Chapter Text
It takes a fair bit of effort to get Nicholas well and truly irritated.
Not saying that he’s a saint — he can’t count the number of times Harua, his secretary, has threatened to bash his face in. As it stood, he greeted Nicholas daily by calling him noisy as fuck. Such etiquette would’ve probably made any of his old staff recoil in shock and horror, but that was exactly why they weren’t on his payroll any longer. He liked Harua insulting him to his face as he passed him his strawberry milk for the morning. He enjoyed challenging his assistant Maki as they squabbled over the new designs for the next collection. Heck, he’d recently invited their newest model Jo out for a basketball match. For a guy who was so soft and sincere as he earned thousands walking the runway, he was almost concerningly competitive once Nicholas had suggested that the loser pay for dinner.
(Nicholas had paid in the end. He’ll say it was out of the goodwill of his heart. No, don’t listen to what Jo says, he won, you hear me?)
See, despite what the tabloids and the magazines and the Twitter hate bots liked to say, Nicholas would consider himself a really down-to-earth person. He was just a regular guy! A regular guy who liked expensive fabric, sure, but that was just part and parcel of being a designer. He’d just been a young boy with a dream, only in his twenties when his first solo collection had dropped and blown up overnight. He couldn’t have predicted shooting to stardom at such an exponential rate, but a few hurried Google searches and frantic calls later, he’d managed to amass a small but solid team that had his back no matter what life threw at them.
Well, almost always.
“I’m sorry,” Nicholas plastered on his best smile. He could feel it straining at the edges, tension tight. “What did you say about my luggage?”
“My apologies, sir,” To her credit, the airline staff did look incredibly flustered. Nicholas would almost feel sorry for making her bear the brunt of his irritation, but right now there were bigger problems looming. He watched as she tucked her hands in front of her, fingers fidgeting slightly. “There was a mix-up at the airport, and unfortunately your luggage has been… misplaced.”
To his side, Harua snorted. “‘Misplaced’ is too nice a term.” With a few taps on his phone, he turned the screen to face them. “Mind telling us how it ended up in South Korea, of all places?”
Nicholas felt the blood drain from his face. “What?”
“I put an Airtag on your luggage — yeah, you can thank me later for that.” With his thumb and index fingers, Harua slowly zoomed in on the location. “See, all the way in Seoul. And we’re here in Tokyo. With the wrong bag.”
Scrunching up his nose, Nicholas glanced at the luggage bag beside him. From afar, it did look similar to his own check-in bag. Grey, almost silver, with a clam-shell opening. Even the sizes were similar. Up close, though, it was clear that this bag had been through the wringer. The outer plastic layer was peeling, scratches torn down the side from past mishandlings. One of the zip tabs had been replaced, and now two mismatched black and silver pieces were fastened together with a metal lock. Most of all, Nicholas’ signature scarf wasn’t on it. He’d always tied one of his fabrics to the top of his bags, to give them a pop of colour and help the staff identify them fast. It’d been the first red flag that had popped up in his mind when the staff had come back with this… other bag. His eye twitched.
The airline staff was sweating bullets now. She tugged lightly at the tie around her neck. “Well, uh, we’ll do our best to get in contact with the recepient of the other bag. Our staff will keep you updated on our end.”
“Updated.” Nicholas rolled the word on his tongue. It tasted sour, almost bitter. “Huh.”
“Wait.” Harua frowned. He’d pocketed his phone, and was now furrowing his eyebrows, crossing his arms as he leaned on the marble counter they were standing at. “I don’t get it. Can’t the airline just ship the luggage to us? We can hand you back this one, and whenever our bag arrives here we’ll send someone to collect it.”
“Well…”
“You’re joking.” A scoff escaped Nicholas. “You mean to say that… you don’t even have my bag right now?”
“See, the flight to Seoul landed about a half hour earlier than your flight,” The airline staff swallowed harshly. “By the time we’d been informed of the mix-up, all luggages had been claimed from the belt. We’re trying to track down the person who may have mistakenly taken your luggage. We promise that we are doing out utmost —”
It takes a fair bit of effort to get Nicholas well and truly irritated. Right now, however, he’d reached the end of his tether.
“Utmost isn’t enough!” He hissed, lurching forward. With a squeak, the airline representative took a hasty step back. “Do you know what’s inside that bag? My designs. My samples. My curated vintage. Can you put a price tag on those? Because I sure can, and the value rises every. Single. Second. So you can take your stupid promises and —”
“Weno!” With a sharp tug at his belt loop, Harua stepped forward with a quick smile. “I’m sorry, he’s a little worked up. Though, I hope that you can excuse his reaction. That bag is quite important to us, you see.”
Weno. His designer name. To the world it was the brand he was known by — WENOISM — but to everyone on his team it was a code word. Code for watch out, people are watching. He took a quick glance behind and watched a small glint of light flash from behind a potted plant. Ah. Shit. He straightened his back, said a silent prayer, and let his publicity mask fall over his face. The picture of perfect poise and calm. Shooting the staff an apologetic smile, he took a step back.
Harua was still going. “We will need that bag as soon as possible. About when should we expect a confirmation from the other party?”
“We will try our best to relay all necessary information to you by tomorrow, sirs,” The lady did a stiff bow, back ramrod straight as she clasped her hands together. “Once again, the airline is deeply apologetic for all the inconvenience caused, and we will do our best to remedy this problem to the best of our ability.”
Nicholas tried for an easy smile. It came out as a grimace. “We appreciate all the effort.”
As they walked away, Nicholas forlornly rolling the mixed-up bag with him, Harua nudged him in the side. “Close shave. Remember, best behaviour. I know you’re freaking out, but we’ll get it solved. Don’t worry.”
Nicholas was wound too tight to respond. As the cameras flashed, he held on to that single phrase from Harua. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.
Everything would work out, he told himself. Everything would be just fine.
Everything was decidedly not okay, and Nicholas was going insane.
“I don’t understand!” He flopped on the fresh hotel bedding, feeling the soft duvet sink under him. “How does someone just — lose a luggage? It had my name and everything on the tag! It can’t have been that hard to just…” He waved his hand haphazardly in the air. “Put it on the right plane, could it?”
Behind him, Harua sighed and idly rolled the luggage bag. “I mean, accidents happen. Just wish it hadn’t been us that it happened to.” The sound of an armchair dragging across the carpeted flooring, and then the soft creak of a weight settling down in it. “Everything inside — is it just the vintage stuff? Anything confidential?”
Nicholas lifted his head for a second, before flopping down again. “Ah, fuck. The new sketches for some designs are inside. Some last-minute changes, some new additions. Shit.”
He could hear Harua suck in a breath through his teeth. “Shiiit. Huh. That’s not good.”
“It’s horrible!” He wailed as he flipped over. Above him, the small glass chandelier swayed lightly, fractures of light splitting and scattering across the walls. Dazed, his eyes traced the splintering sparkles. They glimmered tauntingly. “My designs are somewhere in another country, waiting to be stolen and plagarised by some random Korean scalper, I don’t know. And my clothes are there, too, and oh my god my rings are in there too, my accessories — Harua!” He flopped to his side, face now pointing in Harua’s direction. “Harua, fix this now, please. I need my bag back now.”
“You drama queen.” Harua spun the luggage bag from where he was examining it. “I’m your secretary, not a miracle worker. We have to wait for the airline. In any case, I doubt that…” He lifted the luggage tag and squinted. “Byun…Wi-ju would just leave with your bag. They’d probably want their luggage back, too.”
Nicholas perked up. “Byun — what? Who’s that?”
“The name on the tag.” With a quick shove, the luggage bag rolled towards Nicholas. He caught it right before it slammed into his nose. “A Korean name. They’re probably the ones who took your bag.”
Nicholas shoved his face closer to the tag. The jet-black ink on the plastic stared back. “Byun Eui-joo. Huh. Do you think we could track them down and ask them to return my luggage?”
Harua barked out a reply, but it was too late. Once Nicholas had set his mind on something, he was unstoppable. Like a ray of light, bending, twisting, slipping, but always reaching its target in the end. He snatched his phone from where he’d tossed it on the bed prior and furiously began typing. Byun Euijoo. Byun-Eui-Joo. Byun—
There was a soft ping in the background. “Oh!” Harua tapped Nicholas on the shoulder. He barely looked up from the search. “Airline’s gotten back to us. Mr. Byun Euijoo has our luggage. They’re asking how you’d like to —”
“Tell them to get a plane ready,” Nicholas’ eyes remained glued to his phone. With one last spin, a series of search results began popping up. He grinned. “I don’t trust them to send my stuff. I’m going to South Korea, personally, and I’m going to get my bag back.”
Nicholas’ final conclusion, as he landed in Seoul, was that Byun Euijoo was a strange, strange man.
On such short notice, the earliest flight available was the day after, at the crack of dawn. Which was — fine! Nicholas was fine. No, really. He’d spent the rest of the night searching furiously on his phone, trying to find any trace of the mysterious man Byun Euijoo.
Byun Euijoo, as the staff had relayed, would only be free after work hours, around evening. That gave Nicholas about half a day to mentally prepare himself to confront his luggage kidnapper and finally, finally get his precious items back in his arms. He could imagine it so clearly — the sweet reunion of his beloved designs, the clink of his metal rings finally back on his fingers, where they belonged. The gentle comfort of a return. The thought made his lips quirk up involuntarily.
The only obstacle standing in his way was Byun Euijoo. Byun Euijoo, who was holding his darling items hostage, who made them fly to Seoul to get them back, and who, for all of Nicholas’ furious searching and online stalking, had close to no digital presence.
There was something sinister about a guy who had no identifiable social media in the modern era. Some would call it a technological cleanse. Nicholas would call it psychotic. What, not even a small page to post photos of his friends? How did he socialise? Even before Nicholas had become, well, Weno, he’d been a social media fiend. His old Instagram pages were basically photo archives of his adventures over the years. He used to treat his pages like a digital diary, uploading everything and anything he wanted to. He’d tell stories about his time in school and the pranks he used to pull and the sports he played. Nowadays he was a little more cautious, of course. One too many interviewers had pulled up an embarrassing story of his live on television. It also didn’t help that some of his old photos had resurfaced as memes on the Internet. There was a LINE sticker pack of them floating around somewhere. He was pretty sure Maki was behind it, but the boy had denied it fervently. Oh, whatever. He’d catch him in the act someday.
There was no digital trail of Byun Euijoo, save a single line on a company webpage that listed him as an employee. No photograph, no link, no nothing. Nicholas was glad to know that he was a real person, sure, but he was one shadow away from being a ghost. This man had no presence whatsoever. He’d thrown the scalper idea out as a joke, but Nicholas was starting to get really worried that the real Byun Euijoo was trying to lure them in like bait on a fishhook.
He flopped down on the hotel bed and sighed. Harua had had the foresight to book him a room of his own, and had rescheduled a few of his plans so that he could stay in Seoul for a little longer. Just in case of anything, you know? Besides, there were a few places he wanted to visit. Some fabric suppliers, a few designers who he’d kept in contact with over the years, the whole lot. It’d be a good chance to tick a few things off his list. A few birds and a stone. For now, though, all he could do was wait. He shrugged off his jacket and closed his eyes.
He had no idea how much time had passed. One moment he was watching the darkness swirl behind his eyelids, the next he was snapping awake, phone blaring beside him. With a hissed curse, he fumbled blindly until he swiped the call. “‘Ello?”
“Nico, where are you?” Harua’s frantic voice crackled through the phone. “It’s almost 7:30. We need to be at the meeting place at 7:45. Come on, up, now!”
“Ah, fuck —” In a second he was snapping awake, all traces of bleariness wiped from his brain. Sure enough, the numbers on his phone screen glowed in the dark. 7:29. Stumbling out of bed, he grabbed his bag and a jacket lying around before racing out of his room. He’d hoped for a little time to freshen up , maybe choose a nice outfit to make good impressions, but there was no time. He just had to hope that this Byun Euijoo guy wasn’t too big on looks.
He raced across the foyer and dove into the car. The door slid shut behind him. In the driver’s seat, Harua clicked his tongue. “Weno Wang. Seriously, what were you even up to?”
“Took a nap, sorry,” Nicholas angled the mirror in front of him as he switched on the small ring light. He fought the zipper of his pouch as he spoke. “Hadn’t slept in a while. Just — knocked right out. Conked.”
“You seriously need a better sleep schedule, man,” Harua’s eyes never left the road. Nicholas, finally winning his fight against his pouch, brandished a small lip balm triumphantly. He touched the wand to his lips and slowly glided it across, letting the rosy pink paint his mouth a pretty flush. “You get — what? Three hours average per day? You’re really competing with Kei at this point, aren’t you?”
“Kei is unbeatable in most things.” Truly, his previous boss was a beast. Now that Nicholas had to handle his own solo brand, he’d grown to be in constant awe of how Kei had stayed on top of things. He supposed that someone who’d maintained their position as a top dog in the fashion industry for so long could be nothing short of a monster. “That guy’s not human. Have you ever seen him take a day off?”
He watched as Harua’s face turned contemplative, before scrunching up. “That sounds like it might kill him.”
“Exactly.” They turned into a small alley, a single shophouse alight in the distance. “Ok, so. Plan is, I’ll go in, meet Byun Euijoo, get my stuff back, and then we can go. Quick in and out. Just wait outside, I’ll be back soon.”
He hopped out of the car as soon as it braked by the curb. A swift opening and shutting of the boot, and he was off. Battered luggage bag in hand, he strolled up to the cafe and pushed open the door.
Byun Euijoo had chosen a cosy place. Wooden decor and soft music, it was the picture-perfect design for a homely coffee run. The warm yellow lights draped the inside with a tender haze. As he stepped in, he glanced at a small decorative mirror hanging off to the side and winced. He hadn’t expected to come to a place as… sincere as this. He’d expected a random mall, or an outdoors park bench. His all-black garb really stood out like a sore thumb. All the more reason to get out quick. He looked up and did a quick scan of the room.
The dinner rush had started to peter out, so there were only a few tables here and there with patrons at them. A couple sharing an ice cream — nope. Not the student with a laptop either. He stared at the spaces between the tables, trying to catch a glimpse of his luggage bag. It had to be around here somewhere, didn’t it?
“Um, excuse me.”
Nicholas blinked and turned to face the speaker. “Ah, yes —”
His very first thought was: Holy fucking shit.
Standing in front of him was one of the tallest men Nicholas had ever seen. His round face, with even rounder eyes, was framed with strands of toasted brown hair that fell across his forehead. He was trying his very hardest to maintain eye contact with Nicholas, but the second that Nicholas had lifted his gaze, a nervous smile had stretched across his face, and he’d glanced away. All the better for Nicholas to check him out, he supposed. Greedily, he glanced down.
The man had on a striped collared shirt, accented with a green polka dot tie. It was the most atrocious combination, only exacerbated by the checkered pants he was wearing. Between the large glasses that were slipping off his nose and the terrible outfit, he was a caricature of those comic book nerds Nicholas had seen in his childhood.
In the fashion community, there was often a joke over is the design good, or is the model just pretty? Nicholas detested such drivel. Of course the clothes and the wearer should go hand in hand. What was fashion for, if not made to exist on the bodies of others? And yet, for the first time, he truly contemplated the joke. The man in front of him was attractive on his own. So cute, in fact, that his natural charm was completely carrying this crime against fashion. Barely. Like a fraying rope bridge.
“Sorry, I just noticed that you had my bag,” Nicholas snapped back to attention as the man began speaking again. “You’re Nicholas Wang, right? I’m Byun Euijoo. Nice to meet you.”
And, well —
There are certain moments that feel like a premonition coming to life. Déjà vu without the past experience. A string of fate that had long since been set in stone. Light that hits first, before the brain has time to process. A click of a lock as a key finally slides it open. When Nicholas stared at Euijoo, it was the one thought that blinked across his mind. I think I was meant to meet you.
“Hi,” Nicholas finally spoke once he’d shaken away his daydreams. It came out soft and breathless. “Hi, yeah, I’m Nicholas. Nice to meet you too, Byun Euijoo.”
The man laughed. It sounded like wind chimes in the breeze to Nicholas. “Just Euijoo is fine. Sorry for making you come all this way.”
“It’s — no problem. Not a problem at all.” Nicholas let a wide smile stretch across his face. No scary blank expression. He had to make a good impression. Not for the first time, he cursed his poor time management. Now he was in a cafe with a cute guy, and he hadn’t even bothered to put concealer on. His skin probably looked pale and lifeless from all the travelling he’d had to do the past few days. “It’s a nice place. Do you come here often?”
“Oh, yes! On weekends, when I have the time.” One hand smoothly slipping to take the bag from Nicholas’ hands, he guided him to a small table in the corner. His precious luggage sat there, gleaming and sleek. “I thought you might want somewhere less public, you know, because you’re —”
“My baby!” Nicholas ran to run his hands over the handle. Everything, down to the colourful scarf, was in perfect shape. Almost too perfect. He frowned. “Uh, did you do anything to my bag? Just as a precaution, you know.”
There was a small pause. “A little? I wiped it down and retied the scarf. I’m surprised you noticed. I guess designers really do have a keen eye, huh?”
Nicholas stilled. “You know who I am?”
“Well, uh, I looked you up before I came to meet you,” Euijoo scratched the back of his head, movements slow and eyes darting. “I was a bit worried that you might be a scammer… sorry. No offence.”
“No, no, none taken,” Nicholas laughed. It came out strained and tinny. “I thought the same, too. Tried to look you up on the way here. I didn’t really find anything, which is why, uh, my secretary came along. In the car outside. Just in case of anything, you know? As a precaution, in case. Yeah.”
He finally snapped his mouth shut at the end of his ramble. Wow. Talk about being a complete idiot. He hadn’t meant to info-dump all of that, it was just… cute guys made his lips really loose, you know? He wasn’t very good at self-restraint to begin with, but there was zero filter at all the second his brain had processed the magnificent beauty that was Byun Euijoo. But now Nicholas had run his mouth. Now Euijoo knew that Nicholas had tried to stalk him and had been suspicious of him, and that he was a celebrity designer, and had a secretary waiting outside — oh god, did Euijoo think that Nicholas was one of those snobbish, elitist celebrities? The ones that looked down on the everyday person? Did Euijoo think that Nicholas was looking down on him? Because Nicholas was most definitely, absolutely not looking down on him. No, no, no. Nicholas was looking up. One, because Euijoo was seriously tall; and two, Nicholas was trying his best to focus on the soft of his cheeks and the fullness of his lips and the warmth of his eyes.
(It also helped that looking down at the terrible clothes might’ve given him a heart attack. So he forced his eyes up.)
A startled laugh escaped Euijoo. “Ah, well, don’t worry! I get it.” A wobbly smile shook on his lips, and Nicholas’ heart sank. “Uh, you don’t have to stay if you need to go, by the way. Sorry if I’m keeping you.”
“No!” The force of his own refusal shocked Nicholas. Across from him, Euijoo’s eyes widened impossibly further. He bit his lip and tried again. “No, don’t worry about me. I’m free! So free. I have time.” To prove his point, he yanked the chair out and hurriedly took a seat. Crossing his legs, he grinned as wide as he could. “See? So free. Are you staying?”
“Uhm, I guess I could?”
“Great!” Nicholas’ leg began to bounce as Euijoo took a seat opposite him. He leaned his body weight on it and willed it to stop. “So, you’re the regular here. What do you usually get?”
“Oh, I —”
A vibration shook his rattling leg. Nicholas’ eyes travelled to his phone, neatly tucked away in his pocket.
“Ah, don’t mind that.” Nicholas took out his phone and tossed it face-down on the table. “What were you saying?”
Euijoo’s shoulders were still stiff up to his ears. “Oh, I usually get a orange cake and a sweet potato latte, but a latte this late might not be good —”
A second vibration, more insistent this time. It travelled across the grain of the wood and softly shook the table. Nicholas had to bite back the urge to scream.
“Ooh, orange cake,” He let his elbows rest on the table. In the back of his mind, he started running through a list of deities to pray to. At least one of them had to be real, right? One of them could make sure he didn’t fumble his one shot with this beautiful boy. “It suits you! You give orange vibes. Soft and sweet and round. I like it.”
He watched with silent satisfaction as a strawberry-red flush began creeping up the base of Euijoo’s neck. “Oh, I… yeah. I really like oranges. I used to eat so many as a kid that they’d stain my hands and feet. I guess my taste just never changed.”
Oranges. Oranges couldn’t be that hard, could it? He could learn to peel an orange. He’d look it up on Tiktok later. Japan had pretty good fruit, too. He’d go buy an orange fruits basket next time. Oh, or they could go to an orchard to pick the oranges themselves. That would be a fun date idea, right? Couples did that all the time. They’d pick fruit, take photos, make funny little faces and pose with the round produce. It could be fun. Euijoo could have as many oranges as he liked. Nicholas would take so many photos for him to upload on his non-existent Instagram.
“That’s so cute,” He grinned, as if he hadn’t been planning out their future in his mind. “I like bananas, but in desserts I’m more of a strawberry —”
A loud buzz. This time, his phone began blaring, ringtone echoing across the cafe. Lurching forward, Nicholas grabbed his phone, trying but failing to silence it by burying it in his hands. He glanced at the caller ID. Harua. He was going to throttle him. “Shit — sorry, Euijoo. Give me 5 minutes and I’ll be right back.”
Euijoo made to say something, but Nicholas was out the door in a flash. Stomping over to the black car still parked outside, he pounded on the door. “Harua! What the fuck!”
“You were taking too long, Nico!” The window wound down as Harua yelled back. “Get in the car — hey, where’s your luggage?”
“I was in the middle of securing my future, thank you very much.” Nicholas scoffed and folded his arms. “If your interruption is the reason I don’t get Euijoo’s number by the end of today, I swear to god, Harua, I’m firing all of you and moving to the countryside.”
“You won’t do that. You don’t know how to file your taxes.” Harua rolled his eyes. “What, is Byun Euijoo really that attractive?” When Nicholas looked away silently, he barked out a laugh. “No way. No freaking way. You work alongside models all day and you’re awestruck by a random guy on the streets? Nico, come on.”
A frown made its way onto Nicholas’ face. “You wouldn’t get it. He’s… like, he’s not runway pretty, but he’s so cute. I need this chance. Please, Harua.”
Harua studied him for a second. With bated breath, Nicholas held his gaze. The thing about Harua was that he understood people so well. He looked at people and saw right through them. It made him dependable, but it also made him silently terrifying. Even with as long as they’d known and worked with each other, Nicholas sometimes felt like he was being dissected under a microscope, being pulled apart piece by piece as Harua split him open with surgical precision.
Anything he said right now wouldn’t have mattered. Harua’s mind would’ve been made up long before that. He leaned on the side of the car door and tried to ignore his blood rushing through his ears.
Harua sighed. One hand pushed up to sweep his messy bangs from his face. “Fine. Just this once. Put the luggage in the trunk, and keep your location on at all times.” A small pouch was stuffed into his hands. “Go freshen up. If any images of you get leaked to the press you’d better at least look good in them, not half-dead to the world.”
Oh my god. Miracles do happen. Nicholas’ lips curled up into a smile before he could think about it. “Wait, really? I can go? Yes! Thank you Harua!”
“Remember to tell me when to pick you up!” Harua called, but Nicholas barely heard it. He was already skipping back to the cafe, one hand cradling his pouch. Rushing in, he grabbed his luggage bag from the corner and shot a surprised Euijoo a wink. “Just a second!” he called, before he was rushing out once again, bag in hand.
As he loaded his luggage into the boot of the car and bid Harua goodbye, he turned back to see Euijoo dragging his own luggage as he stepped out of the cafe. The glass door clanged as Euijoo stubbed his toe on it, and he hopped out unsteadily, cursing softly. Nicholas choked on a laugh, barely managing to swallow it at the last minute. It wouldn’t do to laugh at someone when they’d just met. It’d make a bad impression, and Nicholas would die if Euijoo thought he was rude and unfriendly. “Euijoo!” He called as he jogged over. “You okay? Why’re you out here?”
Lifting his head, Euijoo gave Nicholas a doe eyed stare. The dim streetlight traced the curve of his cheek and the elegant slope of his nose. Wow. A lethal combo, designed to target one Nicholas Wang. Aimed, fired, knocked down. If Nicholas fumbled him he was going to change his name and disappear off the face of the earth. “Nicholas? I thought — didn’t you leave?”
“Leave?” Nicholas almost choked on his spit. “No, why would I? I was just handing over my luggage to my secretary for safekeeping. He’ll pick me up later.” He gestured towards Euijoo. “Why’d you come out? I was going to ask if you’d like an orange cake. It sounded really good. I wanted to try it.”
“I mean, you’ve probably had better cakes. I just really like oranges, so…”
“Well, I trust your recommendation,” Nicholas glanced at the cafe. “But it would be a bit weird for us to walk back in now, huh?” He let himself bask in Euijoo’s small, breathy laugh for a few seconds before continuing. “Let me make it up to you. Have you had dinner?”
“Dinner?” Euijoo tilted his head. “Uh, no, not yet. Why?”
“Great!” Nicholas smiled. He tried his best to make it as gentle and sweet as possible, in hopes that it would not betray his internal screaming. “You’re the local here; you pick the place. My treat. Oh, but…” He lifted the pouch in his hand. “Do you know if there’s a toilet around here? I need to do a quick run.”
They eventually settled for a small restaurant nestled in the corner of Euijoo’s neighbourhood. Nicholas went ahead to reserve them a seat, while Euijoo quickly went home to drop his luggage bag off. He’d offered to help, but Euijoo had politely declined. Made sense. Nicholas wouldn’t have invited someone he’d just met to his house, either. Still, it would’ve been nice to catch a glimpse of his house. He looked like someone who would own one of those cloud sofa chairs.
He slid into a small table at the corner of the restaurant, quietly informing the waiter that he had a partner that he was waiting for. Partner — what a thrill. The word felt like electricity on his tongue. If Euijoo learnt that he’d said it, he’d just play the foreigner card and say that he’d forgotten the proper word for it in Korean. Simple. Easy. Euijoo didn’t have to know that he’d worked in Korea for about 5 years before he left to start his independent label in Japan.
Tapping his foot, he gazed out of the window. Night had completely filled the sky, leaving in its wake a speckle of stars under a moonlit sky. He’d expected Seoul to be a little more noisy and cluttered, given that it was the capital, but Euijoo’s corner of it turned out to be quite homely. Not too far from the city that he’d be disconnected, but not too close that it’d be crowded and loud. It was a good balance. The people here seemed more closely-knit and personal, too, if the warm welcome he’d received from the chef at the back when he’d walked in was any indication. Heck, the owner had come out and joined a few other customers at another table. If that wasn’t community, Nicholas didn’t know what was. With a little more grease and flashing lights, it would almost feel like Taiwan. A fragment of his home.
He glanced away before the moisture in his eyes could pool.
A shadow loomed over him. “Oh, Nicholas, sorry I took so long,” Euijoo panted as he slid into the seat opposite him. “I realised that I forgot to turn off my lights, so I had to rush back — anyways. Have you ordered? You must be hungry.”
Nicholas shook his head. “Not yet. I thought I’d wait to ask you. I didn’t know what you’d like, so.”
“Oh!” Euijoo looked genuinely stunned. Nicholas cocked his head to the side. Was waiting for the other person not common practice in Korea? He hadn’t recalled such etiquette back when he lived here. Maybe he was out of the loop. “I usually get a one person meal, since I’m here by myself, but we can try a few things. I hope you eat a lot?”
Grinning, Nicholas reached for his cup of water. “Love food. I’ll eat most things. Anything with meat is good.”
“Meat… okay.” Nicholas’ eyes traced the furrow in Euijoo’s brow as he studied the menu. It took everything in him to not reach out and smoothen the deep lines etched across his face. His skin looked so soft, so plump. Like velvet against his thumb. He shook the thought away as Euijoo glanced up once more. “How about vegetables?”
Nicholas couldn’t help it. His face scrunched up in disgust.
Mortified, he quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression, but it was too late. Euijoo had seen it all with his wide, deer-brown eyes. With a stifled laugh, Euijoo pressed a hand against his mouth as Nicholas glanced away. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading as it bubbled to redden the tips of his ears. Would it be appropriate to hide under the table? Harua would give him so much shit for it, but it was a much better alternative to digging a hold and sticking his head in it. The press would have a field day with a photo like that.
“Well, I’m guessing that you’re not a fan of vegetables,” Euijoo started, a little breathless after the bout of laughter. He placed one hand on his chest. “It’s fine. They’re good at meat dishes. Though, I might order one vegetable dish for myself, if it’s okay with you?”
“No, please, go ahead. Vegetables are great. Don’t mind me.” Nicholas could barely look him in the eye. Scratch losing his chances because of Harua; if Euijoo didn’t want him because he was a child who didn’t eat his vegetables, he would scream and die of humiliation. As Euijoo rattled off their order to the waiter, Nicholas looked up at the ceiling. Please, deities up there in heaven or elsewhere, Nicholas started praying. I’ll become vegetarian, I promise. Or partially vegetarian. Maybe for a day. Just let me get Euijoo’s number, at least.
“So,” Nicholas cleared his throat as the waiter left. “You, uh, come here often?”
God fucking damn it, Nicholas Wang.
Euijoo let out a huff that sounded suspiciously like a smothered chuckle. “Yes, I do. I’ve been living here since starting work, and I found this restaurant in the first few weeks of me moving here. It’s become my regular dinner spot ever since. Good that they open so late, too.”
“Wow,” A low whistle. “Work must be rough. Office job?”
A nod. “Yeah. Just regular office management stuff. I work with a bunch of overseas clients, mostly. From Japan, because I can speak a little.”
“No way!” Nicholas leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “I work in Japan, too! Tokyo area. But I travel to Korea for work sometimes.”
To his credit, Euijoo seemed genuinely interested. His round eyes lit up slightly. “No wonder your Korean was so good. I was worried I’d have to pull out a translation app, not gonna lie. You’re not Japanese, though?”
“Nope,” Nicholas replied, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Taiwanese. I moved for work. My dad said that it suited me, since I can’t sit still, so a job like designer suited me well. Always on the move. Always doing something.”
Another laugh. “I can tell. It does suit you.”
“Hm?” Nicholas narrowed his eyes in mock offence. “What does that mean, Euijoo? Are you calling me… hyperactive? Distracted? Restless? Oh, how can I take it? What an offence to me.”
He watched smugly as Euijoo’s mouth opened and shut in indignation. “I… no, that’s not what I meant at all!” His lips twisted into a small pout. “I only meant that you seemed really adventurous and artistic and just… seriously, is this how all famous people act? Nicholas, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“I’m just kidding, Euijoo. And you can just call me Nico. Most people call me that.” Nicholas let a wide grin stretch across his face. Wow, his cheeks were really hurting. He hadn’t met someone who could make him smile for this long in ages. Euijoo was truly one of a kind. “And I’m not that famous. Like, not a lot of people know me, I bet.”
The waiter sidled up to their table. Euijoo stared in disbelief at Nicholas as the dishes were being arranged. “Right. Youngest apprentice to Koga Yudai, who runs the fashion world in Korea. Named rising designer to look out for last year when your first brand launch blew up overnight. Your next series already has people writing articles on it, and you haven’t even released anything. And you don’t think you’re famous? Like, it’s insane that we’re sitting at this table and eating…” He grabbed a bowl and a ladel. “Galbitang at a corner restaurant of some no-name neighbourhood.”
“Hey, don’t insult galbitang. That’s my favourite Korean dish. I used to eat it four times a week before the imonim got on my case for nutrition. Apparently radishes weren’t enough vegetables for a meal.” Nicholas set a few pieces of meat on Euijoo’s plate. “Anyways, I don’t feel famous, you know? I’m really just a regular guy. Just think of me as Nico, a random guy who you’re having a meal with. Who just happens to be very good looking and cool and funny.”
“So humble,” Euijoo sighed, but the corners of his lips were twitching. “I was surprised that you weren’t a model, though. Are designers not allowed to model?”
“Mm, they are. I just prefer to direct the process. Makes the photos easier to monitor.” Nicholas tried a spoonful of the galbitang before the full meaning of Euijoo’s words finally sank in. “Wait, you think I can model? Like, I was saying it for shits and giggles, but you really think I’m good looking?”
Euijoo leaned back. He lifted a spoonful of rice and chewed slowly, though the apples of his cheeks were ever so lightly tinged with pink. “I mean, don’t pretend you didn’t know. People must’ve told you that before. Like, even without makeup people could tell you were attractive. The cashier at the cafe definitely wanted to ask for your number.”
Woah. No way. Byun Euijoo thought that he was good looking? And not scary? Nicholas wanted to punch the air. He settled for taking a bite of the meat instead, chewing contemplatively. As much as he appreciated the compliment, Euijoo was a little off the mark. It wasn’t often that people called him attractive. In an industry of high fashion models and striking faces handpicked to become the top 1% of attractive people in the country, Nicholas barely stood out. He couldn’t hold a flame to the likes of Asakura Jo’s insane proportions or Nakakita Yuma’s seductive, cat-like features. Even that retired model — what was his name? Murata Fuma? — had been on Kei’s exclusive model list for a reason. His physique was insane. Nicholas didn’t have anything particularly special about him that would fill a niche that the industry was looking for; and even if he did, someone else would probably outdo him. That was just how it worked. Booked and busy until the next, newest trend came along. It’d been a struggle that all his models had complained about. It kept them on their toes at all time.
The silence had stretched over them for a beat too long. Euijoo let out an awkward chuckle. “Sorry, was that out of line? I really did mean it, but I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I’m not used to this —” Two hands grasping his glass of water, he took a sip. A small lurch, and a stream of water fell down the front of his shirt. “— like, eating with attractive people. Oh, that came out so weird, too. I’m sorry.”
“No offence taken! I’m flattered, really,” Nicholas hurriedly reassured him. Euijoo was staring down the front of his drenched shirt in dismay. With a few quick tugs, Nicholas rolled a few tissued into a small lump and pressed it into Euijoo’s hand. “Anyway, I’m sure that’s not true. You eat with yourself most of the time, don’t you?”
All he got in return was a non-commital hum. Dang. Nicholas tried not to let his shoulders slump. It’d taken him a few minutes of gathering his courage to say that. It took guts to be that brazen! He usually wasn’t this forward! And yet Euijoo had completely missed it by a mile. It was fine! He’d just try again next time. Euijoo couldn’t avoid all of his advances. One of them had to work at some point, right? He’d come this far. He couldn’t fail.
Next time. He’d get it eventually.
As it turned out, if Nicholas was a persistent beam of light, Euijoo was a mirror that constantly deflected him.
Subtle compliments? Completely flown over his head. Unsubtle compliments? Euijoo would just laugh and ask him if all famous people were that polite, which would get Nicholas arguing that no, I’m not famous, a bunch of people just happened to hit the follow button on my profile. Calling him cute to his face didn’t even work. Euijoo simply smiled placatingly and spooned another helping of food on his plate. Nicholas had huffed and shoveled another mouthful down his throat.
At least the food was really good. It wasn’t Michelin quality, but everything had the warm, enveloping taste of home. The char on the bottom of the fried rice, the fat that coated the bottom of the grilled meat. Even the soup was rich with the flavour of care. It felt like something he’d eat as a kid before being tucked into bed. Indeed, Nicholas thought. A restaurant worthy of coming back to five times a week, nutrition be damned. Sorry, imonim.
Euijoo had tried to sneak off to the cashier to pay for the food, but Nicholas had planned ahead. He hadn’t been raised in the trenches of Taiwanese family dinners for nothing. When Euijoo came back, complaining that Nico, you shouldn’t have given your card in advance!, all he’d done was grin and pat Euijoo on the back. The other man had frowned at him, but there was no heat behind the gaze.
As they stepped out, bell jingling behind them, Nicholas took a breath of the cool night air. The temperature had dropped slightly in the hours they’d spent chatting over dinner. Nicholas may not have been able to get Euijoo to accept his compliments, but at least he’d learnt that he was single. That news alone made up for everything else. He’d nearly fallen to the ground sobbing in relief.
Euijoo had turned out to be even more attractive than Nicholas had expected. His clothes were still awful and tacky, but he’d laughed at Nicholas’ jokes and had even made some of his own. He’d like to think that Euijoo had slowly warmed up to him over time, since he’d begun teasing Nicholas back towards the end of their meal. He’d apologised the first few times, but eventually he began pushing back when Nicholas playfully tried to get on his nerves. It was probably rude, and maybe out of line. It was exactly the sort of thing that endeared Nicholas to a person. Truly, a man made in a lab for Nicholas and Nicholas only. He’d be damned if he let him go so easily.
“Is your secretary going to pick you up?” Euijoo asked as they stood by the roadside. “It’s late. You shouldn’t walk back alone.”
“Neither should you, honestly,” Nicholas turned to face him. “It’s so dark. Should I walk you back?”
Euijoo blinked. “Oh, don’t worry about me! I live here. I’m familiar with the roads. I’ll wait here until your car comes.”
Nicholas burst out a noise of protest, but Euijoo was stubborn. Gripping Nicholas’ shoulders, he steered them to the nearest bench and sat down. “Seriously. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Sighing, Nicholas leaned back. They’d truly stuffed themselves at dinner, the both of them. Nicholas had been worried that Euijoo would judge just how much he ate, until he realised that Euijoo was eating far too little for someone his height. It’d become a petty squabble where Nicholas was nagging and shoving more food onto his plate, while Euijoo was trying his best to fend Nicholas off. At least the owner had thanked him for making Euijoo eat more afterwards. Nicholas couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face, and he made sure Euijoo saw it, too.
“Well,” Nicholas stretched his legs. “This was super fun. Thanks for eating dinner with me, seriously. You didn’t have to do it for me.”
“Oh, no, it was no problem at all.” Euijoo copied his posture. Nicholas watched as his legs extended beyond his, reaching so far that it crossed into the next tile. He tried to point his toes to bridge the gap. “It was fun for me, too. Though you’ll have to go back to Japan tomorrow. I hope you had fun, though.”
“It was,” Nicholas echoed, before he swallowed. It was now or never, he supposed. Clothes could be changed. Fashion could be taught. Everything was superficial, except for someone who could click as well as Euijoo had with Nicholas. It was like looking into a mirror, almost; finding someone so much like you and yet so different at the same time. Like a piece of him had been unlocked just by meeting this lovely man. An opening. A beginning. A joining of what was always meant to be. He prayed Euijoo felt the same. “I mean, I’d love to do it again, if possible.”
From his periphery, he saw Euijoo stiffen. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the joys of modern technology, am I right?” Nicholas tried for a chuckle, but it came out strained and hoarse. He coughed once, twice. “Like, I’ll be in another country, sure, but I really liked hanging out with you. It was fun. And I hope you had fun, too?”
“Well, yes, of course.” Euijoo’s fingers began tapping on the space between them. Nicholas watched them, nails thudding softly against wood. “It was fun for me. Yeah. But how —”
There was a car’s headlight directly beaming on them, coming closer with every passing second. Nicholas would recognise Harua’s car anywhere. He had to speed up. Pushing down the lump in his throat, he forced himself to speak. “I mean, we both have phones, right? I’m gonna be coming to Korea a lot, so I can come visit. And if you ever want someone to show you around Tokyo, I’m here.”
“Oh!” Euijoo perked up. “Like a tour guide? If you’d like, I can give you a list of recommendations of places to go, if you’re bored.”
The car was only a few meters away. Any second now, Harua would wind down the window and yell at him to get in the car. He needed to finish this, and fast. “No, I mean, I would like to go to those places, sure, but it won’t be fun going alone, you know?”
“Nico,” Now Euijoo’s round eyes were trained on him. Weren’t they outdoors? Why did it feel so stuffy all of a sudden? “Nico, what do you mean?”
“I mean that I’d like to go with you, instead.” With a final surge of courage, Nicholas unlocked his phone and held it out to Euijoo. “If you’d like. I want to exchange numbers with you. If you want.”
Under the bright lights of the car, he tried his best to steady his hand as he spoke. “Do you… want to be friends with me?”