Tumgik
#lovefool
lesbianjudasiscariot · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
LOVE ME
Boyish - Japanese Breakfast / Lovefool - The Cardigains / Love Me More - Mitski
317 notes · View notes
rosepinks-world · 1 year
Text
ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴀꜱᴋ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ 141 ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ:
ᴛᴀꜱᴋ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ 141 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆
Soap:
You’d be going somewhere for a few days. Perhaps to visit family or an old friend and Soap didn’t quite realise how much it would affect him.
He’d miss you so much and everything he did made him think of you:
Watching a show? He’d think about how much you’d love it, or how you would loudly complain about how shit it was.
Seeing a funny tiktok? He’d think about the look on your face when he showed you the video which would either be delight or disappointment .
Showering? He’d think about how sometimes you’d scare the shit out of him or how you’d sometimes either join him or just sit on the floor reading whilst having a normal everyday conversation and neither of you thought it was unusual, even after your friends told you that they’ve never done that with their partners.
Sleeping? He’d lay awake thinking about how you’d normally be in bed clutching his waist tightly as you wrapped a leg over his hip in your sleep- securing him in.
It was a struggle to get a glass of water at night for poor Soap.
He missed you so much that he actually was in pain. He tried to talk to the boys about it and they all gave each other a look.
‘Soap son, I think you might be in love.’ Price would say and that’s when he realised.
He was in love with you.
He’d sprint home get in his car and drive to wherever you were.
You’d just so happen to be in restaurant having a conversation with whoever when he sees you he asks to talk to you outside.
‘Soap!’ You laughed, as soon as you got outside. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Y/n l/n I fucking love you.’
‘What?’ You asked softly in slight disbelief.
‘I love you.’
You felt your eyes become a little glassy. Soap had driven for at least an hour, gone to the address you were staying at only for your friend to tell him that you were out at dinner. And he still didn’t give up. He ran (by the looks of it) to the restaurant and confessed his love for you.
‘Oh Johnny, I fucking love you too.’
☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆
Ghost:
Ghost would realise he was in love with you before you start dating. Let’s just say you two worked together. He was obviously very reserved at first having walls built up around him keeping all of his trauma in.
That was until you rocked up with a sledgehammer and broke down the walls gradually one by one. You’d eventually gotten close to Simon and was his number one to talk to, to go out with, to just sit with in silence.
He felt most comfortable with you.
Despite being comfortable with eachother you knew to respect his boundaries, and he knew how to respect yours. If there were things you didn’t want to tell each other you both knew not to push it, you’d tell one another in your own time.
One night, it was particularly rough for Ghost. The nightmares were getting worse he felt like he was going to have a panic attack and he couldn’t get the horrible images of his past out of his head.
He was about to pull an all nighter and just sit by himself until he looked over at his wall. It was a picture you had gotten framed and put up for his birthday. The picture was of you and him and Soap as he accidentally photobombed the two of you.
Gaz had taken it at a Christmas party. Soap was behind Ghost and had stuck some stupid reindeer antlers on him and you had a Santa hat on. You looked amazing in the photo and were smiling so brightly and that’s when ghost remembered your words.
‘Simon don’t suffer by yourself, I don’t care if it’s 3 in the morning , a natural disaster is taking place or the world is ending. You need to talk come over. I’ll be here.’
No one had ever said that to him before…ever.
You really did look out for him.
He looked at your picture once more and sighed.
Fuck it.
He grabbed his car keys and drove over to your place. When you answered the door he took in your appearance. You were in your pyjamas which consisted of an old band shirt and some skimpy shorts. Your hair was a little messy but it still looked good.
‘Ghost? You alright mate?’
He took a deep breath and simply shook his head, he was too embarrassed to actually say it out loud. It made him feel weak.
You took his hand leading him into the apartment and sat him on the sofa putting on some shit tv to distract him. He watched it whilst you made cups of tea.
‘Wanna talk about it?’ You asked.
‘Not really.’ He simply said.
He noticed that you didn’t make a face to show that you were annoyed.
Surely you’d be angry right? He’d woken you up at 2 in the morning because he wasn’t okay but didn’t want to tell you what was wrong. How were you okay with this?
‘Why aren’t you angry?’ He asked
‘What?’
‘I’ve woken you up because I’m not feeling good and won’t tell you why, bit fucking annoying for you isn’t it?’
You’d shake your head and immediately join him on the sofa with the tea, ‘Simon it’s not annoying. I’m happy that you’re here I don’t give a shit that it’s two in the morning, I’ve said this hundred of times I’d rather you just be here with me then for you to just sit by yourself miserable.’
‘Why do you do all of this for me?’ He asked genuinely curious.
‘Because I care about you, you muppet.’ You replied laughing. ‘Now shut up, drink your tea and watch the rich people argue.’
His eyes went wide. You cared about him?
He turned his gaze to the tv but didn’t take any of it in. He cared about you too. Maybe it was a bit more than that actually.
Maybe he loved you.
He looked over at you once more and slightly smiled at the way you held a biscuit to your mouth and loudly cackled at the tv.
Nope.
He wasn’t just ‘maybe’ in love with you.
He was definitely in love with you.
☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆
Price:
A/N: I completely made up Prices family backstory, not a clue what it’s actually like. His dad is also based off of someone me and my mum know and he’s too iconic to not write about.
Price was a family man when work wasn’t in the middle of it. He had quite a big family that no one knew about, except you.
Obviously he loved his family equally but he had a special place in his heart for his dad. His mum and dad had been in a car accident when John was five, his mum had unfortunately passed. His dad made it out but was paralysed from the waist down. His siblings lived at home and took care of his dad but he still tried to visit when he could.
This time it was a family reunion. John decided to bring you along and when you saw his dad for the first time you couldn’t believe how similar they were. He had a thick grey beard and he was smoking a cigar in the corner of the room.
‘John Price you are your daddy’s son.’ You said laughing.
His other family had met you before and laughed whilst agreeing with you.
‘Well, well, well who’s this John?’ Mr Price said smiling.
‘Dad this is my partner y/n.’
‘About fucking time John god!’
You laughed at that and took a seat next to him on the sofa.
‘Mr price I can see where John gets his good looks from!’ You started referring to the uncanny resemblance between the two.
‘Thank you love I mean I certainly blessed John with the looks his mother only contributed a bit.’ He then looked up at the ceiling. ‘I’m only messing Jenny don’t haunt me.’ You laughed softly, it was very sweet yet very sad.
‘How have ya been Dad?’ John asked sitting next to you on the sofa.
Mr price sighed, ‘Well I still cant fucking walk son,’
John rolled his eyes at his dad. ‘Dad every bloody year you say the same thing.’
‘Because it’s true and funny! Your partners laughing!’ He jokingly argued gesturing to you.
‘It is funny Price.’ You reasoned turning towards him.
John made a fake offended face and dramatically stood up to go get a drink for you both, leaving you and his dad to talk. He’d watch you two interact from afar a soft look in his eyes as he saw you talk so calmly and easily match his dads odd sense of humour.
He’d just stand there staring at you until his niece would come over.
‘Woah.’
‘What?’ He asked laughing at the teenager.
‘You’re in love.’ She said as if it were obvious.
He had a puzzled look on his face and looked over at you once again. This time his dad was asking you if you could accompany him outside so he could see his old mate. You happily agreed pushing his wheelchair outdoors.
As you walked by John, you pointed at the back garden for him to follow you when he was done, in case he thought you’d disappeared.
He had a stupid smile of adoration on his face, ‘You know honey, I think you might be right.’
‘Yeah no shit Uncle John. God 20 years younger than you and I can see love quicker than you can.’
☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆ ✧ ★ ✧ ☆
Gaz:
A/N: I do not support Kanye but this song is annoyingly good and fitting. X
Gaz was confident in himself. I mean he kinda had to be in order to be a soldier. He didn’t care about standing up for himself if he needed to and he didn’t mind doing it for other people either -if they deserved it.
So one night the pair of you went out to a bar, having fun with the squad and a few of your friends. Gaz, Ghost and Soap were sat at a table talking and drinking whilst you and your friends got up to dance.
Gaz kept an eye on you every know and then, just in case you needed it.
A man had walked up to the three of you and alarm bells went off in Gaz’s head. What are you trying to do here mate?
The man put a hand on your waist and attempted to grab your ass, Gaz immediately stood up ready to go over and tell him to back the fuck off, but you already had it covered.
You’d brought your leg up and kneed him in the groin whilst you and your friends told him to fuck off and to just let them enjoy their night out.
He wobbled away cupping his dick in pain and Gaz watched as you and your friends laughed at what had just happened.
He still went over, ‘You okay?’ He asked a bit concerned.
You laughed, ‘Yes! Oh my god! Kyle did you see that?’
He laughed too, relived that you were okay. ‘Yes I did, self defence lessons been paying off!’
‘Yes they have Mr Garrick, yes they have.’
He was too lovestruck to even reply. You were so perfect. Your laugh, your smile, your humour, your bravery, just everything.
‘God I love you so much.’
You stopped smiling and laughing very quickly. ‘What.’
‘Y/n,’ he started grabbing your hands, ‘I love you.’
You calmed down and squeezed his hands back,
‘I love you too.’
Your friends were all giggling behind you and Soap and Ghost were watching you both. They couldn’t help but feel happy, to see their good friend in love.
‘Ah young love.’ Soap would say even though he wasn’t much older then Gaz.
Ghost would roll his eyes as Soap ruined the moment. ‘Fucking hell you need to get a life Johnny.’
882 notes · View notes
vampwrrr · 1 month
Text
Lovefool 1
Tumblr media
The weighty thud of a stack of papers unceremoniously dropped on her desk made Iseul flinch, making her hand seize, and accidentally click the fatal “Don’t Save”. The kittens on her desktop wallpaper stared back into her disbelieving expression, their eyes dark, empty, their grins manic.  
“Hey…I need this award application for the department proofed and sent certified by end-of-business.”  Hyunwoo beamed down while Iseul sat, silent and shocked.
Unwillingly, her eyes slid to the clock on her desktop.  3 PM.  “The mail room closes at 4.”
“You’ll have to take the metro to the post uptown.  It closes at 5.”
“That’s a 20 minute ride.”
“Well, the envelope has to be date-stamped by today...”
She glanced at the stack.  No fewer than three grammatical errors on the first page danced across her sight line.  “So…you want me to proof…30-some-”
“53.”
She raised a brow, tried to calm herself with a delicate inhale before flicking her eyes up to glare at him above her glasses.  “53 pages…and make corrections…and get it to the post office at least 20 minutes away…all in two hours?  When you know that Council agenda items are due by 4:30?”
“I sent you an electronic copy, since I know that you prefer that.”
She stared blankly.
He had the grace to at least look a bit sheepish as he slowly began to back out of her office.  “Thank you…”
As soon as he was out of her sight line, she turned back to the soullessly grinning kittens.  They offered no assistance.  Sighing, she picked up the phone to call the Secretary of Council.  “Hey, it’s me.  Something’s come up; could I submit the agenda items for consideration on Monday before end-of-business…”
***
“Hey, could you help me?”  
As far as morning greetings went, it wasn’t Iseul’s favourite.  She raised a brow before looking over her glasses from where she had been reading the (printed!) Council resolution in preparation for a presentation at Wednesday's Council meeting.  Presenting encroachment requests wasn’t normally under her purview, but the right-of-way agent had come down with a hideous flu, and everyone else was too busy.  
The departmental administrator Park Duri (newish), sheepishly slunk into her office.  “Council has just requested updates for all current projects by 5 PM tomorrow for their strategic priorities meeting.  Could you get those to me by 12 PM tomorrow, so that I have enough time to look over them and make any necessary edits or updates before the meeting?”
Iseul briefly looked inward, weighing her chances in jail before reorienting on Duri.  “All-all?”
Duri grimaced.  “All.”
“That’s like…37 projects.”
“I know,” she sighed.
“Why do they always wait until the last minute?!  Why don’t they do it on some sort of schedule so that we can anticipate it?!”
“I’ve mentioned this to them before, but…”  Duri shrugged helplessly.  
Iseul tapped a pen against the desk, unwillingly mentally reorganizing her day.  “Yeah, sure.”
“Thank you,” Duri beamed, before quickly making herself scarce, probably before Iseul could ask why Duri couldn’t gather her own updates.
***
Council meetings were uneventful, if eye-wateringly long.  By the time the evening meeting adjourned, Iseul had been at work for almost 12 hours, and if the only thing standing between her and her bed was homicide, then she’d risk it all…
She wished that she could just go home, but unfortunately it was raining, so she had to drop by her office to collect her umbrella.  Upon exiting the elevator, the floor was dark and quiet, peaceful, and as she headed for her wing, she began to fantasize about slipping into her soft, cozy flannel jamjams, and sliding into bed next to her cat.  Yet, as she turned the corner toward her office, she saw a sight.  A terrible, awful, no-good, very bad sight.  
Light streaming from her boss’s office.  
Now, Iseul had a nice boss.  A pleasant boss.  A kind, generally genial, no-nonsense boss…
Who worked like a madman.  He was in by six, and usually not out until seven, answered emails at any and all hours of the night, and throughout the weekend.  She sympathized.  It wasn’t as if he wanted to work so prodigiously, but heavy was the head that wore the crown and all that.
The problem…the problem was that if he caught her at an inopportune time…she might get caught in the blast radius of spontaneous human delegation.  He didn’t normally delegate profligately, but sometimes, he would get into a mood, and anyone upon whom he laid eyes would walk away with a new project.  Or three.  
Holding her breath, tip-top-toeing, thinking sneaky thoughts, she slipped into her office, using the residual light spilling from his to see.  Carefully reaching up to her coat rack, she quietly slid the umbrella from its place, and turned around to leave.  No spectre of the protestant work ethic loomed in the door, no phantasm of industry.  Emitting a silent exhalation of relief, she started for the door, hovering just as she reached the exit.  Hearing no movement, she risked a quick look around the corner.  
Nothing.
Deciding that fortune favoured the bold, she made a break for it, silently slipping out of her department’s wing to stealthily stalk toward the elevator.  Sighing in relief, she kicked the floor button, and waited.  The elevators in this…relatively mature building took their sweet time, and as every second passed, she increasingly considered making a break for it to just walk down the seven flights of steps to freedom.  Just when she couldn’t take it anymore, the elevator dinged loudly, boldly announcing its arrival, making her jump and look around furtively, but joy!  Not a soul in sight.  The elevator doors slid open, and she started forward, only to jerk back.  
Her boss stood inside the elevator, blinking.  She tilted her head, not entirely unlike a confused puppy.  “Sajangnim?”
“Are you going home?” he asked jovially.  
“I…am,” she answered uncertainly.  
He was silent for a moment, but when she didn’t move, he raised a brow.  “Waiting for an invitation?”
“Your lights,” she blurted.  “In your office…they’re on.”
“Aish,” he sighed, fluffing up the back of his hair.  “I must have forgotten to turn them off before the meeting.  Oh, well, janitorial staff will do it on their rounds.”  He paused when she didn’t move.  “You coming?”
“Oh, well, yes…” she said awkwardly, bundling into the elevator.  The doors closed as she nervously fidgeted with her umbrella.  
The lift began to descend.
“Oh!” he started, and her heart dropped.  “I’m glad that I caught you.  Would you mind attending our superintendents’ meeting tomorrow morning?”
“The one at Operations?  At 8?”  A full hour before her normal arrival time.  
“That’s the one,” he confirmed.  
Her heart sank even lower.  Must she?  Pasting on a rictus of a grin, she expressed her frustration by subtly throttling her umbrella.  “Um…sure.  What’s the agenda?”
“Well, we’re discussing the details of a new employee recognition program.���
“Oh?”  Now, that piqued her interest.  In her old job, in another department, she had been involved with the development of their employee recognition program.  It would make sense that he would ask for her attendance then.  Her mind whirled into gear as she made a mental note to print her notes on her old department’s program, as well as the finished document, to bring to the next day’s meeting.
The elevator dinged.  First floor.  Her boss held out a gentlemanly arm, indicating she should precede him.  She exited the elevator, her boss close behind.  
“Yes,” he said, continuing the conversation as they headed for the exit.  “We need someone to take the minutes.”
“Ah.”
The velvet night was full of stars as she emerged from the brutalistic building.  
“Nice,” her boss said, glancing up at the sky.  “It looks like the rain stopped.”
*** 
Iseul’s calves burned as she schlepped herself up the last flight of stairs to the rooftop.  Dragging herself across the roof to her door, she made a mental note to buy more laundry detergent, so that she could do laundry on Saturday, and hang it up, as it was supposed to be dry and relatively warm.  
After she unlocked the door, it slowly opened with a haunted creak.  “Honey, I’m home,” she murmured to herself before stepping inside and removing her shoes.  
“Reh.”  Her ancient ragdoll cat, Somteul, who had the voice of a five-pack-a-day smoker, stomped over with a greeting.
“Hey, my baby…”
“Reh.”
“Mm-hm,” Iseul said, putting down her purse, and scooping up her cat, who immediately began her diesel motor impression. “Ah, let’s get you something to eat,” Iseul murmured, heading toward the kitchen.  Upon entering, she noticed a large dark spot on the floor.  Sighing, she looked up to see that the ceiling was leaking.  “Of course,” she muttered, opening the long cabinet by the fridge to remove the mop.  
Once the floor was clean and dry, she put a steel tub under the leak.  That would have to do until the weekend when she would have to climb on top of her apartment to patch it.  Goodness knows that the landlord wouldn’t.  Though she would still report it, in order to free herself from liability.  
Opening the cabinet under the sink, she pulled out a scoop of chickeny-scented brown kibble, and poured it into Somteul’s silver bowl before opening the fridge, pulling out a can of wet food, scooping a tablespoon, and mixing it with the kibble.  The smacking sounds of feline gustation echoed throughout the kitchen, making Iseul smile as she refreshed Somteul’s water bowl.   After several minutes, Iseul shook herself--realizing that she had zoned out watching her cat eat--and headed toward the bathroom for a quick shower.  
She avoided the patch of floor where the water pipe had leaked by the shower stall, causing the floor beam under the tile to rot to the point of being alarmingly soft.  Iseul had stepped on it exactly once since it had grown soft, and ever since had recurring nightmares of stepping on it and falling through the floor into the apartment below.  
After washing up, she shuffled, shivering--swathed in an oversized white tee shirt and loose pajama bottoms--back to the kitchen for a quick dinner of japgokbap, fresh kimchi and homemade gim, with a can of tuna, a little steamed spinach seasoned with ganjang and sesame oil, and a hot cup of boricha, before heading to bed to relax for the rest of the evening.  Collapsing onto the bed, she stared into the middle distance, the quiet of the apartment echoing around her, broken only by the quiet licking sounds of Somteul doing her own washing up.  
Coming to, Iseul lifted her gaze to regard herself in the mirror.  She sat hunched on the bed, damp hair hanging limp, face cast into sharp relief by the unforgiving light of the single naked fluorescent bulb in the lamp by her bedside, body comically dwarfed by the shirt, her breath lightly misting in the chill gloom of the under-heated apartment.  The bed would be cold, she knew.  
She wished…
She wished.
***
The soft chime of an incoming email caused Iseul to look up from where she was filing the monthly departmental credit card documents.  A new email from her boss.  She rolled closer to the screen to read it.  
The email trail detailed how he had reached out to Jang Hwayoung in Procurement to find a new snack vendor for the lobby.  Hwayoung had sent him the vendor list, and he had chosen a company called 1NB100 that sold sweet cream pastries.  Now he needed Iseul to schedule a meeting with the owner sometime next week, to discuss a possible contract.
Iseul pulled the calendars of the colleagues that her boss wanted to attend the meeting, to see when they were free before emailing the contact for 1NB100 with the currently available dates and times, as well as a request for his analogous availability.  That sent, she returned to her filing.  
Another soft chime caught her attention, and she looked to see that the 1NB100 contact had already responded.  She grinned.  “I love a prompt response.”  Reading the email, she smiled.  Unlike most people, who only gave her one option for availability, this contact had given his analogous availability for all of the dates and times that she had requested.  “And I love it when they follow directions,” she sighed happily while looking up the availability for her department’s conference room.
Unfortunately, it was booked.  After a lengthy search wherein she discovered that almost all of the other conference rooms in the building were also booked, she was finally able to reserve a room.  However, as it was rarely used, being located in the bowels of the building, she would have to go prior to the meeting to check the computer and monitor connections to ensure that everything would be available and ready.  She offered to do it that day, only to learn that the library had actually accidentally lost the key, so the room was off-limits until Facilities could call a locksmith.  Which, Iseul was assured, would happen well before the meeting.
Feeling dubious, Iseul could do nothing but leave and hope for the best.  With trepidation, she sent the meeting invitation to all involved.  The sound of another heavy stack of papers hitting her desk made her cringe, and she turned to see another one of her coworkers standing at her desk, looking sheepish.  Inwardly, she sighed.  “What is it, Sangheesshi?”
***
The day of the meeting, Iseul felt antsy all morning.  Though she had planned to check the A/V system closer to the meeting--unable to dispel the nervousness--she eventually decided to just go early to boot the computer and inspect everything.  Once there, she was glad that she did, as the computer had to run through a million updates before it would let her sign onto the system.  After a purgatory of waiting for it to be updated, Iseul was able to log on, and test the programs that might be used during the meeting.  A soft rustle caught her ear, and she looked up to see a man--not tall, but taller than she--hesitantly hovering in the doorway. 
Her first impression was that he was entirely too skinny.  An open-weave black sweater over a black sleeveless tee hung loosely from broad, but hunched, bony shoulders, and his forearms--exposed by pushed back sleeves and decorated in a variety of chunky silver and black metal bracelets--were rangy.  The man’s legs were swathed in loose black jeans, ripped here and there to show a knobby flash of knee, a wiry thigh, and his feet were encased in no-nonsense black leather steel-toe combat boots.  The hand that gripped a silver laptop was slender, graceful--the long fingers covered in heavy metal rings, almost delicate.  Sharp, but gentle eyes, rimmed in heavy black eyeliner, watched her, and long hair--bleached pale as moonlight--was gathered at the back of his head in a messy bun, with soft, artfully permed wisps framing his face.
Though he wasn’t a large man, his shoulders almost filled the doorway, making Iseul feel slightly discomfited.  
As if sensing her discomfort, the man suddenly bowed.  “Hello,” he said, his voice soft, melodic.  “My name is Byun Baekhyun…I’m here for the meeting?”
“Ah, hello,” she responded, bowing slightly in response.  Then, after a moment of thought, “You can come in and have a seat, if you want.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly, moving into the room to sit at the conference table.  Then, quickly stand.  “It’s nice to meet you.”
Iseul chuckled.  “You can sit down, I’m no one important, trust me.  I’m just the business manager.”
Baekhyun frowned as he sat rather gingerly.  “No, that’s not right.  Administration is often the most important part of a business.”
If there was one thing that Iseul hated, it was disingenuous condescension.  Even so, she kept her eye roll internal, settling for giving him a bland smile.  “Yes, well…”  
After a few seconds of awkward silence, she was ready to make her leave, but before she could, he asked, “My presentation is on my laptop; can I hook it up to the monitor?”
She groaned inwardly.  She was technologically competent, but though she knew enough to impress her halmeoni, and her older coworkers, she could hardly be called savvy.  She looked around the monitor, discomfited to see no usb, or HDMI cables.  “Um, well…”  She thought about it for a moment.  “Could you…email it to yourself, and just log into your email here?”
A shy smile touched his mouth.  “That’s a good idea.  Is it okay?”
Iseul laughed lightly.  “I give you permission.  If anyone has a problem with it, tell them to blame it on me.”  She heard the approaching voice of her boss, and gave Baekhyun a smile.  “Well, it’s that time.  Have a good meeting.”
“Thank you,” he responded politely.
She started to leave, but before she could make it through the door, Baekhyun awkwardly half-stood again, jerked an aborted bow, froze with a look on his face as if he were thinking, and then slowly stood to his full height.  “I’m sorry,” he said, “you--” he stopped.  Started again, “You never told me your name…”
“Iseul.  My name is Kang Iseul,” she answered, before turning the corner.  With that, she slipped out of the door, and returned to her office. 
“Kang Iseulsshi,” he said softly, quietly, all to himself, as if his mouth held a tender secret.  He smiled.  “Iseul.”  
***
Iseul huffed in frustration as the ringing of her desk phone broke her concentration.  Abandoning the disciplinary action letter she was ghostwriting, she looked at the caller ID and groaned.  Putting the phone on speaker, as if having that small barrier between herself and the words that she was going to have to endure would help quell her anxiety, Iseul closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, exhaling from her mouth as she turned down the volume so as to not let the caller’s words travel past her office.  “Hello?”
“Hello, this is Choi Bonggu with Noblesse Life Nursing Home.”  A suspiciously chirpy voice floated from the phone’s speakers.  “Am I speaking with Kang Iseul, the guardian of Kang Samsoonsshi?”
“Ah…yes…”
“Thank you for taking our call, gogaeknim.”
Iseul frowned at the phone.  Our?
“We’re calling today to let you know that Noblesse has been purchased by another company.  In reevaluating the relationship between value provided versus compensation offered, the company has decided that, due to rising assessments on properties, as well as supplementary inflation, they will have to raise the monthly fee for Kang Samsoonsshi’s room and board, effective three months from now.  
“Wait a minute.  I have a contract with Noblesse that stipulates her care in return for the funds from the sale of her house, car, and all other financial assets, as well as a monthly fee of ₩7 million.”
“Yes, we understand, gogaeknim but unfortunately, that contract was with the old company, and now, if you want to continue our relationship, there will be additional fees.”
Iseul once more inhaled as much air as her lungs would allow, and blew it out slowly.  “How much will those additional fees be?”
“If you decide to pursue a new contract with Noblesse Life, then, for Ms. Kang Samsoonsshi to remain in a room with a roommate, it will be ₩9 million per month.”
“You’re increasing the price by ₩2 million per month?!”
“I”m sorry, gogaeknim.  The price has increased.”
Iseul sighed.  “Are there any other options?”
“Yes, of course!  If you would prefer to have her moved to a private room, then that would be just ₩11 million.”
Iseul felt the pounding of blood in her temples.  If I am troubled by a ₩2 million dollar increase, what makes you think that I’d be mollified by the concept of a ₩4 million dollar one?!  “Choi Bonggusshi, I understand that Noblesse life was bought by another company, but I don’t think that it’s right for the facility to nullify a pre-existing contract.”
“Yes…  If you would prefer to no longer avail yourself of our services, then we do understand.  However, due to Kang Samsoonsshi’s poor state of health, we do have to warn you that, should you try to remove her, unless it is directly to another facility, we will have to contact Adult Protective Services, as well as the health department.”
Iseul’s jaw tightened.  “That sounds like a threat.”
“Not at all, gogaeknim; it’s not a threat!  Just information.  Please let us know what you decide, okay?  I will hang up now…” 
Iseul stared at the phone, silently wishing that her glare could spear a hole into whomever decided to take over the facility and break the contract.  ₩2 million?  ₩2 million?!  The majority of her paycheck already went to the facility, leaving her just enough to rent a small, rotten rooftop apartment that had no central heat, or air, and pay for monthly groceries, a phone, and electricity that was only used for a naked LED bulb in each room, her refrigerator, water heater, washer, electric range, and rice cooker.
“Hello?”  A tentative voice interrupted her increasingly murderous thoughts.  
Closing her eyes, and adjusting her expression, Iseul took a moment to put on her work face before turning toward the door.  
Baekhyun stood there, fidgeting awkwardly with the handle of a large, slouchy black hobo bag.  
She stood, giving a small bow.  “Oh?  Byun Baekhyunsshi?  How may I help you?”
He returned the bow before lifting a folder out of the bag and handing it to her.  “After the meeting, sajangnim accepted my vendor bid, and awarded the contract to me.  I looked over it and approved its terms, so I stamped my seal, and I’m just turning it in to be routed for approvals.”
Her eyebrows raised in surprise, as she gripped the paperwork, but didn’t take it.  “You looked over the contract?  Ah…maybe you should have a lawyer look over it?  Just to be safe?”
A small smile touched the side of his mouth and he shook his head.  “It’s fine.  Really.”
Iseul mentally shrugged.  It wasn’t any of her business; she took the contract.  “Thank you, but, you really didn’t have to deliver it directly.  We can route everything through email.”
Baekhyun paled, then flushed, his neck and ears especially turning an alarmingly florid colour.  “Oh, is that so?”  He looked away, chuckling ruefully, but something about his reaction seemed off.  He shrugged, and gestured to the folder.  “Well, you know…I’m here now, so…is it okay?”
“Oh, it’s not a problem,” Iseul reassured him.  “I just hate the idea of you wasting your time coming down here when you don’t have to because it can all be done electronically.”
He smiled slightly, a shy smile, so sweet and charming, that it made Iseul feel warm inside.  “I don’t mind…coming down here.  It’s okay.  I wanted--” he cut himself off, mouth open, then snapped it shut.  Opened it again.  Closed it.  He was starting to look like a particularly interesting species of fish.  His head jerked down, and he slid his hands into his pockets.  “I don’t mind…” he said quietly.  
Ah, Iseul thought.  He’s shy.  She decided to treat him more gently.  “I’ll take care of it,” she assured.  “As a matter of fact, I’ll go give it to sajangnim right now.”  She picked up the folder.
Baekhyun’s eyebrows raised, and his expression froze.  He blinked a couple of times, before he relaxed, blinking rapidly.  “Okay.  Thank you.”  The thanks were quiet, muttered barely on the edge of hearing.  
Iseul looked at him expectantly.  
“Oh!” he said, jerking back a bit before looking around and backing out of the doorway.  “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder before turning toward her boss’s office.  “I guess I’ll see you around.”  Baekhyun half lifted a hand, as Iseul turned and walked away.  
“Ah!”
She had almost made it to her boss’s office, but turned back slightly at his exclamation.  
“I guess that, if I’m going to be contracted with the City, I should call you sunbaenim, from now on?”
From the corner of her eye, Iseul saw her boss waving her inside.  Distracted, she nodded at Baekhyun.  “Yes, that’s fine.  Whatever you like.”  She entered to deliver the contract, but before she could, her boss’s work mobile rang.  
Without looking, he put it on speaker.  “Sim Soobin’s office.”
A low, throaty purr issued from the speaker, “Hey, baby…”
Iseul’s face flamed.  
Her boss looked flustered, grabbing ineffectually at the phone, which slipped out of his grasp and clattered along his desk.
Iseul tossed the contract on his desk, and practically flew out of the room, her boss’s low, hissed, “How did you get this number?” worming its way into her ears before she could escape.  According to office rumour, her boss was a playboy outside of work, but actually hearing evidence of it was just gross.  
Iseul trotted back down the hall toward her office, but stopped short when she saw something on the floor of her doorway.  Drawing closer, she crouched to pick it up, and realized that it was a phone charger with an attached cord.  She looked around, but didn’t see anyone.  Odd, she thought.  She stood to put it on her desk--whomever it belonged to would realize that it was missing and probably retrace their steps, when she saw two more items that had slightly rolled under her desk.  Reaching forward, she picked them up.  One was a black lacquered dojang.  Turning it over, she uttered a small, “Oh no!” before looking at the flat plastic card.  Darnit.  Baekhyun’s dojang and ID.  They must have dropped out of that slouchy bag.  She frowned in dismay.  Didn’t the man have a wallet?  
“Hey!  Iseul unnie!”
Iseul looked over her shoulder to see Bang Aera, one of the paralegals and the friendliest person in the department, heading toward her office.  She stood in greeting.  “Hey!” 
“What were you doing down there?” Aera asked.
“This new vendor just left his contract for routing.  Looks like he’s missing something.”
“Oh, no!  Well, just give him a call.”
“I don’t have his contact information.”
“Heol…  Well, he’ll probably retrace his steps.”
“Mm, probably.”
Aera looked down to where Iseul was holding the dojang and ID.  Frowning, she picked up the ID and turned it over.  “Wait a minute.  I know this guy…”
“Oh?  Do you want to give this back to him?”  
“No.  I mean--I can’t.  We went to high school together, but I don’t have his contact information, or know where he lives, or anything.”  She paused.  “So…he left his ID in your office?”
“Probably fell out of his bag.  It was pretty slouchy, and didn’t have any sort of closure.”
“Mm.”  Aera handed the ID back to Iseul, with a thoughtful air.
“What is it?”  Iseul asked.
Aera shook her head and smiled.  “Nothing.”  Her smile faltered and she paused.  “Just…be careful.”
“Be careful?  Of what?”  Iseul’s curiosity was piqued.
Aera looked uncomfortable, fidgeting from one foot to the other.  “Nothing bad, it’s just that…in high school, he was known for being kind of…intense.”
“Intense?”  Iseul repeated in surprise.  “As in violent?”
Aera’s eyes widened, and she shook her hands in negation.  “Not at all!  He never hurt anyone, he just…y’know…had a couple of…crushes.”
Iseul waited, but when Aera didn’t continue, she tilted her head.  “Okay…?  Didn’t we all?”
Aera laughed, but it was weak.  “I know, I know, but he just…like…he just…when he got a crush, he just became really focused, is all.”
“Like a stalker?”
“No, nothing like that.  It’s hard to explain.  He never really did anything…aside from buying them drinks and snacks, and leaving them on their desks.  Or little gifts.”  Her brow wrinkled in thought.  “One time he wrote a poem and slipped it into one girl’s locker.”
“Mm, he sounds really dangerous.”
Aera flushed.  “You had to be there.  The way that he stared.  I don’t know.  He just would kind of…hyperfixate on a girl until she would turn him down, and then he’d look so sad.  It was really uncomfortable.”
Iseul nodded.  “I think I know what you mean.  But that was years ago; he has probably grown out of it.  Besides, I’m well past crushing years, so I don’t think that I have to worry.  As it is, he could barely even look me in the eye.”
“Is that so?  That’s a relief.”
“So…were you looking for me?”
“Yes!  I routed an agreement to sajangnim a few days ago, and it’s rather time-sensitive, but I haven’t heard anything.  Could you…?”
“I’ll remind him, and stay on top of it,” Iseul assured her.
Aera’s smile was infectious.  “Thank you!”
“It’s okay.  Just to be safe though, send me an email, so I don’t forget.”
“I’ll go do that right now.”
“Mm, bye!”
As Aera left, Iseul hurried to her boss’s office to see if he had Baekhyun’s contact information, but he was already gone.  Returning to her office, she checked her boss’s calendar, tsking in dismay when she realized that he would be in a meeting for the rest of the day. With no other course of action, she opened her office safe where sensitive documents, and her business credit card resided, and put Baekhyun’s things on the top shelf before sending an email to staff letting them know to tell him that she had his things if he came looking for them.  
***
Some days later, Iseul was walking into City Hall, when something new in the corner caught her eye.  A vendor cart, with pictures of sweet cream pastries was newly stationed there, with Baekhyun behind it, dutifully, if listlessly, selling danishes, and tea.  Ah, perfect! She thought.  Heading over, she waited in line.  Because he was efficient, the line shortened quickly, but it wasn’t until she was three customers deep that he noticed her.  
He didn’t look at her long, but a sudden, shy smile lit up his face. Finally, when she was at the front of the line he made his greetings.  “Welcome, sunbaenim.  What would you like?”
“Actually, I’m here for you.”  His eyes widened, but before he could react the wrong way, Iseul explained.  “You left your dojang, and your ID in my office.  And your charger, I think.”
A profound look of relief washed over his face, and he put a hand over his heart.  “That’s a relief.  I’ve been looking for them!”
“I’ll go get them and bring them to you now, okay?”
He smiled gently.  “Okay.  Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.  I’m just glad that I could return them to you. I know how anxiety-inducing it is to lose something important.”
Baekhyun perked up a little at that.  “You get anxious?”
“Well…it was never debilitating, and I’ve mostly overcome it, but…yes.  Everyone gets anxious sometimes.”
“How did you do it?”
Iseul shrugged, discomfited.  “Life…  Anyway, let me go bring your stuff.”  
When she returned with his things, Baekhyun beamed.  “Thank you, thank you!”  An idea seemed to occur to him, and he gestured to his cart.  “Would you like a danish?”
“Oh, no thank you.”
“They’re good,” he said earnestly.
Iseul chuckled.  “They look delicious, but I left my wallet upstairs.”
“Oh, no,” he said with a little shake of his head.  “Service.  For bringing my ID.”
Iseul looked at the lovely, flakey, warm golden pastries.  They were square, each with a generous round dollop of cream cheese in the centre, some sprinkled, or drizzled with other ingredients.  Looking at the little handwritten signs, she read the flavours--blueberry, strawberry, taro, plain, honey-butter, matcha, red-bean, raspberry, and pistachio.  She smiled.  “Well, they all look so good, but,” she put a hand on her stomach, “I really shouldn’t.  My metabolism isn’t what it used to be.”
“A cup of tea, then?”
Now that was truly tempting.  It was a chilly spring, and Iseul usually had trouble getting warm.  “Well…”
He grabbed a large cup and flipped it over.  “What flavour?”
“A small would do,” she said weakly.
He just smiled, writing her name on the cup.  “What flavour would you like, sunbaenim?” he asked softly.  She looked at the board above his head, but before she could finish reading, he started listing them, drawing her attention back to his face.  “Today we have mint, nokcha, boricha, chai, honey-citron, baegyeopcha, earl grey, cornsilk, our proprietary honeybush-rooibos cinnamon spice blend…”
“They all sound tempting…  It’s so hard to choose; it’s a bit overwhelming.”
Baekhyun tilted his head.  “Would you…like me to choose for you?”
“Please?”
“Alright,” he said quietly, turning to a gleaming row of steaming silver kettles.  “How about cinnamon spice?  I blended it myself; it’s naturally sweet.”
“That sounds delicious.”
“Did you want sugar or honey?”
“Neither, if it’s already sweet.”
He nodded in approval, smiling as he watched the steaming reddish brown liquid fill the cup.  “Cream?  Lemon?”
She shook her head.  “Oh, not cream!  It sounds delicious, but it doesn’t agree with me.”
Baekhyun paused.  Lifted his head, looking off into the distance before orienting his gaze on Iseul.  “Do you like…oat cream?”
“Oat…what?”
His eyes lit up.  “Oat cream.  Here.”  He reached for another silver kettle--this one on ice, and poured a creamy liquid into a small cup.  “Try it.”
Uncertain, Iseul lifted the cup to her lips, and cautiously tasted the cream.  Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “It’s good!”
Lifting the kettle once more, Baekhyun poured the cream into her tea with a small, self-satisfied smile, before putting on a top, and handing it to her.  “Taste it.  It’s not too hot--the cream cooled it down.”
Trusting his words, Iseul took a sip.  The flavour of sweet, warm, vanilla and cinnamon cream filled her mouth.  “Mm!  Wah…  It’s delicious!  Thank you!”  The sound of a cleared throat made her spin, and she gasped in dismay to see a full line had materialized behind her.  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, bowing to the frowning man behind her.  “Ah, thank you, Baekhyunsshi!” she called, waving to him as she hurried away from the scene of the crime.  “I’ll enjoy it!”  Before he could respond, she scuttled around the corner, and away from the disapproving looks of the people who had been waiting in line.
***
The next week found Iseul in her office, working on a presentation for the Council. 
“Hey, could you do me a favour?”
Iseul looked up to see her boss standing in the doorway to her office.  “Of course.”
“We just scheduled a last-minute leadership meeting that’s going to go through lunch.  Could you provide food?”
“Sure, what are you thinking?”
“You know I like anything; I trust you.”
“Anyone have any allergies?”
“Not that I know of; you might want to check with the group.”
“Who’s in it?”
“Just look at the meeting on my calendar from 11 to 3.”
“11 AM, got it.”
Iseul checked the meeting invitation.  Nine people.  That wasn’t too bad…  She sent an email to all of them, cc’ing their assistants, then looked in her folder of restaurants with which she had already created service contracts.  Apparently the others in her position used to only use two or three chain restaurants, but that was boring, and Iseul didn’t want to do that, so when she was hired, she contacted every local restaurant in the area that made good food to set up a food service contract with them.  She was sure that her old coworkers in Procurement thought that she had gone insane with all of the forms she was sending, but having everything already set up came in handy when she needed to get food quickly.  Also, she thought that it made more sense to reinvest tax dollars back into local small businesses rather than support corporate chains.  
As the responses to her email began to chime, the name of a nearby Chinese-Korean place caught her eye.  After a few calls to some people who didn’t answer her email (and a few office visits), she called the restaurant, explained who she was, and how the transaction had to go (as City departments didn’t pay taxes), waited for them to find someone who could input the transaction into the cash register properly, and then made her order.  
“That will be ₩210,000 won.”
Iseul frowned.  “₩210,000?  It came out to ₩180,000 when I did the math.  Did you forget to remove the taxes?”
“Well, it’s ₩10,000 for delivery.”
“Okay...”  Fair, Iseul thought.  
“And we charge an extra ₩20,000 for large orders delivered to businesses.”
“So…if this weren’t a ‘business’, as you say, would there still be an extra ₩20,000 charge?”
“No.”
“Does the extra money go to the delivery person?”
“No.”
Iseul’s brain short-circuited.   “Then…you charge businesses more for…giving you more business?  For paying you more?”
“Yes.”
Her brain didn’t even have to struggle to join the party, as Iseul’s mouth had already taken over.  “Alright, then I’d like to make that order for pickup, please.”
There was a pause, and the sound of keys clacking.  Then, “Your total comes to ₩180,000.”
“Excellent.  I’ll be there by 10:30.”
***
Sometimes, Iseul wished that she weren’t such a good custodian of taxpayer dollars.  That she had the ability to sacrifice City funds for the sake of convenience.  
This was one of those times.  
She struggled into the revolving door of the City Hall building, her arms weighted down by heavy bags of steaming hot food.  As she lumbered toward the antechamber door that required ID to open, she despaired.  She didn’t have the strength to lift an armful of bags high enough to press her ID against the card reader.  She would have to put them down, and the concept of having sweet release for a few seconds only to have to once again shoulder her weary load made her growl.  Iseul inhaled deeply, letting out her breath in a sigh, before bending to put down the bags.  
She rose just in time to see a pale, slender hand, with delicate veins arching toward the wrist like scrollwork, press an ID to the reader.  Iseul turned toward the man to thank him, then started in surprise.  “Oh?  Byun Baekhyunsshi.”
“Sunbaenim,” he said, bowing politely.  
The automatic door opened, and Iseul bent to gather her bags, but Baekhyun was faster.  “Oh…no.  Don’t worry, I can take care of it.”  He grunted slightly as he lifted the bags.  Iseul pretended not to notice the struggle.  “Baekhyunsshi…your cart.”
“It’s fine,” he puffed shortly.  “I put up a sign.”
Iseul looked past him to where, “Be right back,” was messily scrawled on a whiteboard resting on his counter.  “Are you sure?”
But he was already striding forward toward the elevators.  He lifted a finger to call the elevator, and Iseul looked away from the trembling of his hand.  “Thank you.”  She stretched her arms.  “Those bags were very heavy.  I appreciate this.”
He hung his head, barely looking her in the eye.  His neck and ears reddened.  “It’s no problem.”  The elevator doors opened.  He gestured for her to go inside first.  
“You’re very kind,” she murmured.  His head, which had just been starting to lift, dropped once more, and Iseul noticed how he struggled not to smile.  She chuckled inwardly.  “I owe you a favour.”
“Not at all!” he said, whipping up his head to look at her.  
“Take it,” she said.  “I pay my debts.”
The elevator doors opened as Baekhyun opened his mouth to protest.
Sajangnim was just walking by on the other side.  “Oh, hello,” he said to Iseul, then looked down at the bags.  “Is that the food?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Excellent,” he said, stepping inside the elevator, and reaching down to take the bags from Baekhyun.  “Thanks for bringing them up, buddy.”  He headed for the conference room.
Iseul waved at Baekhyun as the door began to close.  “Thank you again!  Have a nice day!”  She headed to her office to reconcile the bill to her City account, smiling at the thought of his shy face.
***
“You’re late.”
“It’s 4:30 in the morning.”
“Exactly.”  Kyungsoo looked up from where he was shaping dough to glare at Baekhyun from under dark brows.  “Why are you late?”
Baekhyun yawned.  “Just tired, I guess.”
Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes.  “What did you eat yesterday?”
“Uh…”
His gaze grew even sharper.  “When did you last eat?”
Baekhyun sighed in annoyance as he pulled an apron over his head, and headed to the sink to wash his hands.  “Yah, who’s the hyung?”
Kyungsoo folded the dough with renewed vigour.  “You’re deflecting,” he muttered.  
“I had some soup.”
“I didn’t ask what you ate, I asked when you ate.”
“You should know, you gave me the soup.”
“So, Monday’s soup?”
“Yeah.  Yesterday.”
“Today’s Wednesday.”
Baekhyun stopped scrubbing his hands and stared off into the middle distance.  “Oh.”  He shrugged.  “Oops.”
“Hyung-”
“Alright, alright, I’ll have something today.  Are we going to work now, or are you going to nag me to death?”
“I can do both,” Kyungsoo quipped.  
“I can do both,” Baekhyun quietly mocked, bobbing his head as he began to scoop the sweet whipped cheese cream-- made the previous evening, and chilled overnight--into piping bags.  
“Hey, loverboy,” Kyungsoo quipped before snapping his tea towel at Baekhyun’s head.  “You’re always talking uselessly about wanting a girlfriend--how are you going to protect anyone with those noodle arms?”
Baekhyun paused, an irritated look on his face.
Recognizing that look, Kyungsoo stood down, turned back to folding butter into the pastry dough.  “Hyung, my family is getting sick of eating the leftover egg whites.  I was thinking of making something with them to sell.  What do you think?”
“That sounds good,” Baekhyun said quietly.  
“I was thinking about omelettes.  Maybe omelettes in a crepe.  Or maybe gyeran mari.  We could market it as good for diets.”
“Why not both?  Crepe omelettes one week, gyeran mari the next.  That way, customers wouldn’t get bored.”
“I’ll make some today, see how they sell.  Can you make the crepes?”
“Sure.”
“You can take home whatever doesn’t sell, right, hyung?” Kyungsoo asked off-handedly.
Baekhyun snuck a look at Kyungsoo.  His face was placid, but Baekhyun had been friends with him long enough to know when he was really worried.  “Alright.  I can do that.”  Kyungsoo turned, probably so Baekhyun couldn’t see his smile, but he still saw the puffed side of his friend’s cheek.  He mused.  Thought back to his struggle to carry Iseul’s bags.  He had been mortified, but she hadn’t seemed to notice.  She was so nice. 
Baekhyun jumped when his musings were abruptly cut off at the sound of Kyungsoo’s soft voice threateningly close to his ear.  
“Why are you daydreaming when none of the danishes are filled?”
“You scared me!”
“Your face scares me every day,” Kyungsoo deadpanned.  “Now, finish the filling.”
***
Baekhyun was lying on his bed reading the latest issue of Spy x Family when the jaunty sound of his ringtone filled the close walls of the gositel. He glanced to where his phone lay to see Omoni flash across the screen.  He sighed.  Reaching for his phone, Baekhyun held it in his hand, counting the rings until the penultimate.  Lightly swiping his thumb across the screen, he hit the speaker button and laid the phone on his chest.  “Hello?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Yes, omoni.”
“Are you coming to dinner?”
“I come to dinner every Saturday, omoni.”
“Yes, well.  I expect to see you here.”
“Of course, omoni.”
There was an awkward silence.  Then, “I’m making your favourite.”  A click, and his mother was gone.  
Baekhyun curled toward the wall, drawing his knees toward his chest, and staring at the painted cinder block, conflicted, for a long time.
***
Baekhyun buzzed the intercom at his natal home in the heart of Inje City.  A few seconds passed before he heard an answering buzz, and the click of the gate unlocking.  He walked up the stone walkway toward where the door opened to showcase his mother standing in the doorway.  
Trim and perfect, aside from the silver touching the temples of her hair--perfectly coiffed into thick layers that framed her face and fell to her shoulders--she hardly looked a day over 40.  “Adul,” she murmured as he followed her inside, and removed his shoes.  
“Omoni.”  He slid his feet into the same slippers he had been slipping his feet into for the last eight years.  Silence, aside from the soft shuffle of his mother’s steps, rang through the hall as she led the way through the house.  Baekhyun sighed.  “Good evening, omoni.  How are you doing?  I’m fine, thank you for asking.  The weather is charming, isn’t it?  My day?  Delightful.”
The look that she tossed over her shoulder was cool.  “Is that sarcasm?”
Baekhyun widened his eyes innocently.  “Why, no, omoni!”
“Because you know that I can’t abide sarcasm.  Sarcasm is a poor substitute for wit.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but the highest form of intelligence,” he rejoined.
Baekhyun’s mother opened her mouth, but before she could respond, his father exited his study, newspaper in hand, as he headed toward the dining room.  He nodded.  “Baekhyun.”
“Abeoji,” Baekhyun nodded back.
His father paused for a moment as if he wanted to say more, but then a caption in the paper caught his eye, and he wandered off, negligently waving a hand in the general direction of his son.  
“Good talk,” Baekhyun said at his father’s disappearing back.  
“Well,” his mother said lightly, giving him a critical once-over as they stopped at the entrance to the dining room.  “You look nice-”  
Though what he wore on his own time was his business, Baekhyun always endeavoured to dress the part when visiting his parents.  Dressed in a grey argyle sweater over a pale blue dress shirt, and grey trousers, he gave them nothing about which to complain, except-
Her gaze snapped upward to where his hair was piled into a smooth bun at the crown of his head.  “-but when are you going to do something about that dreadful hair?”   
There it was.  Baekhyun had been growing his hair since he graduated from undergrad; had bleached it the day that he passed the bar.  His parents, of course, hated it, though his father chose to suffer in judgemental silence while his mother was more voluble.  
“Be patient, dear,” Baekhyun’s father said laconically, as he turned a page of his newspaper.  “He only has two more years at most, and then he’ll have to cut it.”
“And that’s another thing-”
Baekhyun silently, mildly cursed his father as he sat at the table.  With something not too bad, but annoying, like eczema, or seborrheic dermatitis.  
“You have to take better care of your health.  Eat more.”  With that, she spooned a generous portion of kimchi jjigae, with plenty of pork into his bowl, along with a healthy serving of rice in another bowl.  “How do you expect to survive in the military?  You look like a bean sprout.”
“Thank you for the meal,” Baekhyun intoned, before taking a bite of pork.  He chewed thoughtfully.  “A handsome bean sprout, though…”  For a split second, he could almost swear that his mother looked at him with something like affection.  But it was too quick to tell.  It was always too quick to tell.  Baekhyun’s mother didn’t need botox to maintain a frozen expression.
“Of course you’re handsome,” she said blankly.  “You’re your father’s son.”
Unsure of how to respond, Baekhyun shoved a large spoonful of rice into his mouth, and kept his head down.
They chewed in companionable silence for a while, until, “You know…your cousin-”
Baekhyun inwardly sighed.
“-Junwoo just started a job with Daewoo Group.  He’s working with Mergers and Acquisitions.”  Baekhyun’s mother gave him a considering look.  “Maybe if you asked him to get you an interview-”
“Omoni,” Baekhyun interrupted, his voice mild.  “Your son graduated valedictorian from Seoul National.  I was the only applicant to pass the bar with a perfect score.  Junwoo graduated salutatorian from Busan.  I do not need him to obtain an interview.  Junwoo didn’t even get Junwoo an interview.  That was all oeharabeonim.”
“Is this rudeness?  Are you being rude?”
“Not at all, omonim.  Please continue to tell me how a second rate student from a 10th rate university could help further my career.”
His mother’s eyes turned glacial.  “You’re acting like I’m attacking you.  Who’s attacking you?  We-your father and I--just want what’s best for our son.  It would be criminal to spend your life behind the wheels of some…danish cart.  Especially after all of the hard work we put into you.”
“Omoni, I have an incomparable education, no debts, and I’m supporting myself.  Isn’t that enough?”
“Look at you.  You’re practically a ghost.  You’re not eating, that’s obvious, and it would seem from those dark circles under your eyes that you’re barely sleeping, as well.”  Just as Baekhyun’s heart began to open under the seemingly maternal concern, she continued.  “It’s embarrassing.”  
He felt as if someone had struck him a physical blow.   
“Yeobo…” His father’s voice was quiet.
Baekhyun quietly put down his chopsticks.  “Thank you for the meal.  I ate well.”  He stood, bowing first to his father, and then to his mother.  “I’ll be going now.”  He started down the hallway toward the front door--bitter, but unsurprised to hear no one call out, no footsteps--but almost immediately had to detour to the bathroom.
The storm was over quickly.  Baekhyun rose, staring into the mirror as he wiped his mouth before splashing cold water on his face, quickly rinsing his mouth to rid it of the bitter taste.  Upon opening the door, he stared into the darkness on the other side.  
Expected, but still…he wished…
He wished.
Baekhyun left the house quietly.  Slowly, dejectedly, he walked toward the metro, looking up.  
The velvet night was full of stars.    
***
The next day was like fog.  Baekhyun hadn’t slept well--hadn’t slept well in days, to be honest, and had increasing trouble keeping anything down.  He had seen a doctor months ago, who had diagnosed him with…stress.  He laughed mirthlessly when he remembered it.  Stress.  Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.  All because of…stress.  
Kyungsoo had taken one look at Baekhyun, and said absolutely nothing about him being late.  He let Baekhyun do his share of the morning prep, and fill his cart, but plonked him down and kept one threatening hand on his shoulder as he watched him eat an egg-crepe.  Then two more.  For some reason, Baekhyun never threw up Kyungsoo’s food.  Or his noona’s.  Other food often made his stomach hurt, but their food just always went down easy.  
Finally fed, he had to admit that he did feel a bit better, but his mind was still in a fog as he pushed his cart to City Hall.  All morning, he filled orders, took money, let his mouth handle the polite necessaries as he transacted his business, but if someone had asked him anything that had happened, he wouldn’t have been able to recall a single thing.  He was just so tired.  Granted, if he spent less time reading manga, and more time sleeping, he might feel better, but…at least he was happy when he was reading.  
His morning shift finally over, Baekhyun turned to start putting away everything, but he was too slow, too clumsy.  Everything felt like slow motion, like his body was encased in sweet syrup.  Out of nowhere, he tripped over his own feet--the fastest thing that had happened to him all morning--and shot out a hand to catch himself, but instead ended up knocking over all of his dry inventory.  
Slowly, Baekhyun knelt in the middle of the chaos, feeling the eyes of the other vendors, the City workers on his burning face.  Suddenly, he was no longer in City Hall, he was no longer 26 years old, he was 13 years old again, he was on the altar in his choir-boy robes, listening in horror as his voice cracked for the first time.  He had failed.  He had failed in front of an audience of not only parishioners--who were generally kind, and who snuck him treats when his parents weren’t paying attention--but all of the City and State officials, important business people, friends, and frenemies that his parents had wanted to impress with their son, the prodigy, the perfect boy soprano.  He had looked at his mother in horror, but her face had been impassive, eyes cold as snakes, cold as stone.  His father’s face had been red with embarrassment, and he hadn’t looked at Baekhyun so much as through him.  
The audience sat there as the music continued to play, but Baekhyun had been speechless, voiceless.  Every time he had tried to open his mouth to sing, to find a note, he only felt an unfamiliar weight, a great fat toad of betrayal sitting in his throat, distorting his voice, choking his lungs.  Finally, a kindly elder priest came forward and patted him on the shoulder, led him away to the back and, for loss of anything sweet, gave him a communion wafer and three vials of grape juice before leaving him alone to his shame, and the dawning dread that came with the realization that he had disappointed his parents.  He had committed the cardinal sin.  He had embarrassed them.  Jesus forgave, but his parents never would, he knew.  
Earlier that day.
Thursday brought Iseul an uncharacteristically early morning that ended up lasting absolutely forever.  She had been asked to attend another early morning meeting at the Operations building--this time on the upcoming fiscal year’s budget--in order to take the minutes.  While she inwardly enjoyed watching them stumble over problems that she had already solved in her previous position, wanting to hurry the meeting along, she did ultimately make a few well-received suggestions that finally streamlined the process.  Now, as she headed back to her building to take lunch before getting to an inbox that she just knew was already backed up, she wanted nothing more than a nap.
Sighing in frustration, she was heading toward the elevators when a terrible crash made her jump before crouching slightly, while looking around in trepidation.   Peeking around the antechamber doors, she saw that Baekhyun seemed to have dropped about half of his dry inventory, including cups, packages of coffee, swizzle sticks, single-use packets of sugar and honey…  The merchandise spread halfway around his cart, and in some cases (such as that of the cup lids), lazily rolled in various directions.  She cringed, the second-hand embarrassment almost too much to endure.  
Iseul grimaced, but before she could slink back to the elevator, the man crouched in the midst of all of the chaos caught her attention.  Even as she watched, another employee walked through the maelstrom, delicately stepping over Baekhyun’s hand without breaking stride as it reached for a package of coffee.  The employee was careful not to step on anything, but still…  
Baekhyun’s hand trembled.  
Iseul stared, transfixed, her eyes travelling from his hand to his face.  At first, it was obscured by his hair, which was loose that day, and streamed down his back like moonlight--but then he lifted a hand to brush the silvery strands off his forehead, and exposed an expression that was tight, lips flattened, but eyes wide and glossy.  His skin flushed.  Without conscious thought she moved forward, walking toward him before her brain caught up to her body.  
Silently, she crouched beside him, quickly, quietly, and efficiently helping to collect all of the spilled detritus.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Baekhyun pause, but before he could say anything, she leaned forward, let the curtain of her own hair fall between them to cover her face.  Thankfully, he remained silent until everything had been collected, but before she could stand and make her escape, a small, quiet pip caught her attention, and she looked down to see a drop of water on the floor.  Looking up, Iseul saw that he was silently crying, tears slowly dripping down his face, though he didn’t make a sound.  Awkwardly, she reached forward, gently patted his shoulder.  Without warning, his bony arms shot out, dragging her toward his body and enfolding her into a hug.  
Iseul stiffened as Baekhyun leaned his forehead against her neck, preparing to push him off, but then she heard a sniffle, felt the warm slide of tears against her collarbone.  Cursing herself, she reached up and slowly rested a hand on his back.  Gently patted.  The shoulderblades under her palms were sharp, jutting, pushing insistently into her palms as she tried to pat his back.  Feeling the undeniable evidence of his emaciation was worrying.
“I’m so clumsy,” he hiccupped.  
Iseul shifted her attention toward what he was saying.  “It’s okay…it could happen to anybody.”
“But it always happens to me.  I always mess up everything!”
“I’m sure that’s not true.  You just tripped, it’s okay…”
“It’s useless.  That’s why she doesn’t love me.  She doesn’t love me,” his voice was broken, quiet, but heavy with pain.  “She doesn’t-she just doesn’t.  I don’t understand.  Neither of them do.  I try…so hard, I’ve done everything, everything that they’ve asked me to, and I’m-I’m so mad!  I don’t know what else to do! They never-it’s never enough!  I don’t think that I can take this.  I can’t eat.  I can’t sleep.  I’m so-” he hiccuped, and the next words were whispered.  “No one ever touches me.  No one ever holds me.”
Iseul felt people’s eyes on her, and her face burned.  
Then, whispered, barely on the edge of hearing, in the smallest voice… “I’m so lonely.”  A sigh.  “No one loves me…”  
A shock snapped through her spine, and her heart throbbed.  Suddenly, Iseul felt angry at everyone watching, angry at the judgment toward this poor man, and towards her.  With anger came defiance, and she closed her eyes, tightened her arms around his spare body.  Resting her cheek against his head, she slowly rubbed his back.  He was warm, and he smelled sweet, like baby powder.  There she stayed for a small while--a minute or two.  It didn’t take long.
A shuddering sigh, a deep breath, and then it was all over.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.  Though watery, his voice was low, husky, and sweet.  
“You’re welcome,” Iseul answered, at a loss for any other response.  Sensing he was no longer in emotional crisis, she pulled away slightly, and he let her go, standing before reaching down to help her to her feet.  
“I’m sorry,” he said simply.  “I just…” he gestured at the cart.  “I’m just tired, that’s all.”  
“Don’t worry about it,” she answered.  After a moment of silence, she grimaced.  “Well,” she said, giving an awkward little half bow before starting to back away.  One, two, three steps and then she turned, making her way back toward the elevators.  Before she passed the corner, she paused, thought for a moment.  Turned.
Striding back to where a listless Baekhyun was putting away the last of his things, Iseul stood in front of him, her hands fisted at her side, as she tried to fight her desire to run away from this awkward situation.  “I…I’m sorry, but I’ve never been good at knowing…what to say…but, please…  Don’t skip meals.  Please get your rest.  I don’t…I guess that I don’t really know you, but you seem like a nice person, and…I know what I say doesn’t matter, but please…please, please…be happy.  I know that my words don’t magically change anything, but…just…” she looked down, gestured helplessly.  “I don’t know.  Just please be happy.  I wish that I could make you feel happy.  I want you to be happy.”  
When she looked up, he was staring at her, wide-eyed.  Her face burned, her whole body flushed with embarrassment, and she couldn’t take it anymore.  “Okay.”  She bowed quickly.  “I’ll be leaving first.”  And with that, she trotted toward the elevators, desperately trying to ignore the trickle of stress sweat that she could feel dripping down her underarms.  Well, look on the bright side, she thought as she entered the elevator.  Maybe  I’ll get lucky, and the elevator will go out, and I’ll plunge to my death, and will never have to remember that horrible speech ever again.  She cringed again at the memory of his wide eyes.  
Why doesn’t the earth ever open up and swallow you when you want it to?
***
Baekhyun leaned back in his chair, his feet up on the desk as he stared out of his only window into the rainy twilight.  Don’t skip meals…  He absentmindedly reached over to his mini fridge and took out a fresh roll of kimbap and an apple that he had purchased for himself on the way home.  Slowly, but surely, he ate his way through both of them, and when he finished…it didn’t hurt.  He stared out into the rain.  He wanted to do something.  He felt the…need to do something…
I understand that Noblesse life was bought by another company, but I don’t think that it’s right for you to nullify a pre-existing contract…
Baekhyun’s eyebrows snapped together.  Leaning back further, he looked over his bookshelf until he found it.  Contract Law in South Korea.  Reaching over, he grabbed the textbook, flipped to the bibliography.  The text he remembered thorough and through, but it was the contributing cases…his finger ran down the list of references, and he grabbed a pen and began to write.  Several minutes later, after having compiled a list of cases, he grabbed his laptop and began to search the Korean Law Information Center database.  
He quickly grew lost in reading case law, but some hours later, his phone chimed.  An alarm that he had set for himself when he returned home.  Please get your rest.  Obediently, Baekhyun closed his laptop, and went to wash up before crawling into bed.  As he lay there, fully expecting not to sleep, the memory of Iseul’s arms around him rose to his mind.  He could remember the warmth of her skin, the light scent of her hair, the sound of her breathing, the way his skin felt where hers touched it.  It had been such a nice feeling.  So warm, and comforting.  He closed his eyes, the better to relive it.  
He didn’t awaken again until it was time to rise for work.  
*** 
Days later, Iseul entered her office after a bathroom break, just in time to notice an email notification fading from her desktop.  Curiosity piqued, she shuffled to her computer, and expanded the message.  It would appear as if the quarterly service awards to celebrate the anniversaries of employees who had been working for the department for 5, 10, 15, and 20+ years had been received by the mail room, which had notified her for pickup.  Well, I’m already up, she thought, heading for the stairs, as the mail room was only two floors down, and Iseul thought it a waste to take an elevator for fewer than three floors.
Upon reaching the mail room, she was a bit surprised.  The stack of awards was much higher than usual.  
The mail room clerk noticed her consternation.  “I guess a lot of people started working this month.”
“I guess so,” Iseul echoed as she signed for the awards.  They weren’t heavy, but they were cumbersome, and it wasn’t until Iseul had already started halfway up the first flight of stairs that she realized that she probably should have taken the elevator, as trying to manage the stairs in heels, while carrying a cumbersome stack of items that inhibited her view of the stairs was starting to seem unwise.  A door opened overhead.   Welp.  Too late, she thought, too embarrassed to turn around.  
It was at the top of the third flight of stairs that it happened.  
The lace of her right ankle boot had come undone, and she unwittingly stepped on it with her left foot.  Upon raising her right foot to take the next step, it snapped back, unable to lift high enough, tethered as it was by the lace running under the sole of her left shoe.  Iseul started to fall in what felt like slow motion.  Her first thought was to drop the awards and grab for the railing, but the idea of being responsible for breaking an entire quarter’s worth of service awards made her think twice.  She would rather risk twisting an ankle, spraining a wrist, or skinning a knee than endure her boss’s disappointment.
In a backwards freefall, she shut her eyes tightly and tensed, when suddenly, arms snaked around her waist, wrenching her forward.  At first, her senses were so scattered that she didn’t even register that she was once more right side up.  Realizing that her eyes were closed, and her body still tensed, Iseul relaxed, opening her eyes only to immediately be caught by the gaze of soft, but sharp eyes rimmed in kohl.  
Baekhyun’s mouth was pressed tight, and his face was scarlet, and as Iseul’s senses one by one began reporting for duty, she became aware of the fact he was breathing rather heavily.  Realizing both the effort that he must have expended to pull her back to safety, as well as that her uprightness was solely due to her body pressing against his, Iseul wanted to puff away in a cloud of embarrassment.  First, that awful speech about how he should take care of himself, and now this.  She just could not stop humiliating herself around this man.  “Oh!  I-I’m sorry!”  She pulled away, and he immediately let her go, and took a step back.  
“It’s fine,” he muttered, though the crimson hue of his ears and neck told a different story.  
“Are you okay?” she asked.  “Did I hurt you?”
He looked at her curiously.  “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks to you.”  She tittered nervously.  “Is your back okay?  I know that I’m a lot of weight to pull.  I would say that was dangerous, and you should have just let me fall, but that would be a lie.  I’m grateful.  Sorry to your poor muscles, but still grateful.”
Baekhyun stared at her as if she had suddenly started speaking English.  “I’m fine,” he said more firmly.  
“Oh, okay.  Sorry,” she murmured, realizing that she had hurt his pride.  
He glanced at the packages in her arms.  “Why didn’t you take the elevator?”
“Well, you know.  Every little bit of exercise counts.  You shouldn’t neglect your health, especially as you grow older.”
Baekhyun looked at her sideways.  “Oh, really?  Then…”  Crouching slightly, he hefted the awards from her arms.  “Your office?”
“Wait, no--you don’t have to do that--”
But he was already starting up the stairs.  
Iseul awkwardly trailed behind.  “Thank you, again.”
“You’ll just have to owe me another favour, I guess,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“If I keep this up, I’ll become quite indebted to you.”
Later, as Iseul ruminated over to their interaction--she couldn’t swear--but thought that she had heard him say, very softly, “I wouldn’t mind.”
***
Iseul leaned back into the softness, pulling him closer.  His arms wrapped around her, solid, warm, comforting, his head pleasantly heavy on her chest.  Grateful for the privilege, she ran tingling fingertips through silky hair, revelling in the soft, sweet noises he made.  His arms tightened as he pulled her closer, nuzzling into her neck, and Iseul felt peace.  Love.  Her heart was beating so fast, but it was okay, because so was his, right against her skin, fluttery and strong.  She yearned to be closer, longed for a kiss.  
“Kiss, please?” he chuckled softly, held her tighter.
She was safe, she was loved, she-
She woke up.
***
“Hello, you came to me, giving me your shy scent,” Baekhyun sang lightly, smiling brightly at his customer, a woman who blinked in surprise as he handed her a plain sweet cream danish, before blushing and scuttling away.  “Welcome, how may I help you?” he asked the next customer.  
“One matcha sweet-cream danish, please.”
“Yes, that will be ₩3000” he sing-songed sweetly, reaching in his cart to procure the requested pastry with tongs.  “In my hazy dream, you were shining, dazzling…” he stopped singing to direct his smile at the customer “₩3000, please.”  She gave him the money and wandered dazedly away.  Another took her place. “Welcome, how may I help you?” he asked warmly.
This time it was an intern who was caught in his crosshairs.  ‘Y-yes,” she stammered.  “Um…may I have two bl-bl-”
“Two blueberry danishes?” he supplied sweetly.
“Yes, please.”
“With a fluttering heart, without knowing, I went to you, step by step, and I stayed by your side--gogaeknim, would you like anything to drink?”  
“No, thank you.”  Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Baekhyun deftly manoeuvered the danishes into a little sleeve of peach-coloured paper.  “Then, that will be ₩6000.”  He took her card and swiped it, then gave it back to her, along with the pastries.  
“Thank you.  Bye,” she said, reluctance lacing her voice as she slowly walked away.  
“Come back soon!” he called, with an answering wave of his own.
Iseul watched from behind the corner of the wall as Baekhyun plied his trade.  She, along with the department's credit card, had been sent on a mission--obtain breakfast for the staff meeting, as a morale-booster.  
Ever since that initial awkward day, whenever she saw Baekhyun (from afar, as she was far too embarrassed to come within conversational distance) he seemed to be more at ease.  Charmingly, he had begun to sing quietly as he worked, and under the thick eyeliner, the dark circles had disappeared.  He was still as thin as ever, and apparently, there had been reports of him muttering something about contract law under his breath, which, okay, was weird, but the listlessness, and most importantly, the despair that he had displayed that day were gone.  
To be honest, Iseul felt…terminally awkward.  Baekhyun was…well, he seemed very nice.  But she could tell that he was younger.  She wasn’t sure by how much, but she could tell that it was enough.  She didn’t regret comforting him that day, but she would absolutely die if she thought that he thought that she had taken his need for comfort as a romantic invitation.  She knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of unwanted attention.  
She wanted to see him happy, that much was true.  And…she wished that he would take better care of himself.  She had toyed with the idea of bringing him food, but quickly dismissed that as being entirely too much.  He would definitely have gotten the wrong idea, and the idea of making him uncomfortable was unbearable.  Furthermore, Iseul was not trying to fuel the office rumour mill by playing the desperate spinster.  
Not to mention the fact that she had to save every bit she could to pay the increased nursing home fee.  
Now, he was helping an older gentleman, who had apparently had the same idea as Iseul’s boss.  Realizing that if she didn’t hurry, Baekhyun might sell out of pastries before she was able to buy the sweets for her team, Iseul grit her teeth, slipped from her hiding place, and slunk forward, trying to stay unnoticed until the last minute.
“My heart melts at your smile,” Baekhyun sang softly, sweetly, his gaze flickering up from where he was handing the man a box of danishes to see Iseul.  “When our eyes meet, my heart pounds…”
The man left.
Baekhyun tilted his head as he smiled at her.  “Hello, sunbaenim.  What can I do for you?”
Badum. Badum  Shoot.  Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!  Iseul had never been so glad that she had a poker face.  “I’d like 32 assorted danishes, please.”  His eyebrows shot up, and Iseul flushed in embarrassment.  “They’re having a meeting,” she said lamely.  
“Ah,” he said, nodding, as he folded a box.  “Would you like me to carry it up for you?”
“No, thank you.  I can manage.”
He smiled down as he filled the box.  “Just because you can doesn’t mean that you should have to.”
Iseul fidgeted.  “Yes, well.”  Not knowing what else to say, she just fell silent.  
He continued to sing quietly as he finished, his voice so gentle, so husky and sweet.  “Remember my smile in your heart.  Think about it several times a day…”
Iseul wished that she could be a fly on the wall of his cart, unnoticed, admiring.  She wished that voice could sing her to sleep at night.  
Baekhyun handed her the box, and took her payment, his fingertips lightly brushing against hers as he accepted the card. A few moments, and then, “Your receipt.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll see you around.”  He smiled.  
At a loss, Iseul just smiled awkwardly, and turned around, silently cursing herself for her inability to just be normal for once.  Baekhyun’s quiet voice followed as she walked away, lovely and lyrical as he continued to sing while waiting for the next customer.
“With this mysterious and strong attraction I want to spread my wings toward you…”
She turned the corner, put her ID against the reader to let her into the inner lobby with the elevators.  
“Oh this is what I think of you…
You’re beautiful.”
“Kim busijangnim?”
The vice mayor of Inje looked up from where she had been watching the scene unfold below the balcony.  “Yes?”  Her executive secretary, Do Eunkyung, looked at her expectantly.  “Apologies, where were we?  Ah, yes.  Have the Parks department send the contract documents for signature by Wednesday so that I have time to read them before Friday afternoon.  I have no desire to spend my weekend reading sole source justifications.”
“Of course, busijangnim.  Will that be all?”
“Yes, thank you.”  Business thus concluded, the vice mayor once more turned her attention to the man below, who was currently pouring tea for a customer.  She sighed.  “Adul…what are you doing?”
***
“I need you to do me a favour.”
“Ah, hello, hyung.  It has been awhile, hyung.  How are you, hyung?”
Baekhyun rolled his eyes.  “Are you done?”
“I could go on.”  
“Hyung.  Do you remember the time you were too tired from exams to write that final criminal law research paper, and I did it for you?”
Jeong Beomseok’s voice warmed considerably.  “Ah, Baekhyunah!  What can hyung do for you today, tell me.”
“I need you to take a client.”
“What’s the case?”
“Breach of contract.”
“I don’t know...”
“I’ve already done all the research.  Check your email.  Also, I’ll prepare all of the documents.  All you have to do is be the face of it.”
“Who’s the client?”
“A sunbaenim with whom I work.  Kang Iseul.”
“And why are you calling on the client’s behalf?”
“Because I’m the one hiring you.  Though, if you play your cards right, you can turn this into a class action.”
Beomseok was silent for several moments.  Then, “Are you getting me into something messy?”
“Not at all.  She’s being railroaded by a predatory company.  I just don’t think that’s fair.”
“Mm.  And why then, aren’t you representing her?”
“I’m on sabbatical.”  Baekhyun’s voice was laconic.
“I see.”
“One more thing.”
“Naturally.”  
“You can’t tell her that I hired you.”
“I beg your pardon?!”
“Just…I don’t want her to feel…indebted.”
“So, I”m just supposed to show up and say, ‘Hello, complete stranger, you don’t know me, I don’t know you, but I’m a lawyer, and I’m going represent you on this case for which you have not tried to retain legal counsel.’”
“Wah, as expected, hyung is the smartest!”
“I wish that you had let me flunk that class.”
Baekhyun chuckled.  “Why would I?  I never miss an opportunity.”
***
The chime of a new email pulled Iseul’s attention from where she was paying bills.  An invitation to a meeting in…15 minutes.  Meeting invitations routinely came to her, as the custodian of her department’s conference room, so that, in and of itself, was not unusual.  She opened it, preparing to accept, but something caught her eye.  It didn’t have the Conference Room’s title on it, but her name.  “Hm.”  The body of the meeting invitation was blank, and there were no attachments, giving her no idea of the agenda.  Puzzled, she looked at the sender, and felt her heart stutter.  Do Eunkyung, on behalf of Kim Soobong.  The vice mayor.  Iseul thought for a moment, then opened her boss’s calendar, looking for an analogous invitation, as sometimes people inviting him to meetings would cc her, to ensure that the invitation made it on his calendar.  
Blank.
The invitation truly was meant for her.  …unless?  She hit reply.  Good morning, Do sunbaenim!  I received the meeting invitation below.  Did you want me to put it on Sim sajangnim’s calendar?  Send.
The response was almost instantaneous.  Good Morning Kang Iseulsshi.  That invitation was meant for you.  Thanks.
Thanks?  Thanks??  For what?! Iseul thought anxiously.  Kim Soobong was a very good vice mayor.  Intelligent.  Capable.  Logical.  Fair.  
And terrifying beyond all reason.  
She never forgot anything, ever, and Iseul was fairly positive that she had never personally witnessed the woman blink.  Iseul had a working theory that she had a pair of clear, nictitating eyelids that kept her corneas moist.  What could she possibly want with me?  Wary, Iseul accepted the meeting, but added the note, Could you let me know the subject of the meeting, so that I can prepare properly, in order not to waste busijangim’s time?
More time passed  than she felt was strictly necessary before the response faded in.  Unfortunately, Kim busijangnim has not shared that information with me at this time.
Checking the time, Iseul realized that if she were to make the meeting on time, she would have to leave now.  
Her stomach was in knots as she rode the elevator to the ninth floor.  The bell dinged, the doors opened, and she peeked around the side, as if scouting for monsters.  Seeing the hallway was vacant, she reluctantly emerged, turning toward the Mayor’s office, dragging her feet as she walked toward what felt like her doom.  What could the vice mayor possibly want?  Was she going to be fired?  Why?  Was it because she didn’t always come in right exactly on time?  Was it because she took home the expired creamer instead of throwing it out?  Because she borrowed the departmental screwdriver to tighten the seat on her toilet?  She had brought it back…
Inhaling deeply, she opened the door to the office, pasting on a bright smile.  “Ah, hello, Do sunbaenim!” she greeted, bowing toward the executive secretary.  
“Kang Iseulsshi,” Eunkyung answered, standing to wave her in.  “Do you know where Kim busijangnim’s office is located?”
“No.’ 
“I’ll take you there.”  
I’d rather you didn't, Iseul thought as she followed Do Eunkyung down the winding maze of hallways until she came to one in the corner.  Smiling, Eunkyung left Iseul to knock on the heavy wooden door.  Heart in her throat, Iseul lifted her fist and knocked, knuckles barely brushing the door in the hopes that maybe the vice mayor wouldn’t hear, that maybe she had scheduled the meeting in error, that maybe, for once in her life, she’d forgotten something and would no longer remember Iseul existed…
“Come in.”
Darn.  Cautiously, Iseul twisted the knob, the sweat on her palm making her hand slip.  She opened the door to find a very large, well-appointed office, done in dark, warm wood, with the vice mayor sitting behind her desk on the other side of the room.  “Kang Iseulsshi.”  
Iseul tried to smile, failed, and hid it by bowing deeply as she entered.  “Kim busijangnim.”
“Close the door.”
Inwardly, Iseul began to pant like a terrified dog.  She closed the door, and stood there, at a loss.  Kim busijangnim smiled, and Iseul wasn’t sure if it was an invitation, or a threat.  
“Please, come in.  Have a seat.”
Iseul did so, perching on the edge of the oxblood leather seat in front of the vice mayor’s desk.  This close to the woman, Iseul found that all of her saliva had inexplicably fled, and she swallowed hard.  
The vice mayor gestured to a warm brown electric kettle covered in woven wicker.  “Would you care for some tea?”
Iseul wanted to say no, but unfortunately, as her body seemed to be no longer producing moisture, she assented.  
Kim busijangnim’s movements were incredibly graceful as removed the lid from a small white china teapot.  She then poured steaming water from the kettle into a matching white cooling bowl, from the cooling bowl into the small waiting teapot, and then from the teapot into two cups.  
Iseul watched, confused, but mesmerized.  
The vice mayor smiled.  “You have to warm the teapot and the cups first, but not directly from the pot, or else they might crack.”
“Ah…”
Taking a small pair of pale wooden tongs, she then pulled a pinch of green tea leaves from a small, matching wooden bowl, and placed them in the teapot before once more pouring water from the kettle into the cooling bowl, and from the cooling bowl into the teapot.  She replaced the lid.  “Now.  How are you doing in your department?  Are they treating you well?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent.  Then, I won’t waste your time.  You’re probably wondering why I called you here today.”
“Well…”
“It’s alright.  I’ve looked at your file.  You’re an exemplary employee.  And you have an MBA?”
Iseul felt dizzy.  “Yes, thank you.  I-I do.”  
“And you chose to come work for a municipality?  Why?”
“Reliability…good benefits,” Iseul answered weakly.  She didn’t mention the fact that, without connections, her superlative education had garnered her much of nothing from the corporate world.
“Seems a bit underachieving, but alright.  To the point, I was just wondering.  How do you know Byun Baekhyunsshi?”
Iseul had to fight against her eyebrows to keep them level. “The danish vendor?”
The vice mayor looked pained.  “The very same.”  
“I don’t know him…really.  I met him when he had an introductory meeting scheduled with Sim sajangnim…and then again when he came to deliver the signed contract…  Of course I see him every day when I come to work, and I’ve bought danishes for the office from him.”  She frowned in thought.  “He seems to be very nice.  He helped me carry some heavy bags upstairs once.  He makes excellent tea.”
“Speaking of…”  The vice mayor carefully poured the water from the cups into a waiting bowl. She then placed elegant fingertips on top of the small tea kettle, keeping it closed as she poured the delicate tea into two small china cups.  She gracefully placed one cup in front of Iseul, and took the other for herself, taking a small sip before saying, “Please.  Enjoy.”
“Thank you.”  Unsure of whether she should say anything special, Iseul paused before turning to the side and taking her own sip.  The tea was the perfect temperature. 
The vice mayor put down her cup, fixed her gaze on Iseul.  “I saw you with him when he had that…episode the other day.”
Iseul coloured.  “Ah.  Yes…” she answered weakly.  “Well…it just…happened that way…”
“You two seemed to be…rather intimate.”
“Not at all!” Iseul protested.  “I just…went to help him, and, well, I saw…that he was crying, and I couldn’t…I just couldn’t ignore that, so I just…I just patted his shoulder, and…well…”  Iseul paused.  “But…why…?  I don’t understand why you would call me in here…for…that…?”
Kim busijangnim leaned back in her chair, her eyes laser focused on Iseul.  “That young man is my son.”
Iseul was eternally grateful to have not been drinking that very moment, because if she had, then she certainly would have ended her life choking to death on some very fine tea.  Finally realizing the purpose of this meeting, Iseul shook her head.  “Kim busijangnim, I didn’t know.  But, even if I did…I promise, I haven’t done anything untoward.  We have never talked outside of work…he dropped his seal and ID once, and I found them and gave it to them, and that, along with everything that we’ve already discussed, is literally the extent of all of our interactions.  Well, he kept me from tripping once, but that’s it!  I promise you, I'm not a weird person!  I have absolutely no designs on your son.”
The vice mayor tilted her head in a way that suddenly seemed eerily familiar.  “Kang Iseulsshi.  I think that there has been a misunderstanding.  I didn’t want to talk to you because I thought that you might be taking advantage of my son.  I called you here to warn you.”
Iseul felt as if every internal organ that she had had all simultaneously pulled loose from their moorings, and spontaneously dropped out of her butt.  “I’m sorry?” she breathed.
“That…sounded a bit threatening; I apologize.  I didn’t mean it that way,” Kim busijangnim said, airily waving a graceful hand.  She leaned forward.  “What I mean is…my son is…well, he can be intense, to put it mildly.  And he grows attached very easily.  I’m just warning you to be wary.  A word to the wise is sufficient.”
“I…see…” Iseul responded dazedly.
“Well, I’m glad that we have that out of the way.”  The vice mayor stood.  “Thank you for coming; I trust that you can see yourself out.”
Iseul floated to her feet, feeling as though everything below her knees had gone numb.  “Yes,” she agreed, “I’ll be going first…  Thank you for the tea.”
The vice mayor had already begun to clear her desk, putting the tea set on a tray and putting it to the side before sitting, and pulling out a folder full of important looking documents.  “Mm.” 
Iseul slunk out of the office and closed the door, leaning heavily against it, and gasping (quietly) for air.  
What was that?
***
Baekhyun sighed as he finally reached home.  It had been a long day, and he was looking forward to showering, and slipping into bed with the newest volume of Ghost in the Shell, before taking a half hour before sleep for a little well-deserved daydreaming.  He found that he slept better when he did this, and if he were to be completely honest, though he would feel a bit embarrassed in saying it, Kang Iseul had taken the starring role in most of his daydreams since she had hugged him that day.  Even more since he had gotten to play the hero in the stairwell.
She had smelled…so nice.  So sweet and light, like soap and clean laundry.  He had struggled to restrain himself from nuzzling his face into her neck that day that she had held him.  But he had restrained himself.  He wasn’t a pervert.  He would have hated to have given her the wrong idea.  Sure, being that close to a woman in…in…well, ever, really had made him a bit dizzy.  But that had only been toward the end, once he had been able to calm down, and realize his position.  His very soft, very sweet-smelling, very comfortable position.  
He wished that he could have stayed in her arms longer, and not in sight of so many judgemental eyes.  He wondered what she was like when she was in love.  Affectionate?  Tactile?  Gentle and shy?  Baekhyun blushed at that thought, as he slid his key into the lock of his mailbox.  “Iseul sunbaenim…” he said quietly, with a small, giddy chuckle.  Then, “Iseul noona…  Ah!”  That was too much for him, and he had to cover his face with his hands.  Noona…
Laughing to himself as he calmed down, he reached into his mailbox to find a single letter.  His blood chilled when he read the sender.  He tightened his mouth as he closed the mailbox, and headed upstairs, wanting to be in the privacy of his own room when he read it.  As soon as the door closed behind him, he was tearing it open, his stomach dropping with what he knew he would find. 
“Dear Byun Baekhyun:  According to the "Military Service Act" Article 3, "Every male the Republic of Korea shall faithfully perform mandatory military service, as prescribed by the Constitution of the Republic of Korea and this Act…” 
His time had come.  
Inhaling deeply to calm himself, he read the rest of the letter.  At the end, a glimmer of hope.  A possibility of postponement.  With one of the enclosed forms, he could postpone service, at least for a little while, if he could prove an adequate reason.  Well, he would think that just having started a two-year service contract with a governmental organization would count as adequate.  All he needed to do was have his boss fill out some paperwork.  No problem, he could do that.
It wasn’t that Baekhyun wanted to avoid his military service.  It’s just that…that…this was the first time in his life that any woman had been…a possibility, and well, he…he wanted to pursue that.  At least, to try.  And Iseul noona seemed so nice.  She didn’t look at him with judgment, or speak down to him.  He remembered how grateful she had been when he carried her bags, and his chest swelled with pride.  
She was shy, he could tell.  Her reaction on the stairwell had proven that.  Tossing the letter on the desk, he removed his clothes, and went in to shower, singing lightly as he washed his hair.  Iseul noona liked his singing, he could tell that, too.  He could feel her eyes on him when she thought that he didn’t know.  Ah, what would it be like to court a shy girl?  Woman.  Noona was a woman.  A flower in bloom, blushing and fragrant.  He paused in scrubbing his scalp as the thought came to him.  His woman.  If he played his cards right, maybe she could be…his woman.  Oh, that thought was too delicious, almost too overwhelming, but he had to follow it to its logical conclusion.  If she were his woman…then he would be her…man--oh!  He had to restrain himself from banging his fist against the shower in happiness.  
Finally clean, he exited the bathroom, slipping into his boxers and tee shirt before grabbing his manga and sliding under the covers.  But, for once, he couldn’t concentrate on the story.  Visions of Iseul noona kept flitting through his head.  How should he start?  Maybe leave a cup of tea on her desk?  His tea.  She liked his tea--the one that he blended.  He chuckled.  He should make some new pastry for her.  Something light, and not too sweet…perhaps with strawberries and cream.  Or maybe a nice fruit salad, since she had complained about her metabolism, though he didn’t know why, she looked fine.  Perhaps even a bit thin, though not as alarmingly slender as the more fashionable girls.  A good size.  A size that had fit in his arms quite nicely.
He flushed at the memory of their moment on the stairs.  He had wanted to kiss her.  He was glad that the service awards between them kept him from making a mistake.  He could control himself.  He had spent a lifetime of controlling himself--that wasn’t the problem.  But when she had been in his arms, and he felt her warmth pressed against him…  Had the service awards not been there, he could have felt her heart beating against his chest…  The very idea was intoxicating.
Iseul mostly eschewed heels, preferring to wear flats, so Baekhyun had a good idea of her height.  She fit him perfectly; she was just the right height for him to be able to kiss her pretty forehead.  He closed his eyes and imagined it, the feeling of her soft skin against his lips.  Warm.  Would she prefer to hold, or be held?  Baekhyun liked both.  Theoretically, anyway.  Each seemed better than the other whenever he thought of it.  He couldn’t decide.  Lying with her, being cradled by her fragrant arms, or cuddling her on his lap.  He kicked his feet.  Iseul noona on his lap!  Oh, he couldn’t take it!  Oh, it was too much!  His cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.  Okay, okay, he was going to have to calm himself, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep, and Baekhyun needed his rest to prepare for the anxiety-ridden task of asking Sim sajangnim to fill out the paperwork needed to postpone his military service..
She had asked him to rest, and he refused to let her gentle heart down.  He closed his eyes.  Hm…what should he imagine to help him sleep?  He conjured a vision of Iseul there with him in his narrow bed, her arms wrapped around him, his head, not on the pillow, but on her comforting chest.  Her belly, soft against his ribs.  Her fingers running through his hair…  The sound of her heartbeat in his ears…  The whisper of her breath…
***
“So, can you come up with some questions, about 10 or 12 for the grant writer interview?”
Iseul nodded, typing notes at the table in front of her boss’s desk as he talked.  “No problem.  Who do you want on the panel?”
“I’m thinking me, Bang Aerasshi, you, and Park Durisshi.”
“You want me on the panel?”
“Sure.  Unless you don’t want to be.”
“No, it’s fine.  I enjoy the interview process.  But, maybe…”
“What is it?”
“Isn’t it better to have an odd number?  In case the opinions are split?  I don’t mind being in, but you could maybe take me out, or add someone else?”
“No, we can add a person.”
Iseul thought for a moment.  “How about Jang Hwayoungsshi?”
“In Procurement?”
“Yes.  I’ve been on a few interview panels with her, and she can bring more of a financial perspective to the panel, since the grant writer will be dealing…with…finances…”  A commotion in the hall caused Iseul to turn around.  The walls of her boss’s office were made of glass that could be frosted for privacy, though now they were clear, and through them, Iseul could see a gorgeous, almost painfully fashionable young woman pushing past the departmental secretary, and marching forward, a determined expression on her perfectly made-up face.  Discomfited, Iseul stood, and moved closer to her boss, who had also stood at the noise.  
“What on earth-” was all he was able to say before the door burst open, and the woman strode in, trailed by the hapless secretary.  
“I’m sorry, sajangnim,” the secretary said, “She pushed past me as I was coming to let you know that she was here.”  
Sim sajangnim merely held up a hand.  “It’s okay.  You can go, thank you.”
“Would you like me to call security?” the secretary asked, eyeing the woman up and down, who turned to her with a glare.
Iseul marvelled.  Even her glares were pretty.  
“That won’t be necessary,” Sim sajangnim assured her.
The secretary turned and left, and Iseul, standing slightly behind her boss, as dealing with crazy was not part of her job description, fervently wished that she was right behind her.  She stepped toward the door, but her boss held out his hand slightly, preventing her from sneaking to safety.  
“I told you that it’s over.  Why are you here?” he said coldly, in a tone that Iseul had never heard before.  Now she definitely didn’t want to be here.  
“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m Ahn Boyoung.  Ahn Boyoung!”  The woman fairly shook with rage.  “You don’t drop me like trash.  I'll tell you when it’s over.”
Sajangnim sighed.  “You knew what this was from the beginning.  I told you, I don’t do relationships.”
Boyoung’s laser glare moved from him to Iseul, who cowered.  “Can’t we discuss this in private?”
Sim sajangnim hesitated.  Then, “No.”  His voice was firm.  
Iseul went from silently cursing him, to blank-minded shock as his arm slid around her waist and pulled her to him.  
“Anything that you have to say in front of me, you can say in front of my wife.”
The woman’s jaw dropped.  Iseul’s jaw dropped.  The potted lemon tree in the corner’s jaw dropped.
Iseul looked up at him in abject horror as he tightened his grip, a warning for her to fix her face.  She tried, looking down, trying to keep a neutral expression as the most awkward situation of her entire life played out.  
“Your…wife?”  Deflated, the woman took a step back.  Then, a thought occurred to her, and she squared her shoulders as if preparing for battle.  “If you’re married, then why are you playing around?”
Iseul’s boss didn’t even look at her as he lied through his teeth.  “We have…an understanding.  She’s in the early stages of a very delicate pregnancy, and the doctors have determined that marital relations would be too dangerous.  So, she has given me permission to have my…needs met elsewhere during this fragile time.”
The woman looked at Iseul with pity.  
Iseul hated it.
“Well,” Ahn Boyoungsshi said, as she drew herself up to her full height, casting a scathing glance over Sim sajangnim before turning back to Iseul.  “Unnie, do better.  This one’s human trash.”  With that, she swept from the room.  
As soon as she had exited the antechamber door, and was no longer in sight, Iseul edged away and Sim sajangnim dropped his hand as if it were burning.  
“Sorry about that,” he said.  “I made it hard on you, right?  But, as you could see, I needed your help.”
Iseul just wanted to get away.  “Yes, well…I’ll just…go…email Jang Hwayoung…now…”  With that, she scurried out of his office, but stopped when she saw papers scattered on the floor.  Confused, she picked one up and scanned it.  “According to the ‘Military Service Act’...”
Chapter 2
29 notes · View notes
theclassyissue · 7 months
Text
62 notes · View notes
callsign-hummingbird · 7 months
Text
Love me, love me. Say that you love me!!!!
Fool me, fool me. Go on and fool me!
Love me, love me. Pretend that you love me
Leave me, leave me.Just say that you need me
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
57 notes · View notes
fuckkrat · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
LOVEFOOL
25 notes · View notes
lovesongbracket · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.
Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)
Lovefool
Written By: Peter Svensson & Nina Persson
Artist: The Cardigans
Released: 1996
“Lovefool” is track #7 on The Cardigans’s third album First Band on the Moon. “Lovefool” was the song that propelled The Cardigans to international stardom. US listeners took notice when it was featured on the soundtrack to Baz Luhrmann’s William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. The song topped the Billboard Hot 100 Airplay and Top 40 Mainstream, but was kept from the Hot 100 because it was not issued as a commercial single (until December 1998, songs were not eligible to chart on the Hot 100 until they got released as single in the US). Nina Persson penned the lyrics for this song, while Peter Svensson wrote the music. Nina was sitting in an airport waiting for a plane when she was inspired to write the song and thought it would have a “slow bossa nova feel.” She told The Swedish Performing Rights Society: “I do find that the biggest hits are the ones that are the easiest to write”. Peter recalled writing the music for this song in an interview with The Independent: “To me, that song is still that moment when I wrote it in a small room, sitting on my bed in our home town. It was supposed to be some kind of a bossa nova: a totally different song, slow and mellow and sad. The production on it, though, and the disco drums made it all shinier."
[Verse 1] Dear, I fear we're facing a problem You love me no longer, I know and Maybe there is nothing that I can do To make you do Mama tells me I shouldn't bother That I ought just stick to another man A man that surely deserves me But I think you do [Pre-Chorus] So I cry, and I pray, and I beg [Chorus] Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me Pretend that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me So I cry and I beg for you to Love me, love me Say that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me I can't care 'bout anything but you [Verse 2] Lately I have desperately pondered Spent my nights awake and I wonder What I could have done in another way To make you stay Reason will not reach a solution I will end up lost in confusion I don't care if you really care As long as you don't go [Pre-Chorus] So I cry, and I pray, and I beg [Chorus] Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me Pretend that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me So I cry and I beg for you to Love me, love me Say that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me I can't care 'bout anything but you (Anything but you) [Outro] Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me I know that you need me I can't care 'bout anything but you
youtube
Summertime
Written By: Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Gerard Way & Frank Iero
Artist: My Chemical Romance
Released: 2010
“Summertime” is a ‘new wave’ song, allegedly believed to be written about frontman Gerard Way’s wife, Lyn-z Way. In an interview, Gerard said that it started as a riff Mikey had written, before evolving into a song they ‘couldn’t have the record without.’ “[“Summertime”] is one of the lyrically personal songs on the album, whereas the rest of it is just me talking about my worldview. So it’s a really beautiful song and again—no rules. We can have a soft song.”
[Verse 1] When the lights go out Will you take me with you And carry all this broken bone Through six years down In crowded rooms and highways I call home? Is something I can't know till now Till you picked me off the ground With brick in hand, your lip-gloss smile Your scraped-up knees and [Chorus] If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes, how long until we Find our way in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me anytime you want [Verse 2] Terrified of what I'd be As a kid, from what I've seen Every single day when people try And put the pieces back together Just to smash them down Turn my headphones up real loud I don't think I need them now 'Cause you stop the noise and [Chorus] If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes, how long until we Find our way in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me anytime you want [Post-Chorus] Well, anytime you want Well, anytime you want [Guitar Solo] [Bridge] Don't walk away, don't walk away Don't walk away, don't walk away! [Chorus] 'Cause if you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes, how long until we Find our way in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me [Post-Chorus] Or you can write it on your arm You can run away with me Anytime you want
youtube
107 notes · View notes
littlel0vef00l · 11 months
Text
Him, absolutely railing into me:
Me: hey I was wondering if we could hold hands
126 notes · View notes
megahorous · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
Milk Can sings as they prepare DINNER
91 notes · View notes
perfumeunreleased · 4 months
Text
Perfume - Lovefool (30 sec. version)
ERA: JPN (2009-2011)
Cover of "Lovefool" by The Cardigans used in a commercial for Pepsi NEX. There are two versions of this track, one is 15 sec. long (CM) and another is 30 sec. long (ringtone). There were no plans to release the cover song, as confirmed in the announcement for the VOICE single.
19 notes · View notes
zombiemixmaster · 2 months
Text
13 notes · View notes
firstbandonthemoon · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Debbie Harry from 'Blondie' and Nina Persson from 'The Cardigans' for Melody Maker magazine, May 22 1999
32 notes · View notes
beautyarchive · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Lucy Punch in Hot Fuzz (2007).
Lucy Punch is such a good comedy actress. Like Rik Mayall, she's good-looking but pulls ridiculous faces all the time for the comedy value. I wish Motherland was a better show because then I could watch her for hours. Her episodes of Vexed are amazing by the way. That's what I recommend.
14 notes · View notes
Text
me @ 10AM: you know what? I'm over him!! I might block him
me @ 10PM: you know what? I'm gonna put a love spell on him
82 notes · View notes
theclassyissue · 4 months
Text
instagram
31 notes · View notes
Text
(Creep with Postmodern Jukebox is a contestant in the tournament, so it does not appear in this poll)
Videos under the cut
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
19 notes · View notes