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“If you only have social media, you’ll realize I’m basically the president of your fan club,” Yerin said casually, eyes glued to her phone as she tapped nonstop.
She was liking every post about Luke’s upcoming play The Lives of Others.
Luke just smiled to himself. He knew exactly what she meant—and what she was doing. The moment he told her about the role, she had been more excited than he was.
“Hey,” Luke said suddenly, glancing over at her, something soft in his expression. “Did you know the same director is doing a West End Romeo & Juliet with Sadie Sink and Noah Jupe? I think it runs from March to June. Do you want to watch?”
Yerin’s head snapped up immediately, eyes bright.
“Oh My God—really? I want, I want. Okay, wait, let me check my schedule.”
And just like that, she was already in planning mode.
Luke just smiled to himself as she took over, fully invested like it was the most important logistical project of her life.
She started listing dates under her breath. “Okay, so The Maids final show is June 14. I’ll go back to London the next day. We’ve got a week of filming Season 5, a couple meetings… okay, so June 20 matinee? You okay with that? Wait—let me check your schedule.”
Luke just watched her, fond and amused.
“Hm… you’ve got rehearsals in the morning and something in the evening,” she murmured, already thinking out loud. “Matinee it is.”
“Matinee it is,” Luke agreed easily.
He loved this about them—how she led effortlessly, and how he just… followed.
He was still mid-thought when she suddenly squealed and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you, you’re the best! Okay, here’s the plan—”
Luke just shook his head, smiling as she grabbed a pen and paper and started sketching out the Harold Pinter Theatre like it was a military operation, explaining exits, timings, meeting points.
Yerin was good at secrets. Dangerous, even. She could keep things locked away so well it scared him sometimes.
She also had this strange talent for remembering everything—dates, schedules, overlaps—like the entire world lived neatly organized in her head.
Luke, on the other hand, was the one who slipped up more easily. Not out of carelessness, but because he never quite lived in the same level of detail she did.
And still, somehow, they made it work.
Because with her, he didn’t feel like he had to overthink anything. He just… followed.
June 20
Luke was waiting backstage when Yerin arrived.
He hadn’t had time to change after rehearsals, still in the same shirt, hair slightly undone, breath still a little rushed.
“Sorry,” she said, kissing his cheek as she reached him. “Spent a few extra moments with my Aussie friends.”
“No worries. Ready?”
Yerin tried—and failed—to hold back a laugh.
“What?” Luke asked, amused.
“I’m sorry… what are you wearing?”
Before he could even answer, she was already on her phone, scrolling Pinterest and turning the screen toward him.
She showed him her secret Pinterest board: LUKE GRANDPA ERA
It was full of photos of him in basically the same shirt.
Luke went quiet.
Not playful quiet. Just… still.
“Let’s go in,” he said flatly. “The play’s starting.”
“Oh my gosh—wait, I was joking,” Yerin said quickly, following him. “Luke, I’m sorry.”
But he didn’t answer. Just walked in.
The theatre was already dark when they found their seats.
And Yerin—who knew him better than most people—didn’t push.
She just stayed close.
Still, the silence between them felt wrong.
She missed him already. The small whispers, the quiet commentary during scenes, the way he’d lean in and explain everything like it was second nature.
They’d watched Cynthia Erivo’s Dracula before, and he hadn’t stopped talking the entire time—complaining about the screens, whispering commentary until Yerin teased him.
“Maybe I’ll personally tell the director.”
Luke turned to her immediately.
That was it.
He leaned in, voice low, barely above a whisper.
“Try that,” he said, “and I’ll kiss you in public.”
Yerin went quiet instantly.
“…You wouldn’t,” she whispered again, but softer now.
Luke just smiled faintly. “Try me.”
And she did not try him again.
After the play, Luke was quiet in a way she wasn’t used to. Emotional. Still processing.
They followed their plan exactly. Yerin slipped out first through a side exit.
He would meet her at home.
While waiting at home, Yerin pulled out her phone and checked Instagram. She saw a photo of him with a fan—still in that same damn shirt.
And somehow, that image softened her immediately.
She scrolled further and laughed at a caption:
“Luke Thompson — The Sustainable King”
with side-by-side photos of him wearing the same outfit years apart.
Her chest warmed.
Then she heard the door unlock.
He stepped in quietly.
Shoulders slightly dropped. Expression subdued.
She stood immediately and ran to him.
He pulled her in, but not fully like usual.
Then, half-sarcastic, half-exhausted, he muttered,
“Should you just pick my clothes from now on? Or none of them suit your taste anymore.”
Yerin blinked—then smiled softly, like she understood the tone behind it.
“I need a lie down,” he added, already walking toward the bedroom.
She followed him without a word.
He showered first.
She stayed on the bed, editing something on her phone.
When he came out, his phone pinged.
One message from her.
LUKE THOMPSON — THE OUTFIT REPEATER
He groaned immediately, dragging a hand down his face, but the smile was already there.
Then another:
LUKE THOMPSON — OUR SUSTAINABLE KING
He finally looked at her. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
Yerin was already red from holding back laughter.
And then a third (the one she edited heself):
YERIN — HA, SUSTAINABLE QUEEN
A photo of her in the same white outfit she’d worn on her Japan tour, next to her Bridgerton table read shirt.
That was it.
He broke.
They both did.
Laughter filled the room.
Yerin crawled into him immediately, still giggling.
“I’m sorry, Oppa,” she said, face pressed against his chest. “I won’t make fun of your clothes again.”
“Was it really that bad?” he asked, still smiling. “I genuinely don’t understand fashion.”
“I know,” she said softly. “And I don’t love you any less for it. I think it’s cute.”
“Hm.”
A pause.
You should just pick my clothes from now on.”
Yerin nodded instantly. “Done.”
He huffed a laugh. “…That was fast.”
Yerin disappeared for a moment and came back with an icy pole from the freezer.
She handed it to him.
Luke stared at it.
Then at her.
“What is this?”
“Peace offering,” she said seriously.
That did it.
He laughed again, shaking his head as he took it.
“Bribery,” he muttered.
“Effective?”
“…Unfortunately.”
Yerin smiled and curled into him again. Then already back on her phone.
Luke glanced over. “What now?”
“Fixing your wardrobe,” she said simply.
“That sounds threatening.”
“It is.”
She started scrolling on Pinterest, fully focused.
Luke leaned closer. “Are you seriously making mood boards now?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Obviously.”
He watched her for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re still wearing the same five shirts,” she replied without looking up.
Luke just laughed under his breath.
Then she went quiet.
He noticed. “What?”
She turned the screen toward him.
Old photos.
Their press tour.
Interviews. Red carpets. Screenshots of them laughing mid-conversation.
Yerin slowed her scrolling.
“…We’ve done a lot,” she said softly.
Luke nodded. “Yeah.”.
And just like that, it was back to normal.
Yerin dropped her phone and leaned into him.
“Tomorrow I’m fixing your wardrobe,” she said.
Luke sighed. “I’m scared.”
“You should be.”