#sphallolalia

Series:
⇢ Pairing: San x fem!Reader
⇢ Genre: flirty af fluff, hints of angst, suggestive, kinda smutty, older reader (noona)
⇢ Synopsis: As your best friend’s maid of honor, you must endure the shameless best man’s flirting until after the wedding.

Part 6: One Less Thing - Moodboard
⇢ Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, & slightly smutty
⇢ Warnings: language, wet daydreams, self-image issues, and self-hatred
⇢ Word Count: 8,226 i-

a/n: I feel like half of this isn’t as good as I was hoping

Masterlist, Part 1,Part 2,Part 3,Part 4,Part 5,Part 6

taglist: @joongiebug (url doesn’t exist), @simluvbot​, @kimtae-bae (not taggable?), @justsayk​,@sunsethw4​,@baguette-atiny​

It is finally the day you’ve been dreading: bridesmaid dress shopping. Fortunately, the remaining two bridesmaids, Yoojung and Kyungmi, are able to fit shopping into their schedules this weekend. You were beginning to worry that Mina would have to pick without them trying on dresses, which would have stressed Mina out more than she already is.

Yoojung is a childhood friend who moved far away for college. You remember the two of them running around Mina’s house playing dolls. Yoojung always had her hair cut in a bob with straight across bangs. She looked so adorable with her chubby little cheeks that were constantly flushed from them playing so much. Seeing her today, you notice how much she has grown up, and it tugs at your heart a bit.

Kyungmi met Mina in a marketing class which had them glued to each other to survive with a passing grade. Mina had never seemed so stressed, and it hurt that there was nothing you could do to make the class better. You’re just glad she had someone going through the same thing with her. Kyungmi is quiet until she’s comfortable around you, which she then turns into the mood maker of the group. She knows how to make Mina relax and not excessively worry about things. Though she is a year younger than Mina, she holds Mina accountable for her responsibilities, which played a huge part in her passing that class.

Having Mina’s friends from different stages of her life come together to celebrate this huge milestone gets you kind of emotional. The mimosa you are currently sipping on in this hole-in-the-wall restaurant does not help these emotions either. Visiting this place brings back the memories of when Mina would come stay the weekend with you while you were in your first couple of years of college. 

After hearing someone talk about how good the food was in one of your classes, you knew Mina would insist on trying it, and ever since then, this restaurant has held a special place in your heart. Every morning she was with you, the two of you would have brunch here. Each visit, Mina would try a different meal until she had ordered everything on the menu at least once, and sometimes when she didn’t like it, she would eat off your plate. You never minded because of how much you mother her. Now, the waffles and coffee taste like a simpler time when your biggest worries were an exam over a topic you didn’t really understand and how to deal with Mina’s high school struggles.

The conversations have been pleasant so far, topics mostly concerning the wedding, especially decorating. Mina has decided loosely on a boho chic meets the city theme, which combines the aesthetic of popular Pinterest weddings and Mina’s actual lifestyle. Her inability to commit to one option is slowly withering down your sanity. It’s difficult for her to distinguish what the internet wants and what she actually wants. Maybe once she starts buying more decorations she will stick to the theme.

As you eat, you listen to them talk, occasionally throwing in your opinion. After taking a large bite, you notice Kyungmi opening the camera app on her phone.

“Let’s take a picture for Instagram!” Kyungmi chirps, already holding out the device for a selfie.

You quickly swallow and swipe your tongue across your teeth for any stuck food before leaning in and smiling for the photo. Kyungmi spams the shutter button in case someone blinks and sifts through all the pictures for the best one.

“What’s your username on Instagram?” She asks you so that she can tag you, to which you answer.

The conversations resume as Kyungmi gets distracted with the social media app, but after tagging everyone, she turns to you again.

“Why don’t you ever post?” Apparently, she crept on your profile.

“I don’t really get on there anymore.”

“Why?”

The real reason is something you don’t want to admit right now, especially to someone much younger than you who won’t understand. You don’t want to see all the cool things people you grew up with are doing. You want to be happy for them, but you just can’t because a large part of you is jealous. You want to be doing the same things, like the adult you’re supposed to be. You only ever get on when Mina asks you to go like whatever she just posted.

“I don’t do anything fun to post about, so I just don’t get on,” you keep it simple.

“You can just post selfies and stuff. You don’t have to post only amazing adventure-like things.”

But you don’t want others to see that you’re not doing anything with your life. The people following you are those you know from high school and college. There were such high expectations for you that you have yet to reach. You don’t want them to think you’re a lonely, sad adult who still works in retail. With the stigma around that career, being single, and your age, it’s frankly embarrassing.

“Or post pet pictures and videos. Those are always so cute,” Kyungmi adds with a chipper smile.

“Oh, I don’t have a pet.” You can barely take care of yourself, let alone an entire other being. Maybe taking on that responsibility would help you feel more independent and teach you how to take better care of yourself. It would be like a precursor to having a child… right?

On Kyungmi’s profile, you courtesy follow her back, but your attention diverts to how organized her photos are with a specific aesthetic. Her first few rows of posts make your entire account look pathetic. Not only does she have an aesthetically pleasing curation of pictures but also a large following with high engagement. Scrolling through her posts, you kind of wish to be admired as much as her.

“Why do people keep commenting ‘Heather?’ Who’s Heather?” You question looking through comments of one of her posts.

“It means the person they’re calling Heather is beautiful and, like, they wish they were that person. It has to do with a song,” she answers like you won’t understand it if she explains the whole thing, leaning into the stereotypical belief of older generations not understanding social media. That peeves you because the people in your age group are the pioneers of social media.

“Oh, I thought it had to do with the movie Heathers.”

The younger girls start laughing at you, making comments about you being old and out of touch. You didn’t need confirmation of that when you already give yourself a hard time for it. It feels a bit alienating.

“I did too,” Sejeong quietly says to you. 

Although they move on, you are stuck on how unaware you are of newer societal norms. Growing up, you always swore that you would never not know what is going on on the internet to avoid becoming “old.” Yet here you are being confused over slang. You’re not that old… right? 

In the midst of your existential crisis, you feel your phone go off in your pocket, surprised upon seeing who has texted you.

From: Mark
hey
10:42 AM

You sit for a moment in silence as everyone else chatters away happily. You really shouldn’t respond, but god, do you crave intimacy. Giving in to Mark always leaves you wanting emotional attachment. Maybe this time you can keep your feelings out of it because you know what will happen. All of this wedding stuff just reminds you of how alone you are.

From: You
Hey
10:44 AM

-

From: Mark
wyd
10:45 AM

-

From: You
Having brunch with some friends. You?
10:45 AM

-

From: Mark
nothing
10:46 AM

-

From: Mark
you want to go out tonight?
10:46 AM

As much as you want to convince yourself that you’re strong enough to hold back this time, you have to acknowledge all the instances he has done this before. You knew what he was going to do those times and still couldn’t manage your feelings. Fulfilling a momentary need doesn’t justify hurting yourself in the long run.

From: You
I can’t. I have to be up early tomorrow.
10:47 AM

When you leave the restaurant, you decide to ride with Sejeong while the younger ones ride together to the specialty dress store. Although you have taken on a motherly role among the bridal party, you don’t feel like subjecting yourself to being heckled for being out of the loop. The drive is fairly quiet until your phone buzzes again. You expect it to be Mark trying to guilt you into seeing him, but you are met with San’s name on your lock screen.

From: San
Would Mina be mad if we got bolo ties?
11:31 AM

-

From: You
Um yes
11:31 AM

“San just asked if they could get bolo ties for the wedding,” you break the silence with a sigh. Sejeong furrows her brows at the road.

“What the hell are bolo ties?”

“They’re those leather cord ties with slider clasps.”

“Aren’t those, like, a cowboy thing?”

“Yeah,” you sigh again.

“Why are the guys so dumb? Every time we do something, they ask something stupid.”

“Right?” You laugh and then feel your phone vibrate again.

From: San
What about ascots?
11:34 AM

“Now, he’s asking about ascots.”

“What the fuck? Why isn’t he sending those to the group chat? I want to clap back,” she complains lightly smacking the steering wheel for emphasis.

“He only wants to annoy me, but I feel like San and Yunho would actually buy those just to piss Mina off.”

From: You
Wtf?? Just get normal ties.
11:36 AM

-

From: San
For our wedding, I’m wearing a fun tie
11:36 AM

-

From: You
We will never get married.
11:37 AM

-

From: San
Why not?
11:37 AM

-

From: You
Do you really think we would ever be together?
11:38 AM

-

From: San
Idk. I might just make you mine.
11:38 AM

-

From: You
Good luck with that.
11:39 AM

-

From: San
I don’t need luck.
11:39 AM

“I think he’s just trying to find an excuse to text you,” Sejeong says belatedly.

You can’t help but guffaw, “What? No! He has always been like this. He knows I can’t stand him.”

From: You
You know, you’re kinda romantically impulsive.
11:41 AM

-

From: San
You think I’m romantic?
11:41 AM

-

From: You
That’s not what that means.
11:42 AM

His replies seem to end as you pull into a parking spot. The specialty store you walk into looks sort of like a warehouse; it contains a wide range of styles and colors. It is somewhat overwhelming with the amount of options. Since Mina has not decided on some vague idea of dresses for you, you dread how long this trip might take.

“What colors are you thinking?” Kyungmi asks, eyes scanning the different sections of styles.

“A dark beige, coral, or maroon. Maybe navy. I don’t know yet,” Mina says giddily.

“Oh, my god, Mina! You need to decide. You don’t have a lot of time,” Kyungmi chides, gawking at her with wide, concerned eyes.

“I know!” Mina whines cutely, “I don’t know what would look good for that time of year.”

“That doesn’t matter! What do youwant?”

“It’s not that simple!”

“Mina, do not start quoting The Notebook to me,” Kyungmi groans and grabs her wrist to tug her to the color swatch samples, “It’s not rocket science. Pick one.”

Mina grumbles unintelligibly to herself as she sifts through the selections. Warm-toned swatches collect in her hand, and you’re relieved she’s not leaning towards cool tones because you know those will make everyone look washed out in the photos. Now, you can only hope she picks a simple dress made of breathable materials.

Sejeong sticks to your side as you browse through the rows of dresses. You have no idea what would fit Mina’s theme or what she wants. The only thing you have to go off of is her personal style, which is heavily based on whatever is trending.

“This makes me want to get married. I’m getting old. Why am I not married yet?” Yoojung whines, combing through a nearby rack of silk dresses.

You and Sejeong glance at each other.

“What does that make us?” Sejeong asks, feigning anger.

One of Yoojung’s hands flies over her own mouth as she realizes what she said in front of the two eldest members of the entire wedding party, who also happen to be not married.

“You’re 22. You have plenty of time,” Sejeong assures.

“At least you have a boyfriend,” you mutter quietly to Sejeong.

“Yeah, of four years. Where is my ring?!”

“Get away from those dresses. They’re too expensive,” Mina calls from a few isles away.

Not even concerned about the price beforehand, you check a tag of one. $2,000.

“I wouldn’t even spend that much on my wedding dress,” Sejeong scoffs, walking away.

“Aren’t you dating a CEO?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think a dress is that important. I’ll only wear it once.”

She has a point, but the one occasion you wear it is supposed to be important. Every detail of that day is supposed to be important… or is that just what you have been conditioned to believe? Raised in a society where expensive means better, you just assume you will have a large, extravagant wedding. But is that really what you want?

Additionally, a budget for your own wedding has never really crossed your mind since marriage is so far off in your future. You’re not drowning in money, but you make enough to get by. You can’t afford a house or a new car manufactured within the last few years, things most people your age have. Some of them even have kids; you don’t know if you can afford to have one any time soon… not that that is an option. Maybe you can go to a sperm bank when you’re 30 or something. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.

Your phone vibrates the text notification pattern in your jeans, and you instinctively pull up the message, following Sejeong and Yoojung to where the others are. The sender’s name makes you roll your eyes before reluctantly reading what he sent.

From: San
Babygirl
12:27 PM

-

From: You
Don’t ever call me that again.
12:27 PM

-

From: San
lol what colors did Mina say they wanted for the wedding?
12:28 PM

“They wanted” is more like “Mina wanted.” Mingi doesn’t really care for the theatrics of a wedding, giving her free rein to plan it; he just wants to marry her. A simple man is he.

From: You
She still doesn’t know.
12:28 PM

-

From: San
Then how are we supposed to order our suits?
12:29 PM

-

From: You
Just let the tailor get your measurements and you can order them later.
12:30 PM

-

From: San
7 inches pushing 8
12:30 PM

He is insufferable. Based on that picture he sent a while back, you know he is joking.

From: You
I think you might be holding the ruler the wrong way.
12:31 PM

-

From: San
You want a pic for proof?
12:31 PM

-

From: You
Absolutely not.
12:32 PM

-

From: San
All I saw was absolutely
12:32 PM

-

From: You
If you send me a dick pic, your life ends tonight.
12:33 PM

-

From: San
Sounds kinky
12:33 PM

-

From: San
You can double check it then
12:33 PM

With a scoff, you shove your phone back into your pocket. When you look up, Mina gives you a weird look with two dresses in her hand.

“You don’t like them?” She asks.

“What? No, San just texted me asking about colors,” you answer, but now that you are studying the dresses, neither of them are actually pretty.

“Oh… Well, I can’t find anything. I want you to have, like, fashionable dresses, but none of them catch my eye.”

“We can go to a different store,” Kyungmi reminds her.

“Yeah, but that would have to be another day, and I don’t know if I can get all of you together again.”

“Are the colors throwing you off?” You question, noticing the dresses in hand are all similar colors.

“Maybe. I have so many colors I like, but I’ve been avoiding the ones I don’t.”

“Then, start looking at those. This store doesn’t have every style in every color in stock.”

“Okay,” Mina pouts, “If any of you find a dress you like, grab it. Maybe one of us can find a good one.”

You abandon the criterion of the theme and solely search for a dress that is pretty, seemingly comfortable, affordable, and not too fitted. A pale blue chiffon dress sticks out among the purple shades on a rack. You lift the hanger off the metal rail and hold it out in front of you. It has an A-line silhouette with a deep v-neckline and pleated skirt. The sleeves are long and have slits to the shoulders. It looks elegant compared to what Mina currently has on hold in the dressing room, but you have a feeling she will think the style is for “old people.” Conservative styles are considered ugly for some reason. God forbid you wear something to feel comfortable. If it has a lot of coverage or is not form-fitting, it’s out of style, or at least in Mina’s opinion. Nonetheless, you carry the dress with you.

After scanning a few more racks, Mina announces across the store, inconsiderate of the other customers, that she’s ready for all of you to try on the several dresses picked out. Unfortunately, you only found one dress, but hopefully, there is a suitable dress among the selected. As you approach the dressing rooms, Mina is checking Sejeong’s and Yoojung’s dresses.

“What dress do you have?” She questions when you stop next to Sejeong.

You hold up the blue dress and study their reactions, which don’t give you much hope. Mina’s face becomes unreadable.

“Is that a mother-of-the-bride dress?” Yujin laughs, and the other younger girls agree with grins.

The attention shifts to Kyungmi, leaving you feeling defeated. You see Sejeong move closer out of the corner of your eye before she whispers in your ear.

“Every time Yujin opens her mouth, the more unlikeable she becomes. I’m trying to be neutral and nice but fuck.”

You nod with wide eyes to emphasize your agreement. Yujin’s attitude toward you has started to sour ever since that day you visited that wedding venue. Any chance she can bring you down she takes. If it’s just jealousy over your interactions with San, you will graciously hand him over to her. Due to circumstances with Mina, you cannot do that, and an obscene part of you does not want him to flirt with her. Also, it is not even your fault; he is the one coming to you. In some weird way, you like his attention although it won’t— can’t go anywhere. It’s better that he hits on you who will not give in.

With everyone holding out their picks, Mina chooses which ones she likes for you to try on. It doesn’t come as a surprise when she tells you that she doesn’t like yours. She also doesn’t like Yujin’s extremely short and fitted dress, stating that she likes it but it’s too sexy for a wedding. An assistant ushers you into separate rooms and heads to grab the dresses in your sizes. The first few dresses are ready inside your dressing rooms, which Mina eagerly encourages all of you to hurry to try them on.

You notice something about the dresses Mina has pulled. They all have a bold and kind of distracting feature, such as ruffles, uncommon fabrics, or shiny sequins. Simple and plain would allow her to shine in her wedding dress. After all, it is hers and Mingi’s day, not anyone else’s.

The lilac dress is… something. It isn’t what you would have guessed her to pick. This is an ugly start to finding bridesmaid dresses. There is no way Mina will like this one actually on all of you. In the mirror of your stall, you smooth your hands over the large ruffles on the bodice, hoping to flatten it a bit, but it doesn’t work. You can see this one maybe on a runway but not for a wedding, specifically Mina’s wedding.

Stepping out of the dressing room, you compare yourself to the others to your right. The dress looks a lot better on Sejeong, Yujin, and Yoojung. Gaze shifting to Kyungmi on your left, you notice she looks just as uncomfortable as you feel. The two of you don’t look like the rest of the girls; they can pull off the tight-fitted dresses. Sejeong has an athletic build, Yujin is blessed with an S-line body shape, and despite her chubby cheeks, Yoojung can’t gain weight easily.

Unfortunately, Mina isn’t picking up on you and Kyungmi radiating distress as she makes heart eyes at the dresses on the other three.

“They look so pretty!” She beams while Sejeong shows her the backside.

You awkwardly adjust the large ruffles and stare at your reflection in the mirror on the wall across from your dressing room.

“These are hideous,” Kyungmi whispers to you, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Nodding, you peer over at Mina who is now walking over to you with a wide smile.

“You guys look so beautiful!”

A part of you wants to ask her if she’s blind because this dress is in no way flattering. Even with alterations, there is no saving this dress. You’re about to put Mina under citizen’s arrest on behalf of the fashion police for this crime against humanity.

“Get together for a picture!” She waves her hands excitedly as she steps back enough to get all of you in the frame.

The satin fabric feels like it’ll rip easily if you don’t move carefully, which isn’t something you can be mindful of on the wedding day. With the lowest price of all the dresses, it isn’t surprising that the material isn’t sturdy.

Sejeong happens to make eye contact with you when all of you disperse to your rooms and detects your ignored exasperation.

“I don’t think this dress is the right one. It’s flashy and shouldn’t stand out more than your dress,” she tries to reason with Mina, who doesn’t look fully convinced.

After trying on two other dresses Mina found, one made with unbreathable velvet fabric and one sequined dress with a skirt slit that goes up a little too high, you squeeze into the short fit and flare satin dress Yoojung picked out. Just as you finally get the zipper up, Yoojung steps out to show Mina the dress.

“Oh, that doesn’t look good at all,” Mina says and then yells to the rest of you, “Never mind, don’t bother with Yoojung’s dress!”

This irks you. How is it that when a dress does not look good on the more fit bridesmaids, it is no longer an option, but when that happens to you and Kyungmi, it is still considered? With a clenched jaw, you begrudgingly try on the dresses Kyungmi and Sejeong picked. Kyungmi’s is turned down for the busy floral pattern, but Sejeong’s square neck chiffon dress with pockets is a maybe. The pockets are the only reason you like that one.

The last dress is a coral empire dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves. The floor-length chiffon skirt looks prettier when on a person rather than the hanger. You dawdle out of your stall and check out the other bridesmaids.

Out of all the dresses you have tried on, this one looks fairly good on all of you. Obviously, the same style isn’t going to be the best on every body shape in the bridal party, but this might be the best you can find. It’s a pretty color and looks pretty good on you and Kyungmi. At this point, you don’t really care how it looks on the other three.

Yet Mina isn’t so sure about it, saying that it looks like it’s missing something. Before you commit murder, you shuffle back in the dressing room. While changing back into your clothes, you notice you have a text message from San. Mina is rushing all of you up on the other side of the curtain, thus you save it for the ride back to Mina’s apartment to get your car. The other bridesmaids in the same boat chat about the dresses as you discretely open the image he has sent for a better look. 

From: San

IMG_8462.jpg
1:52 PM

Just as you expected, he is, in fact, hot in a suit. You’re going to have to walk down the aisle with a man who should be put in the Met because he is an actual work of art. None of these dresses will help you look even remotely decent next to him. Your mood plummets once again.

From: You
Stop texting me. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.
2:04 PM

-

From: San
What’s wrong?
2:06 PM

-

From: You
All the dresses Mina has us try on don’t look good on me.
2:06 PM

-

From: San
You don’t need one of those dresses to look good
2:07 PM

-

From: San
Or any dress for that matter
2:07 PM

-

From: You
How would you even know…
2:07 PM

-

From: San
I’ve told you I have a good imagination.
2:08 PM

-

From: You
Keep dreaming.
2:08 PM

-

From: San
Dreams can come true, right?
2:09 PM

Your cheeks burn, and you shove your phone back into your jeans. Although you don’t show it, his stupid teasing has made you feel a little better. The compliments tend to your need to be wanted, even if they are lies. You wonder if he does this shit on purpose because he knows what he’s doing, like he has some sixth sense that allows him to see inside your mind. Could he be that emotionally in tune?

You don’t understand how your friends haven’t picked up on your disconnection from the present. It feels like you are drowning but no one sees or hears the splashing. When the time comes to go your separate ways, your negative thoughts don’t leave. If anything, the loneliness makes them worse. They waste your energy, and by the time you decide to start getting ready for bed, you realize how long you have dwelled on them.

As you strip down for a shower, you avoid looking in the mirror. To quell the negativity in your mind, you turn on your favorite playlist. But your attempts to escape your self-hate do not work for long. Maybe you should have hung out with Mark. It would feel better to be temporarily wanted than this soul-sucking feeling of being alone and no one caring. And maybe that is why you always run back to him, knowing he’ll never be yours, and you’ll never be his. No matter how hot the water is, your thoughts of him can’t be burned from your mind; no matter how long you let the spray pelt down on you, they can’t be weathered away.

Scrubbing down your body, you can’t help but wish you looked different. It would be so much easier to find a dress for the wedding… or a dress in general. There are so many things you would love to wear but can’t because you don’t feel confident in them. You have too many worries about how others will see and think of you. It shouldn’t matter what they think, and you know this. But that’s easier said than done. How does anyone not care about other people’s opinions?

The suds rinse off of you and wash away down the drain along with your self-esteem. Insecurities always get the best of you, and you have no one to confide in because no one understands. They only slap a bandaid of vague compliments on your self-inflicted wounds caused by your flaws and unconsciously-created comparisons to other girls.

You stand under the water a little longer trying to push away the negative thoughts, but they only find another thing to fret about. Your mind focuses on Mina’s relationship with Mingi, who completely adores her no matter how she looks. You want that; someone to fawn over you at your best and worst; someone attracted to you always, even when you just wake up with your hair messy and drool on your face; someone to love you unconditionally. But those are just unrealistic expectations, especially for someone your age. Everyone who would do all of that is already taken, and what’s left are those who will never learn to do those things. You should have found someone by now. Who could love you now? You’re going to die alone and-

A loud vibration of your phone on the sink counter rips you out of your self-hate fest, and you scramble to wrap up your shower. Once dried off, you tug on a shirt and pair of panties before returning to your living room. Your mind is momentarily brought back to the present to get you in bed, where you will inevitably be kept up by intrusive thoughts.

As you blow out the candle on your coffee table, there’s a knock at your door. Being a single woman living alone not expecting a visitor, every fear plays through your mind while you tiptoe to the door. You see an irritatingly familiar face through the peephole and reluctantly open the door to find San already smirking. 

“What are you doing here?” You sigh tiredly.

“You seemed sad earlier. I texted you that I was on my way over,” he replies, gently pushing the door further open. Ah, so he’s the reason your phone went off while you were showering.

You don’t stop him from coming inside as you notice the items in his hands.

“You brought flowers?”

“And ice cream.” He chirps, walking backwards to your kitchen with a bouquet and a plastic sack from a convenience store.

“That’s not going to help me look good in any of those dresses.”

“It’s one of those dairy-free, vegan, low-calorie brands.”

Those brands are expensive and hard to find in nearby stores. He really put thought and effort into this. There is no way in hell you’re going to let him see you swoon; he wants you to be putty in his hands. As you follow behind to find a vase for the flowers, you suddenly remember your state of dress and tug at the hem of your long, baggy t-shirt.

“I’m literally not wearing pants. I’ll be right back,” you say, hurrying to your bedroom.

“So?” He responds indifferently, and you’re surprised he doesn’t make a bigger deal out of it. “One less thing I have to take off.”

Never mind, there it is. You rush to pull on a pair of pajama shorts from your dresser and stumble back out into your living room to find him wandering around your apartment with his nose in the air. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, bemused by his behavior.

“It smells like coconuts in here?” He sniffs in different directions.

You chuckle watching him search around your kitchen with his nose. “It’s a wall plugin and some candles”

“Coconut is your favorite scent?”

“One of them, yeah.”

He hums in response as his gaze drifts down your body, “Are you wearing a pair of someone’s boxers?”

Looking at the article you threw on in haste, you notice which shorts you chose. 

“Uh, no, they’re those pajama shorts that are meant to look like ‘your boyfriend’s’ boxers.”

This seems to brighten the light inside his eyes, and a small grin spreads across his face. “You could just borrow mine.”

His words are loaded, which you try to unpack without giving away just how flustered you have become. Is he just being flirty? Does he just want to make your heart jump at the idea of wearing his clothes after you two have fucked? Or the most ridiculous option: does he want you to wear his clothes as a sign of exclusivity? Your overthinking is meaningless because you are not going to let any of them happen, and he has clearly moved on from the conversation.

As you find a vase, you instruct him to the bowls in your cabinets. With the bowls on the counter and the sink faucet filling up the vase, San reads the instructions on the flower food packet that comes with the bouquet. On the opposite side of the kitchen, you dig around for a large spoon. Once the flowers are placed in the water, he returns his attention to you, who is trying to scoop out the ice cream with all your strength. 

Having had enough of watching you struggle, he interrupts, “Let me do it.”

You slide the carton to him with a pout and focus on his hands scooping out the ice cream. The movement of the muscles and veins in his hands is mesmerizing. You wonder what it would be like to have his fingertips running down your body. His biceps also capture your gaze, them flexing with each scoop.

He’s able to serve the treat with ease, and it annoys you that you needed his help. You hate the feeling of depending on someone else; you don’t want to be a burden.

When he finishes, you put the lid back on the container and take it to your refrigerator, mentioning, “I’m putting the tub in the freezer, so don’t forget it when you leave.”

“Keep it. I got it for you,” he shrugs it off.

Your heart does a small flip at his kindness. He has never been one to do this, at least not for you. But you start to realize how little you actually know about him. Aside from the obvious surface level observations, you know nothing about his personal life with exceptions of the random TMI tidbits of his sexual endeavors.

Leading him over to your couch, you bashfully say, “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His voice is sweet and sincere. He shoots you a smile before digging into his bowl.

“I would have cleaned up if I had known you were coming over,” you say with a mouthful of ice cream, a hand gesturing vaguely to your apartment.

“You’ve seen mine and Mingi’s apartment. This is nothing.”

A silence falls over you for a few moments before he speaks again, this time softer and concerned.

“I’m not intruding on your night, right?”

“No, I literally just got out of the shower and was going to lounge around anyway.”

“Damn, I just missed that?”

You scoff with warm cheeks when he peers up at you with a playful grin. From where you’re sitting, you have a perfect view of his dimple. Despite making a sexually charged joke, he is simply adorable, charming in a different way from his usual flirtatious self.

“Your words sometimes just don’t match how you look.”

He hums inquisitively, having just scooped a spoonful into his mouth.

“You say a lot of bold things while looking pure and innocent.”

“So it’s working,” he nods to himself with a sly little smirk.

“Huh?”

He doesn’t respond and just gazes into your eyes.

“What?” You ask, suddenly self-conscious with a hand coming up to feel for ice cream on your chin.

“Nothing, just getting lost in your eyes.”

Your face scrunches up as you cringe and return your focus to your bowl of ice cream as he laughs.

“You know, my great grandmother used to say that you can tell how someone is in bed by how they eat ice cream.”

You peek up at him in surprise. “What? Your great grandmother said that?”

“Apparently, Nana was wild back in the day. It makes sense though. If they bite it, they’re wild in the sheets. If they eat it quickly, they don’t last very long.”

You glance down at your almost empty bowl, and San’s eyes follow yours.

With a chuckle, he teases, “That’s disappointing, but we can work on that.”

His words lead you down a naughty path of self-indulgence. Your mind begins to fantasize about him crashing his lips into yours and kissing you hungrily while his hands tug at your clothes. You imagine him hoisting you up on a kitchen counter, standing between your legs, and dipping a hand into your shorts. You can almost hear him saying against your lips, “You’re not allowed to come until I say. You need to practice.”

“Have you ever even had a one-night stand?” His question comes out of nowhere, effectively pulling you out of your daydream.

“No, that’s one less problem I’m bringing home,” you answer honestly.

“What do you mean?”

“I getattached,” you reply with an unwavering stare.

A glimmer of guilt comes and goes inside his eyes. He clears his throat and changes the path of the conversation, “Weren’t you seeing someone?”

“Mark? Yeah,” you answer, avoiding his eyes, “But it didn’t really turn into anything. I wanted a relationship, and he didn’t which he didn’t make clear from the beginning. He just wanted a fuck buddy.”

San hums understandingly.

“He asked me earlier if I wanted to go out tonight. I told him I have work early in the morning.”

“Do you?” San asks, worried he’s keeping you up.

“No.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him you don’t want to?”

“He knows how to get me to say yes… It feels like I wasted those two months and every other chance I gave him after.”

“Did you have fun though?” That question could be taken as him prying into your sex life, but the innocent way he asks sounds like he isn’t referring to that at all.

“I guess, but it wasn’t what I wanted. It’s hard to be lonely sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, but that’s what friends are for.”

“Friends can’t help with everything. I’m not going to call up Mina for sex.”

“You have my number,” he quips with a smirk.

“As if you actually would,” you mutter as you place your bowl on the coffee table.

“There’s only one way to find out,” he says challengingly and laughs when you smack his arm.

After a moment, he adds quietly and innocently, “But if you are lonely, you can always call me.”

An awkwardness creeps up your spine; you’re not quite used to San reaching out his hand to pull you out of your loneliness. He seems genuine, but what if he isn’t serious and just saying it to be nice? You don’t allow yourself to follow that stream of questions.

“So, you didn’t get those dumb ties, did you?” You bring up his earlier shopping excursion, watching him finish his ice cream.

“Yeah, we all got matching bolo ties for the bachelor party.”

“Why are you guys like this?”

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, his smile reaching his eyes, while stretching over to set his bowl next to yours, “Where’s your bathroom?”

You point to the door to which he enters. In his absence, you rinse the bowls out in the kitchen. Recently, he has been really nice to you, almost too nice. You’re still on the fence about his intentions. Is he doing this to trick you into a false security? Is he doing this because he actually cares about you and your happiness? You really hope it’s the latter.

When the bathroom door opens, he nonchalantly informs you, “You left a toy out in your bathroom.”

Your eyes shoot wide open, and you rush to hide it. Before you reach the threshold of the other room, San adds, “I was just kidding, but nice to know you do have one.”

“You are so annoying.”

“My offer still stands. You have my number,” he says, stepping closer to you. Before you can oppose, his index finger presses against your lips.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to say anything. I know your answer.”

As you swat his hand away, you grumble, “What are you talking about?”

“The eyes say what the mouth won’t.”

“What exactly are my eyes saying?” You humor him for a moment with your arms crossing over your chest.

“You’d prefer me over whatever little toy you have.”

“You haven’t seen it. Who said it’s little?” You raise your brows challengingly. His jaw hangs ajar as his brain tries to process your words.

“You’re right. The eyes do say what the mouth won’t,” you mock and plop back down on your couch.

He sighs, accepting his defeat before changing the subject, “What do the dresses look like that Mina wants?”

“Hang on,” you say grabbing your phone and pulling up the pictures, “This is the one she liked the most.”

It’s a pretty lilac, but it has too many large ruffles to be flattering. While the size was right, the fit was too tight. Not all body types look good in it.

“I can’t see when you’re that far away,” he hints that you should move closer from the other side of the couch.

Reluctantly, you scoot across the cushions and hold your phone right in his face sarcastically. Throwing you a glare, he takes it to get a better look.

“I looked like a busted can of biscuits,” you sigh.

“Stop. No, you don’t.”

You repeat his words in a mocking tone as you pluck your phone from his hand. The next dress you find is the sequin dress; it’s pretty, but not for a wedding. Handing your phone over again, you catch San preoccupied with applying strawberry lip balm. You can faintly smell the fruity scent from being so close.

“Gotta keep them kissable.” He winks, and you roll your eyes.

After putting away the balm, he takes your phone to inspect. As he looks, you note his hair isn’t styled like usual. It looks soft and fluffy tossed across his forehead. He actually looks really cute… and you kind of want to feel how soft his hair really is.

“What’s wrong with this one?” His question pulls you out of your daze.

“The skirt slit goes up too high, and I don’t like the spaghetti straps.”

“It’s sexy,” he says, handing back the phone, “You should send that picture to me.”

“I will not be making a donation to your spank bank.”

He chuckles while you swipe to another dress. A photo of the floral dress you didn’t really like catches your attention.

“Oh, my god. I look old,” you say, zooming in on your face. San enters your personal space to see.

“No, you don’t.”

“I look like someone’s grandmother.”

“There’s nothing wrong with aging. We all do it.” He shrugs, and you lean away to make direct eye contact.

“Says the man who has looked the same for the last four years.”

“Are you calling me ‘baby?’”

“Yeah,” you sarcastically respond.

“I like that pet name,” he grins so closely to your face it’s almost infuriating.

“That’s not-” You stop yourself and sigh because it’s not worth giving him the satisfaction of flustering you when he is already so smug.

“Anyway,” You swipe to the coral dress, “I think this style is the only one that looked okay on all of us, so this is my pick.”

“Why do you keep saying none of the dresses look nice on you? That one is really pretty on you,” he playfully scolds you.

“You’re just saying that because it’s the only one I’ll consider wearing.”

“No, I mean it.”

Before you argue further, something catches your eye on the floor. A fairly big black dot creeps across the rug underneath your coffee table. Out of fear, you squeal throwing your legs onto San’s lap, hands clinging to his arm.

“Whoa, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just said so,” he chuckles and maneuvers you off of him to get up, “It’s just a spider.”

“I could have died if it bit me,” you yell after him as he grabs a cup from your kitchen. 

“It’s not even a venomous kind.”

You stare at the eight-legged creature making sure it doesn’t get away, and San shoos it into the cup to release it outside.

When he comes back in, you chide him, “Why didn’t you kill it? What if it gets back in here?”

“The worst thing it’ll do is eat bugs.”

You don’t know why it’s so surprising that he doesn’t kill spiders, but it’s kind of cute that he’s too soft to do it.

“Anyways, since you’re going to have a different color dress from the other bridesmaids, you should ask Mina if you can have a different style that suits you,” he continues the previous conversation as he settles back into the cushions next to you.

“I guess I could. There was a dress I liked that I didn’t get to try on because she didn’t like it on the hanger,” you rant, pulling up your text conversation with Mina on your phone to ask, “There was also one that was similar to that last one, but the sleeves had a bit of extra fabric that made it look kind of like a cape. I knew Mina wouldn’t like it, but I thought it was really cute.”

“Are you trying to be a superhero?”

“Maybe…” you shrug, “Or a villain.”

“Sounds accurate.”

“Hey!” You whine and playfully smack his arm.

“My point exactly.”

“Whatever. You’re mean,” you pout and change the subject, “What are you planning for the bachelor party?”

“I don’t know yet. Yunho had some ideas, but we haven’t really talked about it. Do you already have a plan?”

“Yeah, I think we’re going to a vineyard for a wine tasting and then going back to Mina’s for pizza and movies.”

“That’s so boring.”

“Well, Mina isn’t a huge partier, so…”

As your words trail off, your phone vibrates with a text from the aforementioned bride.

“She said she might let us pick our own styles in whatever colors she decides on.”

“See? I told you.”

“Thank god. I could literally kiss you right now.” The words effortlessly come out of your mouth, and a huge smirk spreads across his face.

“Nothing’s stopping you,” he comments, tilting his head to the side and raising that one eyebrow.

“Uh, my sanity.”

“It’s okay to be a little crazy.”

You hate the arrogant way he’s looking at you right now, but you’re also a bit entranced by it. How can he switch from adorable to sexy with a simple tilt of his head? It’s no wonder that he can catch eyes, steal sighs, and cause highs. He knows what he’s doing. He has mastered his angles and uses them to affect your little weak heart. You just want to grab him by his shirt and kiss him.

He has made you feel an array of positive emotions to the point you have almost forgotten about your despairing mood, and you’re extremely grateful for that. In this moment, you realize you haven’t given him the same in return, retaining any positive thought about him to yourself. You know that if you do, he will hold onto every word of it. He’s worried about your happiness while you’ve pretty much neglected his. Swallowing your pride, you decide to give in.

“I didn’t say anything earlier, but… you looked handsome in that tux.”

His hand flings up, and the backside rests against your forehead. “Are you feeling okay? You just gave me a compliment.”

Laughing, you push his hand away. “I can be nice.”

He gazes at you for a moment with a small smile before seemingly snapping out of it and checking his phone.

“I should probably go. It’s getting late.”

“Oh,” you say, watching him stand from the couch, “Well, thank you for…” Your words trail off as you don’t know what to call his sweet gesture.

“Of course,” he beams, and you swear his eyes twinkle as his smile reaches them. It almost makes you forget to breathe.

Begrudgingly, you follow him to your door to see him out.

“Goodnight,” you say and open the door for him.

“It was,” he grins cheekily while exiting your apartment.

Rolling your eyes, you continue, “Be safe.”

“Nah,” he responds, walking away.

“San!”

His cute laugh echoes down the hall, and your heart swells. Why does he have to be so fucking charming? He haunts your thoughts as you lay in bed waiting to fall asleep. You can’t get his stupid, handsome face out of your head. 

After tonight, you know he’s capable of being sweet and, dare you say it, potentially a good boyfriend. You don’t understand what has made him avoid committing to someone because he would be such a caring partner. If he was like this all the time, you would fall so hard for him. A part of you really wants him to surprise you like that again. You want to be the center of his affection. He would never do that for very long though.

But what if…