and there she was, gazing up at him with concern carved into her face. 

“It’s okay. We have so many more nights to choose from. It doesn’t have to be today,” she said before pulling back her hand. “Tonight was fun. I’m really happy we met again.” 

She was beaming and Dohwa wondered how she could be so bright in this type of night. The full moon above them couldn’t hold a single candle to her. 

Me too, he wanted to say. Me too. 

But before he mustered the courage to admit it, the distant sound of a camera shutter pierced through his entire being. 

That was when he knew he had to let her go. 

Chapter Text

Dohwa found himself back in that same meeting room again. The more the clock ticked, the deeper he sank into the chair. He felt like a prisoner dragged from one cell to the next, subjected to each chamber’s own brand of torture. In the Marang room, it was the ticking.  

His phone had exploded from concerned texts from colleagues to relentless notifications from tabloids. He thought he had muted everything months ago but they forced through the cracks. He laughed under his breath. How absurd. If anything, he was the one cracking under it all. 

With his eyes fixed on the phone placed on the table in front of him, he watched grey boxes stream in like fallen dominoes. One by one they came, pushing way for dozens more to clutter onto the screen. Then, in between unfamiliar names, he caught sight of hers attached to a single box. Instinctively, his fingers met the screen, trapping the box with her name in place. Pinned under his fingertips, he rubbed it back and forth, unsure if he should swipe it away. 

“I saw the news. Are you doing okay?“ 

Her message stirred something both pleasant and bitter inside him. He could imagine how worry unraveled itself on her face—the furrowed brows, her round eyes becoming even rounder, that slight frown anyone could mistake as a mouth about to cry. In that moment of imagination, Dohwa felt his heart compelling his hand to tap and reach out to her. But he held himself back. He had already hurt her enough. The best thing he could do for her now was to be a stranger. Yet ghosting felt like a punishment unbefitting of the crime. She deserved to hear from him. At the very least, he wanted to let her know he was doing fine—even if it was a lie.

The click of a door opening overlapped with the ticking of the clock and Dohwa almost didn’t notice the presence of another person entering the room. 

It wasn’t his manager. Instead, Kim Cheolsu stood silently across from him, a tablet tucked into the crevice of his arm. 

“Looks like your mold problem came back.”

Dohwa turned away. He always felt too small to look Cheolsu in the eye. 

“I don’t think it’s mold anymore.”

“So you want to keep living with it?”

Dohwa dared to look up, “Yes.” 

Cheolsu took the seat across from him, stripping off the tablet cover before tapping away. 

“You know what I’m here for right?” He didn’t bother raising his gaze from the screen. 

“Who wouldn’t?”

“It’s not your first scandal so I’m not particularly surprised. But—“ He handed Dohwa the tablet with the camera app open. 

“What’s this for? You can’t seriously be asking me to take a picture of you?”

“If you find my face so unappealing, why don’t you take a selfie instead?” 

Confused, Dohwa leaned over to take the tablet into his hands. He touched the button to flip to the front-facing camera and immediately the lens started to focus in. An outline of a box was overlayed on his face and attached to that box was a string of numbers. 4.4 billion out of 7.8 billion. 

“What is this?”

“Your love points.”

Dohwa glanced back at the numbers—the 7.8 billion next to his face commanding all attention. The numbers on the left side were etched into the screen, its white color blinding against the pale wall captured in frame. 

“You see that? You will be loved, desired nearly 8 billion times in your life. It’s fate. You can’t change this.”

“And the number on the left?”

“That’s how many love points you’ve accumulated so far.” 

Love points? Quantifying love sounded absurd to him. But questions soon started racing in his head. Is this how Marang scouted talent? People with an obscene amount of love points? Is this even real? Dohwa felt something sharp twisting inside him. 

“Do you see a problem here?”

“No.”

“Your image is everywhere. You’re seen by billions of people everyday in videos, photos, billboards. Anyone can own a piece of you on their phones. You basically live in their pocket. You would think the left number would be increasing every minute.”

“Maybe people don’t like me anymore after this scandal.”

Cheolsu let out a sudden scoff. “Do you really believe one dating scandal can stop all those people from desiring you? If anything, they would be desiring you more.” He gestured with his arm outstretched, signaling for the tablet. Dohwa snapped the cover over the screen and pushed it away. “So, Dohwa, what do you think? Is the problem you or the system?”

“Why are you telling me this?” 

With the tablet back in his hands, Cheolsu unzipped his briefcase and slotted it inside. He abruptly stood up and moved for the door as if he had not heard a single word. 

Then, under the door threshold, he paused before tilting his head back. 

“If you want to change your fate, now is the time to do it.” 

Dohwa was back at his own place for what felt like the first time in months. In reality, it had only been a week since he agreed to his manager’s demand in exchange for that night with Suae. After photos of them leaked online, his manager’s flip flopping between self-flagellation and berating made it clear to both parties: the agreement was one of the worst deals ever made and his manager would not forgive himself until he managed to undo the damage. Dohwa himself was sorry for it but secretly felt the trade had been fair. 

From the dining table, Dohwa could hear his newly released K Motors ad blaring from the living room TV. Suae’s agency did a good job, he thought. Suae. For the past week, he desperately repressed her presence from his mind. He knew that if she took up less space in his head, dealing with her absence would be more bearable. Yet a single syllable of her name whispered into a corner of his mind still pained him. Even though they hadn’t seen each other since, he knew she had seen every article. That blurry dark picture was the backdrop of their lives now. How many stories can the world spin with just a picture of two people together on a bench? He had read them all and all too often—so much so that he could recite the most upvoted comments by heart. He thought reading comment after comment would induce him into believing but it didn’t. Every variant of “they must be dating” made him wish it were true. Why was it that the very thing everyone wished against the only thing he’s ever wanted? 

As he dwelled on this desire, Cheolsu’s words slithered into his consciousness, tempting him against fate. Even now after a week, as he shuttled back and forth between vans, studios and his own apartment, the idea of changing fate hung menacingly over him. It weaved between every excuse and every reason against it. He thought the idea would engender urgency within him but it in fact had done the opposite. The more it snaked around his mind, the more it consumed him. 

It was too much. Dohwa squeezed his eyes shut as if the physical could master the immaterial. Then suddenly, he felt a single vibration from the phone next to him. 

It was from Suae. 

She had continued texting him since that night, asking how he was doing or whether he was okay. The way she framed her words—caring but not overbearing, sincere but not overeager—made her difficult to resist. But at his manager’s behest, Dohwa kept his promise to ignore her. His resolve, however, weakened each time he saw her name and he wondered whether it was truly the right thing to do. 

If you want to change your fate, now is the time to do it. 

He glanced at the message—it was innocuous. A simple “I hope you’re doing okay. Have you eaten yet?”

He seized his phone. “No I haven’t. I can’t leave my apartment right now.”

“Then let me be your personal delivery service.” 

Her response arrived in seconds but it simmered in his palms for many more moments as he mulled over the choice. 

What is fate anyway? If not his?

He tapped rapidly before pitching the phone into a pile of pillows. Away from where he sat, a pinned location glowed loudly on the screen. 

Dohwa paced across his living room, unsure whether she would keep her word or change her mind. He had foolishly given her his address and now he had to face the horrible possibility that she would run into his manager. 

Shortly after he had sent his location, his phone started ringing—almost as if triggered by that thoughtless text. It was the usual news: his manager was coming over to drop off some sponsored clothes. It was the usual yet unusual. The timing was awful and maybe too opportune. Dohwa’s eyes darted across his living room, taking inventory of every item he owned as new paranoia started to amplify his original anxiety. What if his manager was truly watching somehow? What kind of punishment awaited him? Should he tell Suae not to come anymore? That he promised his manager not to see her? That they’d get caught? Then it struck him. He didn’t care. He wanted to see her. He had to. 

Then the doorbell rang. 

He rushed over, sweeping his bangs out his face in an effort to compose himself before catching the image of his guest on the intercom. From his heart, he felt a sharp thrill surge through him. She kept her promise after all. He found himself nearly laughing. There must be something twisted in all this: he had to break his own promise to let her keep hers. 

“Ta-da! Your personal delivery is here!” Her voice chimed into the stillness of his apartment as he parted the door. 

There she was, holding up a neatly tied package with a huge grin. From the fresh condensation inside the bag, Dohwa knew she had truly gone out, ordered, and rushed over to his side. It was the kindest gesture he’s had in a long time and it broke him. 

He wrapped his arms around her, his face digging into the crook of her neck. As he clung on tighter, he felt her hands held up in the air, reminding him what it was: a selfish embrace. The mere thought of it stained him in shame and he instantly drew back. 

“Are you that happy to see me?” The way she said it disarmed him. 

He looked at her, debating how much honesty was permitted and settled on just a smile before taking the bag from her hands. The scent of her sent him back into that summer when she abandoned her friends to distribute fliers beside him. He felt his teenage feelings rising up again only to be dragged down by the same stifling sidewalk heat. That stench of asphalt seeping into his nostrils once smelled like blood. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“What? But I offered didn’t I?” The simplicity of her response snuck up on him and he couldn’t resist smiling back. He didn’t know whether she was a fool for being so kind or if he was, for being so captivated by her careless kindness. She had no self-preservation and he couldn’t help but feel protective. 

“Not everyone’s like you.” Not everyone is as kind as you. Not everyone thinks of me like you do. Even if you might think of me less than everyone else. 

Suddenly, audible footsteps outside alerted him of an unwelcome arrival and he knew his manager was closing in on his doorstep. 

“Suae, I’m sorry,” he blurted and hurriedly guided her into the guest bathroom before she had the chance to remove her shoes. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Later,” he replied. His voice slipped into the gap before shutting the bathroom door on her bewildered face. 

From there, it was clockwork: doorbell ring, open door, brief greetings and his manager shuffled in with clothes hangers in tow. 

“The team at D— sent you these to wear for your upcoming airport walk,” his manager said as he moved towards the dining table to lay down the hangers. 

“Didn’t I already tell them I don’t do branded airport walks anymore?”

“Well, I told them you’d do it. You just have to wear and walk in them for 15 minutes. You can do that at least right?”

Dohwa let out an agitated sigh. He couldn’t bargain for a whole month because of that deal. After all, he had already resigned to being a slave for a month.  

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

His manager watched Dohwa’s expression carefully as if gauging sincerity. But his contentment soon vanished when he started sniffing the air while retracing his steps back to the main door. 

“There’s this unfamiliar scent in your place. I haven’t smelled this before,” his manager said, “It’s almost like a woman’s fragrance?” 

Immediately Dohwa felt his manager’s eyes fix squarely on him. 

“It might have been. I was spraying some fragrance samples I got from P brand earlier today. You still smell it?” Dohwa was a terrible liar but after the several years of acting he had gotten good enough. Deep down he knew his manager could tell but he hedged his bets on leniency after being such a dutiful dog lately. 

Slowly, his manager’s gaze shifted from Dohwa to the doorstep. He knew he was checking for other shoes but there were no other shoes and certainly there were no women’s shoes. Dohwa breathed in cautious relief but his unease heightened as he followed his manager’s eyes towards the guest bathroom. At this point, he knew he had to intervene. 

“Do you have anything else you need to give me? I was just about to eat dinner.” 

Dohwa gestured to the takeout left out on the counter. He worried whether he spoke too quickly or if the diversion was too obvious. But whether it was because of his persuasion or his manager’s good will, his manager eventually apologized for intruding and Dohwa was soon left alone. 

The moment the front door closed, Suae’s head poked out from behind the bathroom door. Without thinking, Dohwa strode over and shut her back in—as if he was shutting back feelings to suffocate them inside. 

“Dohwa? Why—“ The thickness of the door muffled the confusion in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” he responded, “Please stay in there for a couple more minutes. My manager has this bad tendency of coming back within 10 minutes of leaving.” 

“Okay.” Her voice was meek now and he heard her body slump to the floor, her back pressed against the frame. Dohwa couldn’t help but notice something sad mixed in as though he had wounded her. He felt cruel. 

For many minutes they sat side by side, separated by a door that felt more like a boundary of their own making. The phone in his pocket vibrated once and he took it out. Just as he expected, his manager had forgotten something. 

“There was another shirt I needed to give you,” the message started. Dohwa felt his shoulders tensing only for it all to release when another text immediately followed. 

“I have another errand to do so I’ll hand it to you another time.” 

This confirmation was more than enough for Dohwa to prop himself back up and turn the bathroom door handle. He pushed in just a bit and from his height, her body curled against the wall made her look more pitiful than he expected. But rather than meeting him with the same sadness he had heard earlier, her first reaction was to laugh it off and he welcomed it. 

“Wow, that was a close call with your manager. I can’t believe he let you off like that?” 

“He just feels sorry for me.” 

“Sorry?”

“He’s the reason why I’m caged up here.” His admission was so plainly said and the lingering smile he gave made Suae sputter over her words. He didn’t allow her to spin it in any other way. 

Eventually the two of them gathered around the dining table, sorting through the takeout containers to set out the food. In the background, the TV continued to play, ads and variety segments bled together as if melting all the mindless distractions of Seoul into pixels on a screen. To Dohwa, it was the same as city noise. He glanced into the living room only to be startled by that familiar blurry picture flashing on. Of course, how could he escape it? His scandal was still prime news for slimy stations. But the moment the news anchor started to prattle away, a pair of warm hands covered his ears. 

He looked at her. There it was again, etched into Suae’s face. That worry that made him weak. Without thinking, Dohwa placed his hands over hers, gently tugging them down while secretly savoring the heat from her skin. 

“It’s alright.” Her gesture was so sweet that he could have sworn he tasted it. It dared him to hope again. 
 
“I’m used to seeing myself and that stuff is old news anyway. I don’t know why they keep harping on it.” 

He pulled back his grip on Suae’s hands and as his fingers curled in, he felt nails digging into his palms. 

“You don’t look like you’re used to it.” 

They were the same lines from that day when he was running late to that part-time job—the park where he heard everything even if they were just whispers. But instead of placing that cap over him back then, this time she placed her hands over his ears. They were the same words exchanged as if abiding by script. For him to get taken in again by these same lines, it must be a script—for he had no choice but to love her. 

Their attention turned to the TV and a clip of Dohwa smiling and waving to flashing cameras came on. When the camera began closing in on his face, Suae broke the silence. 

“Everyone must love you.” He knew that she was attempting to diffuse the tension. 

“Not everyone,” he replied, his eyes resting on her with a small knowing smile. 

But when her face scrunched up in confusion, he caught himself and scrambled for drier words. 

“How are things at the office now?”

“It’s—“ she started but her mouth shut, her brows knitted together as if debating whether she should submit to the deflection. 

“You know, you smile more when you’re trying to hide.” 

This observation stunned him—panic shot up from his gut to his throat. 

“The way you’re smiling now looks like the you on that TV screen.”

“Yeah?” Dohwa’s eyes quickly turned away from her gaze. There was something prickly about being seen this way. Even if it was by her. 

“Isn’t that the version people like?” With his face turned from her, the words sounded like they were for the ears of a phantom audience. 

“Not me.” The way she spoke those two words pierced his soul more than he could handle. He was half agony, half hope. He wished to tell her how every inch of his soul belonged to her, how his heart now was hers even more than ever—a heart to love or to break—as long as she wished to own it.

There was something quaking inside, prying deeper and deeper until all words collapsed into him.

So he could offer only silence and more silence. 

“I know things have been hard for you lately. And—“ she stammered, “I feel it’s because of me.” 

“It’s not you.” 

“You don’t have to lie. Just like how you told me to be honest with you—that I can rely on you—you can too.  Be honest with me. Rely on me. Because wherever you are and whoever you are—whether you’re that person on TV or the you in front of me now— I’m always supporting you.” 

He dared to finally meet her eyes. That moment of quiet felt like a bid for connection and for once, there was enough space for him to truly be honest. 

“Somehow you always say the things I want to hear most,” he said, slipping into a small smile, “You come into my life uninvited and I'm changed forever.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m the reason you’re stuck in this scandal yet here I am, still trying to recklessly reach you. Maybe, even after all these years, I haven’t really learned.”

He knew she was talking of that time: cramped apartments, shabby coffee tables, rain on leaky windows, lightbulbs fighting in flickers, her talking about fanfic while he was talking about them. He remembered grey weather, grey hues, greyer confessions.

“No, Suae. You always come into my life when I need it most. You turn up and everything changes—my routine, my thoughts, my desires. With you, I can hardly think. I’m overwhelmed between feeling too little and too much. Have you not noticed? For you, I do things I’d never do.”

“But the scandal?” 

“Don’t you know? It takes two people to make a dating scandal,” he said, “And it was better you than one of my costars.” 

With his eyes, he held her softly before witnessing a sudden streak of pain darken hers. What was that? Could it be? He quickly recovered. Of course, it would have been worse news if two popular celebrities were caught together. But what if? Then it struck him. Did she feel insignificant in his world? Just like how he felt like in hers? 

“That’s not what I…” He opened his mouth at first to spill out useless words only to stop and reach for her hand. As their palms kissed, a strange tenderness spread between skin, emboldening him more. 

“If I have to be tied to someone, I want it to be you. It has to be you.” 

He felt his heartbeat pulsing from his fingertips and he wondered if she could feel it too. 

“Your hands are cold.” 

Her words bewildered him. 

“Then," she started, "if it’s okay, can I try something?” But before he could say yes, their hands clasped together and she leaned in, gingerly embracing him for what felt like a lifetime—one that he didn’t know he had been yearning for. 

1, 2, 3, 4. She started pulling away. 

But Dohwa didn’t let her. He pulled her back even closer, heartbeat over heartbeat—so close he didn’t know which tempo belonged to whom. 

“Don’t start if you’re going to let go so easily.” 

He felt her face smothering into his chest and the smell of shampoo tickled his nose. If hope had a scent, it would be this. 

Chapter Text

It was just the hallway of Dohwa’s apartment she was stumbling down, but to Suae, it felt more like staggering through a maze of her own mind. 

There was no denying it now. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest. With her eyes squeezed shut, the sound of her own heartbeats felt thunderous in her ears. 

Why did she willfully walk into it? Just to confirm? To try it out? What was she even hoping for if not an answer? 

With each beat drowning out other thoughts, she knew her heart was no longer hers. Before she had known it, it already belonged to someone else. 

The truth was she had done something like this back in high school. She remembered how his arms felt wrapped around her, how awkwardly yet tenderly he held her. It was different. 

Inside Dohwa’s embrace, there was a desperation—a plea buried within a garden of pure affection. But could desperation ever breed true love? 

Suae opened her eyes and the elevator chimed, its doors parting to reveal a neat, luxurious lobby. She had made it out. 

On the TV in the lobby, Dohwa’s ad alongside another actress played. In all these years, she had never been able to escape him. He was an oppressive presence looming overhead from hundreds of massive LED screens. Whether she was staggering out of the subway or peering up into the sky from the busiest city square, he was there waiting for her. From the heights of billboards and skyscrapers, his golden eyes always gazed down at her, beguiling her to covet him. But even entranced like that, Suae knew he wasn’t looking at her. No, that was the devil’s deal you make with an idol—they belonged to both everyone and no one. She knew this well. Yet the refrain “we used to be good friends” tormented her more than anything else. “Who I am to him?” she thought. And who is he to her if not just a friend? 

She willed herself back into the lobby only to witness the actress beside Dohwa in the ad taunting her with a sly smile. More thoughts consumed Suae as she fixated on the actress’s short bob. These two beautiful actors with blinding smiles bewitched her. Yet the longer she gazed at them, the hollower she felt. Then finding it strangely unbearable, Suae tore her eyes away from the TV. Between each footstep as she hurried to catch the last bus, her fingers fiddled with the tips of her long hair. 

Once outside, Suae stood under the bus stop shelter. At this hour, she was the only soul out and from habit—like a prayer to the night—she hummed to her favorite song. But midway through the chorus, she realized she wasn’t truly alone. As if waiting, he appeared in front of her again. Suae’s eyes turned upward to Dohwa’s billboard on the opposite side of the street. His gaze pierced through her thoughts as his hands cradled a cobalt cologne bottle. “Who are you really?” she silently mouthed to his image before it blinked out of sight behind a rushing car. After all these years, she gave into something she never wished to believe—the thought that she never really knew him. The few things she did know were things he had chosen to share and that was it. There was nothing more—nothing because she never had the courage to reach in. Perhaps she was never a good friend. The Dohwa clothed in Chanel smiled back at her. There was bitterness gnawing at the ragged edges of her loneliness and she hated it. 

Somehow after that night, the two of them fell into a new routine—she found herself visiting him often but never when the sun was out. Under the cover of the stars, she secretly wondered whether she was just another person he whispered syrupy words to, knowing come morning, the spell would vanish. Even in the cold winter night, he felt like sunshine on skin, warm and too easy so she couldn’t help but worry that too much of him would burn her. 

Yet the more she shared time with him, the more she caught herself being taken in by the most mundane things—his sudden bursts of laughter at something absurd, the way his lips naturally curved into a smile when he surrendered himself to music. 

Tonight he promised to sneak out under his manager’s nose. Feeling a light buzz in her pocket, Suae pulled out and checked her phone. 

“Are you home?” His texts were always followed by stickers that endeared himself to her more than she’d like to admit. 

“I just got back.” 

The number next to her message disappeared—he had seen it. Even though they’ve met up tens of times, Suae felt her heartbeat quicken. Glancing back down to her phone, an address appeared on her screen followed by another message from him: “Watch a movie with me.” 

Before she knew it, her feet were leading her to the closest subway station. No matter how much she refused to let her desires puppet her, she couldn’t stop—she wanted to see him. 

Standing at a corner inside, Suae scrutinized the theatre Dohwa chose. Spare for two exhausted employees, the building was near deserted. Its walls, reminiscent of the early 2010s, looked like they never endured enough to warrant a fresh coat of paint and instead wore its decade-old color like unshed skin. As she examined all these little details, the nostalgic fixtures aided by the scent of popcorn dragged her back to high school hours. Suddenly, she returned to that one movie date, a memory dissolved in grey shades and a boy’s face she could never unsee. But the watch on her wrist begged her not to lose herself to past. Just another twenty minutes, it whispered, just a little more until he promised to arrive. Her heels dug into the dingy carpet, beating back nostalgia with the mantra “I’ve changed. It’s different now.” This time it’ll be okay. 

Then in the corner of her eye, a golden figure bounded towards her. With his silhouette commanding all the attention, she felt her soul rush to him. There was no helping it: no matter how much he covered up, he always stood out—as if the heavens couldn’t resist beaming down at their favorite creation. When he reached within inches of her, he hobbled over, gasping for breath as his hands gripped the tops of his knees. 

“Did you run all the way here?” She caught her hand reaching for his face before pulling back in a soft fist. 

“Yeah,” he replied in a single short breath. 

“Why?”

“Because I really wanted to see you.” He lifted his head to meet her eyes and worrying that her face betrayed her, she darted her gaze away. 

“Do you want popcorn?” 

He straightened to his full height and Suae could feel his eyes hovering over the crown of her head. 

“Only if you’re paying,” he replied with a teasing smile. There was always something irresistible about the way he pronounced his words. She wondered how his mouth could look so pleasing when he spoke. They were steeped in the sweetest poison served just for you. If it were for her, it would taste like strawberry candy.

Intoxicated, her eyes traced the lines of his bottom lip up to his cupid’s bow. Then as if he could feel caresses from a gaze, he pulled the mask tucked neatly under his chin further down. 

“Why?” he asked, “Do you like what you see? 

“What are you talking about?” she blurted out as she scurried over to the concessions counter. “Let’s hurry before the movie starts.” 

Behind her, she could hear chuckles muffled under a mask. 

Suae walked into this movie blind. After all, it was Dohwa's choice and she was in no position to decline. That was the deal and in return she supplied the sweet popcorn. If she had known it was a tearjerker melodrama, she would have pleaded him to reconsider. The last thing she wanted to do was to cry in front of him again. But there was something strangely funny about it. To think, after all these years, she was the one doing the crying now. She thought back to that one night in his apartment—his teary face as he knelt over the tarnished coffee table left a stain in her memory. She was fine with his tears but what kind of guy would want to keep seeing a girl cry? She didn’t want him to know how soft she still was—the part of her at 18 that was still alive at 26. But no matter how much she tried, she found herself again with hot tears streaming down her face, so much so that it began pooling at the tip of her chin.
 
“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect it to be this sad,” she muttered, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. The credits rolled in the background, thin white letters on black. She refused to look him in the eye, afraid of being seen despite knowing the theatre’s darkness couldn’t truly disguise her face. 

As she rubbed the tears away between heavy blinks, a neat handkerchief appeared in front of her. She blinked again, unsure whether she should take it. But before she could fully refuse, dry softness swept across her face and when her vision cleared, her eyes met his. She watched his mouth open as if about to sputter something but nothing came out.  So it was silence—silence layered with the vague fizzing of static leaking from the movie projector. Between each audible breath, she expected him to say something but as he carefully wiped away her tears, she finally understood that his silence was a form of kindness. 

“You can give it back to me later,” he said, holding out his handkerchief. She instinctively took it.

With it crumpled in her palm, she finally allowed herself to take him all in. For once, she wished his face would betray him. But unlike his teenage self whose blushes came and went just as easily, his present self only offered a slim glimpse into him. It must be all those years of media training he’s had—the same years where she had no place in. She always thought his face was easy to read—and maybe it still was— but mingled within hundreds of billboards and ads, she no longer trusted it. 

In a brief flash of light from the credits scene, she could have sworn she saw pain. Or was it just sympathy? She wanted to laugh. As if he could feel something like that for her. Were those easy words for him to say? It was steeped in assumptions, wishes granted and wishes taken for granted. As if them meeting again and again was something so normal that it became worthless. Was that something to be happy about? He wanted to keep seeing her. This beautiful person wanted to spend precious minutes and hours in a day with someone as unlovable as she was. Rather than joy, Suae felt her lip quivering as the bottom rim of her vision started to mist again. She had long thought there could never be a soul who could yearn for her. So how could she assume how he felt? And that somehow she was special to him? That she could be the object of his desires? She was reminded of her love points glowing on that Marang screen—a pitiful number over that dreadful zero. A pitiful number yet one that gave her hope. But he was Marang’s golden boy. How could he want her out of anyone else? Tabloid articles with dizzying lists of actresses tumbled around in her mind. How narcissistic of her. How could she even dare? She held back a scoff only to succumb to stealing another glance. Suddenly, pale colors that had been revealing Dohwa’s expression stopped flickering over his face. The credits had ended, plunging the room deeper into black. 

“I want it to be you. It has to be you.” His words from that night bloomed inside her mind. Could she dare to believe? 

She crushed his handkerchief in a fist. 

After the lights turned on in the theatre, the two of them couldn't linger together much longer inside. Out on the quiet sidewalk, they both refused to break the silence, afraid that if they spoke now their words would somehow spell the end. So they stood under a dim lamplight, listening to its buzzing and bathing in its familiar yellow. She hadn’t realized it before but as the years went by, this yellow was lost to all the streetlamps who now glowed in pure LED white. It was only here, in this rundown place where this warm yellow returned to her. Just like how he returned to her. The lamplight tinted Dohwa’s face, capturing his features like an old camera and in that moment, for once, she felt like she knew him. What can the present do but give second chances as gifts to the past? As more and more minutes sank deeper into night, Suae finally dared to speak.  

“I’ll give it back for our next movie.” She held out his handkerchief, still damp with her tears. 

Dohwa’s face turned into the light as if answering her. He didn’t utter a single syllable yet she desperately wanted to hear his voice—so that she could cling to its sound and reassure her. She wanted him to whisper her name so she could finally know whom her heart belonged to. 

But her heart was not brave. Instead, she matched his silence, swallowing her desires and following his gaze to something out in the distance. It was a smaller billboard of Dohwa’s Chanel ad. Even out here, she couldn’t escape that version of him. And somehow, in the drawn out pause, she felt like he didn’t want to encounter that side of him either. So they both savored this silence, letting its flavor linger like the final moments of hard candy on a tongue, until his voice broke it. 

“You never asked for my autograph,” he said. She opened her mouth to protest. Then as if he misspoke, he added, “Are you not a fan?”

“I thought you would hate the idea of me asking.” 

“What are you saying? Come here.” He gently grasped her wrists, pulling her closer to him. In the winter night, the warmth from his hands burned like a branding iron. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a pen so,” he started, “please accept this for now.” 

On her open palm, stroke by stroke, his finger traced out his name. As he drew lines over the creases of her own hand, she watched him mouth each syllable like it was an incantation. Baek. Do. Hwa. 

On the last line, his finger rested near the curve of her pointer and thumb. 

“You have my name now. Please take good care of it.”

He nudged her fingers in, curling it into a fist as though she was cupping something precious. If he trusted her with his name, then she should allow herself to believe too. 

 “I will.”