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"Oppa, don't you think this is too much?"
Tae-kyung is sitting in a large waiting area, hangers with dresses lying on their sides beside him, while Mi-nyeo's voice warbles from behind a dressing room door. A slight smirk comes to his features as he notes the shyness in her voice, so apparent despite the distance separating them from each other. The store attendant could come in right then, and she would find him looking like a cat who had a canary between its paws. He was enjoying himself immensely despite all the evidence to the contrary that a shopping spree like this should have been the least likely thing he wanted to do on a Saturday morning while his bandmates were sleeping in.
"Come out," he says, making sure his voice is loud enough for her to hear. "Don't be shy."
It's a long moment - too long, he notes with distaste - before the sound of the dressing room door unlatching meets his ears. Then the door opens, swinging inward, before Mi-nyeo steps out in high heels that seem precarious from the height they give her. But his eyes flit up instantly, taking in her whole body in the summer dress flowing around her form. The pastel yellow floral pattern brings a brightness to her skin, and she looks as if she has stepped out of a magazine from the way her hair curls down towards her shoulders. He is mesmerized for a long moment, barely able to muster a word, before his eyes flit away and he clears his throat.
"Is that the first one you picked out?" he asks, trying to do anything but stare at her because he can feel a blush - a blush of all things! - coloring his cheeks.
"I thought it seemed the most appropriate because of the weather," she answers in a quiet voice - and she can hear the hesitation. That's not the whole reason, and he knows it.
The other clothes were ones he had chosen, simply because he wanted to see her as any vision of his that he wanted. This outing was as much for her as it was for him, and he had been gleeful at the thought of seeing her in outfits she wouldn't normally choose for herself. How long had he seen her dressed as a boy? How long had he seen her drawn to all forms of modesty because of her upbringing and her religious background? This had been a chance to break free - for the both of them.
But, given his reaction, he perhaps should be glad that she chose the least of all evils.
Finally, after what seems like a long time to school his expression, he allows himself to take another peek at her. She's clenching her fingers into the skirt, as if she too is vastly embarrassed, and the smirk returns to grace his face. He should feel bad, perhaps, but a part of him likes her embarrassment. Her shyness makes him more emboldened to do what he chooses to do next.
A moment later, Tae-kyung is standing, and he strides towards Mi-nyeo with a purposeful gait. When they are only breaths apart, he cocks his head and stares into her face until she looks into his eyes. Her gaze flutters for a moment, clearly as mesmerized by him as he is by her, before a small smile comes to her face.
"What is it?" she asks, her voice quiet.
"You don't want to know what I'm thinking," he says, and for once he's not lying: he knows that if he were to say the words that her face would light up as bright as fireworks in a night sky.
I wish I could take that dress off you right now.
But the words are too much for Mi-nyeo. Hell, they are too much for him, and he's the one thinking them even as his body's humming with the buzz of attraction. All to her, he thinks with a sigh. Always to her.
He wishes there weren't the delicious possibility of someone walking in at any moment - even as much as a part of him finds it insanely erotic - because he would pull her close and let her feel the tell-tale truth about what he's thinking. She may be naive in many ways, his Mi-nyeo, but she wasn't raised on another planet. By now, she knows what is between them has the very real potential of leading places neither of them have discussed - though he wants to. God, he wants to.
"Mi-nye-o," he says softly in a little sing-song voice, and he has the satisfaction of seeing her eyes close gently, lashes shadowing her cheeks. "I think you should try on one of the dresses I chose next."
Then her eyes open again, fluttering slightly, and if he didn't know any better he would say she was drunk on him. Drunk on the idea of him, at any rate.
"Go on," he goads, his voice still gentle, and he even gives her a little push back at her stomach. She takes a few steps back, flashes him a soft smile, and then she's retreating back into the dressing room.
When he's sitting back in place beside the pile of clothes, he finds himself feeling like a king presiding over a court.
But there's only a court of one.
And, if he has his way, she'll be treated like a queen.
My Mi-nyeo. Yes, he likes the sound of that very much. He likes the sound of that too much indeed.
Slowly, the tension releases from his muscles, and waiting feels like such exquisite torture.
When next she steps out, he doesn't know if he'll be able to handle his reaction. There may be a hug involved. Or more. Perhaps more than she's ready for.
Perhaps more than he's ready for.
But he knows that, for her, he would give anything - even his own comfort - just so she would feel at ease.
In a crowded room, I have eyes only for you.
Those are lyrics in his next song for A.N.JELL. He wonders if she'll let him sing the song for her.
And he wonders if, perhaps, he's fallen harder than even she has.