The Venn Diagram | Part 2b
part 2a
~*~*~*~
There’s something about BoA that he can’t quite put his fingers on - it’s not the way she throws her chocolate curls over her shoulder when she laughs, not the way her rouge painted pout curves into the most beautiful of smiles when she looks over to him under her set of lashes, not the way she blushes the most delightful shade of red whenever he’s near. It’s not any of those things; Yunho suspects it’s her subconscious flirting that gets him so much. At least he thinks she’s not aware of it - mob boss’s only daughter sweet on her lowly bodyguard doesn’t seem like a very realistic.
Yunho’s been leaning against the side of the fancy new car for hours now, the sun has fallen and the moon has risen. The spare packet of cigarette that Jaejoong keep in the front seat is the only thing that’s keeping him from doing something stupid; like sliding his hands along her creamy thighs and eases up the hem of her ridiculously long dress - yes, definitely a bad idea. But he wanted to, so badly and maybe she wanted him to too. Maybe.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding from me”
He has to hold in a groan at the sound of her silky voice. Dropping a freshly lit cigarette on the ground, he puts it out with the heel of his polished shoes. “I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game of hide and seek.”
“It doesn’t have to be if you stop hiding,” BoA says with a coquettish grin, her heels clicking against the ground as she comes closer.
Chuckling, Yunho stuffs his hands in his pockets and avoid her curious gaze. “What’s the fun in that?”
“Do you prefer that I leave you alone then?”
Yunho wants to pretend that they’re not on the same page in this conversation; that he had no clue of the double meaning of her words. She’s playing with fire, he thinks she doesn’t know it yet but if she keeps pushing him like this then she’ll get a taste of the true nature of men.
“No,” Yunho shakes his head, flashing her a small smile, “Your father, my boss has given me order to keep an eye on you. How am I supposed to do my job if you’re far away.”
BoA sniggers, now standing so close to him that her fur coat is tickling his side. “It’s nice to know that I’m just a job to you.”
“Of course not,” He denies without a moment of hesitation, “You’re not ‘just a job’, you’re my favorite job.”
She looks up at him for a moment then bursts into a melodic laughter. He’s relieved to hear that his little joke has evoked some humor, hopefully enough for them to move pass this subject. It’s making him incredibly nervous. Funny really, he has killed countless men, had a gun held to his head, dealt with first rate criminal and a doll like her is the one that makes him tongue tied like a schoolboy on his first date.
“Is that so?” BoA teases, “Are you going to keep this job then?”
No, it will be Jaejoong’s soon enough. “If I could, I would.”
Then she’s leaning in close to him, her heel claded feet touching his own and wetting her red lips. Yunho watches as her tongue brushes over her bottom lips before disappearing into that hot little mouth again. It’s such an innocent gesture, one that shouldn’t excite him so but every move she makes is so incredibly mesmerizing to him.
“I think you should.”
He’s been so well-behaved this whole evening - at the restaurant, on the drive back but now, he feels his restraint against her weakening. “I have to follow order, you know that BoA.”
“Whose? My father’s?” She asks, her eyes burning into his, “You’re my bodyguard. Don’t you think you should be following my orders?”
“Yes,” he agrees, his throat incredibly dry, “But I don’t work for you, remember? I work for your father.”
She giggles, says in jest, “I don’t make my own dough but I think I can spare a few pennies for you.”
“My service isn’t cheap, I’ll tell you that now.”
“Oh I know,” she smiles to herself, tugging a loose curl behind her ear, “I can be very, very persuasive though.”
“I bet you do,” he says grimly, “You can have the world and everything else handed to you on a silver platter with that face of yours.”
Yunho feels her stiffens next to him and panics momentarily but BoA’s response comes quickly enough to keep him from walking away from this twisted situation. “Why, are you trying to say that I’m pretty?”
He’s unsure himself if her question is relieving or worrying to him. Doesn’t she already know the answer? Does she not ever see her own reflection every morning when she hums her favorite jazz tune and paints her eyes? She is…so beautiful that everything before and after her can never, ever compare.
“If I was a young man with piles and piles of gold,” he breathes, feeling so lost in his own wave of emotions, “If that was the case then I’d be crazy not to come knocking on your door to ask for your hand.”
BoA blinks up at him, a blush creeping onto her porcelain face. “Yeah?”
Yunho snaps out of it and coughs, clearing his throat. “Any man in his right mind would.”
It’s his duty to accompany her everywhere but the mansion is a reach away, surely BoA can return safely without his company. He excuses himself then, his legs moving on its own towards the gate and further and further away from her because without him, she is safer.
~*~*~*~
"Wait!"
Yunho hesitates just for a moment at the sound of her voice and it it is that pause that helps her reach him in time. They are a little ways from the crowd, standing a few feet away from the exit where he would have gone before BoA could reach him.
She knows this is dangerous. The very thought of them, she understands so well means certain destruction for not just their hearts but to all those who'll bear witness. But even so, BoA finds she can't help herself. Everything she's done that evening were on her own free will. She's flirted and danced and stood too close, enjoying the sight and sound and smell of him and it still isn't enough.
BoA wants the taste of him on her skin. His touch on her own and vice versa. She wants him and she knows he does too. They couldn't just pretend.
The singer on stage trails off with the band and in an instant she recognizes her last chance before this twilight ends. She turns to him and speaks, biting her lip. Unsure and pleading. "Dance with me. At least once more. You can leave after, if you have to."
She's begging now and it isn't dignified of her but she begs anyway. And despite himself, BoA knows he can't help but follow.
Yunho stares down at her with his darkened gaze, prickling heat onto her skin. "Fine," he whispers, taking her hand, "But this is the last."
||+||+||+||
“Wow, Soojung,” Jinri breathes, hand clasping her chest. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks? But I still don’t get the point of all this,” Soojung complains, wincing at how short the black dress is, the material hugging her figure tightly. Jinri had let her borrow a pair of black heels to match and had recruited Chorong to help style Soojung’s hair. The preparation process had been exhausting to say the least, what with her “personal stylists” squealing over her perfect facial structure and her gorgeous winged eyeliner and how she’ll bring all the boys to the yard and show everyone’s who’s boss - and she can’t bring herself to be half as excited as they are.
Soojung turns her head to see Sehun jogging up beside them.
“Sehun,” Jinri squeals. “Doesn’t Soojung look absolutely gorgeous?”
She sees him swallow slowly. “Y-yeah. Wow, Soojung, gonna get all them boys,” he winks, and she wants to slap him for all the flattery because she for one is not used to any of this.
Giggling, Jinri swings her arm around Soojung and pulls her aside, whispering in her ear. “Gotta impress Jongin, of course.”
And Soojung whirls around, jabbing her in the ribcage. “What did you say?”
“Relax, we can all see it. Whenever you’re around him, it’s like you’re not even there. The awkwardness, the tension,” she gushes. “And plus, now I have Chorong as an inside source. She told me that Jongin stayed up late the other day begging Woohyun to teach him how to make a box lunch for you. It must be mutual,” she continues teasing.
Soojung groans. She’s going to get Chorong one day (her crush on Woohyun the cook is so obvious). But the embarrassment is coupled with the new discovery that it was Jongin who prepared all that for her and yet all she remembers is his icy cold demeanor and scathing words in the car that morning. She furrows her eyebrows, confused at his duplicity. She kind of wants to slap him for that, to be honest. She’s also grateful. Immensely so.
They drag her into Kibum’s mansion, a sprawling estate filled with rich preppy kids whose families probably own 90% of the nation’s wealth (Soojung is not sure about the statistics, but she’s sure Jongin or Sehun would know). Some of them seem to notice her, but most of them are too intoxicated to care or high. Soojung makes a note to herself to stay far away from alcohol today.
After a while, they end up on the dance floor, and Jinri, having already taken some sips of beer, pulls an equally tipsy Sehun in with her, and Soojung raises an eyebrow in suspicion. But then she sees that practically everyone is doing the same thing, not caring who they’re dancing with, hands roaming in places they shouldn’t be, veins filled with adrenaline and bodies moving along with the booming music (and really rich kids don’t have music tastes that disparate from other kids their age and lower in social class). She feels a little lost in the sweaty mess of tangled limbs and makes her way to the side of the room, simply observing.
“Hey,” she hears a voice next to her. She doesn’t turn her head before she hears, “It’s me.”
“Jongin? What are you doing here?” and she’s surprised because she would think that parties aren’t his thing, since he always seems obsessed with doing work instead of having fun. He’s wearing a nice button-up over his white t-shirt and there’s a twinkle in his eye. “I take it that you didn’t drink tonight, did you?”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” he smiles. “Thought you should know that you have low alcohol tolerance. And low is an understatement.”
“And I suppose a certain someone stayed up late to make a box lunch for yours truly, then,” she shoots back, glancing at him.
He stops, rubbing his neck. Pause. His eyes meet hers for a little too long. “You clean up nice,” he finally says, faint smile on his face. She blushes, thankful for the dim lighting in the room. It reminds her of the first night she met him and it’s the same magnetic tension, breath rushing out of her lungs.
“Like I said, dancing isn’t really my forte,” she mutters, throwing glances at the mosh pit in the center of the room. “I don’t even know why I’m here, actually. All Jinri’s fault,” she rolls her eyes, suddenly wanting to get out of here.
Right then, the DJ transitions to a slower song and it’s oddly deja-vu. But this time, Jongin stares at her intently. “That’s alright,” he murmurs. In a burst of bravery, he gently wraps his arms around her, bringing her closer to his chest. “You do it like this,” he says softly.
She’s caught off guard. This is Jongin, she reminds herself. She’s never seen him so gentle, so close, and honestly she’s wary of the meaning of all this. But when she can feel his arms tighten around her, all she can do is melt into his embrace, as if by second nature.
For a while, time stands still as they move to the music. Her arms are shaking but he stabilizes her by placing them around his neck, and he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but he revels in the way they fit together like puzzle pieces, her hair tickling his chin. He doesn’t know how it happened, really, but all he sees and feels is Jung Soojung and he doesn’t want to think, doesn’t need to.
. . .
The next song is slower than the last and like the previous dance, their bodies sway perfectly in sync to one another. Each breath is simultaneous, each touch choreographed as they weaved through the lyrics of the song. The heat intensifying with every sigh and every look until warmth is all that they become.
Her cheek finds its place on the crook of his neck and collarbone and when she sighs, her breath sends a tingle of electricity through his skin. He grips her closer, tighter, to his own body, caging her in as though to protect her. To care for her in the only way he can…
“You feel it… don’t you?” Her voice is too soft over the music but he hears it clearly nonetheless. It is uncharacteristically demure of her to ask so shyly. Afraid even as her tone wavers at the end, “It can’t just be me.”
A moment or two passes before he finds the words to speak. Because of course he feels it too. It’s been there all along.
“No,” he agrees, his voice as soft and gentle as he could ever muster in his lifetime, “No, it’s not just you.”
“Good.” She says, looking up at him with a smile. He smiles back as her cheeks are suddenly noticeably pinker.
She reaches up to plant a light kiss on the corner of his lips and leans back to gauge his reaction, before pressing closer again to fit her mouth over his. So close but not touching until his arms pull her the rest of the way, the kiss exploding into a whirlpool of light and warmth and-
Their friends were all still inside, dancing the night away, while they are tucked deep into the darkness of a seedy little night club and fused through their mouths as everything they'd been holding back since meeting becomes undone.
The pretense breaks the moment Yunho speaks, his voice dropping lower when their lips pull apart. They share one breath through their open mouths, tasting the tarty sweetness of the forbidden of what they'd just stepped into.
"This isn't going to end well. You're engaged." He all but tells her and BoA agrees. His teeth nipping at her lower lip, their tongues sliding against each other as their breaths mingle into one, "We're going to hell, you know that, right?"
"Yes," she tells him, pulling at the lapels of his jacket and molding her body against his. He reacts immediately, sliding hands along her hips.
It won't end well, of course it won't. And yes, yes she's engaged-"But who cares?"
Jongin stops, his breathing still heavy. "No, no, no," he lets out, arms loosening and fingers running through his hair, frustrated. "We can't do this." There is a pained expression on his face, as if he had just woken up from a dream.
Her arms loosen from around him and he feels a weird sense of loss and emptiness, but he continues, “Shit,” the look in his eyes conflicted and confused. “This can’t happen.”
Soojung’s heart clenches in realization - she doesn’t want to ruin things, she really doesn’t - she knows what’s at stake here - but she can’t help but feel hurt at his sudden outburst. He’s a nervous wreck again, stumbling over his words. “I - Soojung - just - I’m going home,” he says, shoving his way through the crowd.
His touch still lingers upon her skin. She has never felt so alone.
END OF PART 2