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jasonbehrs · 1 year

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⏳ what eludes you now ⏳

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

“You could have asked for one hour.” Insights into Johnwan’s love story measured in one hour increments.

fandom: love is for suckers / love that will freeze to death characters: park jiwan, john jang | jang joon, yeoreum and jaehoon mentioned ship: johnwan genre: romance, humour themes: fluff, angst and its resolution, 6+1, fatphobia mention, sexual assault mention word count: 11.8k+ rating: T+

read it on ffnet, aff, wattpad, ao3, or below!

~~~

A/N (2.23.2023): Title from Eat Your Heart Out by Walk the Moon. This fic is dedicated to Dez, who bears my Johnwan brainrot with enjoyment and responds in kind.

WARNING for #3. I describe fatphobia and its effects on Jiwan briefly. I also discuss Jiwan’s history of sexual assault in non-grievous terms. Between the way she talked about it on the show and the fact that Johnwan get canonically married, I am taking the liberty of presuming that Jiwan’s healing leads to empowerment with regards to her sexuality and needs. Of course, recovering from trauma looks different for everyone and may not include that path. That all being said: if you wanted a hurt/comfort, first-time-esque kind of description to Johnwan’s sex life, you will not be finding that here.

~~~

1. substitution

John can't believe his luck. Not only did his manager get the time for his Kingdom of Love 2 interview wrong, but the old hag told him it's not worth it to go somewhere else in the meantime when all he has to do is wait for an hour. Hello, it's an hour. He could be working on his deltoids or enjoying a glass of Chambertin Grand Cru with all those minutes!

Instead, he's waiting in the hallway outside of DNA TV's conference room for an interview which should really have been waived for him considering a) he's already done business with the station before and b) said business was only successful thanks to his face and personality anyway.

Yeoreum said they'd interview him early if the 11:30 doesn't show up for her timeslot, but that still means he has to occupy himself for thirty whole minutes in the best case scenario. He tsks. So annoying.

He grumpily settles onto a bench and elects to hate-watch Paik Jongwon's latest youtube video with one airpod in to help pass the time. Not long later, someone takes a seat a few places down from him. He doesn't bother looking up to acknowledge that the person exists, which is more than can be said for the other's behaviour.

"Excuse me. By chance, are you Chef John-nim?"

He straightens out of his slouch in offense at the soft, hesitant voice that dared call his attention. The owner looks like an anthropomorphised garbage bag mated with a Cabbage Patch Kid, and he is less than impressed.

"Yeah, that's me."

She titters a bit in excitement, but she actively reigns it in. He might have appreciated it if only he didn't subsist on attention. "I'm a big fan of Ramen Chef! I watched it every week."

John scoffs. She'd be the only one, and the reminder of that utter failure he had participated in only worsens his mood.

Misunderstanding his scoff as one of disbelief, the woman continues, "It's true! After the final episode aired, I was so sad about it that I rewatched it and followed along as you cooked. It ended up that I didn't have most of the ingredients you used, but that didn't stop me! I just replaced things with what I had, like mung bean paste with doenjang and enoki mushrooms with beansprouts because at least they look the same—and daebak. It didn't taste like any ramen I had before!"

There are noticeable stars in her eyes as she recounts the anecdote, but he stares at her aghast. "Well, of course it didn't. You replaced two of the most crucial ingredients! It probably tasted terrible!"

The bubbles of the woman's effervescence are popped, and she blinks rapidly as she comes back to herself. "Ah. I did, didn't I?" she says with a sheepish shrug. "Those aren't even the only parts I replaced... Well, I still liked it. To be honest with you, I'm not much of a chef," she admits as if he couldn't tell by the everything about her. "That's why my mom owns the restaurant and I—"

"Park Jiwan-ssi?"

Yeoreum waits at the open doorway to the conference room where the new phase of John's life will begin, and the woman stands up to answer her. "Yes, that's me!"

The two women enter the room together, and the door closes on John's flabbergasted face. Not only is Garbage Patch Woman apparently auditioning for Kingdom of Love 2, but she showed up for her interview on time, which means he still has thirty more minutes to kill!

To make matters worse: dissatisfied with ruining his life, she had to go and ruin his recipe, too. He worked hard on those! He made up a brand new one for every episode of that godforsaken show. She had the gall to edit it according to her limitations and claim she loved his cooking? 'At least they look the same,' he mocks in his mind.

He refuses to stand for this, so he gets out of his seat. He spent enough time at the DNA TV headquarters to know where Yeoreum's workstation is, so he goes over and filches a memo pad and a pen. Thirty minutes is more than enough time.

He is still reviewing the paper before him with a critical eye when the conference room door opens again. He looks up with wild eyes, and Yeoreum mistakes his eagerness.

"Yes, yes. It's finally your turn." She gestures into the room with a sarcastic wave of her arm, but John ignores her in favour of stopping the woman, whose name he has already forgotten, from leaving.

"Listen, I get it if you can't afford Hokkaido-farmed enoki on the salary you earn from cashing in the plastic bottles collected off the side of the road, but that's no excuse for leaving your fridge and pantry bare of the necessities. Here." He hands her the paper he had written on while waiting. "This is a list of value brand ingredients that wouldn't offend me if you used them in my recipes. Do yourself a favour and go shopping after this, will you?"

Garbage Patch Woman accepts the list with both hands. "Oh my god. Thank you, Chef John-nim. I will!" She bows gratefully, and she doesn't stop until Yeoreum intervenes, saying it's John's turn to be interviewed.

Yeoreum waits until the other woman is far enough away before chiding, "Yah. You didn't have to talk to her like that." She enters the room without hearing his response.

John shrugs her off then takes a moment to himself before following after her. He needs to be at his most charming for the next 30 minutes, and someone ruined his mood.

God, it's been a while since someone got under his skin like this.

~~~

2. crosshatch

It's no secret that John fell for her words first.

Jiwan is as genuine as he is fake. She cannot help but say what she thinks and feels, a trait that would be dangerous if not tempered by her decorum and natural propensity for kindness. There are no ulterior motives or hidden meanings to her words. For a man who continually forges himself from the fires of insecurity and greed, Jiwan's authenticity in the way she speaks makes him feel more like glass than steel.

Transparent and fragile are not the attitudes you're supposed to have when your girlfriend asks you such an innocuous question.

"Come again?"

"Would you let me draw you?"

He senses that there is a right answer by the way she does not equivocate in the face of his silence, which has gone on a tad too long at this point. He ultimately decides to ignore his silly trepidation, and Jiwan squeaks in excitement when he nods. "Be right back!"

She returns with an A3 sketch pad and a few pencils then resituates herself in the love seat she was previously occupying. "Okay! Please continue what you were doing before. Don't pay me any mind." She sends him a toothy smile then focuses on the open book in front of her.

John gamefully settles back onto the couch, but he can no longer relax as he did before.

As charmed as he was by her way with words, he can't truthfully say he's ever given much thought to her visual art skills (though he proudly announces he's dating the web cartoonist Park Jiwan whenever he catches up with friends and colleagues). The shameful realisation that he has been utterly disregarding half of his girlfriend's livelihood is certainly part of why he was so uncomfortable with her request.

The other part is that he doesn't get it.

It's a lazy morning on a day with no schedules. Before she turned his world upside down—as she seems to have a knack for doing—he was simply hate-reading articles of Paik Jongwon's latest variety appearances on his tablet while drinking a mug of Moroccan coffee. He doesn't have his contacts in, he doesn't have BB cream on, he doesn't remember the last time he washed the sweatshirt he's wearing… yet this is the version of him Jiwan wants to memorialise in graphite?

He has modeled before. He has plenty of experience in sitting still and looking pretty, but the pretty part is controlled. Intentional. He isn't like Jiwan, who only needs a smile to tie her whole outfit together. If there is a subject worth capturing in this room, it's her.

Like the days of Kingdom, John sneaks glances at her to pass the time. Stretched out on the couch as the sun shines into her living room and watching his love do what she loves, John can finally relax again.

"Okay, thank you!" Jiwan chirps.

He lurches out of his slouched position. "That's it? You're done?" He looks at the time on his tablet, surprised to see that almost a full hour has passed since she asked.

His girlfriend nods with a sweet smile. "I appreciate your patience." She gets up to put her sketchbook away, but he stops her with a shout. When she turns to look at him expectantly, he flounders a bit. He hadn't gotten that far in his head. "Well… Can I see it?"

She is clearly thrilled that John asked. Before the shame can fully take root, she tugs him down to squeeze them both into the loveseat, and a rush of affection surges through him instead. She used to be so afraid of taking up space when he was around. She still is, sometimes, but not right now.

Jiwan eagerly offers the whole book to him with both hands, just like she did her love. He accepts it with the same propriety, then his eyes rove over the paper.

The sketches littering the open page depict his full body in the various poses he apparently held himself in while daydreaming on the couch. Though rough in quality, as a set they evoke contentment and domesticity. That is him in these sketches, and yet he is still jealous of the subject for looking so at home.

"This is very impressive," John breathes out.

Jiwan cheers a bit at his earnest praise. "There's more!" She flips to the next page, which contains far fewer sketches. In one corner, it is the grip of his hand on the tablet. In another, the press of his lips against the rim of his mug. The center displays the bangs which he usually keeps out of the way hanging messily over his forehead, right above the rim of his glasses. A stark contrast from the figures on the previous page, everything is so hyper-realistic that he itches to open his selfie camera and compare what he sees to what she drew.

Like never before, he understands now what Jiwan means when she says she can feel his emotions through his food. He is made to remember such innocuous moments—the nights when she sits in the kitchen just to watch him nimbly chop ingredients, the blush on her face when he smiles at her, all the times she tells him he doesn't need to wear gel at home—just by looking at the page.

"Is this what I look like to you?"

Jiwan tips her head curiously. "Hm? What do you mean? You don't think they look like you?" She frowns as she inspects her sketches with a discerning eye, trying to identify improvements to help the subject recognise himself better, which is just so Jiwan.

John chuckles freely as he cups her cheeks to bring her in for a kiss in lieu of a proper response, unheeding of her concern and subsequent surprise. It takes only a moment for Jiwan to let go and enjoy the affection, and the sketchbook eventually falls off his lap in their ardour.

The sound surprises her enough to pull away, and John blinks into awareness to find an embarrassed Jiwan averting her eyes.

"Um. Thanks for letting me draw you."

He loves his girlfriend when she is confident and persistent, but this Jiwan is too cute. He brings her drawing hand to his lips to leave a kiss on her knuckles. "It was my pleasure," he says in English, knowing full well the effect it has on her.

John reaches down to hand the sketch pad back to her, but his attention is drawn to the page it fell open to.

"What's this?"

'This' refers to a four-panel comic in Jiwan's classic manwha style, and the characters portrayed are unmistakably the two of them.

Jiwan blushes as she snatches the book out of his hands. "Stop looking at me like that!"

He doesn't know what he looks like, but he feels delighted and deeply surprised. "Is this the new trend for the web cartoonist Park Jiwan-ssi? Raunchy, suggestive humour? I have to get WEBTOON on the phone; I bet they'd love to know," he teases as he tries to get the book back. He needs to get a picture of that.

"John Jang! Don't you dare!" she squeals as she escapes his determined hands. He playfully pursues her through the house, taking note of the joy lining her eyes and her peals of laughter despite her admonishments.

For a woman who always means what she says, Jiwan doesn't always say what she means. He may have fallen for her words first, but falling in love with her means learning the difference; and that attention to detail proves there is strength in clarity.

~~~

3. chemistry

It's a little embarrassing, but Jiwan understands. To an extent, she's even grateful for it. Her relationship with her body was complicated enough thanks to the fatphobic rhetoric she's heard her entire life. Add in the ways she was abused in middle school, and it's no understatement to say she spent more time ignoring her body and pretending it isn't there than treating it like an actual part of her.

With age and therapy, though, things are different. She loves herself the way she is, and she wants to be loved for it, too.

John, however, refuses to get the memo.

They haven't gone any farther than touching over the shirt, no matter how she tries to convey that she is more than okay with going further. What is the point in dating the Fourth Most Eligible Bachelor in Seoul if fans can see more of her boyfriend's body in magazines than she can in real life?!

Once, John called her cute 'like a Cabbage Patch Kid', and she thought nothing of the sheepishness and odd note of contrition in his voice at the time. Looking back, she's now entertaining worries that he considers her childish, that he doesn't see her as a woman. She resolved to do whatever it takes to change his perception of her tonight.

Luckily, two of Jiwan's best friends happen to embody every conceivable tenet of Korean femininity, and they were more than happy to help.

Under her coat, she's wearing the sheer and lacy babydoll set Jiyeon assured her was becoming and beguiling. The bluetooth speaker is playing a mixtape Yeoreum made of mood-setting, sensual tunes. The perfume she knows John likes is applied to both typical and strategic locations. If the two of them don't see any progress tonight, they never will.

When she finally hears the front door unlock, she allows herself a self-satisfied glance at the clock in the entryway. She timed her preparations well: it's only been a little less than an hour since she herself got home. She positions herself at the top of the stairs, visible from the front door.

"Jiwan-ah!" John calls distractedly as he shucks off his coat and shoes. "I'm back from Cheondam Jjang!"

She steels her resolve, recalls the twin wishes of Fighting! from her friends, and walks down the stairs to meet him. "John. I've been waiting for you," she says in what she hopes is a seductive voice.

He regards her long coat with panic. "Did we have something planned tonight that I forgot about?! How long was I making you wait? Are we late? Give me, like, 5 minutes, and I'll be ready to go!"

Jiwan hurries to bodily get between her frenzied boyfriend and the door. Perhaps 'I've been waiting for you' was not the best opening line, and perhaps her low tone sounded less like seduction and more like a reproach. "Wait! We're not going anywhere; we're not late to anything!"

His relief is quickly replaced by confusion. "Then what's with the coat?" His head tilts as he realises something. "And the music?"

She kind of wants to hide in her room and cry frustrated tears at how inauspicious the start to their evening is, but she is determined. She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, meeting John's eyes with intention. Instead of a verbal reply, she slowly unbuttons her coat and shrugs it off her shoulders in one fluid motion.

The way his eyes draw immediately and automatically to her chest is a good sign.

She takes advantage of his arrested state to stalk toward him, one high-heeled foot in front of the other. She relishes in the way his eyes clearly don't know which part of her to look at even as he stumbles backwards in an attempt to keep some distance between them.

He eventually collides with the newel of the stairs, and Jiwan firmly presses up against him. "You can do more than look, you know." She reaches for his hands, held up by his head like he was caught red-handed, and guides them down to her sides, high enough above her waist to almost reach her chest.

The thin fabric of the lingerie is no barrier for the heat of his palms. His fingers flex once then hold her; and for a split second, all she can think is yes.

Then he pushes her away. "Jiwan, what's happening right now? Are you pranking me? Which network thought this would be funny? I just want to talk."

The night is quickly spiraling out of control, but she tries a last-ditch effort to save it. "This isn't a prank," she explains firmly as she steps back into his space, twining her arms around his neck. "I am trying to seduce you."

Both of his eyebrows raise. "Like this?"

"Yes, 'like this'!" she finally erupts. She stomps back to the entryway to collect her crumpled coat from the floor, and she hastily buttons it up around her as she brushes past her boyfriend. "When I'm not 'like this', you ignored all my other attempts to have sex with you, so what else was I supposed to do?"

"Jiwan, I wasn't ignoring you. I was trying to take things slow; I was trying to respect you!" he justifies as he chases his irate girlfriend up the stairs. He grabs hold of her arm; and when he cannot encourage her to turn around, he jumps up the steps to face her.

His chivalry is neither appreciated nor warranted. "I'd feel a lot more respected if you listened to me all the times I was trying to tell you I was ready," she retorts with crossed arms and without meeting his gaze. "Middle school was ages ago, and I trust you."

John tentatively reaches out for her; and after a huff, she lets him. He rubs comforting circles across her shoulders and down her arms. "You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. Can you blame me, though? I'm your first boyfriend, and you're the first person I've dated seriously since I became a celebrity. I think I was going slow for me, too."

Her embarrassment and annoyance ebb away with every turn of his palms and every word he says. Forgiveness is easy after that. "Now that we understand each other, can we stop going slow?" she pouts.

He leans down to kiss her forehead in response, but she deserves a little more than that after what he put her through. She tilts her chin up for a proper kiss, and the simple affection deepens into something heady and encompassing without either of them meaning to.

"You look great in this, by the way," John gasps out between kisses. His hands slip through her suddenly open coat and wrap around her waist, fingering the lace patterns against her back. "Like, really great."

"Oh, Joon," she exhales when his lips descend to her neck.

(She says his name three more times that night.)

~~~

4. foot-in-mouth

As the owner-operator of several successful restaurants, John knows how important it is to honour a time commitment. This is why he is currently freaking out.

"Can you stop freaking out? I called ahead of time; they know we're running late."

"Jiwan-ssi," he says with all the patience he bought second-hand at the store once he realised Jiwan deserved better than his hotheadedness and gut reactions. "We aren't running late to just any restaurant reservation. This is the reservation to end all reservations!"

She laughs at him outright. "Why are you acting like we're eating at Paik Jongwon's restaurant? It's just lunch at my mom's pork feet place."

John presses harder on the gas.

Ten minutes into their reservation, they finally arrive at Devil's Jokbal. Instead of a minimum wage teenager at the front counter who politely explains to them that their table has been given up to people who showed up on time, there is a middle-aged couple on the older side who greets them with unrestrained exuberance.

Well, they greet Jiwan. John is just there.

"Omo, omo, omo. Is that my Park Jiwan-ssi finally making time to visit her poor old mother?"

"You're more lovely in person! That damn show. All those cameras, and they couldn't capture any of your beauty? Whatever they paid you, it wasn't enough."

"Mom! Dad!" Jiwan cheers as they wrap each other up in a big hug. The sight is so heartwarming, it makes John want to call his mother and tell her he loves her.

Jiwan breaks away and pulls John closer. "This is John, my boyfriend," she introduces with a wide smile, and it's showtime.

"John Jang is my name." He bows deeply and articulates clearly, pausing between the two names. He learned to do that because people kept thinking John was his family name. He rises and passes along the flowers he brought. "These are for you, eomeonim. It's nice to meet you both."

"Omo, such nice manners. I'm Yom Syejin, but eomeonim is definitely fine with me!" Her mom bows cutely.

"You can call me 'sir'." Her dad reaches out for a handshake, and he doesn't let go after a polite amount of shakes. "'John', huh? That's not Korean, is it?"

"No, sir. My Korean name is Jang Joon." Her dad finally lets go of the handshake, and John steps back and hastily gives a shallow bow just for lack of something better to do.

"Why 'John'?" Syejin asks politely, and John freezes. If he tells them the truth, they'll (correctly) think he's greedy. Worse, they might think he's unpatriotic. He's served his mandatory conscription already; he can prove it!

Jiwan, as always, comes to his rescue. "He's a celebrity, Mom. You know they always need to change their names to get more popular. It's good for brand recognition."

"I'm gonna call you 'Joon'," her father states with a smile that doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

John tries very hard not to think about the fact that the last person who called him 'Joon' was Jiwan, and he tries extra hard not to think about the circumstances in which she was calling him 'Joon'.

"Yes, sir." He doesn't salute, but it's a near thing.

The four of them—polite, appraising, hopeful, and panicked—stare at each other in the waiting area of the restaurant for a few seconds before Jiwan's mother claps her hand with intention. "Why don't I show us to our table?"

As he and Jiwan trail after her parents, he can't help but feel like he's walking to the gallows.

As soon as they sit down at the booth, the minimum wage teenager he expected appears to take their drink orders. A glass of beer would really take the edge off right now, but he doesn't need to look sloppy in front of Jiwan's parents. "Water is fine."

"Not a beer man, huh, Joon?"

He chokes on his own spit.

Jiwan fusses over his face with a napkin and defends, "He's driving us, Dad."

"Oh, he drives! Our Jiwan never learned. She was so busy with her sketchbooks and expensive markers," her mom teases, and Jiwan picks up the banter easily.

John is ready to cut in with praise for how far Jiwan's talents have gotten her, ready to start making a good impression, when her dad speaks up again. "What kinda car you drive, Joon?"

He straightens in his seat proudly. He loves his car. "A Genesis G70, sir. Latest model."

"Hyundai, huh? What's wrong with Kia cars?"

At his side, Jiwan meeps. "Dad works at the Kia factory in Gwangmyeong."

"Kias are great cars!" John interjects hurriedly. "I was looking at the Stinger, actually!"

Her dad hums noncommittally then turns to Jiwan with a friendly smile. "You're so down to earth, Jiwan-ah. Where did you find this flashy pretty boy?"

"Yes!" her mom pipes up, eager to talk about things she cares about again. "Tell us how you started dating! What happened to Kim Joonho-ssi?"

Jiwan's face perfectly shows the displeasure that John feels at the name. "We agreed to give it a try for a month, but it was clear from the beginning that it wasn't going to work out." The harsh tone of her voice softens. "John confessed to me before I could get too lonely, and we've been dating ever since."

John doesn't know what Jiwan's parents' stance is on PDA, so he doesn't do anything more obvious than squeeze her knee under the table. At the sweet smile Jiwan sends him, he's sure she understands what it means.

"You make a habit of going after taken women, Joon?"

Simultaneous shouts of "Dad!" and "Park Youngwon-ssi!" are not enough to drown out the bang of John's knees hitting the underside of the table. He hisses in pain; and after he waves off Jiwan's concerns, she turns on her father. "Dad, that was uncalled for."

"I'm just tryna to get to know the guy!"

"Sure, but you're supposed to ask things like 'What are your hobbies?', not 'Tell me all of your past misdeeds'."

"I've gotten really into golf, lately," John pipes up, desperate to find something they can talk about.

"Celebrities and their golf," her dad mutters.

"Okay, I have two waters, a beer, and a Coca-Cola," the minimum wage teenager recites as they set down each order, effectively cutting through the tension that built up between the four of them. "Are we ready to order?"

John hadn't even had a chance to look at the menu yet. "We'll have pork feet, of course. Family style and diablo level," Youngwon says.

If there's one thing John can appreciate, it's a restaurant's shtick: Devil's Jokbal named their spice levels after international words for 'devil', and diablo is their spiciest level. Separate from his anxieties about today's meeting, he was really excited to try the food.

"You can handle spice, can't you, Joon?"

John puffs out his chest. "Of course. I'm Korean, after all," he adds in, still worried about the patriotism thing.

"Actually, I'd like to ask John something," Syejin speaks up before her husband can corner him into another battle of wits, and for that she has John's eternal thanks. "We watched Kingdom of Love, of course. There probably isn't a single person in Seoul who didn't," she jokes off-handedly, "and I couldn't help but notice that you were very interested in the weatherperson. What's her name again? T-T-Tae…?"

John nods. "Jang Taemi-ssi." While a little bit uncomfortable, this is at least a line of questioning John expected and is confident to answer. "My story is very similar to Jiwan-ssi's. Taemi-ssi and I tried dating for a little while, but it was clear to me from the beginning that she wasn't right for me." He looks over at Jiwan and says earnestly, "If I could live my life a second time but only change one thing, I would have appealed to Jiwan's heart as soon as I met her."

Simultaneous "awww"'s are cut off by Youngwon's gruff interruption. "So you wouldn't have pushed my precious daughter off of another contestant after a harmless game of chicken fight?"

To be completely honest, John kind of forgot he did that. Based on the look on Jiwan's face, she did too. They were strangers to each other back then, barely blips on each other's radars and far more preoccupied with people they thought would be better fits for them.

In the same instant that he feels guilty, he can also feel Jiwan's forgiveness, and that's what matters.

It bolsters him to respond the way he does. "Sir. Eomeonim. I understand that you may have preconceived notions about the person I am based on what you saw of me on the show, and as a result you may not approve of my dating your daughter. I will not lie to you and say I'm different now. I remain a prideful man with singular focus, and it manifests in high standards that burn more bridges than they mend.

"I wholeheartedly apologise for every offense I've caused you or your daughter, but I cannot apologise for who I am, not when it has allowed me to achieve my childhood dreams twice over despite my relative youth. Eomeonim, when you look around this restaurant, don't you feel good? Like all the sacrifices you made were worth it because it led to such a great establishment?"

Tears delicately well up in Syejin's eyes without spilling over, and John smiles. He sees where Jiwan got the habit.

A glance reveals Youngwon's rather impassive face, but John isn't deterred. He isn't done yet. "I am not very different now, but I have changed, and that is all thanks to the amazing woman Park Jiwan-ssi is. She reminds me that it is always worth it to fight for something that matters to you, that true criticism is offered out of kindness, that being yourself is the only way to find the things that are meant to be… She reminds me why I love cooking.

"You don't need me to tell you that you've raised an amazing daughter. All I'm saying is… If I can spend my time with her, watch her laugh, and give her even half the support that she gives me, then I want to do that for as long as she lets me."

No sooner does the sentence end before Jiwan tackles him into a side hug that he gladly returns, onlookers be damned. He is unsurprised to find Syejin's tears freely falling down her face, but the mistiness in his own eyes does take him aback.

With a brief kiss to her forehead, he arranges himself and Jiwan back in the booth they're in and turn to receive Youngwon's appraisal.

They don't have to wait long. "Did you just ask me for my daughter's hand in marriage?"

Spit take. "Dad!" "Park Youngwon!"

"You're tryna tell me you used every damn word in the Korean dictionary to tell us how much you love our daughter and you're not tryna put a ring on her finger?! This is the problem with you Seoulites; you're all talk and no action. The next time I see your sorry face you better be ready to beg for the privilege of marrying Jiwan-ah, alright? And don't you dare for a second even think that she'll be joining your family register just because you have more money. Now sit your butt down; the food is here."

"That wasn't so bad!" Jiwan chirps as they wave goodbye to her parents.

"Jiwan-ssi, that was the longest hour of my entire life."

She frantically checks her phone. "That was only an hour?"

"Exactly," but honestly he would have taken however long he needed in order to win over her parents.

He is just happy that by the end of the lunch, he fully accomplished this goal. Any bruises on his pride and knees are completely worth it for that alone.

Besides, he received helpful, explicit instructions on how to approach the marriage conversation when he's ready, and he doesn't think it'll be long now.

~~~

5. dis/appointment

Opening up a new restaurant was no less work the third time around.

The parts he actually enjoyed—negotiating with ingredient suppliers, planning the menu—were constantly set aside in favour of more pressing concerns like confusing zoning ordinances and remodeling mishaps. He hired a project manager to handle the daily headaches, but decisions still had to be finalised by him. Besides, he couldn't help but want to personally oversee as much of the process as possible. His livelihood (and more importantly, his reputation) was at stake.

A long day poring over contracts and licenses just didn't bring him the same satisfaction as a long day in the kitchen, and he's coming up on two months' worth of long days.

To make matters worse: he couldn't even seek absolution in his girlfriend's reprieving embrace. Production on the drama adaptation of I Loved That Jerk had ramped up not long after he and his business partners decided it was time to open a third location. Jiwan had been spending more and more time at the production studio than in her own home, and their schedules hadn't lined up nearly as often as either of them would have liked. He missed her so much.

Even now that he can see the light at the end of the tunnel, he still does.

This morning, the ink dried on the final papers that mean Seorae Jjang can officially open for business. There is now only a month of last-minute adjustments and double-checking details left between him and peace.

Jiwan even texted him earlier confirming that she would be home today, which means he could tell her this good news in person. It's shaping up to be one of the best days in his entire life.

When he arrives home, he can hear Jiwan puttering around in the kitchen the way she likes to do because "cooking at home compromises your work-life balance, John!" He can't recall the last time she was home before him, and he says as much in lieu of a greeting.

"John!" Jiwan hastily shuts off the gas before launching herself into his arms, and he staggers a little from her momentum. She smells like day-old perfume and his homemade gochujang, and it's his new favourite smell.

She drags him to the kitchen island and bustles about to plate the food. "Come, come! I made us dinner. I want to hear all about your good news. I have something exciting to share as well."

"You go first," he encourages as he takes a seat. He just wants to hear her voice and experience her presence. He's been utterly denied of both for too long.

"Are you sure? Well, okay." She blazes through the dance of polite deference easily and quickly gets to: "We got the premiere date for the I Loved That Jerk drama! It's real; it's actually happening!"

"No way. No way! That's fantastic news, Jiwan-ssi!" He stops whatever she's doing with a firm kiss on her lips then picks up his phone. "When is it? I'm letting my manager know to clear the 24 hours before and afterwards."

"Afterwards?"

He wiggles his eyebrows at her. "Afterwards."

She pushes at his shoulder to distract from her blush, but the pretty hue that blossoms on her cheeks is all he can pay attention to… So much so that he thinks he mishears her.

"Come again?"

"It's next month. On the 30th."

He puts his phone down with a heavy hand. "You're sure it's the 30th? Not the 29th, or the 31st?"

But of course, it's on the 30th. It wasn't enough for their careers to keep them separate during the hard times, but now they can't even share the good parts together either.

"Is something the matter?" she asks with genuine worry.

John would love to tell her everything is fine, except… "The 30th. That's the day Seorae Jjang opens."

She frowns and pulls out her phone to scan through it. "That's inconvenient, but I think we can make it work. The premiere events start in the afternoon but continue well on into the night... Do you think you can step out of the kitchen in time for the—?"

His eyes bulge out of their sockets. "—I can't abandon the restaurant during the grand opening. What if they need me? My team is good, I trust them, but I should still be there."

Jiwan's face is carefully blank. "You don't want to support me?"

"No, that's not it at all!" He gets up to hold her hands tight in his, as if the physical contact will make her believe him more. "Just because I can't go to the premiere doesn't mean I can't support you in other ways! I'll watch it on Naver as soon as I get home," he promises fervently. "I'll make a bunch of burner accounts so that I can rate and vote and comment and whatever else they make fans do to prove they invested in the right IP."

Jiwan keeps her attention fixed on their hands. "But you won't go to the premiere with me."

John sighs. He brings their hands up to his lips to place an apologetic kiss on her knuckles, hoping to catch her gaze as he does so. "I'd love to, Jiwan-ssi, but I can't."

When she does look up to face him, it's with shiny eyes. "If you'd love to, then do it anyway," she says, steadfast despite obvious reluctance for what she is instigating.

"… What?"

"I get that this is your big night, but it's mine too, and... and my night is bigger." He reels from her bold statement, and Jiwan keeps going. "This is my first show, for my debut webcomic. This is easily the biggest thing that's ever happened to me. Can you say the same? Is this your singular greatest professional achievement?"

He isn't speaking with "I have to buy this; there's a bow on it!" Jiwan or "like the game says: sorry~" Jiwan. This is the Jiwan that had to rescue herself from an abusive environment, that had to ignore disparaging remarks about her size and shape everywhere she went, that had to force herself to keep creating even when no one would pick up her webcomic pitches. Maybe he would still love the persistent Jiwan if she weren't being so unfair.

"It could be!" he seethes. "Seorae Jjang is my most specialised and ambitious dining experience yet. No one else in Seoul is offering French-Korean fusion the way I've designed it; it's practically Michelin worthy. I could even overtake Paik Jongwon as the most influential chef in South Korea! My reputation is at stake here."

"And mine isn't?" She crosses her arms with a huff. "You have two successful restaurants already, John; you won't be set back if this one happens to fail. If my show doesn't succeed, I'm not only losing out on potential licensing deals. The success of all my future webcomics will suffer—whether people will read them, whether they're adapted. No, don't look at me like that. I am not exaggerating. It happens all the time."

It bothers him to no end that they are standing here, defending their livelihoods to each other, when they've had this exact same conversation under much happier circumstances before. She knows why Seorae Jjang is a big deal to him; he knows how important this premiere is to her. He is still incredibly happy for her despite the circumstances.

He forces himself to breathe, to de-escalate the tension. Finally, "I would never ask you to choose my important night over yours. It's unfair of you to ask that of me."

She looks him dead in the eyes when she counters, "It's selfish of you to weigh them with equal importance," and it sounds like a funeral toll.

John turns away. He doesn't want to see her like this. He wants to calm down.

After a long moment, he senses her depart from the kitchen, and something about her stride makes him nervous. He listens carefully as she stalks up to their bedroom, and he springs into action once he hears some heavy thuds and the sound of zippers.

"What are you doing?" he calls out as he sprints up the stairs, trying to rationalise that perhaps he is jumping to unwarranted conclusions. Unfortunately, he reaches the bedroom door to find his conclusions very much warranted.

She doesn't stop packing. "I'm going to Hyejin's. I don't want to sleep next to you tonight."

She's leaving?! "Jiwan-ssi. Jiwan, please. That's no reason to leave your own house. I'll take the couch if it bothers you that much." He tries to stop her moving hands, but she jerks free of his touches. "Jiwan, please."

"It's still too close," she maintains as she heads for the bathroom to retrieve her toiletries.

How far away from him does she want to be? "I-I'll leave then," he shakily offers. He's already trying to remember where his own suitcases are. "Come on. If you don't want to be in the same house with me, I'll leave then."

"John."

He turns to face her again with confused, blurry eyes, and she at last has stopped moving. "You gave up your condo to move in with me, remember? You don't have another place to go."

She's right, of course. In practically no time at all, he had centered his entire way of life around her, and this entire house is filled with proof of that.

When he focuses on the present again, she is zipping closed her suitcase. "I just need some time, John."

He wants to ask so many questions—How much time? Why is she doing this to them? What happens now?—but before he can settle on any one, she takes tentative, measured steps towards him. She's bridging the distance, but it brings him none of the comfort that he seeks.

She takes one of his hands in hers and rests her other on his cheek. The only thing he wants most in the whole wide world at this very moment is to reach for her, but he can do nothing but watch.

Her face is set in determination reminiscent of the night they had their first time, and the emotional distance between that memory and the present makes his heart ache.

"I'm angry. I'm so angry at you, John Jang, but it's because I love you just as much."

She places a kiss in the scant millimeters between her thumb and the corner of his mouth and steps back.

On unsteady feet, he follows down the stairs, and he makes no move to stop her when she closes the door on his face. In the resulting silence of the house, the click of the lock echoes.

He collapses onto his knees and drops his head into his hands. He needs a drink, he needs a shower, he needs a bed. He raises his head as he decides which to do first, and his eyes happen to catch sight of the clock in the entryway.

An hour.

It only took one hour to define the worst day of his entire life.

~~~

6. countdown

10:45pm

Despite the late hour, she still finds herself answering the same questions. "Yes, I'm the Park Jiwan in Kingdom of Love 2." "No, the show turned out even better than what I imagined." "Yes, let's take a selfie!"

"No, John couldn't make it tonight."

If it was tiresome four hours ago, it's downright irritating now. Thank goodness there are only fifteen minutes left before it's socially acceptable for her to leave.

The night wasn't all bad, though. Far from it. She was glad to hear for herself the joy and laughs as people watched the first episode. She appreciated all the fans who came up to tell her their journeys of discovering her work. She even made some new industry friends tonight that she can't wait to get to know better, professionally and personally.

Regardless of her gratitude and the success of the evening, she's ready for it to end. All things—good, bad, and beyond the spectrum of moral judgment—must come to an end.

10:51pm

With less than ten minutes to go before closing time, he explains to his business partner in no uncertain terms that he will be leaving as soon as the clock strikes 11.

"But it's Seorae Jjang's grand opening! Stick around a bit. Have a celebratory glass with the staff for a fantastic first night." And it was fantastic, more than they expected it would be and even still further than he had hoped.

It's just that he's still wondering if it was worth it. "I'm sure they value their time as well. I'll give them a bonus or something. We got plenty of investors tonight, that shouldn't be a problem."

"You haven't cared about punctuality before," his partner comments with suspicion. "Are a few more minutes really going to make that much of a difference?"

"Yes," he says quickly, but he actually doesn't know for sure.

Jiwan did come back home after a few days, not that a casual observer would be able to tell. If he wasn't seeing her before, he saw even less of her in this past month. The handful of times he managed to catch her, she didn't stay, and he didn't ask her to. He didn't want to rehash the same argument, and he was afraid she'd refuse besides. The memory of her closing the door on him still replays in his unguarded moments.

Now the baneful day has come and gone, he doesn't know whether the tension between them will still be there when he gets home. He doesn't even know whether she will be getting home.

But if she does, he would rather find out earlier that he was too early than find out later that he was too late.

11:06pm

The taxi she called doesn't come a moment too soon. She recites the address as soon as she opens the car door and settles into the seat with a sigh.

The breath carries with it all of the adrenaline and tension and unadulterated emotion of the day, annoyances and regrets included. The farther away she gets from the private club where the afterparty was hosted, the less everything matters to her except the deep, immovable satisfaction of a job well done.

It isn't forgiveness, necessarily. More like acceptance. The decisions were made, the night is over, and she is simply tired. In her unguarded moments, she didn't give much thought to what happens afterwards except for a fluffy blanket and catching up on a month's worth of lost sleep.

She knows a conversation is impending, but she refuses to be responsible for the timing. Maybe it's cowardly, maybe it's selfish.

She's made a habit of those attitudes, lately.

11:22pm

The cars had been bumper-to-bumper as soon as he hit the on-ramp, and he slams his hand on the steering wheel one more time in frustration. Twenty minutes into his commute home should have already brought him into her neighbourhood, but he was still on the highway. It was a gamble to take the Gyeongbu Expressway, and he knew it, but he had hoped.

He anxiously checks the clock again, and it seems like time is speeding up just to mock him.

This whole time, he's been operating under the presumption that she will come home tonight (he can't bear to think of what it would mean if she doesn't), and he has never enjoyed making her wait. They've both spent too much time waiting—waiting for a sign that she might be interested in him the way he was getting interested in her, waiting for an apology he didn't know how to give, waiting for her sham of a relationship trial to end, waiting for this day to finally arrive.

He's so tired of waiting.

11:45pm

She scrambles out of the taxi cab tiredly and inelegantly, a far cry from her glamorous and refined entrance onto the red carpet five hours ago. At this point, the concrete path from the sidewalk to the front door is looking better than any red carpet.

She is home.

From the road, however, she could tell the house remains dark inside. Her heart sinks, but she resolves herself. Maybe he hasn't come back yet. She figured he'd make it back before her since Seorae Village is at least on the same side of the river, but traffic can be a real pain, especially if he chose the wrong expressway home.

She refuses to consider that he had no intention of returning tonight at all, but then she does, and she collapses onto her small lawn as a cold emptiness sprawls through her chest. It's not like she gave him a reason to come back; she herself didn't know she was ready to come home until the taxi pulled up in front of her.

She was barely home this past week, caught as she was between the demands of the show and her own avoidance of him. What if he packed a bag and moved out too? Oh god, what if it's permanent? They weren't supposed to break up over this; she just needed space—!

The sound of rubber squealing on asphalt aggressively jolts her out of her spiraling.

11:46pm

He had already been speeding, but when he turns the corner onto her street and sees her there just sitting on her lawn and looking at nothing, he gives up on all pretence of being a law-abiding citizen. His relief to see her home is completely overshadowed by his dread that something was terribly wrong.

He zoomed right up to her house and put the car in park, nevermind the fact that he is decidedly not parked. "Jiwan!" he calls out before he's fully exited from the car. "Are you alright?!"

There is no mistaking the tears in her eyes when she fully turns to face him, so he doesn't even bother shutting the car door in his haste to get to her. "Jiwan, what's the matter? Did something happen at the premiere? Did they not like it? Don't listen to them, they wouldn't know entertainment if it hit them in the face. I bet it's great. It should be online now, right? I'll go watch it right now, I promised you I would. I'll set it up on the tv and my phone and my laptop and my tablet—"

Her hug shuts him up. "John," she sniffles. "You're late."

His arms wrap around her in reflex. "I'm late?"

Between her already weak voice and the muffling from his chest, he has to strain to hear her. "You were supposed to be home by now."

God, he shouldn't have taken the Gyeongbu. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm here now," he soothes with gentle tones and backrubs.

"I thought you were breaking up with me!" and then she's sobbing, heavily and loudly, into his chest.

John could honestly care less about anyone potentially finding them like this on an empty residential street at midnight, but he knows Jiwan will be embarrassed about it later, so he regretfully forces her away from him. "Come on, let's get in the car."

While she cries into her hands, he opens the door for her and buckles her in. He grabs a packet of tissues from the glove box and leaves it on the dashboard for her to use when she's ready. He gets into the car himself and has a split second panic as he tries to recall where he put the keys, but they're just waiting for him in the ignition. From there, it's an easy thing to start the car and park it properly.

The minutes it took to do that give Jiwan enough time for her wails to subside into sniffles, but he's still afraid she might not be able to hear him. "I have no intention of breaking up with you," he declares with a strong voice. "What made you think that?"

She takes a moment to blow her nose then confesses, "You weren't there when I got home, and I… I couldn't help but presume the worst."

God, he shouldn't have taken the Gyeongbu! "Jiwan-ssi. I had every intention to make it home on time, I swear it. I wanted to be here already for… well, for if you came back."

Her face crumbles like a paper with discarded ideas. "I'm sorry I made you think I wouldn't come back," she sobs into her hands.

Getting into the car was a mistake. John can't hug her properly like this. "No! No, I could have asked. I should have asked. I was afraid to, though. Not asking was easier than dealing with your reply. Please don't blame yourself, Jiwan-ssi."

"But this is all my fault! You knew from the beginning that we were just going to have to go to our own events separately, but I was being unfair. I called you selfish when I was the selfish one. I wanted more from you. I made you choose between me and your restaurant, and I got mad when you didn't choose me. What kind of girlfriend does that?"

So they're talking about this tonight. "I'm not gonna pretend that you didn't say things that hurt me. It was one of the worst things anyone has ever said to me, and I wondered a lot afterwards if anything I did was worth doing when it was just gonna hurt people I love and make them hurt me… but I got angry at you, too. I answered your challenge instead of trying to calm us down. If I could have just kept my frustration in check, maybe if I presented the option differently, I could have spared us from all this."

Jiwan resolutely shakes her head. "No, I know myself. I wouldn't have accepted it until today—tonight, rather. Not until it was all over. I couldn't feel relaxed until the taxi ride home," she confesses.

He watches her closely, splotchy face dappled by the light from a distant streetlamp. "And how do you feel now?"

"So very sorry," she answers immediately. "Also… relieved? You're not leaving me, my show is on the air and will be for the next two months, and my time on set will be measurable in hours and not days. I feel like everything is good again for the first time in a while."

Despite the solemnity of the conversation, John has to laugh. "I feel you. If I never have to look at the Ministry of Economy and Finance seal again, it would be too soon. All I want to do is cook good food and usurp Paik Jongwon, but I can't help but be involved at every stage. I do it to myself, really."

She grabs his hand, earnest as she always is. "Your reputation matters too, John, just as much as mine. I'm sorry that I implied otherwise."

He shifts their hands so he holds onto hers too. "I'm sorry, too. I could have stopped this cold war ages ago but I didn't. I told myself it was because I was giving you space, but really I think I just rely on you too much to make the first move." Saying it out loud makes him review all of their interactions since they first met on Kingdom, and he sees just how true that statement is. "I can be better."

Something about the way she smiles at him makes him think she doesn't believe him, and she laughs outright when he pouts. "Can we go inside? I ran out of tissues."

With a roll of his eyes, he lets it go. "You can take a shower first, if you want," he comments as he gets out of the car. "I have something to take care of."

Jiwan checks her phone as she follows him into the house. "It's half past midnight. What could you possibly need to do?"

"I wasn't kidding about watching I Loved That Jerk tonight." He beelines for the living room, knowing all his devices are there. "I want it trending on Naver by morning even if it kills me."

"That's big talk coming from someone who wouldn't even read it until this week," she teases.

"I wanted it to be fresh in my mind for when I watched!" John defends rotely. They've gone over this already.

To his surprise, she sits right next to him while he gets everything set up. "I'm watching it with you, obviously," she answers his unanswered question, and he just has to hug her. They both relish in the contact with no console nor conflict to separate them, and Jiwan pulls away first. "Hurry up! The episode is already an hour long, but with my commentary it'll end up being more like two hours," she warns in jest. "Every minute counts, you know!"

He's struck by the distinct memory of when she was too considerate, yet so brave, to ask him for even thirty minutes of his time. It would be false to say the woman she is now is a far cry from the woman she was then: she is still polite, she is still gutsy. It's just that now, she is all his, too.

"I know."

~~~

+1. distinction

Waiting in her bridal suite for the ceremony to start is a lot more difficult than Jiwan thought it would be. Her friends, punctual people that they are, have already bade her well-wishes and taken selfies; and no one else has come since.

Somewhere past the doors is her husband-to-be, entertaining guests as they arrive and helping them find their seats. She'd rather be out there where it's busy and exciting instead of in her quiet, posh, sequestered cage. Her family may be bigger, but his circle of friends is wider than hers. (Much of her family isn't invited anyway, for obvious reasons.)

Suffice it to say, she is kind of lonely and a lot of bored. Jiwan lets out a heavy breath.

"Is something the matter, ah-ee?"

She didn't have to, but Jiwan deeply appreciates that her mom is waiting with her. "I'm just ready to get to the good part, I guess."

Unfortunately, her mother misunderstands. "It's not all good, you know. I'm not even talking about the big arguments. Kids, religion, finances—those are easy. The worst are the small things: running late to date night, doing the laundry improperly. They don't bother you at first, but then they kind of do, and then they build up, and then one last small thing is what causes you to flip. It always looks like an overreaction to the most recent thing when it hardly ever is. Those arguments are almost impossible to handle rationally."

Jiwan is scandalised. Her parents seem so happy! "Where is all this coming from? Are you and Dad getting a divorce?"

"Omo, omo, omo. I was just warning you that these things happen!"

"Are you also going to warn me against getting married? It's a little too late for that."

Her mother narrows her eyes the way other people would roll them. "I'm warning you about the inevitability of polite miscommunication. It's only natural that you don't tell your partner every little thing they do that bothers you; your nerves would fray very quickly, I'm sure!"

"So what do you do?"

She hums. "You choose to understand each other, no matter what," her mother says at last. "You each express yourselves the best you can, and it's up to the other to pick it up from there. Minimising the space between what you say and what they hear is how a relationship gets stronger; and that holds true for friendships, too."

That's a good line. She's going to steal it. "Is that what you and Dad did?"

Sparing a glance to the bored photographer in the corner, her mother leans over conspiratorially. "Your father thinks worse than he listens; but after thirty years of marriage, I've learned to work around him as well as he's learned to work around me." She straightens, then looks Jiwan in the eyes. "I get the sense that you and John will be different, though. I hope you two can do something with the lessons I've learned."

Jiwan nods. She does think she and John are different. "Thank you, Mom."

Her mother smiles warmly at her, holding Jiwan's hands between her liver-spotted ones. "Our darling ah-ee. You don't have to thank me for being your mother."

The moment is broken by a frazzled John Jang. "There you two are! It's time!"

The photographer springs into alertness as he follows after the three hurrying guests of honour, switching to filming just in time to capture the conversation which will later get a hearty chuckle during the wedding highlights video.

("What do you mean 'there you two are'? We were in my bridal suite the whole time."

"Yes, I know, but I couldn't remember where. There are so many in that hallway; I surprised three other brides before I found you. And they put you in the farthest one!")

Her mom hands her off to her dad and joins John's mom in front of the closed doors to the wedding hall, as is customary. The event staff grandly open the door for their entrance as the emcee (Goo Yeoreum was happy to do it) introduces them.

John sends her a quick wink once it's his turn to enter, and he strides through the doors like the model he might have been if only food hadn't called to him first.

The doors close. She and her dad step forward, her dad squeezing her arm so hard it's like he's the one about to get married. Jiwan's dolor evanesces, and excitement lights her nerves on fire. She faintly hears Yeoreum introduce them, then the doors open before her.

The hall looks the same as when she saw it earlier this morning, but as she steps onto the stage and walks down the runway, it feels different. Magical. It's not just the filled-in seats and wearing the dress, but her whole outlook on the event is different. It feels like she has a plot bunny she just needs to write down before she forgets it.

This is real. She's getting married.

Right before her dad passes her off to him, Jiwan sends John a wide smile with all the happiness she has, and his face goes slack with helplessness. Her blood feels like champagne; she's so giddy. This man—who is helplessly in love with her, whose vanity is more than mirrors and compartments, who is so much like her darling protagonist that she initially worried she was projecting onto him, who would crumble if she ever told him that she found his one-sided rivalry with Paik Jongwon adorable, whom she loves just as recklessly—wants to marry her.

Yeoreum invites the guest singers to the stage, and Jiwan squeezes John's hand before turning her attention to the two men. As his wedding gift, Jaehoon got his friends who happen to be idols to perform at their wedding. She only met them once before, and they seemed rather kind, so she is looking forward to their performance…

… Which ends up being a questionable uptempo remix of the I Loved That Jerk OST.

She glances over at Yeoreum, who fortunately looks as perplexed as she feels. When Yeoreum notices her attention, she schools her face into something more professional and makes a complicated hand gesture that Jiwan chooses to interpret as 'Don't worry, I'll make sure Jaehoon gives you a real gift'. John, for his part, is less than impressed.

"Thank you so much for that unique performance," Yeoreum speaks into the microphone as soon as the music cuts out. "At this time, I'd like to invite the honoured couple to recite their vows."

An event staff hands John a microphone from off stage, and he takes it in one hand as the other reaches into his suit jacket to pull out his written vows. He spares the rest of the room a glance before turning his attention to Jiwan.

His eyes remind her of the night he confessed to her, intense and singularly focused on her.

"Jiwan-ah." He licks his lips, fiddles with the paper nervously. "I wanted my vows to be… better, but I don't have pretty words like you do. I even wrote them in a bulleted list, so I don't get aesthetic points either." He shows off the page as proof, earning distant chuckles for the action. "I'm sorry."

As if he had anything to apologise for. She shakes her head resolutely, pleading with her eyes for him to continue.

He nods, takes a deep breath, and begins. "To Park Jiwan: If you only have one fan left in the entire world, I promise that fan is me. If your pencil dulls, I promise to be your sharpener. If your dinner tastes bad, it means I didn't make it, so I promise to make you a new one."

"I promise to earn your trust. I promise to be brave enough to start hard conversations and patient enough to end them properly. I promise to support you, and I promise to compromise on what support looks like. I promise to love you in all the ways that make you feel loved and create new ways, too.

"And lastly, I promise that these are not just promises. They are privileges you are granting me by letting me be your husband, and I promise I will never forget that."

She has no clue how she's supposed to recite her own vows with sobs clogging her throat, but it's her turn.

The applause dies down, the event staff brings her the microphone along with the basket she prepared ahead of time, and John raises an interested eyebrow. "There's a legend that says if you fold a thousand paper cranes while having one wish in mind, the wish will come true," she explains. "I only have twenty here, but each crane has a vow written in it."

She gently unfolds one and encourages John to read it out loud. "I promise not to use my webcomic characters to vent my frustrations about you," he reads, the end of the sentence broken off by his own laughter and that of the audience. She can only nod. There are many like that, genuine promises over benign hazards of being bound to her for life.

"I could pull them out and read them all, but instead I'll simply say this: I am going to complete this project. I will think of 980 more vows I want to make to you; and with every fold and crease, I will think about the single wish I want for us, which is…"

Originally she was going to say "which is that we will always love each other," but she looks out to her side of the runway and meets the teary eyes of her mother. Neither of them thought she'd get to this stage.

She faces John again. "Which is that we will always choose together. No matter what happens to or around us, as long as we keep choosing each other, I know we'll be okay."

As soon as the event staff free her hands, John pulls her into a hug that she returns with all her might.

"Can I kiss her yet?" he demands.

From there, the exchange of rings and the officiant's pronouncement of marriage occur in short order. Korean weddings are notoriously quick affairs to begin with, but Jiwan is still shocked at how soon everyone sits to eat the celebratory meal John himself designed—complete with a side of potatoes au gratin, of course. The first guest bids them goodbye before the top of the next hour.

("The wedding industry is very efficient, isn't it?" John's mother, Sunok, says during her talking head interview for the wedding highlights video.

"We were getting ready for longer than the ceremony actually lasted," Syejin comments wryly during her own interview.)

Their pyebaek is scheduled for tomorrow, so the new family of five head their separate ways: Syejin and Youngwon to the restaurant, Sunok to her hotel, and Jiwan and John back home.

Is that it? Can such a life-defining occasion pass so quickly? Surely there must be more, something that will make her feel different, something like when she stepped through the open doors and the ceremony commenced.

"I know we were planning to go straight home," John broaches once his new car (a Kia sports sedan which he uses whenever he knows they would be meeting her dad "just in case he changes his mind about me") is on the road, "but would you mind if we drove around a little bit? I'm not ready for the day to be over, to be honest."

Jiwan looks over at John in open wonder. That's it.

She doesn't feel different because nothing changed. John is still the person that knows her best, and she is still the woman that loves him for that. The wedding passed so quickly because it was never meant to last. It was a formality, really for everyone else's benefit. She and John were already bonded in all the ways that mattered before today, made even more evident by how his one question was able to completely undo her slow spiral into dejection.

By the same token, marriage isn't an event. It's effort, it's trial and error, it's choices. It lasts as long as they want.

They were wedded this morning, and they are married now. If there were at all a difference to find, it is that.

"I don't mind," she says at last. John sends her a grateful grin and directs them towards the highway. "The place I wanna go to… It'll take us an hour to get there," he hedges.

It's just an hour.

"Can't wait."

That's nothing compared to a lifetime.

~~~

A/N (2.23.2023): Let’s play a game called ‘how many times did I write the word hour in this entire project’.

John’s restaurant names have no canon. I’m calling them “[location] Jjang” b.c jjan is the Korean onomatopoeia for ta-da, his family name is Jang, and I bet he felt very clever when he came up with this pun because I felt very detestable for having done so on his behalf. The two canon locations are Cheongdam and Hannam > these are wealthy neighbourhoods along the Han > I picked the third location to be Seorae Village, another wealthy neighbourhood along the Han > Seorae Village houses almost all of South Korea’s French expat population > French-Korean fusion.

I have actively refrained from wedding ceremonies in my years as both a fanfic consumer and creator and would have happily continued if not for the fact that Johnwan’s story did not feel complete without one. It was a good challenge for myself, but wow never again lol. (Interested in learning more about the modern Korean wedding? Check out this Soompi article… It’s a sad day when the most comprehensive resource I could find on a topic of Korean culture is Soompi, haha.)

#love is for suckers #love that will freeze to death #kdramas #kdrama fanfiction #park jiwan #john jang #jang joon #johnwan #jaso*

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