dropsofletters

[dropsofletters]

i feel like i know you [jww]

SUMMARY: sometimes, we meet a person, a complete stranger in the streets, and we feel as though we have seen them somewhere else. a sense of familiarity that comes with longing and extreme love. however, it could only be one of those cases of deja-vu…if one does not think that there are other universes, roaming around its axis at the same time that we do.

jeon wonwoo doesn’t believe in the concept of soulmates, but somehow, he always has the same one in various universes.

maybe, destiny does exist.

TITLE: i feel like i know you

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x reader

GENRE: soulmates!au ; soulmates in different universes!au ; friends to lovers!au ; unrequited love!au ; forbidden love!au ; childhood friends!au and wonwoo finding his way back to oc again and again.

WORD COUNT: 8,000 words approx.

TYPE: fluffy fluff ; fantasy ; alternative universes ; angst if you squint

NOTE: this was a ko-fi request! you can go over there if you want to request something from me.

UNIVERSE 01: friendship.

A pendant sits on the palm of her hand.

It dangles in between his fingertips; tips colored by Kool-Aid, burning red. The music is a little too loud in the cramped room, where the strands of his bleached hair merge in between the black, original ones. Wonwoo sits neatly, though his image is copied out of one of those magazines that he reads over every once in a while when at his job at the mall.

Maybe, this is where her friend met the supposed old lady that taught him the future was written in one’s palm. He’s a man of science, though he masks it as not. Books and articles highlighted on his bookshelves, casted in dust as he reaches his twenty-five years of age and he realizes that, perhaps, in the midst and wits of time he never truly reached what he wanted. No scholarship. No travelling. Nothing other than sitting at his small apartment, dangling a necklace, hoping for a sign.

“What do you want to know?” Wonwoo always speaks like he has a secret, eyes squinted, voice a rumble of depth. His vision, however, is settled on the pendant that only moves the slightest, from side to side, venturing into the unknown of what it is supposed to tell her.

Life, on the other hand, is a little bit more secure for her. She didn’t imagine her life to be big, and hence, settling seemed nice. Three years into a relationship that started out in college; a college degree that also sits on her bookshelf, waiting for it to mean something than it actually is, and work. Work has been hectic, with coffee breaks towards the coffee shop in which Wonwoo works at with a scowl to his face and a purse of his lips.

“The unknown.” She jokes, hand trembling a bit as Wonwoo rests it on his thigh.

His eyes roll, the sclerotic becoming a bit apparent, before he returns his gaze to her. For Wonwoo, the world is serious; like the heat of the Americano she has each day, and the routine of making perfect coffee. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” She looks back at Wonwoo. This is the man that would nod at every single one of her words when battling her fear of speaking in public back in high school. Her friend. The reason as to why she gets to speak now in her corporate job for some fashion magazine. She knows him far too well, dances with his eyes and knows how to sit him down with simple syllables. “You don’t believe in any of this.”

“I’d like to grant myself the benefit of doubting my beliefs.” He explains. The nineties are far more technological, fitted for someone like him, with up-and-coming laptops and websites. He could have been so much more, but it feels these days like he’s losing himself to a trail of nothingness. “They haven’t exactly worked to my favor the past few years, so what do I lose by giving you an answer to something? Shit, maybe, I could get an answer, too.”

She grabs his hand, pendant digging to the skin of her palm, engraving the thunder that Wonwoo had bought on a convenience store nearby. It was probably on sale, too. “You don’t need answers, Wonwoo. What’s not lost should not be hunted down.”

His eyes soften. Mirrors in shades of brown, like a lake house that she could never escape. Here, listening to Backstreet Boys, trying to hide from the reality that they are not kids anymore, is the man she trusts the most. The one person she cherishes more than life itself. For, Wonwoo was there for her to lighten up her days, even when the exposure of sunshine would hurt him, too.

“…Let me just answer one question of yours.”

“What for, though—?”

“Just to prove to myself that I’m not the only one that doesn’t have it figured out.”

She sighs, opening her palm once again and closing her eyes tightly. She imagines all that has happened throughout the years of her living on this earth. She has a job that she likes. She has gone through college safely, thankfully. She has a relationship but…these days, it feels like he doesn’t foresee a future. Nick, her boyfriend of three years, goes on and on about his plans in the future, but it never includes her. A shush coming after his words when she ever-so asks…

Would you ever want to marry me?

“The first letter of the love of my life’s name.” She spurts out, knowing that the universe will be unable to ever grant her a benefit of knowing, let alone draw it on her palm with a pendant. Wonwoo doesn’t raise his eyebrows, never judging out loud, but speaking under his breath.

“Totally not the asshole you have for a boyfriend.”

“Wonwoo, have some respect and concentrate.”

“I’m just being honest.” He shrugs, sending a tight-lipped smile her way before he’s tracing her palm with the pendant and letting it hang. The woman at his job told him that it would trace two answers; a circle was a yes, a line was a no, and what she was asking…they’d see if it could get answered.

Much to his surprise, they hold their breaths, looking at the pendant before it starts moving. Almost like magic, like the world has things that we will never understand to its full complexity, the necklace starts moving its pendant until it draws a shape. Repetitive not, perhaps a little bit two quick, but the two folds of the ‘W’ are apparent. Her eyes trail forward, widened in complexion, before laughter spurts out of her lips.

“This shit is crazy.” Wonwoo’s cheeks are tinged pink, standing up and clasping the necklace in between his digits.

“Totally. Uh, where the hell did you even learn this?”

“Remind me to never trust people from work again.” Wonwoo’s back is turned towards her, saving the necklace on the coffee table, and she thinks about it for a moment…

Wonwoo and her together…

Pfft, as if that could ever happen.

“Noted. This will never happen again—”

“Yep. Want to get some burritos?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

The nineties had their own tagline, but ruining a friendship because of some stupid myth as the ear of technology was launching was totally not it.

###

UNIVERSE 02: opposites.

Wonwoo has always had an odd liking to coffee.

He presumptuously admits that he enjoys the taste on the roof of his mouth, and how it burns his palate and awakens him in the early mornings. Macchiato. Latte. Cold or hot. He enjoys them all. Hidden behind of strands of long hair, curled at the edges, and a pair of glasses so thick that they might as well hold all the eyes in the universe, he thinks it’s his own language. His way of speaking without actually opening his mouth. He grants happiness with a ‘good morning’ and a nod of his head, even though his coffee shop is not as big or as crowded as his family back home thinks.

A sigh leaves his lips, wiping the same spot he has worked on since the early morning. Only a client had passed by. A latte, decaffeinated, with two shots of vanilla and one of dark, moody chocolate. The busy man left without much of a glance at him, but the job was done. Hence, the day was uneventful, leaving him with pastries to sell and coffees to prepare. Aching to feel that this business is going somewhere.

He painted the walls green himself, thinking they’d match well with the plants his brother had gifted him after he moved to Jeju with his wife and worked on a gardening program over December. The tables, found in a trip to Scotland, did cost a little bit more than what he likes to admit, but it’s gloomy. Wholesome, like he wants it to be. A place that resembles the peace that comes with having a cup of coffee on a winter day.

It's summer.

Maybe, people just don’t want hot beverages.

The repetition of one of the first albums from The Beatles is cut off by the sound of a megaphone. Sharp and repetitive sentences shouted into the void of the street. People start to gather in front of his shop, but it’s not because of the coffee beans he brews every morning. There is someone else there—one of those hippies that he tries to stay away from.

Wonwoo pushes his hair away from his face, not even making the effort to clasp his beige apron off as he ventures to the entrance door and opens it with a swing. Standing on a small beer box is a woman; sporting a long floral skirt and a simple top that dangles off one shoulder. It reads ‘fuck politicians!’, loud and clear, like the sound of her voice as she asks for rights.

Rights to have some kind of reelection, for she thinks the government is corrupt.

“We are fucking marionettes to the politicians. Workers that will lose their nails clawing to get to the last bit of money they offer us. Not enough for us to eat and live freely—” She speaks into the megaphone, and he notices the soft hue of her lips and the crookedness of her hair. She’s not playing the part, but somehow, she looks quite beautiful in her messiness.

“Excuse me.” Wonwoo speaks softly, as per usual.

“Us women, we need to stay close, to protect the children of our lives. The people that need us the most. We are tired of staying silent—”

Though, she’s silencing him in the process. If this protest gets any heavier, he could even get jailed just because she wants to speak out…in front of a coffee shop. “Um, miss, excuse me, I have something to say—”

“Say it with me: ‘We shall not be silenced’!”

“Miss!” Just when she gives a moment for the crowd to speak, Wonwoo’s voice becomes loud. A shout into nothingness that brings color to his cheeks and a set of widened eyes that anyone could miss if they don’t look at him from up-close. She turns to him, still on that beer box, the wind blowing at her skirt and tracing the soft curves of her body. “This is my coffee shop…and—and I fear my clients would be scared of entering if they saw this protest in front of it. Could you please—?”

“What?” She questions, putting the megaphone down and raising her eyebrows. “This is something important.”

“Yeah! Totally. I know.” Wonwoo, though not a fan of politics, can understand that the economics are not the best these days. Hell, he fears that he will lose the business that he had worked so hard on. “How about this…I know that you planned this protest and that—”

“Just leave the fucking woman alone!” One of the protesters grits through his teeth, the others bursting in exclamations just like him.

“Yeah, fucking capitalist!”

“I could offer all of you coffee! And a place to talk. You buy me a cup, I let you have this whole…ordeal inside.” Wonwoo tries to smile, covered by the strands of his hair, but the wind whisks it away and she gets a good glimpse at him. The frown in between her eyebrows softens, mouth agape for a second before she brings the megaphone up to her lips again.

“We’re going inside! A small business needs us, everybody. We’re not getting out of this mess if we don’t make a change.”

Her hand lays on his shoulder, getting off the box and sending him a smile that blossoms one of his own on his face. It’s crazy how the world has millions of people, each more different than the last one, but there are still connections. Electricity that pulls two people together even with a mere touch, as he realizes just how gorgeous she is.

And so unlike him.

Such an impossibility.

He prepares her favorite coffee then. Sweeter than anything, with marshmallows on top, a caramel Macchiato that keeps her fed along with the guava pastry that she dared try. Speaking her mind away, he only sits and listens, knowing that this is the last time he’ll ever see her.

###

UNIVERSE 03: right person, wrong time.

He looks like the image of what his mother used to coo about every Christmas night when the eggnog got to her system.

Not a man of marriage, he used to say he was, when he was just fifteen years old and promising he could pull through with a relationship. At the time, his now bride-to-be Fae was the third wheel of the trio. The woman that would wipe her tears when everything got to be a little bit too much with him, and that would clasp Wonwoo’s hands in between her own and teach him how to be a better boyfriend. How to leave the faux interests of bad friends behind to build something beautiful.

That they built in just a few months of relationship, tainted and left as lukewarm friendship, got destroyed in just three months.

She’d dare say, however, as she lets the emerald green of her bridesmaid’s dress cascade down her back, knowing fairly well that the fabric fits her a little too snugly because she decided to bathe her stomach with alcohol just hours prior to this, that…Wonwoo was her first love. She had never loved as purely, harshly and truly. With rain falling down on them as they both cried their goodbyes, eager to make it work, but regretting forcing their friendship to be something more.

Now, he’s marrying Fae. They didn’t get together soon after they broke up. It took years, pulling away, falling apart as a trio, coming back together and Wonwoo and Fae being roommates during their senior year of law school for them to get in a relationship.

Though, the word has it that when a man is totally certain about a woman, things will fall into place quickly. He looked at Fae in the eyes quite like he does now, as she stands behind her. Fae has her soft peachy hair curled and tied at the top of her rounded face, lips opened in that heart-curling smile that shows all her teeth, imperfect and yet, so fucking gorgeous. She looks like she was taken out of a fairytale, glowing…and she should be happy with her friend.

Fuck, she is.

God, imagine how difficult it would be to explain to Heaven when she tried to knock on its doors at the end of her life that she was happy…but also a bit jealous that this wasn’t her.

Because once, when she was a teen, she thought she would be in this position. Standing in front of Wonwoo, eager to place her hands on his arms, tug him closer and press their lips together. Call it forever, because it sounds like it could be possible with him. And these are thoughts not to be having when at the altar with her two best friends, as his eyes get filled with tears when looking at Fae.

She wishes it was her.

Wonwoo does look her way at one moment, departing from his vision towards Fae and it’s almost like his shoulders fall. She knows, then, that he remembers the possibilities—what they once talked about when seated on the front-yard of his old house, through small pecks and giggles. They once said that they were ‘ride-or-die’, only to ride along the adventure that they tried.

She gives him a tight-lipped smile, raising the corners of her mouth, as if telling him that they have made it. The ‘happy-ever-after’ reached in different spectrums. Wonwoo smiles back, tracing the outline of his engagement ring, the one that will meet the new ring that will create, hopefully, a lifetime of happiness.

Not with her.

Of course, not with her.

And that doesn’t haunt her. It’s something that she wishes she could have told herself in the past, so she would have never placed herself in Wonwoo’s life that way, making his relationship with Fae easier and more factual from the beginning. However, now that she’s here, it brings nostalgia.

They were once kids, now he’s getting married.

There’s a baby waiting for him in Fae’s womb, that not many people in this church know about. If any, really.

That’s the magic of moving on, but at the same time, wondering why it wasn’t like how they wished for as kids.

She nods at him, mouthing the words: “I’m proud of you.” in hopes that he can read her lips. Wonwoo, excelling at everything he does, manages to do so, nodding back at her before returning his gaze towards his wife.

Then, comes the exchange of words. His deep vibrato promises to cherish Fae forever, and she believes him. Maybe, she doesn’t have anyone by her side, or a man that can compare to the quality of people that Wonwoo is, but the time will come. For now, she’s the tree that shadows over the couple, sheltering from the eyes of the judging as they kiss, after letting out into the world what they wish for each other. Enormous contentedness, for example.

She claps, hands coming together as if praying that they will get to live up to their words. Plenty of years that will come and would have happened to her if Wonwoo was truly her person. Or maybe, he is, because this buzzing excitement that builds like makeup within her chest, coating her heart in layers and layers to hide what truly lays underneath is…an indicative.

Wonwoo is not a person that she got rid off easily. If not, they wouldn’t be friends by now.

Cheers escape her lips, fists balled and raised high in the air for the new couple. At least, someone got to have a happy ending.

###

UNIVERSE 04: the unknown

“I wish I had your eyes.”

Wonwoo says so with simplicity, his nephew—or more like his brother’s grandson—looking up from the handwritten letter that is taking up most of his time and headspace. He takes off on the family genes, with the dark hair, stoic eyes and cat-like smile. Though, the blush is different. In his eighty-six years of living, Wonwoo can’t recall the last time he actually blushed.

He sits back on his chair, creaking from how old it is, wood carving into the spine that had once functioned as leverage for running miles in the Olympics, but now is just a tale that people rarely believe from him. With that, he gets to cross one leg over the other and smile.

Love. Oh lord, love. How beautiful it is, and so inexplicably unreachable for him.

People say that everyone has fallen in love at least once in their lives, but for Wonwoo, it never felt quite right. Women were beautiful in their own spectrum of differences; he had liked a few, if he dares say so himself, with relationships growing and then, withering to the pressure of passing a few months together. But he had never met someone that had him feeling like he could keep going. A romance that could paralyze him to the bone and make him stay.

Now he doesn’t move much, but he doesn’t have anyone that accompanies him, perhaps with a memory, as he sits on this damn uncomfortable chair at six in the morning, downs his two shots of coffee and then, proceeds to read whatever book he finds in his beloved book collection. He wonders if the problem was him; if he couldn’t just quite make his expectations lower so someone could sit by his side.

He feels like his soulmate never came his way, either.

Minho crooks one of his slim legs over his hip, turning to look at the old man. “Paps, I am quite sure you have them. My dad can’t stop going on and on about the Jeon’s and how their eyes are the reason they got ladies on the first place—”

“Not that. Your dad’s an idiot.” Wonwoo excuses, laughing from within his belly and earning a smile from Minho, who plays with the button of his pen. “I am saying that you have a look in your eyes that I wish I had. How long have you been going out with this lady?”

“Almost three months.” Minho admits, running a hand through his dense hair. “…I mean, I’ve liked her for a bit longer, but paps, this is…like…you have to know how it is. I love this woman. I can’t imagine any other girl in my life.”

He can’t say that thought has crossed his head. It’s difficult to fathom just one person being enough for the rest of his life. He was a man of education, so it wasn’t like he was lurking for hook-ups…he just liked the science of relationships more. Why hunt when it always ended in a fall-out?

And he never really cared enough to keep going, either.

“I don’t know how that is. Maybe, that’s the goddamned problem.”

“How—? What?” Minho’s incredulous voice has him standing up, forgetting his letter to his girl to frown at Wonwoo as he points at him. “You’ve never been in love?”

“Never met anybody who could truly make me feel at ease.” Wonwoo announces, clearing his throat and rubbing at the long hairs on his chin. “…Because that’s what love is to me. I didn’t want a woman that I could go crazy with in the sheets. I needed a lady that…made me feel like I could be a better man, who pressured me to be better but still, made it seem like it was nothing. Like trying for her was just enough.”

“That’s crazy…” Minho mumbles, taking a seat next to Wonwoo. It’s horrid that he has to live in the same house as his brother’s family, just because walking gets harder by the day. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“I do.” Wonwoo contemplates, nodding along to his words before sighing. “I believe there are people in this universe that we are just meant to find. But I never looked, you know? I stayed still. Hoped the great woman would just burst through the door and be…perfect. For her to be ready for me. For us.”

“That’s not how it works.” Minho says. “Love is action. Soulmates are action, too. You can find them, but if you never truly make an effort to develop and help grow, it’s not going anywhere.” Those words ring within him, youth bursting from his vocal cords, but nonexistent in the antiqueness of his vision. “Because destiny can only do so much. People can be perfect for each other, while being imperfect in their own ways.”

His nephew, or grandnephew, stops for a moment before smiling fully, like a vein in his chest had popped and liberated him.

“If we learn to forgive, we learn to love.” He finalizes, pressing a hand to Wonwoo’s knee and patting it. Those words settle within him; regret basking upon the old man’s figure. Of having so much and yet, having lived so little. With that, the guy raises one eyebrow in questioning. “Would you like to read what I’m writing? I want to give it to her for our four-month anniversary.”

“Technically not an anniversary.” Wonwoo adds the obvious, only to have Minho laughing.

“And right and there, paps, is why you’re still single at this age and time.” He still doesn’t listen to Wonwoo’s grumpy ways, or the grumble that he lets out. Minho sits by his side, the bubblegum pink paper making Wonwoo cackle. “So, I started it off by spraying perfume on it.”

“Of course, you did.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

“Oh, just so the lady never forgets me.”

“…And there goes, some of your dad’s genes popping out.”

“Paps, don’t be so grumpy.”

“Sorry, that’s what old single men are like.”

“Well, old man, let me show you what real love sounds like.”

###

UNIVERSE 05: we were just kids.

Bones chilled, crippling under the weight of small tremors, Wonwoo doubts this is the harshest rain the city has met. Not that he would know; he’s only been living for eight years in this wholesome world, but he knows for a fact that he could climb mountains with storms that could break the sky itself and he’d make it, just to meet his crush by the swings that near his home.

She’s his neighbor of sorts. His cousin studies with him, just one year older than him, and he ignores the kind of beauty he holds. The headbands that cling to her hair and tangle it even more. The gloss of her lips that may come from the donuts he always steals from his dad’s shelves just to give something to her. Her cheeks are rounded, like universes that he’d dare kiss if that wasn’t prohibited. Mom taught him that he shouldn’t get too close to girls, but she’s…gorgeous.

Intelligent.

She’s a storm waiting to unravel and he notices it when her hands splay under the rain, trapped underneath one of the picnic tables, waiting for the night not to eat them alive with the power of rain water. She may be made of sugar, like the sweetness of her words when she tells him that he’s the best student in his grade, that he knows things that even her, as his senior, has no idea about. That could be why she doesn’t get under the rain, afraid of it, cling to her own knees…

“Oh!” Wonwoo says his thoughts out loud. Of freaking course! Dad always lent his jacket to Mom when the weather got a bit cold. Though, he’s not a businessman. He doesn’t have a jacket around waiting to wrap around her arms. Instead, he stretches the sleeves of his yellow sweater, placing the tips on her ears and mumbling. “You must be freezing.”

“Everywhere. Not just my ears.” She points out and thank God it has gotten late—though not really, he may hear an earful from his parents when he gets back home—. Or, they could come looking for them. For, both her family and his knew about their whereabouts. “You’ll ruin your sweater.”

“You’ll get sick.” Wonwoo points out the obvious, though he can’t help but give a toothy grin that is mostly braces. “…That could give us an excuse to come over to my place. My grandma always makes the best chicken soup. Dad says it heals the heart.”

She smiles at him, crooked, closing her eyes the slightest before returning her gaze to the sky. “I’m afraid we won’t make it home tonight. I don’t want to stay out from home.”

Then, she pauses, lowering her voice.

“I’m scared.”

He hadn’t noticed that while being under the rain with her seemed like the most romantic thing to do, it was also something that she didn’t want to do. Responsible, eager to wrap herself up in her mom’s arms as she had hot chocolate to ease the ache in her joints, that’s who she was. The stars become her north, though Wonwoo notices she’s studying the houses not too far, where the lights have started to take place one by one because of people turning them on at the dusk of dawn.

That’s the cue he needs for taking off his sweater, leaving him only in a white t-shirt with a dinosaur imprinted on it. Then, he’s placing the sweater on top of their heads.

“Wonwoo!” She screeches, covering her face with her palms. “What do you think you’re doing? You’ll get sick, too!”

“I am getting you home, that’s exactly what I’m doing!” His black hair sticks to his face, turning around with his sweater getting drenched while on top of him. He’s already out of their hideaway, nodding at her. “Get here! We need to run before we get entirely wet!”

“Jesus!” She adds, walking alongside him and wrapping an arm around his waist to keep the two of them under the sweater. Wonwoo would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart racing within his chest. “O—Okay. I’ll have my mom make you some hot choco in return.”

“Really?”

“O—Of course.” Teeth tittering, she gives him a smile when he looks down at her for a fraction of a second, running through the streets of their neighborhood, shoes ruined because of them splashing against the water-covered concrete. The tip of her nose glistens as if she had just cried, but she looks genuinely happy. “Wonwoo, you’re…the best boy I’ve ever met.”

They are only eight years old, but those words are enough to let Wonwoo know that he wants to be just as old as his parents are and cling to her hand just because he can, and because he wants to. He guides their scavenging, blushing, trembling, mumbling and tripping over his own words, perhaps even his shoelaces, because he is so young and yet, he knows this is love.

The romance his grandma always coos about in those books she reads as her dishes are finished.

The same love that his brother got scolded about just a few days prior for drawing hearts on his notebook.

The love that adults say they can’t find because they are too blind to the obvious. Only a heart that loves purely is able to hunt for romance. For, if love is viewed by a battlefield, it will only be a matter of time before the ticking bomb explodes and their territory is turned to ashes. He may not know a lot about life, or if they’ll last forever, but in his short years of living he knows he doesn’t want her anywhere but at his side, each and every afternoon, playing in that park near their neighborhood, swings with their names written in between doodles of hearts.

###

UNIVERSE 06: i promised i’d stay.

The first night of living with somebody should feel like the initiation of a construction work that only architects could battle with. It’s a promise of sorts; the trial and error that every relationship needs to go through, and she’s so certain about Wonwoo. Everything that he has established and shown to be in the year they have been together, but at the same time, lying next to him as the lull light of his reading lamp bathes over them, his eyes half-closing as he dives into a good read, feels like she could die at any minute.

Not because of him, but she just wants everything to go well.

It’s the fear of having people a few years from now telling her that they saw it from the get-go; that they wouldn’t work out in any way. It’s the irrational thought that pops in her head and tells her that, much like blogs and memes have emphasized, people are not to be trusted, for no one loves truly in this time and age. It’s the weight on her chest that tells her that he loves her, but she could have tried to put on something sexier instead of her usual cartoon pajamas.

She tries to fall asleep to no avail. People say that relationships no longer exist; we are just going from one person to the other, searching to be found. However, the thought of not having Wonwoo by her side and failing in this terrifies her. She is supposed to be the love of his life, the woman that he sighs about every single day and the mere reason why he has a smile on his face. She doesn’t ask for perfect, for they have had their arguments with tranquil conversations aiming to be respectful between the two, but she wants it to be him.

But what if it’s not him?

What if it’s him, but she’s not his ‘it’s her’?

Another turn on the bed.

Another tug of the sheets.

Another sigh.

Wonwoo closes his book softly, eyes closing the slightest before he turns to the side. That’s when he comes face to face with her, pulling the covers slightly over his chin before he connects his gaze to hers.

“I can hear the gears turning inside your head.” He whispers, licking his bottom lip and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before sighing. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” She lies through her teeth, afraid of what he may think in that moment of overthinking. Though, Wonwoo doesn’t eat it up, humming at her words.

“Are you sad?”

“Not precisely.”

“Are you angry?”

“Not precisely.” She repeats.

“Is it something I did?”

“Not precisely.” She confesses, hiding her face on his chest and feeling all the weight on her shoulders come out in a sigh. “It’s the fear of what you can do. Like leaving, stop loving me, hating me after moving in with me…wanting to go somewhere else, loving someone else—”

“That’s impossible.” Wonwoo says with a scoff, placing a hand on her face and pressing kisses to her cheeks repeatedly, each softer than the last one.

“Promise me it’s impossible.”

“I can swear.” Wonwoo announces, pulling away to kiss her lips. Her heart races and calms down at his motions at the same time; the paradoxical magic that he pulls with her. “Because I choose to love you every day, even when there are millions of people out there, and circumstances that can happen between us. I choose to go to bed every night with you because I was tired of thanking God and having to think you’re far away. I won’t hate you, because I want to make it work.” He stops for a second, rubbing at a tear that had glided down her eye. “I choose you here, now, tomorrow, forever. You’re the love of my life not because the universe put you on my road, but because I choose you.”

Sometimes, we get lost on ‘the one’. The one person that was made to perfection to fit exactly what we wanted. However, we shape the person we love within our thoughts to be the one that we wanted. It’s up to us to accept someone, or feel like they are the kind of person that we want by our sides forever. She thinks this way as she cuddles closer to his chest, intertwining their legs, imagining if it will feel as safe and beautiful as it does right now when they are eighty and he keeps reading a few chapters before going to bed.

After all, doubting Wonwoo comes in spurts that disappear when she recalls that she feels like she has known him forever. Here, in this lifetime and the many ones to come.

Maybe, in another universe, they are just as in love as they are right now.

#wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #seventeen x raeder #wonwoo #kpop scenarios #writing #soulmate!au

[dropsofletters]

— how to request

so, as many of you may or may not know, i fulfill writing requests through my ko-fi account, though, i haven’t made an official post that explains how to request and what you will get from your request if you do choose to go down this path. 

p.s: i still write for fun only and i will always post stuff that comes from my own mind, preferably slowburn or series, but if you wish to support me with a request, i’d be endlessly thankful. 

here are the step-to-step guide on how to get your request through:

visit my ko-fi page.

pick your order (more on orders and prizes below!)

jot down your message and be specific about your request.

for example, you can write “hi! i want a drabble with doyoung that includes long distance relationships and online dating!au. thank you!”

send your request and done, i’ll update you in the process of writing it!

now that we have the basics down, you can ask for several “orders” as i call it, in which i include: 

☕ a drabble (around 3k words) (worth one coffee!) 

☕ an average fic (around 7-8k words) (worth three coffees!)

☕ piping hot slowburn (more than 14k words) (worth six coffees! and we can settle on plot points and what you wish to see.)

things to keep in mind:

i write for seventeen, exo, nct, wayv, shinee, winner and monsta x! 

i don’t write smut. i can write suggestive, but smut is out of the picture. 

i won’t write any triggering topics.

and! we can settle which genre you want in your story. fluff, angst, humor, we can talk about it in length to pick your happy ever after or more of an angsty ending!

that’s about it. please keep in mind that you’re in no way obligated to request a fic, but it would help me immensely in both posting things that you guys want to read and also with the costs of my med school education! 

with that said, have a nice day bubs!

[dropsofletters]

hi hi how are youuu

hello!!! been offline for a bit, missing u guys. how about youuuu

#asks

[dropsofletters]

Oh my goodness okay hahaha so I found your account through a fic you made soooo long ago and I just want to say you’re a wonderful writer and I’m so happy you’re still here! Much love to you and your work <3

oooohhh, which one, may i ask?

thank you, thank you!

#asks

[dropsofletters]

is there any way to get more writing from you?

hello!!!

you can always ask me to write something for you with your guidelines in my kofi page! the requests are always open

#asks

[dropsofletters]

— how to request

so, as many of you may or may not know, i fulfill writing requests through my ko-fi account, though, i haven’t made an official post that explains how to request and what you will get from your request if you do choose to go down this path. 

p.s: i still write for fun only and i will always post stuff that comes from my own mind, preferably slowburn or series, but if you wish to support me with a request, i’d be endlessly thankful. 

here are the step-to-step guide on how to get your request through:

visit my ko-fi page.

pick your order (more on orders and prizes below!)

jot down your message and be specific about your request.

for example, you can write “hi! i want a drabble with doyoung that includes long distance relationships and online dating!au. thank you!”

send your request and done, i’ll update you in the process of writing it!

now that we have the basics down, you can ask for several “orders” as i call it, in which i include: 

☕ a drabble (around 3k words) (worth one coffee!) 

☕ an average fic (around 7-8k words) (worth three coffees!)

☕ piping hot slowburn (more than 14k words) (worth six coffees! and we can settle on plot points and what you wish to see.)

things to keep in mind:

i write for seventeen, exo, nct, wayv, shinee, winner and monsta x! 

i don’t write smut. i can write suggestive, but smut is out of the picture. 

i won’t write any triggering topics.

and! we can settle which genre you want in your story. fluff, angst, humor, we can talk about it in length to pick your happy ever after or more of an angsty ending!

that’s about it. please keep in mind that you’re in no way obligated to request a fic, but it would help me immensely in both posting things that you guys want to read and also with the costs of my med school education! 

with that said, have a nice day bubs!

[dropsofletters]

just wanted to say how much i love and adore how you write. thank you for sharing your talent with us readers 🤍

thank you!!! it's so nice to hear this nowadays, since tumblr is so dead these days. a big hug for ya, anon!

#asks

[dropsofletters]

so, let's talk, what are some of your new year's resolutions?

#ask games

[dropsofletters]

so,

i'll be taking requests and would love to get them considering i've got some last minute graduation stuff to take care of, and also lots of time to work on them now!

— how to request

so, as many of you may or may not know, i fulfill writing requests through my ko-fi account, though, i haven’t made an official post that explains how to request and what you will get from your request if you do choose to go down this path. 

p.s: i still write for fun only and i will always post stuff that comes from my own mind, preferably slowburn or series, but if you wish to support me with a request, i’d be endlessly thankful. 

here are the step-to-step guide on how to get your request through:

visit my ko-fi page.

pick your order (more on orders and prizes below!)

jot down your message and be specific about your request.

for example, you can write “hi! i want a drabble with doyoung that includes long distance relationships and online dating!au. thank you!”

send your request and done, i’ll update you in the process of writing it!

now that we have the basics down, you can ask for several “orders” as i call it, in which i include: 

☕ a drabble (around 3k words) (worth one coffee!) 

☕ an average fic (around 7-8k words) (worth three coffees!)

☕ piping hot slowburn (more than 14k words) (worth six coffees! and we can settle on plot points and what you wish to see.)

things to keep in mind:

i write for seventeen, exo, nct, wayv, shinee, winner and monsta x! 

i don’t write smut. i can write suggestive, but smut is out of the picture. 

i won’t write any triggering topics.

and! we can settle which genre you want in your story. fluff, angst, humor, we can talk about it in length to pick your happy ever after or more of an angsty ending!

that’s about it. please keep in mind that you’re in no way obligated to request a fic, but it would help me immensely in both posting things that you guys want to read and also with the costs of my med school education! 

with that said, have a nice day bubs!

#self reblog

[dropsofletters]

would it be fine if i request but leave the storyline completely up to you? or would you like at least a vague concept of a story??

totally okay!!! as long as you put the genre, aka fluff or angst or whatever! and if u Wang happy ever after or not.

#asks

[dropsofletters]

they looked at me first...

[dropsofletters]

WONWOO & VERNON MAMA 2023 Red Carpet

[dropsofletters]

a loser babygirl 😌

[dropsofletters]

what's up, mr. hollywood?

—SUMMARY: if someone hasn’t heard about jeon wonwoo, they must be living under a rock. one of the grandest stars in hollywood, face to rom-coms and thrillers, shows the spectrum of a real celebrity. though, that is ruined when a bitter ex-girlfriend decides to drop pictures of him almost naked for the world to see, splitting it in half—should he just do an underwear campaign or disappear from the limelight for good?

so, he decides to travel to the most secluded villa he can find, and in there, he happens to fall in love with books and a certain librarian who speaks too much and still, leaves him with too little information about her.

eager to get to know her more, wonwoo forgets that he’s actually a celebrity and that reality must strike at their door one day. hopefully, not any time soon.

—TITLE: what’s up, mr. hollywood?

—PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x reader

—GENRE: glimpses of notting hill!au ; strangers to lovers!au ; celebrity!au ; actor!au ; idiots in love!au ; librarian!au ; bookstore!au

—TYPE: fluff ; angst if you squint ; suggestive if you squint ; humor given by jun’s character lol

—WORD COUNT: 13,270 words

—NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want to support me, you can ask me to write something for you over there.

He could get tied down by the diamonds that wrap around the wrists of the women that transcend in his life, like the pieces of paper of a script that he never really imagines in his list of cinematography. That way, it would be easier to wake up in West Hollywood, in a mansion so big that—sometimes, though he won’t admit—he gets lost in the rooms. Wonwoo wouldn’t have to think twice on promising with a band a supposed forever that ends in five months. Like everything in this plastic world does.

Wonwoo could get used to the sweet taste of fame, that bathes the gold of his latest Oscar for a film he knows will follow him to the grave. The flashing of lights, the egotistical boosting and the screaming voices that grant him the benefit of leading a generation while he feels inherently lost. Pursuing a fraction of what he was able to give through three years of pressure for completing only two hours of film, applauded by the critics, but now a shadow he will always have to follow, mimic and surpass.

He could get used to being famous.

He could.

He could.

He could.

The truth is, Wonwoo isn’t, doesn’t and won’t. He’s there, then he’s not. It’s been like that for nine days now. Spank Magazine! Decided it would be a great idea to plaster him in his most delicate and reckless state. Wonwoo had been sharing a few summers with the same woman, Courtney, a love that never really translated into nothing more than a week together, drinks to be shared, kisses to be yearned for and then, he’d leave London. With nothing to seek for other than the faint breeze that is the complete opposite of the blaring sun in Hollywood, and the idea that he has someone waiting for him in case he feels lonely in between films.

The drinks must have gotten heavy, or Wonwoo isn’t really as smart as he grants himself to be. Always. He thought he’d never miss a step and he almost hears his manager, Sandara, laughing at him straight at his face. If only she wasn’t trying to erase the image of Wonwoo looking out of a window in white boxers in some secluded penthouse in central London. This summer, it seemed like Courtney wanted something else. Fame.

He hadn’t realized the picture had been on her iPhone, neither did he think that the moment he got off his plane that took him back home he would have to see literal signs at the airport that showed him half naked. The first thing he did was hide, and the second…okay, he hadn’t really thought of a plan. Other than compulsively buy a plane ticket to a villa in France and hope, perhaps, that he won’t have to explain if his shoulders are really that big naturally or not.

“You could have totally stopped this from happening.” Sandara looks unlike how she does when they are in Hollywood. Normally, she’s wearing a straight pencil skirt paired with a button down and her hair in a ponytail. She never misses the coffee with three shots of espresso and perhaps, a line of sugar—or cocaine, her energy is unmatched—, but now, she’s trapping a croissant in between her hands and she has tried to make the enormous yellow sweater she has paired with green leggings work. The frog look isn’t half as bad on her slim body.

“I know.” Wonwoo walks slowly, while she roams around him like a puppy would. Sandara has always said it. Wonwoo’s weakness for complexity gravitates him to women that leave everything to desire. He pulls the cap a little over his head, covering more of his eyes in case anyone sees him while walking to the nearest library. “I never said it wasn’t my fault, but I’m giving you a vacation and running away from the chaos you were trying to solve.”

“I offered you a way of turning this around and you didn’t—”

Wonwoo scoffs at her words, rolling his eyes. “You knew I was going to say no from the get-go.”

“Wonwoo, people are not hating on you because you’re half naked. You just pulled a Miley Cyrus. Destroyed the whole poised, serious, intelligent guy persona and changed it for the hot guy in the white boxers thing.” Sandara pulls a finger up in the air, pointing out what she thinks is obvious. Meanwhile, the breeze plays with her hair until it is standing on various spots. “…Calvin Klein offered to help us out. A few campaigns with the boxers on, and then, we finish it off with a good sex scene in one of your films. You’re a man. If it was me on that magazine and I was famous, I would have been destroyed.”

Wonwoo hates that it is a reality, but he didn’t really intend on posing. Sure, he is not an angel. His career doesn’t let him stay with someone as much as he’d like to, for he always has to travel, film something else, prepare for a script or a new series to take on, but he also hasn’t done much else past the expected. Stories can be told about Hollywood that are rather true of orgy parties and eccentric relationships, but he doesn’t do much past the normal. Perhaps, a risky picture if he is feeling…rather comfortable, but he’s private about the matters that take up on the heart.

He just happened to be a bit tipsy, looking out of the window and not noticing that a picture had been taken of him, and while he’s pleading the case of using the law against Courtney for breaking his privacy, he’s also taking a break. And needing to read a book.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea,” Wonw0o starts, pushing the doors of the only library he could find in this secluded spot he had found in France. Sandara passes under his arm, still walking backwards and somehow not falling. “But it’s not who I am. I just don’t do soft porn.”

“Wonwoo—”

“My ass was displayed on a magazine. I’m lucky it’s not my dick, but I’d rather just not…milk it.”

“Oh, wrong choice of wording.”

“Sandara.” He groans, throwing his head back. The place catches his attention in the matter of seconds. The walls are baby blue, like the revelation of a child’s bedroom, with sprinkles of brick walls here and there in a beige color as an addition of texture. The tables are smaller in comparison to the rows of books, lined up by genre and color. It’s a pleasure to a thoughtful mind, as he traces the outline of the romance plethora. His least favorite genre. “You’re sexualizing your client.”

“I swear I’m not. You’re the one talking about milk!” She jokes around, laughing at the flush that he’s certain appears on the apples of his cheeks, before she’s grabbing one of the smaller books in the row, standing at the tip of her toes to reach it. “The Duke’s Final Wish. Oh, so the duke dies in this book. What’s the point of reading something you know everything about just by the title alone?”

He doesn’t understand it either, so Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m more of a thriller guy myself, but I’m in France, I’ve just dumped someone entirely from my life and…” His nose scrunches up upon the sight of the naked, sun-bathed abs on the duke on the cover. “Maybe, I just need to read softcore love times to feel less miserable about…everything.”

Sandara’s brown eyes turn mellow, sighing deeply. “Wonwoo, this is just another turn in your career. I promise everything will get better.”

It will, he’s certain. Matters always go back to place.

However, he remembers his start as an actor. He was this shaky, flimsy sixteen-year-old teen who cried on the outsides of a casting because he was tired of receiving no’s. Who wiped his tears on a pillow when he got called from another casting to participate with just one line. He’d wake up every single day at five in the morning; giving up adulthood, growing up, having friends, dating, studying, just for the sake of getting in better movies. He hit it big when he was twenty, skyrocketed in a military film, and from then on, he never rested. Movie after movie. A show, then another one.

And just like that, it lost sense. With every critic that shadowed him with that one big film he did last year, whatever product that came to fruition was worthless. It was a race with himself—and he’s tired of running.

And—

Oh, wait.

It smells like insect repellent…

“Roach, go away, you!”

“Huh?” Wonwoo’s curiosity gets the best of him, peaking from behind the shelf to see a slender, tall man holding, indeed, an insect repellent and spraying it on a blonde gentleman. He recognizes the first one—the attacker in question—to be one of the workers because of the uniform. A cloud sweater inside white pants, according to the name of the library—Somewhere On The Clouds—, but he’s flimsy in comparison to the buffer, taller man that he’s trying to go after.

The cockroach character, per say.

He hears more shushing and spraying, along with a woman’s name that escapes the blonde’s lips. “I wasn’t talking to you, Wen Junhui, my wife is over there and you’re not letting me talk to her—”

“She’s not your wife anymore.”

“You can’t physically get over someone so quickly.”

Another spray and now, this Junhui guy with the long brown hair and septum piercing, has finally landed on the taller man’s eyes because he hears a groan that reverberates throughout the library. “If it’s you the someone we are talking about, oh, trust me, it’s easy. No woman could ever—”

“I’ll close your mouth up with a good old fist, Junhui. Stop! Stop spraying me!”

He hears another commotion, of closed doors and shushes that follow after someone physically more peaceful than the other men. And for once, Wonwoo loses interest in physical matters like the cameras that could flash around him and the book at hand. His heart hums, singing a melody when looking at her. Her hair is tied in two braids and closed in a bun behind her back, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, looking at the blonde man with the firing rage of a million wars that went unfought.

Even Sandara is listening closely when she speaks. She’s rain in its biggest form; when it pours down and becomes unstoppable.

“I thought he said you could go away, Pierre.” She outs to the world, only to have the blonde man shaking his head, twinkling green eyes staring back at her.

“Love,” He’s trying to grasp her hands, wishing to say something more, but when their hands interlock, she slaps his away. “Don’t you push me away.”

“By law, you pushed me away yourself.” She instructs, pushing at his arms when he’s trying to get closer. “Pierre, I’m being serious. Stop disrupting my library and just go away.”

“But—”

Wonwoo is not a hero, neither does he think this is the situation for him to try to be one. However, he does accidentally—or not so much so—happen to slide his hand across a shelve that wasn’t holding up tightly. The books fall one by one, like a domino effect that gain him the attention of the woman with the attitude of an owner and a dislike for her ex-husband and the man in question.

He smiles, tight-lipped and shy, with the Sun blessing his cheeks along the lines of red coloring. He expects her to launch at him, ask him to leave Somewhere On The Clouds, but instead a gentle smile takes over her face. Oh, of course, someone like her would just know what he’s doing…and why.

“Let me help you with that.” She says, moving closer to him and crouching down at the same time that he does. Wonwoo is spurting out a short laugh as he hears whom he thinks is called Junhui pull Pierre away from the library.

“I’m sorry. I’m a total mess.”

“Or really observative. Guess we’ll never know.” She shrugs, smiling at him when standing up with a pack of books pressed to her chest and the lingering scent of mints following after her.

“Witty.”

“I’m a woman. One has to be.” The answer that leaves her lips has him grinning like a fool, looking down only to be blinded by her sight when staring up again. “I’ll give you a discount just for that.”

“There’s no need—”

The pocket of his jeans is filled by her hand, sliding something quickly there before she’s fleeting away with a simple: “Just take it.”

Half of his mind thinks she has left her number there, and he’d be more than happy. However, Sandara is looking over his shoulder by the time he takes the paper out, viewing a small coupon with clouds drawn all over it that reads off ‘fifty percent off your next order’.

“Dang, I thought it was her number.” Sandara whispers, snapping her fingers. “I’m going to get it for you.”

“No!” Wonwoo shrieks, plastering his hand on top of her arm and dragging his manager closer. “We’re…we’re just going to take the coupon. This is supposed to be a vacation. No love involved.”

“No love involved…” Sandara repeats, laughing at his words. “We’re calling your autobiography that. That’s for sure.”

Huh, even he admits it wouldn’t be a bad name. Much more if it was a rom-com of sorts.

But that’s not going to happen.

The sky looked like a child’s portrait, painted outside the lines. The stars blurred in between the deep shade, though he knew it could be that he needed a new pair of glasses. He kind of forgot his new formula back in Hollywood, and the ones he got were bought on a whim. However, he walks through the empty, too-small streets of the villa, hands fisted in pockets, trying to understand the change of weather. It was windy, but it was a kind of humidity that made him scrunch up his nose every once in a while to sniff a bit of snot.

Allergies. It’s whatever.

Wonwoo rolls on the heels of his shoes, looking up at the sky and wondering why the world feels so unlit as of lately. He’s at peace, but running away from something. Empty. Lonely. And sure, he has gotten used to solitude, at least for now, but what was once something he chose is now the only option that he gets to fulfill. Cornered, in some place far away from home, where he can only wish for life to be different, for better or for worse.

What interests him is the shout he hears after, a commotion of a solid against iron that has him rushing his step the slightest. He doesn’t know if he’s prepared to run or go help, but what he sees at eleven at night—when he should be asleep and trying to conceal a good night of rest with a warm glass of milk, as Sandara said—is rather surprising. The owner of Somewhere In The Clouds, a library that he has visited often in this past week, stands in front of a house’s gate, forehead pressed to the iron, hitting her boot against the surface once again.

“Shit.”

She looks rather different than she does with the pastel colors she wears at her library. Wonwoo has seen her a bit, with faint glances and a few exchanged words of good books and prices, but he has never fully developed a conversation. One that matters. Right now, he wishes he was braver, for the expanse of her back is shown in jeans that are falling off her waist and he swears he sees the hairs on her arms stand up upon the breeze that he can’t understand but seems to cherish her in shivers.

“This is all Pierre’s fault!”

She screams at the world, the sky, the heavens that decided divorce was meant to be on her side. But, instead of leaving it at that, she grabs a rock from the ground, molds it on her fist before throwing it at something. Something being Wonwoo, who shrieks at the touch of the rock against his cheekbone. Gasps mingle with the weight of her steps against the pavement when she rushes to him, shouting:

“Goodness gracious! I am so sorry!”

Wonwoo feels the warmth of her skin against his own, palms connected to him in the least delicate of ways, thumb and index finger tracing the cheekbone that must flourish with the tone of roses. However, when he opens his eyes, he realizes that her own hold a weight that he can’t understand. As if every speckle of golden that brims the natural color of them anchors him to a dilemma that he should not want to solve.

“I…I totally didn’t see you there. It’s all the gate’s fault.” She says, only to have Wonwoo clasping her hands on his own, pulling them away from his face softly.

“Where’s your key?”

“My ex-husband took the spare key and now that I left my keys inside, I don’t know what to do.” Her digits wrap around the gate once again, moving it from the front to the back in a motion that causes it to noisily make its state known. Closed as ever. “This is what happens when I decide to have a great time. Jun just…he just wanted to share some mojitos and now, I’m out here, probably a step away from sleeping in the cold.”

Wonwoo chuckles to himself, pondering: “And you’re telling all this to a stranger?”

“You’re not completely a stranger. Judging by your book selection, I can tell a lot about you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, beautiful as ever in the way the wind blows at her hair and connects it with the skin of her face. And on top of it all, she remembers who he is. “You’re not a complete asshole, and that’s enough for me to tell you that this fucking night sucks.”

Tipsy, she is, and Wonwoo chuckles at her antics softly. He remembers, before stardom, how he used not to give a damn about the world, quite like she does. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” He crouches down, caging his hands together to make a socket for her to place her feet on. “You’ll step here and I’ll get you up the gate.”

He shouldn’t be thinking about doing this. For God’s sake, she’s not in her right mind considering there are, at least, three mojitos in her system, and she must think the same because she shakes her head.

“Wonwoo, I’ll crush you.”

“Or you’ll get home safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I didn’t just decide to squat in the middle of the street.”

She rolls her eyes at his words, though a smile transcends to her features. She moves with carefulness, placing one boot on top of his hand and then, the other leg lifts up to follow after the trail of the gate. Wonwoo’s eyes go down her legs and he admits he does peek at the curves that form there, but soon after, he’s more worried about the way she’s clinging to the top of the gates to pass over it.

“Help.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Wonwoo mutters, hoisting her up in his shoulders before pushing her upwards by the back of her thighs. She clings to the metal with strength, only dropping herself when she feels safe, and though she lands directly on her ass, the thud is soft enough for him to ponder that maybe, it didn’t hurt her as much. “You okay?”

“In one piece, so…okay!” The smile that spreads across her features is worth a million dollars, and Wonwoo finds himself gravitating towards her, hands expanded on the gate, separated by the mere iron. He returns the grin, because a gift so beautiful can only be given back, right? “What are you doing out at this time of the night?”

Midnight, it strikes in the imaginary clock. He hasn’t checked his phone because he knows he’ll have missed calls from a sleep-dazed Sandara who wants him to return back to the place they rented for their time there. “Jet-lag has been killing me, and I just needed some time alone to think.”

“Jet-lag? Where are you visiting us from?” Leaning on the gate, her eyes close to slightest to rest, and Wonwoo knows soon will be time for him to leave.

“California.”

“Well, hope my villa traps you a bit longer.” She announces, yawning into her fist before smacking her lips together.

“You’re falling asleep.”

“Possibly, probably, maybe. All synonyms. All right.” Once again, that smile that could paralyze traffic if she dared is given to him, but she pushes herself off the gate. “Sorry for stepping on you.”

“No problem.”

“A free book will wait for you.”

“I can totally pay the next one I’ll buy, don’t worry.”

“Never deny a librarian the benefit of giving you a book.” She announces, pointing at him as she swings towards the door. “Wait, the front door is locked, too.”

She stops on her tracks and Wonwoo is ready to stay the night seated outside the gate, just in case someone causes trouble to her, for leaving a woman alone in the middle of the night is not precisely something he is thinking of doing, but when he opens his mouth, she’s already pushing the front window upwards.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting in through the window.”

“I’m not telling you, I’m showing you.” She announces and, for the first time in a while, Wonwoo full on laughs. He doesn’t remember feeling his chest so tightly put-together in a while. The more he sees her wiggle herself through the window, the more he cackles.

“Please, be careful.”

“I am!” And she is, waiving at him once she’s through the window, hair done a mess, shirt falling off one shoulder. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Hollywood.”

“Go to sleep, you.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The nickname, strangely, doesn’t settle badly in his stomach. Much less when he gets to see her turn off the lights and doze off to God-knows-where.

Wonwoo has made common occurrence for him to start a new book every Monday. He was on a reading strike for years, only yearning to find the next story he could act in, but it’s much different now. Much more after he decided to accept the book that the librarian had, oh-so-sweetly, decided to gift him.

The story read in utmost perfection. A thriller that chilled him to the bone and cradled him in fear late at night. Something different; and hell, maybe, he’s a little bit insane for wanting to feel something other than anxiousness. All he does is read the pages that week, weakened by the figure at the end of the road, in between clouds of smoke that the book always talks about. Is it real? Is it not? And why does the book end in a way that caused him to drop all the things that were on his hands as he was reading, perched in a boat in the middle of the lake near the library?

He dropped the damned book. He needed to return it. The worst possible outcome happened, because the moment Wonwoo decided to pluck it out of the water, the pages were torn, ink shredded, heart racing within his chest.

He runs away for a while. Escapes the library in hopes of her thinking that he’s just taking a little bit more to finalize the capturing pages of a well-written text. However, life isn’t so great when the next Wednesday, he comes face to face with her. She’s not in her work clothes, hair pulled away by a hair-clip, eyes a little drowsy with sleep as remaining pieces of her mascara cling to her eyelashes. Her hands hold a bag of groceries weakly, a little bit lazily, and while Wonwoo is trying to grab a snack to continue his Wednesday movie marathon—You’ve Got Mail is paused on his screen because he just wanted something salty—, he comes face-to-face with her.

Alright, the anxiousness is back.

“Do I terrify you?”

Wonwoo fixes his glasses, crossing his arms over his chest. Magazines would have torn him apart from the plaid shirt he is wearing today, antique and brought out of a film from the early nineties. He stammers. Gosh, when was the last time someone made him stutter? “Uhm, no?”

“You haven’t gone back to the library, and I’m not certain if it was because I gave you a thriller book or if it was because you saw me drunk out of my ass.” She’s speaking rather quickly, scoffing out a laugh that dies down soon after, rubbing the back of her neck out of nervousness. “I’m sorry. Uh…I must’ve looked like a total serial killer giving you a thriller book.”

The book. What can he say about the book? “Not at all. It was one of the best books I’ve read in a while.” He admits. Too bad it is in the depths of the ocean by now.

“I’ll give it to you, then. The copy, I mean.” She shrugs her shoulders, biting on her bottom lip and staying silent for a brief second that he takes to study her face. Something about her is always rushing; as if she can’t stay still for too long in fear of being caught. By life or someone else, he doesn’t know. Or catching feelings, like he musters could happen if he doesn’t get away soon.

“I wish I could read it again.”

“Then, do it.”

“…I accidentally dropped it in the local lake.” Wonwoo whispers, expecting her to get mad, but she extends a hand on top of her chest and starts laughing. “I—I’m sorry. The ending surprised me that much. Stupid hands.”

“I imagine. I imagine.” She hums, mimicking his pose and crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you making it up to me, Mr. Hollywood?”

He’s knowledgeable in the art of flirting. Not because he has mastered it, but rather because Wonwoo is the one of the being-flirted-on end. He must be reading into it, but the twinkle in her eye incites him, bringing him closer as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Anything in mind, Mrs. Countryside?”

“Ew, I don’t know why I don’t like the sound of that.” She enunciates, only to have him laughing. He sees the portions of her that are fractured, from the way she covers her mouth when laughing, to the slow blink she gives after a minute of silence. As if she wants to be awakened by her thoughts. “Mhm, how about burgers?”

“Burgers?” Wonwoo asks. “That’s what would make you forgive me?”

“A great burger can make me consider forgiving you.” She answers, pressing a hand to his shoulder to balance her weight as she takes her phone out of her pocket. “Write your number down there.”

Wonwoo jots down the digits that he has learned just the past few days, smiling at her. “Alright, you’ve got a free coupon for limitless burgers until we find a book as good as that one.”

“You don’t know what you’re promising.”

“Possibly. But it’s an excuse. Either we find the greatest burger or another good read.”

“Huh, you’re right.” With that, she puts her phone back in her pocket, smiling at him with her full teeth. “I’ll text you for my price.”

“Anytime.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking after her step after she left. How someone so gorgeous hid in such a secluded villa? He would never understand.

The Headlock For Two Challenge.

When Wonwoo ventured into one of the best rated burger places in the villa, he didn’t expect it to be…so simple. Wooden walls and heated tables in bright red, with towers of meat and chicken stacked with perfectly-spiced veggies and sauces that would mingle into one’s tongue for an entire day. She seemed to be impressed when he linked her over to this place only three days after they started talking through text, but she was equally as interested when she read about the challenge in the menu that was presented to them in a small piece of wood, carved letter after letter, honoring the toughness of the place.

“We can totally down this one between the two of us.” She turns the menu around, showing it to a wide-eyed Wonwoo. When he sees the picture, he doubts they can for a little bit. His glasses push his hair away from his face when he takes them off to check it out a little closely. Three layers of bread. This is final—he might die if he takes up on this challenge.

“What’s the price?”

“The burger is a price on its own.” Claiming, she turns the menu around once again before clearing her throat. “We’d also get a picture of us hanging from these very own walls, and, if that’s not a lot on its own—a grand price of a month-worth of free French Fries.”

“You bought me with the fries. I’m not much of a picture guy.”

He has gotten pictures of him taken from every angle and while he adored to catch a sight of the world from another point of view, he hates the way he has been portrayed in such imagery. He’s always perfect. Never himself. And yet, never enough.

“Waiter!” She lifts a hand in the air, catching the attention of the short man with the buttons of his shirt almost popping out from how closely it clings to his belly, but the smile he gives through plump cheeks and a dense moustache would have anyone trusting him with their orders. “We’d like to take over the challenge.”

“Oh, really?” The waiter starts jotting down on his notepad. “A group of men tried to take it down a few days ago. Couldn’t make it without throwing up.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wonwoo asks and he sees her spread a hand on her stomach.

“I meant it when I said I was hungry.”

“Fine. And two glasses of cola with that, please.”

“On our merry way, sir.” The waiter gives a sharp touch of his pen against the pad before closing it and leaving to the kitchen. This is the moment he gets to see her again, closely as she lifts the sleeves of his yellow sweater up to her palms and leans her cheek against one of them, elbows well-prepped on the table.

She tried a little today. He has been under the limelight for long enough to know that there is a glimmer of pink on top of her cheeks, paired with sweet highlighter. She has a red lip on, eyelashes curled until they seem like her eyes are flirting with him just by sharing a glance.

“Why here, Wonwoo?” She asks. “You were in California. Everyone dreams about being there, around celebrities and all. Why here?”

The column of his throat contracts at her words. He almost fears that she has caught him for who he really is—a well-known actor.

“Take my word for it. There’s nothing special there.”

“You’re awfully negative, aren’t you? Here we are, in a villa that no one knows, where the lake could eat me alive one day and no one would remember me, but in a city so grand, where every step someone takes feel like part of a movie, you wish to run away.” She’s babbling, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Isn’t that exciting to you?”

He shakes his head. “No.” Wonwoo adds. “Because in a city so big, only a few people are remembered. We don’t choose what we are remembered for, either.”

“Oh, trust me,” She says. “You’d be remembered by good. Everyone in this city coos about the possibilities of you.”

“And that’s the thing. I don’t like expectation.”

“I understand.” She stops. “So, reason—?”

“I’m negative, but you’re good at prodding.”

“I was once a journalist in the making, but I ramble too much. I’d get in front of a camera and freeze, or say something really stupid. Probably both.” She conquers, sighing into her hand. “But you don’t have to answer, actually. I just want to get to know you. You could ask me something of your liking, too.”

He could ask about her library, but they have talked about that through text. He knows that it’s a family’s tree doing, where she loved literature and happened to continue down the road that was crafted for her. A place that was meant for her to walk on, but the wood on the floor was not precisely brought to life by her.

“Why didn’t it work out with your ex-husband?”

The reason why he left California is, perhaps, as personal as her divorce. She doesn’t swallow thickly, but she is left thinking for a moment, looking ahead and towards where he is, before the waiter returns with the burger in his hands and three glasses filled with a yellow, pink and white sauce.

“Thank you. This looks delicious.” Wonwoo compliments, only to have the waiter nodding.

“We start the timer now. Thirty minutes to finish all of this.” Just as he clicks the clock, she takes the half of the enormous burger and places it on her plate, and while he gives it a huge bite that fills his mouth and leaves his jaw hurting, she eats it bit by bit, plucking the food and swallowing it quickly.

“Probably my best kept secret.” She says, shrugging her shoulders. “I was promised until death, and then, I realized living one more day with him would be the cause of my death. It’s like…being pricked little by little, being married.”

“In general?”

“To him, precisely. Pierre has his own issues to figure out. He has…these experiences that he wants to go through in love. He wants to try with other people. And I wasn’t going to wait there, watching him mindlessly flirt with people, asking me if I’d ever been with more than one person, until I was finally hurt by something I expected.” She motions, sighing. “And now he’s trying to come back, so maybe, he already tried and thought returning home was the solution of the mess he made.”

“That’s pretty common. I happen to never last more than two months with somebody.” Wonwoo cackles at his own state in relationships, moving his head from side to side. “For a while I thought it was me.”

“How so?”

“Uncapable of being loved, if that makes sense.” Wonwoo announces. “I’ve never tried hard enough to make someone stay.”

“So, you’re the complete opposite of me. I have a hard time letting go.”

“I have a hard time making someone stay.” The mingle of tastes inside his mouth makes him wonder if she just wanted an excuse for them to try something good and new, not precisely break a challenge. Make herself memorable. Or maybe, that’s just her personality. Not everyone has to be trying all the time. “It probably is me.”

“Everyone has their little glimpses of red in their flag.” She jokes, tilting her head to the side when Wonwoo groans. “But hey, I’m a divorced woman, who am I to judge?”

“So, California…stinks a little bit, feels way more dense than this villa does, and it just…it reminds me of who I could’ve been. And who I am not, clearly.”

“Well, Wonwoo,” She picks up a portion of her burger, dipping it in what he thinks is corn sauce, before lifting it up in the air. “Cheers to that. We can be remembered for the picture we’ll have hanging here later this night.”

“Not at this pace.”

“Just say ‘yes’ for once. I promise, it doesn’t hurt.”

She could teach him that life is not filled with ‘no’ responses all the time.

Wonwoo thought the following times they’d see each other; they wouldn’t have any interruptions. However, much to his distaste, the moment he steps inside her house for what she called through the text ‘dinner and a movie’, there was another person invited.

The library’s worker, Wen Junhui, is not commonly known by him, but he has heard wonders about the man around town. As it goes, no one could ever tame him. Not from going around dating, but from being less eccentric. He sits in front of the TV they could have been using, holding fried chicken in between his digits after dipping it in barbeque, and he’s watching some Steve Harvey show that he is not quite sure he’d getting a glimpse of before. Too old for his liking, maybe.

“We have…companionship.” Wonwoo whispers to her, feeling the weight of her hands glide down his arms as she takes off his jacket. When he turns around, he sees her hanging the jacket, running her palms over it to keep it straight before humming.

“I didn’t know we had some either, but I totally promise Jun movie night every Friday. I can’t just kick him out. Or I can. But like, look at his face,” She points a hand towards Jun, who is still munching happily and laughing at whatever the host of the show had said. “One can’t just break a heart that easily. At least, his.”

Wonwoo can accept that Jun, while wearing a tank top and shorts, looks entirely different. A bit childish, with his bangs pushed back by a small clip, eating to his heart’s content. “I’m not saying you should kick him out.”

“But you had the hope it would be the two of us.”

“Awfully conceited, woman, don’t you think?” Wonwoo jokes around, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-grin. He’s normally not a sweet talker, but he’ll take the merit he can.

“Anyone would want to spend alone time with me.” One of her shoulders shrugs up, the structures of her face fighting their hardest to let out a smile. “Would you want some water, coffee, tea, juice, cocktail? I don’t know how to make cocktails, but I can fetch something up.”

“None.”

“Oh, maybe some energy drink, perhaps? Or, oh shit, you’re from Hollywood, maybe you’d like sparkly water, or bubbly water…”

“Trust me, we have normal water in Hollywood. I think.” He leans down to fix her hair over her shoulder, jotting his chin towards the TV. “Are we ordering something else or we’re sharing chicken with Jun?”

“He will notice there are only two pieces left in a few minutes and order some for everyone, so we just wait.” With that, she walks ahead of him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to snuggle to the density of her white sweater, or that he’s not a bit enamored of the way her thighs fill the ripped jeans around her hips. She’s unique—so homely in a way that he hates he can feel that a little more time with her could end up in him in love.

“Wonwoo!” Jun speaks through a mouthful and in the month that he’s been there, he has gotten to know him a bit. The man is as sweet as one can get, but he’s also a bit odd. “I didn’t know you were coming. Do you want some—?” He stops on his tracks when extending the takeout bag towards Wonwoo, looking down at…yes, two pieces of chicken left. “Let me grab my phone,” He speaks after plopping his thumb in his mouth to lick the remaining sauce off. “And order something else.”

“Told you so.” She mouths after sitting down next to Jun, who is in between them like a child would. “Would you mind ordering a pizza? I think that’d last us some more than the chicken.”

“Oh, totally. There’s a two-for-one coupon in my phone case.” Jun is mumbling to himself, tossing glances towards the TV screen every once in a while before returning to his phone.

“I’ll pay for it. Don’t worry.” Wonwoo announces, but Jun shakes his head.

“The whole coupon thing is true—”

“But I want to pay, let me.”

That’s how they end up watching old marathons of family shows, with one hand holding a slice of pepperoni-filled pizza and the other on the couch behind them as they sit on the couch. When he can, he looks over to where she is and he catches her looking back, with eyelashes fluttering against her under-eyes and lips mingling in a small smile. He’s a bit surprised, however, when Jun is rambling with him about nineties shows, because a hand lands on his behind her friend’s back.

The touch of gentle fingertips hold back when tracing the outline of his knuckles, hesitantly slipping in between his own. Wonwoo feels his heart hammer against his chest, a beat that almost leaves him with ringing in his eardrums, for the blood rushes through his entire body until he can’t mask a smile. And sure, Jun may think that he’s smiling towards him, immersed in a conversation that now is a stammer in his head, considering her thumb is drawing on the veins of his wrist, like the gentle kiss she is not promising, but is making him think about.

In the midst of a villa, Wonwoo starts thinking about possibilities, and percentages have never been his thing more than art does, but the interlude of this story starts to make him think about staying. When Jun leans to grab another slice of pizza, Wonwoo takes this moment to bring that hand closer to his mouth, slotting his lips against her knuckles and watching her widen her eyes while staring at the screen.

Their little secret, now even more engraved in his brain by the expression on her face.

The inhibition of love is a saddened matter. Wonwoo never thought he’d be on the end spectrum of not being able to fully open up. After all, acting takes up the imagery of shredding every portion of himself in order to make a character come alive. He needs to unalive his motions in order to be someone else in front of a camera. However, when laying on that bed of his, in his place in the villa, that had felt more like home than any mansion could ever do for him, he is awfully aware of the person next to him.

“Do you have…um…any idea why I call you Mr. Hollywood?”

The question is soft against the sheets. She’s laying on her side, knee angled until she is almost resting a thigh over his hip. Wonwoo shakes his head, turning his head to look at her from up close. She has forgone the makeup today, hair a bit dirty and laying on top of her head by a ponytail. When she opens her eyes, he’s staring back at her.

“You didn’t answer.”

“Oh, I thought I did.” Wonwoo mumbles, trailing a finger on the side of her face before shrugging. “I have no clue. Anything in particular I should be aware about?”

Wonwoo, when asking to spend time with her almost every day, is knowledgeable of the fact that she’s a very smart woman. However, as the night slips through his clear curtains, cascading along her features in the moonlit nature of a November midnight, his mind forgets the fact that he’s Jeon Wonwoo, and that maybe, his stigma as a person is harder to hide than he thought.

“…I saw you in a movie once.” The confession has his heart hammering against his chest, and he sits up immediately. Not angered, but terrified. Afraid of being used for what is always loved about him—his power, love for acting, his money. “I want you to listen to me, okay? You’ve been here for almost two months and I feel like…it’s time to tell you something. Nothing bad. Just something.”

“You talked to me because of me being an actor?”

“God, no. I didn’t want to talk to you for the same thing. You terrified the hell out of me.” She says, sitting up with him and pressing a hand to his thigh in order to keep him in place. Her eyes beg him to stay close and somehow, he does. Though the alarms in his mind tell him to fleet. “You still do, but for different reasons. I saw you in this movie…Stay With Me? The one where you played a secondary character. The main guy’s best friend. I didn’t recall enough about the movie, but I knew that face. I thought you were…good looking. That’s all. I’m not a fan.”

“That’s a very old film.” It was in the start of his career, when rom-coms would call him just to play the knowledgeable best friend. He has the face of a man who knows how to give advice, they told him. “So, you call me Mr. Hollywood because you know who I really am outside of these walls I’ve built to run away?”

“To remind me you’ll leave, I guess.” She sighs out, running her free hand through the locks of her ponytail. “Calling you Mr. Hollywood reminds me you’re…you know, somehow unreachable.”

“Gosh, I am not!”

“Come on, Wonwoo. I’m just a woman who happens to sell books for a living. Each day, I wake up to a bed on my own, wondering what kind of legacy I’ll leave in this world, but I am also timid enough to not want to be remembered. And it’s the paradigm of being…just somebody else. I won’t be listed as one of the most gorgeous women, neither one of the most talented, but I can reassure you…Wonwoo, anywhere you stand, as an actor or not, you’re special.”

He has seen love in scripts, written to be perfection, clouds of pink that cascade the fall of a person who would have never thought romance would be on their way. He has acted it out, softened eyes and sweet words that come with the clash of lips, but he doesn’t expect how love really feels like. Numbed out of every word that could make him feel insecure, trapped in the odyssey of wanting a kiss that has him leaning forward, capturing her face in his palms and looking into her eyes, not seeking softness, but the reassurance of something else. Of the feedback of warmth.

“And I am just a man who wants you to see him as he is. Hollywood or not.”

“I see you, Wonwoo.” She mumbles, and that’s enough for Wonwoo to lean forward. Fill her with a kiss that threatens to whimper in her mouth when her mouth parts and clashes against his.

Wonwoo feels complete, like a thread follows after him and whispers in his mouth everything he wants to hear without a noise at all. Her hands mingle on the back of his head, legs interlocking with his own. And he hates that even when he is kissing her with fervor; tracing the outline of lips that he wishes to remember to the day of his death, there is still a voice of insecurity.

He leans back on the bed, with her body trailing after his, settling a leg in between his own and pulling away to press a chaste kiss to his jaw, soon after pressing her mouth to his neck. Both of his hands expand on her back, under her shirt to feel the softness of her skin when he whispers:

“Could you please turn off your phone?”

“Excuse me?” She questions, only to have Wonwoo shaking his head.

“I…I got some pictures taken of me. I was intimate with a woman I used to date on-and-off and now…everyone has a picture I didn’t consent to of me in my boxers.” Confessing it has his cheeks blaring in heat, and he expects her to laugh. “And sure, you may think it’s stupid, but—”

She settles her hips on top of his, sitting and reaching for her phone in the bedside table, only to show the screen turning off to him. “It’s not stupid to me. Whatever makes you feel comfortable, I can consider.”

“Where were you my whole life?” Wonwoo asks, feeling her mouth return to his neck. And she laughs against his skin, drawing sparkling stars in his stomach and letting them tingle with…whatever feeling he’s starting to let cascade over him.

“Far, far away.”

“But I found you.”

“…You found me.” She interlocks their hands together, smiling at him. “Thank God, you found me.”

“What is this?”

Sandara positions three things on their coffee table in a specific order. A cup of coffee, with a savory smell of Bailey’s that he has been obsessed with every since he tried it on a café shop downtown. A croissant, with an extra layer of powdered sugar on top of it, and of course, what takes him off guard. A stack of papers, placed neatly like a script would. He picks up his coffee, giving it a taste even though he’s eyeing the paper, not touching it.

“Well, we’ve been here for almost three months…” Sandara sits down on the couch next to him. Her hair is shorter than how it had been when they got there, and she has dyed it back to a light brown. She moves it to a side on its entirety before pressing her knuckle to her cheek. “I think it’s time we start to think of a comeback. I was introduced to this idea where you’d star with Cillian Murphy, and I just couldn’t say no. You’re totally reading it.”

Acting is a prolongation of his anatomy. Wonwoo can’t exist without acting, but taking a break has never hurt anybody. He believes that most good actors take one in their lifetime. However, being pushed into stardom once again it’s not something he had thought about. Or he has, but he has always pushed it to the back of his head. That would mean going back to Hollywood, casting interviews where he’ll have to talk about the whole photo incident, perhaps take up on that Calvin Klein campaign that Sandara was so excited about…and that all sounds like a ton of work.

“You didn’t ask me about this.” Wonwoo announces, but Sandara is already placing the script right on top of his lap, pointing at it with a manicured nail. “Sandara—”

“I didn’t ask you, but you need to continue, Woo.” She says. “You’re one of the biggest talents of this generation and you’re throwing it all to Hell because of a picture? No. That’s the answer. We’re not letting that happen. We’re going to meet the team the following Monday and Cillian is going to be there. We can read over some—”

“What?” Wonwoo stands up, throwing the script on the table and shaking his head. “I didn’t consent on going back to Hollywood.”

“Wonwoo, it’s where you’ve grown to be the person you are today. You can’t escape it forever.”

“Yes, but I also don’t have to return just because you’re telling me to. It’s more complicated than that.” Hence, he has spent almost every day sharing kisses, touches, stories and whispers with a woman that he has promised is not temporary. It’s been almost a month since they shared their first kiss…and from then, they have fallen into the comfort of…

A relationship, maybe. That’s what he calls it inside his head, but he’s too afraid to voice it. For reasons as such, like this, when he will need to fly away to Hollywood just because reality is calling.

“They are offering millions of dollars for this, and Wonwoo, you’re going to miss acting eventually. I’m sure you do now, as you are standing here every morning just reading books and doing nothing.”

“Healing is not doing nothing.” Wonwoo corrects, and when he tosses a look at the script, he can admit he is a bit intrigued. How can a person be both here and there at the same time? How can the man he has grown to be in the villa meet the celebrity that he really is?

“Just read it. We both know you want to.”

“And then, what? I never come back here. I have a…someone, a girlfriend, maybe, and I don’t want to leave that behind.”

“I’m not—Just don’t get ahead of yourself. Think first about what you want to do and sure, if it’s staying here for a while more, I’ll accept it. But this is such a good film that is going to rise from the ashes and I want you to be part of it. You need to. It’d be iconic, Wonwoo, I swear.”

Does he want to be remembered by everyone as the actor who could do it all, battle against the tabloids and shine as one of the best performers of the generation? Or perhaps, does he want to be remembered by one person as the man who mended her heart after not wanting to believe in anyone because of a horrid break-up?

“I’ll think about it.” He feels bad about saying it and sitting down with that coffee and croissant to read the first page. “Just leave me alone for a while, will you?”

“Right.” Sandara presses a kiss to the crown of his head, patting the hair soon after. “I’m only doing it for you, I swear.”

“I know.”

That’s the only whisper he can muster to give her as he traces the outline of the title. The ink, the indents, the fresh paper…he misses this, but at the same time, he doesn’t feel ready to return to the emptiness that is felt when going through stardom. He’s enamored of reality, and that isn’t supposed to be a sin.

The more he reads the script, the more he likes it…and he starts to wonder if there are two men living inside of him, or if there is one that perseveres more than the other.

Molding against somebody’s body is a connection on its own. Wonwoo could get used to the dance of breathing that comes with laying next to somebody, when his chest connects to her back, arm weighting her waist down, chin squished to her shoulder. However, this morning is different. They don’t wake up to the sound of her alarm but to something else. His ears make out a noise that is familiar to him.

Flashes.

Clicking.

Shouts.

His name.

Her name.

Why do they know her name?

Wonwoo stands up, breathing quickly with the flaming hope of only being in a nightmare. However, the coldness of the floor seeps through his bare feet when he moves towards the window, moving the curtain to the side in order to see a herd of paparazzi standing outside of her home. Jun is in front of them, waving his hand like an idiot and posing for the camera. Quite like the characters in White Chicks would.

“Love, where are you going?” She’s mumbling against the pillow and for a moment, all Wonwoo sees is white. He feels let down by the woman waiting for him in the mattress. How could they have found him here, when he has gone months to no end completely unnoticed by the citizens? And Jun is enjoying the attention, that has to say something.

“Nowhere. I am unable to go anywhere because there are fucking paparazzi in your front yard.” Wonwoo lurks through the clothes left on the floor, running the fabric of a cotton t-shirt over his body and sighing in distaste. He’s walking from side to side in the bedroom. The paparazzi will only leave when he gets out of that door, after all.

“What?”

“Just tell me the truth. When did you call them? I was with you the entire night.” Wonwoo points out the obvious, placing his hands in his waist and frowning towards her. Her eyes widen and he swears he sees the little, fragile glass that she has within her chest playing as a heart breaking with one look alone. “You did exactly what everyone did before you—”

“Fuck, Wonwoo, what are you even saying? I would never do that to you!” She stands up and though he wants to believe her, he has heard that before. She’s walking towards him, sheets pressed to her chest, pleading at him with her vision alone. “Let me see.”

“No!” He shouts, taking her by the arm and keeping her away from the window. “If they take a picture of you, it’ll be everywhere in a second.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how t—these things work.” She stutters, pressing her hand on top of his and trying to rub at the skin there. “Wonwoo, you have to believe me. I would never betray your trust like this.”

“Your roomie is out there making a show out of this.”

“Jun would never, either! He’s probably just enjoying the attention.”

“My God.” Wonwoo takes another glimpse out of the window, feeling his eyes get filled with tears. “How…How am I supposed to believe you when it all ends like this? Another scandal. I don’t deserve to be in the highlights of a magazine once again!”

“I’m sorry…” She mumbles, trying to catch him in her arms but he’s moving. Walking out of the bedroom, he goes down the set of slim stairs as he prepares to go through the masses of paparazzi and perhaps, lose himself in the process of stardom once again. Vacant answers, eye-rolls, and the undignified tilt of his head looking down because of the flashes and the lack of sincerity towards his self. “I don’t want you to leave. I’m—I’ll go with you, just let me get dressed and I’ll talk to them with the truth. They just need to know who you really are.”

“You truly believe that being sincere is what helps me here?” Wonwoo turns around, looking down at her and scoffing. “Sunshine, I’ve tried to be sincere in a world where they only want to see my worse and I expected you to understand that.”

“…You know, I’m starting to feel offended that you don’t believe me. I understand you, but I would never do this to you.” Wonwoo sighs at her words, sparing one good look at her face. He will miss the shared laughter and even more so the love that she had gifted to him without nothing in return. Nothing more than loving her back.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience in your home.” Wonwoo says, putting on his jacket and his sunglasses before turning around and nodding at her. “And thank you for giving me the benefit of loving you.”

“Wonwoo—”

He opens the door in a hassle, eager for paparazzi not to see her in her pajamas and shred her to pieces. Jun greets him happily, offering him a cup of coffee that he ignores as he walks through the masses. The cameras go wilder for him, asking him questions:

“Where is your new love?!”

“When are you returning to Hollywood?!”

“Is she aware of your soft-porn pictures?!”

“Is this the end of your career?”

At this last question, he turns around, grabbing the microphone from the journalist’s hand and adding: “I don’t know, you’ll be the judge of that.” With that, he gets inside his car, hands trembling as he years to get out of there. They will follow after him, but the best he can do is reach Sandara and hope that she can take care of it.

With a broken heart and his wheels swirling, Wonwoo gets out of her life for good.

And he doesn’t look back.

For twenty-one days, she curses believing in love again. Even so, she starts to ponder if she should take out the entirety of the romance shelf off her library, but Jun is the one to stop her before she wiped out the best-selling row of their plethora of books. A fraction of her being understood where Wonwoo was coming from, and maybe, that’s the reason that upon hearing he’d be holding a press conference in a city nearby her own, she decided to go give it a glimpse. Perhaps, be another fan that just happened to get a little too close to the star.

“You’re losing your damn mind.” Jun says when following after her, entering the crowds of people that mingle to get a glimpse of Wonwoo as he’s expected to enter one of the most popular hotels in the city. “And I’m starting to like it. You’ve never acted like this before.”

“Jun!” She drags, a little mortified that she’s here. She has tried contacting Wonwoo, but the last thing she heard about him is that he had taken a plane back to Hollywood. She was even a bit surprised that he had come back. Everyone was trying to deduce who was the one that had captured him for three months in some secluded villa that no one had been able to find him in, but the masses of rumors were met by silence from his team as they announced his new film. “I shouldn’t even be here. He hates me, and for pictures that I wasn’t even in.”

“And I finally got the number of the girl in the supermarket because she saw me on TV. One of us is winning, so that makes two of us winning.” Sometimes, she wishes to pluck each hair of Jun’s head one by one only to see if he has a proper adult reaction. However, her best friend wraps an arm around her shoulder, grinning at her. “Are you sure you want to be around here? I looked up the best places to visit around here and we can totally go. It wouldn’t be on vain either.”

“I want to see him. One last time.” She ponders, humming at his words. Though, she has to scream a bit, considering the fans are going crazy, talking within themselves about the announcements he was supposed to be making today. “You know, maybe I can pluck him out of my heart that way.”

Though, that thought completely vanishes when looking at him. Wonwoo has decided to wear a long brown coat, sunglasses propped on the tip of his nose, getting out of a limousine as two guards help him get through the groups of people. A black shirt enters his black slacks, accentuating the waist she’d rest her cheek on when hugging him from the side as he poured coffee for her in the early mornings. She had lost that, along with the smile that characterized him when being with her. Though, she can say it had been taken away from both of them.

They are placed in a corner of the grand room in the hotel that is supposed to be taken up by Wonwoo and his team. He’s seated on a table, well perched and high on the stage, with Sandara on one side and another man whom she does not recognize on the other, but he’s making sure that the microphone is working well. The fans, such as them, are on the side to support him as the journalists take up most of the space.

Like parasites, she realizes, when the interview starts to enroll.

It’s supposed to be a press conference to announce the return of Wonwoo to acting and stardom, but they have made it all about the pictures that months ago had reached a magazine because of his ex…situationship, and also included glimpses of her. Of the mysterious woman whom he can’t find words, for he chooses other questions and gets shouts from the journalists who want more from him. He does admit to have signed a contract for a film, and she’s entranced in the way he speaks about the plot and what he wishes out of it.

A woman in her forties stands up, heels clicking when she plots her hip to the side, grabbing the microphone in between her hands with expertise before adding: “We have gathered information and found out, Mr. Jeon, that you have lived in the villa for almost four months by now. Reading books, having coffee, just living the life of a man in his fifties while also being in your twenties. What was the reason to stay out of stardom for so long and do you wish to go back to it any time soon?”

Wonwoo is uncomfortable; she can tell by the way he wrings his hands and turns them pale after taking off his sunglasses. He’s rotting in between the sense of lying or being truthful to himself. However, before Sandara could say to ask another question, Wonwoo leans over the microphone and sighs.

“Because I…happened to meet people who made me want to stay, and I sadly did not have the chance to stay for longer.”

“How so?” The journalist keeps prodding now that he has answered, and Sandara takes up over the microphone.

“I think it’s time we cut this round off—”

Though, Wonwoo gently pushes her away, rubbing at one eye before clearing his throat. “Because, as an actor, I have played enough roles for people to visualize me as such. I wanted to be someone normal for once, and reading books, like you said, made me unite with the citizens around the villa. I—I would have stayed if I could, but…reality wants me here. This is who I am.”

That could be the finalization of them, and it should have been, but damn her for being stubborn and knowing precisely when a good person is leaving her life, because she places a hand on top of Jun’s shoulder and whispers in his ear:

“Hoist me up. I’m going over the gate and getting to him.”

“What?”

“I can’t let him leave like that. Not without knowing I love him, at least.”

“Alright. If you’re going to jail, I’m going with you.”

What a paradox, it is, that the start of their story included him helping her get over her own gate and now she does as such, earning gasps and shouts from the masses of people as the guards rush towards her and catch her just in time for her mouth to let out:

“I just—Hey, I just wondered, Mr. Jeon, if you’d like to hear something from one of the citizens!” She’s battling against the strong hands of the guards trying to drag her away, feet kicking and asking to be given a second by Wonwoo.

She swears she sees a smile creep up his features when he leans over the microphone once again and says: “Let her go. I know her.”

The strong pair of arms unravels from around her waist and she sighs out in glee before she’s granted a microphone. She fixes her hair, stands up a little straighter and hates the fact that she didn’t try to look better after twenty-one days of missing him. “I was wondering, Mr. Jeon, if there was anyone who would have made you stay in that villa if it weren’t for your duty calling you. If…if it hurt you leaving the villa at all.”

She should expect the worst, judging by the ways cameras start flashing and people start whispering within themselves. However, Sandara is talking in Wonwoo’s ear, eager to get him to say the right thing, but as they look at each other, they are back to the nights in which she’d ask him to turn off the lights because she didn’t want him to see her without makeup or sick and he’d shrug his shoulders without a care in the world. They are back to the first time he was able to sleep next to her without turning off all the phones in the house.

It’s just the two of them. Their world. Their villa. Their three months.

“…You. You are the only one who could make me stay.”

That’s what makes everyone talk louder, after the bead of silence that leads up to the grandest reveal. The cameras turn towards her and she’s afraid of how she’ll look after, but that won’t matter if Wonwoo returns…one day, even after the movie, even for the weekends or when he’s free.

“That’s…that’s lovely.” She says, looking up as not to feel shy or embarrassed by what she’s about to admit. “Because I want you to stay, Wonwoo.”

“Um, I think we need to return to the questions—” Sandara is speaking, but Wonwoo has lifted his eyebrows, smiling softly and standing up from his spot and going over to where she is. Each step slows down the closer he gets, and the guards move to his place in order not to have journalists or fans jumping at him.

“Before you say anything,” She starts, interlocking her hands together in front of her body. “I…I love you. I just need you to know that. I don’t need anything else right now.”

Wonwoo quirks his head to the side, cheeks blushed and hands fisted in his pocket. “Well, I was about to offer three months in Los Angeles to film a movie and then, back to our villa indefinitely but—”

“You have to be joking.” She coos with a smile on her face, but Wonwoo shakes his head.

“Pretty honest. I am characterized for being such, aren’t I?”

Before she knows it, she’s launching herself at his arms, lips jotted to his own and even though everyone is looking, she couldn’t care less.

Indefinitely. That starts to sound a lot like forever, and with him, that doesn’t seem impossible.

“I love you, too.” He whispers as she hides her face from the cameras in his jacket, laughing at his words.

dedicated to @wisteria-woo

#self reblog #please do tell me what you think!

[dropsofletters]

what's up, mr. hollywood?

—SUMMARY: if someone hasn’t heard about jeon wonwoo, they must be living under a rock. one of the grandest stars in hollywood, face to rom-coms and thrillers, shows the spectrum of a real celebrity. though, that is ruined when a bitter ex-girlfriend decides to drop pictures of him almost naked for the world to see, splitting it in half—should he just do an underwear campaign or disappear from the limelight for good?

so, he decides to travel to the most secluded villa he can find, and in there, he happens to fall in love with books and a certain librarian who speaks too much and still, leaves him with too little information about her.

eager to get to know her more, wonwoo forgets that he’s actually a celebrity and that reality must strike at their door one day. hopefully, not any time soon.

—TITLE: what’s up, mr. hollywood?

—PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x reader

—GENRE: glimpses of notting hill!au ; strangers to lovers!au ; celebrity!au ; actor!au ; idiots in love!au ; librarian!au ; bookstore!au

—TYPE: fluff ; angst if you squint ; suggestive if you squint ; humor given by jun’s character lol

—WORD COUNT: 13,270 words

—NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want to support me, you can ask me to write something for you over there.

He could get tied down by the diamonds that wrap around the wrists of the women that transcend in his life, like the pieces of paper of a script that he never really imagines in his list of cinematography. That way, it would be easier to wake up in West Hollywood, in a mansion so big that—sometimes, though he won’t admit—he gets lost in the rooms. Wonwoo wouldn’t have to think twice on promising with a band a supposed forever that ends in five months. Like everything in this plastic world does.

Wonwoo could get used to the sweet taste of fame, that bathes the gold of his latest Oscar for a film he knows will follow him to the grave. The flashing of lights, the egotistical boosting and the screaming voices that grant him the benefit of leading a generation while he feels inherently lost. Pursuing a fraction of what he was able to give through three years of pressure for completing only two hours of film, applauded by the critics, but now a shadow he will always have to follow, mimic and surpass.

He could get used to being famous.

He could.

He could.

He could.

The truth is, Wonwoo isn’t, doesn’t and won’t. He’s there, then he’s not. It’s been like that for nine days now. Spank Magazine! Decided it would be a great idea to plaster him in his most delicate and reckless state. Wonwoo had been sharing a few summers with the same woman, Courtney, a love that never really translated into nothing more than a week together, drinks to be shared, kisses to be yearned for and then, he’d leave London. With nothing to seek for other than the faint breeze that is the complete opposite of the blaring sun in Hollywood, and the idea that he has someone waiting for him in case he feels lonely in between films.

The drinks must have gotten heavy, or Wonwoo isn’t really as smart as he grants himself to be. Always. He thought he’d never miss a step and he almost hears his manager, Sandara, laughing at him straight at his face. If only she wasn’t trying to erase the image of Wonwoo looking out of a window in white boxers in some secluded penthouse in central London. This summer, it seemed like Courtney wanted something else. Fame.

He hadn’t realized the picture had been on her iPhone, neither did he think that the moment he got off his plane that took him back home he would have to see literal signs at the airport that showed him half naked. The first thing he did was hide, and the second…okay, he hadn’t really thought of a plan. Other than compulsively buy a plane ticket to a villa in France and hope, perhaps, that he won’t have to explain if his shoulders are really that big naturally or not.

“You could have totally stopped this from happening.” Sandara looks unlike how she does when they are in Hollywood. Normally, she’s wearing a straight pencil skirt paired with a button down and her hair in a ponytail. She never misses the coffee with three shots of espresso and perhaps, a line of sugar—or cocaine, her energy is unmatched—, but now, she’s trapping a croissant in between her hands and she has tried to make the enormous yellow sweater she has paired with green leggings work. The frog look isn’t half as bad on her slim body.

“I know.” Wonwoo walks slowly, while she roams around him like a puppy would. Sandara has always said it. Wonwoo’s weakness for complexity gravitates him to women that leave everything to desire. He pulls the cap a little over his head, covering more of his eyes in case anyone sees him while walking to the nearest library. “I never said it wasn’t my fault, but I’m giving you a vacation and running away from the chaos you were trying to solve.”

“I offered you a way of turning this around and you didn’t—”

Wonwoo scoffs at her words, rolling his eyes. “You knew I was going to say no from the get-go.”

“Wonwoo, people are not hating on you because you’re half naked. You just pulled a Miley Cyrus. Destroyed the whole poised, serious, intelligent guy persona and changed it for the hot guy in the white boxers thing.” Sandara pulls a finger up in the air, pointing out what she thinks is obvious. Meanwhile, the breeze plays with her hair until it is standing on various spots. “…Calvin Klein offered to help us out. A few campaigns with the boxers on, and then, we finish it off with a good sex scene in one of your films. You’re a man. If it was me on that magazine and I was famous, I would have been destroyed.”

Wonwoo hates that it is a reality, but he didn’t really intend on posing. Sure, he is not an angel. His career doesn’t let him stay with someone as much as he’d like to, for he always has to travel, film something else, prepare for a script or a new series to take on, but he also hasn’t done much else past the expected. Stories can be told about Hollywood that are rather true of orgy parties and eccentric relationships, but he doesn’t do much past the normal. Perhaps, a risky picture if he is feeling…rather comfortable, but he’s private about the matters that take up on the heart.

He just happened to be a bit tipsy, looking out of the window and not noticing that a picture had been taken of him, and while he’s pleading the case of using the law against Courtney for breaking his privacy, he’s also taking a break. And needing to read a book.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea,” Wonw0o starts, pushing the doors of the only library he could find in this secluded spot he had found in France. Sandara passes under his arm, still walking backwards and somehow not falling. “But it’s not who I am. I just don’t do soft porn.”

“Wonwoo—”

“My ass was displayed on a magazine. I’m lucky it’s not my dick, but I’d rather just not…milk it.”

“Oh, wrong choice of wording.”

“Sandara.” He groans, throwing his head back. The place catches his attention in the matter of seconds. The walls are baby blue, like the revelation of a child’s bedroom, with sprinkles of brick walls here and there in a beige color as an addition of texture. The tables are smaller in comparison to the rows of books, lined up by genre and color. It’s a pleasure to a thoughtful mind, as he traces the outline of the romance plethora. His least favorite genre. “You’re sexualizing your client.”

“I swear I’m not. You’re the one talking about milk!” She jokes around, laughing at the flush that he’s certain appears on the apples of his cheeks, before she’s grabbing one of the smaller books in the row, standing at the tip of her toes to reach it. “The Duke’s Final Wish. Oh, so the duke dies in this book. What’s the point of reading something you know everything about just by the title alone?”

He doesn’t understand it either, so Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m more of a thriller guy myself, but I’m in France, I’ve just dumped someone entirely from my life and…” His nose scrunches up upon the sight of the naked, sun-bathed abs on the duke on the cover. “Maybe, I just need to read softcore love times to feel less miserable about…everything.”

Sandara’s brown eyes turn mellow, sighing deeply. “Wonwoo, this is just another turn in your career. I promise everything will get better.”

It will, he’s certain. Matters always go back to place.

However, he remembers his start as an actor. He was this shaky, flimsy sixteen-year-old teen who cried on the outsides of a casting because he was tired of receiving no’s. Who wiped his tears on a pillow when he got called from another casting to participate with just one line. He’d wake up every single day at five in the morning; giving up adulthood, growing up, having friends, dating, studying, just for the sake of getting in better movies. He hit it big when he was twenty, skyrocketed in a military film, and from then on, he never rested. Movie after movie. A show, then another one.

And just like that, it lost sense. With every critic that shadowed him with that one big film he did last year, whatever product that came to fruition was worthless. It was a race with himself—and he’s tired of running.

And—

Oh, wait.

It smells like insect repellent…

“Roach, go away, you!”

“Huh?” Wonwoo’s curiosity gets the best of him, peaking from behind the shelf to see a slender, tall man holding, indeed, an insect repellent and spraying it on a blonde gentleman. He recognizes the first one—the attacker in question—to be one of the workers because of the uniform. A cloud sweater inside white pants, according to the name of the library—Somewhere On The Clouds—, but he’s flimsy in comparison to the buffer, taller man that he’s trying to go after.

The cockroach character, per say.

He hears more shushing and spraying, along with a woman’s name that escapes the blonde’s lips. “I wasn’t talking to you, Wen Junhui, my wife is over there and you’re not letting me talk to her—”

“She’s not your wife anymore.”

“You can’t physically get over someone so quickly.”

Another spray and now, this Junhui guy with the long brown hair and septum piercing, has finally landed on the taller man’s eyes because he hears a groan that reverberates throughout the library. “If it’s you the someone we are talking about, oh, trust me, it’s easy. No woman could ever—”

“I’ll close your mouth up with a good old fist, Junhui. Stop! Stop spraying me!”

He hears another commotion, of closed doors and shushes that follow after someone physically more peaceful than the other men. And for once, Wonwoo loses interest in physical matters like the cameras that could flash around him and the book at hand. His heart hums, singing a melody when looking at her. Her hair is tied in two braids and closed in a bun behind her back, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, looking at the blonde man with the firing rage of a million wars that went unfought.

Even Sandara is listening closely when she speaks. She’s rain in its biggest form; when it pours down and becomes unstoppable.

“I thought he said you could go away, Pierre.” She outs to the world, only to have the blonde man shaking his head, twinkling green eyes staring back at her.

“Love,” He’s trying to grasp her hands, wishing to say something more, but when their hands interlock, she slaps his away. “Don’t you push me away.”

“By law, you pushed me away yourself.” She instructs, pushing at his arms when he’s trying to get closer. “Pierre, I’m being serious. Stop disrupting my library and just go away.”

“But—”

Wonwoo is not a hero, neither does he think this is the situation for him to try to be one. However, he does accidentally—or not so much so—happen to slide his hand across a shelve that wasn’t holding up tightly. The books fall one by one, like a domino effect that gain him the attention of the woman with the attitude of an owner and a dislike for her ex-husband and the man in question.

He smiles, tight-lipped and shy, with the Sun blessing his cheeks along the lines of red coloring. He expects her to launch at him, ask him to leave Somewhere On The Clouds, but instead a gentle smile takes over her face. Oh, of course, someone like her would just know what he’s doing…and why.

“Let me help you with that.” She says, moving closer to him and crouching down at the same time that he does. Wonwoo is spurting out a short laugh as he hears whom he thinks is called Junhui pull Pierre away from the library.

“I’m sorry. I’m a total mess.”

“Or really observative. Guess we’ll never know.” She shrugs, smiling at him when standing up with a pack of books pressed to her chest and the lingering scent of mints following after her.

“Witty.”

“I’m a woman. One has to be.” The answer that leaves her lips has him grinning like a fool, looking down only to be blinded by her sight when staring up again. “I’ll give you a discount just for that.”

“There’s no need—”

The pocket of his jeans is filled by her hand, sliding something quickly there before she’s fleeting away with a simple: “Just take it.”

Half of his mind thinks she has left her number there, and he’d be more than happy. However, Sandara is looking over his shoulder by the time he takes the paper out, viewing a small coupon with clouds drawn all over it that reads off ‘fifty percent off your next order’.

“Dang, I thought it was her number.” Sandara whispers, snapping her fingers. “I’m going to get it for you.”

“No!” Wonwoo shrieks, plastering his hand on top of her arm and dragging his manager closer. “We’re…we’re just going to take the coupon. This is supposed to be a vacation. No love involved.”

“No love involved…” Sandara repeats, laughing at his words. “We’re calling your autobiography that. That’s for sure.”

Huh, even he admits it wouldn’t be a bad name. Much more if it was a rom-com of sorts.

But that’s not going to happen.

The sky looked like a child’s portrait, painted outside the lines. The stars blurred in between the deep shade, though he knew it could be that he needed a new pair of glasses. He kind of forgot his new formula back in Hollywood, and the ones he got were bought on a whim. However, he walks through the empty, too-small streets of the villa, hands fisted in pockets, trying to understand the change of weather. It was windy, but it was a kind of humidity that made him scrunch up his nose every once in a while to sniff a bit of snot.

Allergies. It’s whatever.

Wonwoo rolls on the heels of his shoes, looking up at the sky and wondering why the world feels so unlit as of lately. He’s at peace, but running away from something. Empty. Lonely. And sure, he has gotten used to solitude, at least for now, but what was once something he chose is now the only option that he gets to fulfill. Cornered, in some place far away from home, where he can only wish for life to be different, for better or for worse.

What interests him is the shout he hears after, a commotion of a solid against iron that has him rushing his step the slightest. He doesn’t know if he’s prepared to run or go help, but what he sees at eleven at night—when he should be asleep and trying to conceal a good night of rest with a warm glass of milk, as Sandara said—is rather surprising. The owner of Somewhere In The Clouds, a library that he has visited often in this past week, stands in front of a house’s gate, forehead pressed to the iron, hitting her boot against the surface once again.

“Shit.”

She looks rather different than she does with the pastel colors she wears at her library. Wonwoo has seen her a bit, with faint glances and a few exchanged words of good books and prices, but he has never fully developed a conversation. One that matters. Right now, he wishes he was braver, for the expanse of her back is shown in jeans that are falling off her waist and he swears he sees the hairs on her arms stand up upon the breeze that he can’t understand but seems to cherish her in shivers.

“This is all Pierre’s fault!”

She screams at the world, the sky, the heavens that decided divorce was meant to be on her side. But, instead of leaving it at that, she grabs a rock from the ground, molds it on her fist before throwing it at something. Something being Wonwoo, who shrieks at the touch of the rock against his cheekbone. Gasps mingle with the weight of her steps against the pavement when she rushes to him, shouting:

“Goodness gracious! I am so sorry!”

Wonwoo feels the warmth of her skin against his own, palms connected to him in the least delicate of ways, thumb and index finger tracing the cheekbone that must flourish with the tone of roses. However, when he opens his eyes, he realizes that her own hold a weight that he can’t understand. As if every speckle of golden that brims the natural color of them anchors him to a dilemma that he should not want to solve.

“I…I totally didn’t see you there. It’s all the gate’s fault.” She says, only to have Wonwoo clasping her hands on his own, pulling them away from his face softly.

“Where’s your key?”

“My ex-husband took the spare key and now that I left my keys inside, I don’t know what to do.” Her digits wrap around the gate once again, moving it from the front to the back in a motion that causes it to noisily make its state known. Closed as ever. “This is what happens when I decide to have a great time. Jun just…he just wanted to share some mojitos and now, I’m out here, probably a step away from sleeping in the cold.”

Wonwoo chuckles to himself, pondering: “And you’re telling all this to a stranger?”

“You’re not completely a stranger. Judging by your book selection, I can tell a lot about you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, beautiful as ever in the way the wind blows at her hair and connects it with the skin of her face. And on top of it all, she remembers who he is. “You’re not a complete asshole, and that’s enough for me to tell you that this fucking night sucks.”

Tipsy, she is, and Wonwoo chuckles at her antics softly. He remembers, before stardom, how he used not to give a damn about the world, quite like she does. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” He crouches down, caging his hands together to make a socket for her to place her feet on. “You’ll step here and I’ll get you up the gate.”

He shouldn’t be thinking about doing this. For God’s sake, she’s not in her right mind considering there are, at least, three mojitos in her system, and she must think the same because she shakes her head.

“Wonwoo, I’ll crush you.”

“Or you’ll get home safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I didn’t just decide to squat in the middle of the street.”

She rolls her eyes at his words, though a smile transcends to her features. She moves with carefulness, placing one boot on top of his hand and then, the other leg lifts up to follow after the trail of the gate. Wonwoo’s eyes go down her legs and he admits he does peek at the curves that form there, but soon after, he’s more worried about the way she’s clinging to the top of the gates to pass over it.

“Help.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Wonwoo mutters, hoisting her up in his shoulders before pushing her upwards by the back of her thighs. She clings to the metal with strength, only dropping herself when she feels safe, and though she lands directly on her ass, the thud is soft enough for him to ponder that maybe, it didn’t hurt her as much. “You okay?”

“In one piece, so…okay!” The smile that spreads across her features is worth a million dollars, and Wonwoo finds himself gravitating towards her, hands expanded on the gate, separated by the mere iron. He returns the grin, because a gift so beautiful can only be given back, right? “What are you doing out at this time of the night?”

Midnight, it strikes in the imaginary clock. He hasn’t checked his phone because he knows he’ll have missed calls from a sleep-dazed Sandara who wants him to return back to the place they rented for their time there. “Jet-lag has been killing me, and I just needed some time alone to think.”

“Jet-lag? Where are you visiting us from?” Leaning on the gate, her eyes close to slightest to rest, and Wonwoo knows soon will be time for him to leave.

“California.”

“Well, hope my villa traps you a bit longer.” She announces, yawning into her fist before smacking her lips together.

“You’re falling asleep.”

“Possibly, probably, maybe. All synonyms. All right.” Once again, that smile that could paralyze traffic if she dared is given to him, but she pushes herself off the gate. “Sorry for stepping on you.”

“No problem.”

“A free book will wait for you.”

“I can totally pay the next one I’ll buy, don’t worry.”

“Never deny a librarian the benefit of giving you a book.” She announces, pointing at him as she swings towards the door. “Wait, the front door is locked, too.”

She stops on her tracks and Wonwoo is ready to stay the night seated outside the gate, just in case someone causes trouble to her, for leaving a woman alone in the middle of the night is not precisely something he is thinking of doing, but when he opens his mouth, she’s already pushing the front window upwards.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting in through the window.”

“I’m not telling you, I’m showing you.” She announces and, for the first time in a while, Wonwoo full on laughs. He doesn’t remember feeling his chest so tightly put-together in a while. The more he sees her wiggle herself through the window, the more he cackles.

“Please, be careful.”

“I am!” And she is, waiving at him once she’s through the window, hair done a mess, shirt falling off one shoulder. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Hollywood.”

“Go to sleep, you.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The nickname, strangely, doesn’t settle badly in his stomach. Much less when he gets to see her turn off the lights and doze off to God-knows-where.

Wonwoo has made common occurrence for him to start a new book every Monday. He was on a reading strike for years, only yearning to find the next story he could act in, but it’s much different now. Much more after he decided to accept the book that the librarian had, oh-so-sweetly, decided to gift him.

The story read in utmost perfection. A thriller that chilled him to the bone and cradled him in fear late at night. Something different; and hell, maybe, he’s a little bit insane for wanting to feel something other than anxiousness. All he does is read the pages that week, weakened by the figure at the end of the road, in between clouds of smoke that the book always talks about. Is it real? Is it not? And why does the book end in a way that caused him to drop all the things that were on his hands as he was reading, perched in a boat in the middle of the lake near the library?

He dropped the damned book. He needed to return it. The worst possible outcome happened, because the moment Wonwoo decided to pluck it out of the water, the pages were torn, ink shredded, heart racing within his chest.

He runs away for a while. Escapes the library in hopes of her thinking that he’s just taking a little bit more to finalize the capturing pages of a well-written text. However, life isn’t so great when the next Wednesday, he comes face to face with her. She’s not in her work clothes, hair pulled away by a hair-clip, eyes a little drowsy with sleep as remaining pieces of her mascara cling to her eyelashes. Her hands hold a bag of groceries weakly, a little bit lazily, and while Wonwoo is trying to grab a snack to continue his Wednesday movie marathon—You’ve Got Mail is paused on his screen because he just wanted something salty—, he comes face-to-face with her.

Alright, the anxiousness is back.

“Do I terrify you?”

Wonwoo fixes his glasses, crossing his arms over his chest. Magazines would have torn him apart from the plaid shirt he is wearing today, antique and brought out of a film from the early nineties. He stammers. Gosh, when was the last time someone made him stutter? “Uhm, no?”

“You haven’t gone back to the library, and I’m not certain if it was because I gave you a thriller book or if it was because you saw me drunk out of my ass.” She’s speaking rather quickly, scoffing out a laugh that dies down soon after, rubbing the back of her neck out of nervousness. “I’m sorry. Uh…I must’ve looked like a total serial killer giving you a thriller book.”

The book. What can he say about the book? “Not at all. It was one of the best books I’ve read in a while.” He admits. Too bad it is in the depths of the ocean by now.

“I’ll give it to you, then. The copy, I mean.” She shrugs her shoulders, biting on her bottom lip and staying silent for a brief second that he takes to study her face. Something about her is always rushing; as if she can’t stay still for too long in fear of being caught. By life or someone else, he doesn’t know. Or catching feelings, like he musters could happen if he doesn’t get away soon.

“I wish I could read it again.”

“Then, do it.”

“…I accidentally dropped it in the local lake.” Wonwoo whispers, expecting her to get mad, but she extends a hand on top of her chest and starts laughing. “I—I’m sorry. The ending surprised me that much. Stupid hands.”

“I imagine. I imagine.” She hums, mimicking his pose and crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you making it up to me, Mr. Hollywood?”

He’s knowledgeable in the art of flirting. Not because he has mastered it, but rather because Wonwoo is the one of the being-flirted-on end. He must be reading into it, but the twinkle in her eye incites him, bringing him closer as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Anything in mind, Mrs. Countryside?”

“Ew, I don’t know why I don’t like the sound of that.” She enunciates, only to have him laughing. He sees the portions of her that are fractured, from the way she covers her mouth when laughing, to the slow blink she gives after a minute of silence. As if she wants to be awakened by her thoughts. “Mhm, how about burgers?”

“Burgers?” Wonwoo asks. “That’s what would make you forgive me?”

“A great burger can make me consider forgiving you.” She answers, pressing a hand to his shoulder to balance her weight as she takes her phone out of her pocket. “Write your number down there.”

Wonwoo jots down the digits that he has learned just the past few days, smiling at her. “Alright, you’ve got a free coupon for limitless burgers until we find a book as good as that one.”

“You don’t know what you’re promising.”

“Possibly. But it’s an excuse. Either we find the greatest burger or another good read.”

“Huh, you’re right.” With that, she puts her phone back in her pocket, smiling at him with her full teeth. “I’ll text you for my price.”

“Anytime.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking after her step after she left. How someone so gorgeous hid in such a secluded villa? He would never understand.

The Headlock For Two Challenge.

When Wonwoo ventured into one of the best rated burger places in the villa, he didn’t expect it to be…so simple. Wooden walls and heated tables in bright red, with towers of meat and chicken stacked with perfectly-spiced veggies and sauces that would mingle into one’s tongue for an entire day. She seemed to be impressed when he linked her over to this place only three days after they started talking through text, but she was equally as interested when she read about the challenge in the menu that was presented to them in a small piece of wood, carved letter after letter, honoring the toughness of the place.

“We can totally down this one between the two of us.” She turns the menu around, showing it to a wide-eyed Wonwoo. When he sees the picture, he doubts they can for a little bit. His glasses push his hair away from his face when he takes them off to check it out a little closely. Three layers of bread. This is final—he might die if he takes up on this challenge.

“What’s the price?”

“The burger is a price on its own.” Claiming, she turns the menu around once again before clearing her throat. “We’d also get a picture of us hanging from these very own walls, and, if that’s not a lot on its own—a grand price of a month-worth of free French Fries.”

“You bought me with the fries. I’m not much of a picture guy.”

He has gotten pictures of him taken from every angle and while he adored to catch a sight of the world from another point of view, he hates the way he has been portrayed in such imagery. He’s always perfect. Never himself. And yet, never enough.

“Waiter!” She lifts a hand in the air, catching the attention of the short man with the buttons of his shirt almost popping out from how closely it clings to his belly, but the smile he gives through plump cheeks and a dense moustache would have anyone trusting him with their orders. “We’d like to take over the challenge.”

“Oh, really?” The waiter starts jotting down on his notepad. “A group of men tried to take it down a few days ago. Couldn’t make it without throwing up.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wonwoo asks and he sees her spread a hand on her stomach.

“I meant it when I said I was hungry.”

“Fine. And two glasses of cola with that, please.”

“On our merry way, sir.” The waiter gives a sharp touch of his pen against the pad before closing it and leaving to the kitchen. This is the moment he gets to see her again, closely as she lifts the sleeves of his yellow sweater up to her palms and leans her cheek against one of them, elbows well-prepped on the table.

She tried a little today. He has been under the limelight for long enough to know that there is a glimmer of pink on top of her cheeks, paired with sweet highlighter. She has a red lip on, eyelashes curled until they seem like her eyes are flirting with him just by sharing a glance.

“Why here, Wonwoo?” She asks. “You were in California. Everyone dreams about being there, around celebrities and all. Why here?”

The column of his throat contracts at her words. He almost fears that she has caught him for who he really is—a well-known actor.

“Take my word for it. There’s nothing special there.”

“You’re awfully negative, aren’t you? Here we are, in a villa that no one knows, where the lake could eat me alive one day and no one would remember me, but in a city so grand, where every step someone takes feel like part of a movie, you wish to run away.” She’s babbling, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Isn’t that exciting to you?”

He shakes his head. “No.” Wonwoo adds. “Because in a city so big, only a few people are remembered. We don’t choose what we are remembered for, either.”

“Oh, trust me,” She says. “You’d be remembered by good. Everyone in this city coos about the possibilities of you.”

“And that’s the thing. I don’t like expectation.”

“I understand.” She stops. “So, reason—?”

“I’m negative, but you’re good at prodding.”

“I was once a journalist in the making, but I ramble too much. I’d get in front of a camera and freeze, or say something really stupid. Probably both.” She conquers, sighing into her hand. “But you don’t have to answer, actually. I just want to get to know you. You could ask me something of your liking, too.”

He could ask about her library, but they have talked about that through text. He knows that it’s a family’s tree doing, where she loved literature and happened to continue down the road that was crafted for her. A place that was meant for her to walk on, but the wood on the floor was not precisely brought to life by her.

“Why didn’t it work out with your ex-husband?”

The reason why he left California is, perhaps, as personal as her divorce. She doesn’t swallow thickly, but she is left thinking for a moment, looking ahead and towards where he is, before the waiter returns with the burger in his hands and three glasses filled with a yellow, pink and white sauce.

“Thank you. This looks delicious.” Wonwoo compliments, only to have the waiter nodding.

“We start the timer now. Thirty minutes to finish all of this.” Just as he clicks the clock, she takes the half of the enormous burger and places it on her plate, and while he gives it a huge bite that fills his mouth and leaves his jaw hurting, she eats it bit by bit, plucking the food and swallowing it quickly.

“Probably my best kept secret.” She says, shrugging her shoulders. “I was promised until death, and then, I realized living one more day with him would be the cause of my death. It’s like…being pricked little by little, being married.”

“In general?”

“To him, precisely. Pierre has his own issues to figure out. He has…these experiences that he wants to go through in love. He wants to try with other people. And I wasn’t going to wait there, watching him mindlessly flirt with people, asking me if I’d ever been with more than one person, until I was finally hurt by something I expected.” She motions, sighing. “And now he’s trying to come back, so maybe, he already tried and thought returning home was the solution of the mess he made.”

“That’s pretty common. I happen to never last more than two months with somebody.” Wonwoo cackles at his own state in relationships, moving his head from side to side. “For a while I thought it was me.”

“How so?”

“Uncapable of being loved, if that makes sense.” Wonwoo announces. “I’ve never tried hard enough to make someone stay.”

“So, you’re the complete opposite of me. I have a hard time letting go.”

“I have a hard time making someone stay.” The mingle of tastes inside his mouth makes him wonder if she just wanted an excuse for them to try something good and new, not precisely break a challenge. Make herself memorable. Or maybe, that’s just her personality. Not everyone has to be trying all the time. “It probably is me.”

“Everyone has their little glimpses of red in their flag.” She jokes, tilting her head to the side when Wonwoo groans. “But hey, I’m a divorced woman, who am I to judge?”

“So, California…stinks a little bit, feels way more dense than this villa does, and it just…it reminds me of who I could’ve been. And who I am not, clearly.”

“Well, Wonwoo,” She picks up a portion of her burger, dipping it in what he thinks is corn sauce, before lifting it up in the air. “Cheers to that. We can be remembered for the picture we’ll have hanging here later this night.”

“Not at this pace.”

“Just say ‘yes’ for once. I promise, it doesn’t hurt.”

She could teach him that life is not filled with ‘no’ responses all the time.

Wonwoo thought the following times they’d see each other; they wouldn’t have any interruptions. However, much to his distaste, the moment he steps inside her house for what she called through the text ‘dinner and a movie’, there was another person invited.

The library’s worker, Wen Junhui, is not commonly known by him, but he has heard wonders about the man around town. As it goes, no one could ever tame him. Not from going around dating, but from being less eccentric. He sits in front of the TV they could have been using, holding fried chicken in between his digits after dipping it in barbeque, and he’s watching some Steve Harvey show that he is not quite sure he’d getting a glimpse of before. Too old for his liking, maybe.

“We have…companionship.” Wonwoo whispers to her, feeling the weight of her hands glide down his arms as she takes off his jacket. When he turns around, he sees her hanging the jacket, running her palms over it to keep it straight before humming.

“I didn’t know we had some either, but I totally promise Jun movie night every Friday. I can’t just kick him out. Or I can. But like, look at his face,” She points a hand towards Jun, who is still munching happily and laughing at whatever the host of the show had said. “One can’t just break a heart that easily. At least, his.”

Wonwoo can accept that Jun, while wearing a tank top and shorts, looks entirely different. A bit childish, with his bangs pushed back by a small clip, eating to his heart’s content. “I’m not saying you should kick him out.”

“But you had the hope it would be the two of us.”

“Awfully conceited, woman, don’t you think?” Wonwoo jokes around, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-grin. He’s normally not a sweet talker, but he’ll take the merit he can.

“Anyone would want to spend alone time with me.” One of her shoulders shrugs up, the structures of her face fighting their hardest to let out a smile. “Would you want some water, coffee, tea, juice, cocktail? I don’t know how to make cocktails, but I can fetch something up.”

“None.”

“Oh, maybe some energy drink, perhaps? Or, oh shit, you’re from Hollywood, maybe you’d like sparkly water, or bubbly water…”

“Trust me, we have normal water in Hollywood. I think.” He leans down to fix her hair over her shoulder, jotting his chin towards the TV. “Are we ordering something else or we’re sharing chicken with Jun?”

“He will notice there are only two pieces left in a few minutes and order some for everyone, so we just wait.” With that, she walks ahead of him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to snuggle to the density of her white sweater, or that he’s not a bit enamored of the way her thighs fill the ripped jeans around her hips. She’s unique—so homely in a way that he hates he can feel that a little more time with her could end up in him in love.

“Wonwoo!” Jun speaks through a mouthful and in the month that he’s been there, he has gotten to know him a bit. The man is as sweet as one can get, but he’s also a bit odd. “I didn’t know you were coming. Do you want some—?” He stops on his tracks when extending the takeout bag towards Wonwoo, looking down at…yes, two pieces of chicken left. “Let me grab my phone,” He speaks after plopping his thumb in his mouth to lick the remaining sauce off. “And order something else.”

“Told you so.” She mouths after sitting down next to Jun, who is in between them like a child would. “Would you mind ordering a pizza? I think that’d last us some more than the chicken.”

“Oh, totally. There’s a two-for-one coupon in my phone case.” Jun is mumbling to himself, tossing glances towards the TV screen every once in a while before returning to his phone.

“I’ll pay for it. Don’t worry.” Wonwoo announces, but Jun shakes his head.

“The whole coupon thing is true—”

“But I want to pay, let me.”

That’s how they end up watching old marathons of family shows, with one hand holding a slice of pepperoni-filled pizza and the other on the couch behind them as they sit on the couch. When he can, he looks over to where she is and he catches her looking back, with eyelashes fluttering against her under-eyes and lips mingling in a small smile. He’s a bit surprised, however, when Jun is rambling with him about nineties shows, because a hand lands on his behind her friend’s back.

The touch of gentle fingertips hold back when tracing the outline of his knuckles, hesitantly slipping in between his own. Wonwoo feels his heart hammer against his chest, a beat that almost leaves him with ringing in his eardrums, for the blood rushes through his entire body until he can’t mask a smile. And sure, Jun may think that he’s smiling towards him, immersed in a conversation that now is a stammer in his head, considering her thumb is drawing on the veins of his wrist, like the gentle kiss she is not promising, but is making him think about.

In the midst of a villa, Wonwoo starts thinking about possibilities, and percentages have never been his thing more than art does, but the interlude of this story starts to make him think about staying. When Jun leans to grab another slice of pizza, Wonwoo takes this moment to bring that hand closer to his mouth, slotting his lips against her knuckles and watching her widen her eyes while staring at the screen.

Their little secret, now even more engraved in his brain by the expression on her face.

The inhibition of love is a saddened matter. Wonwoo never thought he’d be on the end spectrum of not being able to fully open up. After all, acting takes up the imagery of shredding every portion of himself in order to make a character come alive. He needs to unalive his motions in order to be someone else in front of a camera. However, when laying on that bed of his, in his place in the villa, that had felt more like home than any mansion could ever do for him, he is awfully aware of the person next to him.

“Do you have…um…any idea why I call you Mr. Hollywood?”

The question is soft against the sheets. She’s laying on her side, knee angled until she is almost resting a thigh over his hip. Wonwoo shakes his head, turning his head to look at her from up close. She has forgone the makeup today, hair a bit dirty and laying on top of her head by a ponytail. When she opens her eyes, he’s staring back at her.

“You didn’t answer.”

“Oh, I thought I did.” Wonwoo mumbles, trailing a finger on the side of her face before shrugging. “I have no clue. Anything in particular I should be aware about?”

Wonwoo, when asking to spend time with her almost every day, is knowledgeable of the fact that she’s a very smart woman. However, as the night slips through his clear curtains, cascading along her features in the moonlit nature of a November midnight, his mind forgets the fact that he’s Jeon Wonwoo, and that maybe, his stigma as a person is harder to hide than he thought.

“…I saw you in a movie once.” The confession has his heart hammering against his chest, and he sits up immediately. Not angered, but terrified. Afraid of being used for what is always loved about him—his power, love for acting, his money. “I want you to listen to me, okay? You’ve been here for almost two months and I feel like…it’s time to tell you something. Nothing bad. Just something.”

“You talked to me because of me being an actor?”

“God, no. I didn’t want to talk to you for the same thing. You terrified the hell out of me.” She says, sitting up with him and pressing a hand to his thigh in order to keep him in place. Her eyes beg him to stay close and somehow, he does. Though the alarms in his mind tell him to fleet. “You still do, but for different reasons. I saw you in this movie…Stay With Me? The one where you played a secondary character. The main guy’s best friend. I didn’t recall enough about the movie, but I knew that face. I thought you were…good looking. That’s all. I’m not a fan.”

“That’s a very old film.” It was in the start of his career, when rom-coms would call him just to play the knowledgeable best friend. He has the face of a man who knows how to give advice, they told him. “So, you call me Mr. Hollywood because you know who I really am outside of these walls I’ve built to run away?”

“To remind me you’ll leave, I guess.” She sighs out, running her free hand through the locks of her ponytail. “Calling you Mr. Hollywood reminds me you’re…you know, somehow unreachable.”

“Gosh, I am not!”

“Come on, Wonwoo. I’m just a woman who happens to sell books for a living. Each day, I wake up to a bed on my own, wondering what kind of legacy I’ll leave in this world, but I am also timid enough to not want to be remembered. And it’s the paradigm of being…just somebody else. I won’t be listed as one of the most gorgeous women, neither one of the most talented, but I can reassure you…Wonwoo, anywhere you stand, as an actor or not, you’re special.”

He has seen love in scripts, written to be perfection, clouds of pink that cascade the fall of a person who would have never thought romance would be on their way. He has acted it out, softened eyes and sweet words that come with the clash of lips, but he doesn’t expect how love really feels like. Numbed out of every word that could make him feel insecure, trapped in the odyssey of wanting a kiss that has him leaning forward, capturing her face in his palms and looking into her eyes, not seeking softness, but the reassurance of something else. Of the feedback of warmth.

“And I am just a man who wants you to see him as he is. Hollywood or not.”

“I see you, Wonwoo.” She mumbles, and that’s enough for Wonwoo to lean forward. Fill her with a kiss that threatens to whimper in her mouth when her mouth parts and clashes against his.

Wonwoo feels complete, like a thread follows after him and whispers in his mouth everything he wants to hear without a noise at all. Her hands mingle on the back of his head, legs interlocking with his own. And he hates that even when he is kissing her with fervor; tracing the outline of lips that he wishes to remember to the day of his death, there is still a voice of insecurity.

He leans back on the bed, with her body trailing after his, settling a leg in between his own and pulling away to press a chaste kiss to his jaw, soon after pressing her mouth to his neck. Both of his hands expand on her back, under her shirt to feel the softness of her skin when he whispers:

“Could you please turn off your phone?”

“Excuse me?” She questions, only to have Wonwoo shaking his head.

“I…I got some pictures taken of me. I was intimate with a woman I used to date on-and-off and now…everyone has a picture I didn’t consent to of me in my boxers.” Confessing it has his cheeks blaring in heat, and he expects her to laugh. “And sure, you may think it’s stupid, but—”

She settles her hips on top of his, sitting and reaching for her phone in the bedside table, only to show the screen turning off to him. “It’s not stupid to me. Whatever makes you feel comfortable, I can consider.”

“Where were you my whole life?” Wonwoo asks, feeling her mouth return to his neck. And she laughs against his skin, drawing sparkling stars in his stomach and letting them tingle with…whatever feeling he’s starting to let cascade over him.

“Far, far away.”

“But I found you.”

“…You found me.” She interlocks their hands together, smiling at him. “Thank God, you found me.”

“What is this?”

Sandara positions three things on their coffee table in a specific order. A cup of coffee, with a savory smell of Bailey’s that he has been obsessed with every since he tried it on a café shop downtown. A croissant, with an extra layer of powdered sugar on top of it, and of course, what takes him off guard. A stack of papers, placed neatly like a script would. He picks up his coffee, giving it a taste even though he’s eyeing the paper, not touching it.

“Well, we’ve been here for almost three months…” Sandara sits down on the couch next to him. Her hair is shorter than how it had been when they got there, and she has dyed it back to a light brown. She moves it to a side on its entirety before pressing her knuckle to her cheek. “I think it’s time we start to think of a comeback. I was introduced to this idea where you’d star with Cillian Murphy, and I just couldn’t say no. You’re totally reading it.”

Acting is a prolongation of his anatomy. Wonwoo can’t exist without acting, but taking a break has never hurt anybody. He believes that most good actors take one in their lifetime. However, being pushed into stardom once again it’s not something he had thought about. Or he has, but he has always pushed it to the back of his head. That would mean going back to Hollywood, casting interviews where he’ll have to talk about the whole photo incident, perhaps take up on that Calvin Klein campaign that Sandara was so excited about…and that all sounds like a ton of work.

“You didn’t ask me about this.” Wonwoo announces, but Sandara is already placing the script right on top of his lap, pointing at it with a manicured nail. “Sandara—”

“I didn’t ask you, but you need to continue, Woo.” She says. “You’re one of the biggest talents of this generation and you’re throwing it all to Hell because of a picture? No. That’s the answer. We’re not letting that happen. We’re going to meet the team the following Monday and Cillian is going to be there. We can read over some—”

“What?” Wonwoo stands up, throwing the script on the table and shaking his head. “I didn’t consent on going back to Hollywood.”

“Wonwoo, it’s where you’ve grown to be the person you are today. You can’t escape it forever.”

“Yes, but I also don’t have to return just because you’re telling me to. It’s more complicated than that.” Hence, he has spent almost every day sharing kisses, touches, stories and whispers with a woman that he has promised is not temporary. It’s been almost a month since they shared their first kiss…and from then, they have fallen into the comfort of…

A relationship, maybe. That’s what he calls it inside his head, but he’s too afraid to voice it. For reasons as such, like this, when he will need to fly away to Hollywood just because reality is calling.

“They are offering millions of dollars for this, and Wonwoo, you’re going to miss acting eventually. I’m sure you do now, as you are standing here every morning just reading books and doing nothing.”

“Healing is not doing nothing.” Wonwoo corrects, and when he tosses a look at the script, he can admit he is a bit intrigued. How can a person be both here and there at the same time? How can the man he has grown to be in the villa meet the celebrity that he really is?

“Just read it. We both know you want to.”

“And then, what? I never come back here. I have a…someone, a girlfriend, maybe, and I don’t want to leave that behind.”

“I’m not—Just don’t get ahead of yourself. Think first about what you want to do and sure, if it’s staying here for a while more, I’ll accept it. But this is such a good film that is going to rise from the ashes and I want you to be part of it. You need to. It’d be iconic, Wonwoo, I swear.”

Does he want to be remembered by everyone as the actor who could do it all, battle against the tabloids and shine as one of the best performers of the generation? Or perhaps, does he want to be remembered by one person as the man who mended her heart after not wanting to believe in anyone because of a horrid break-up?

“I’ll think about it.” He feels bad about saying it and sitting down with that coffee and croissant to read the first page. “Just leave me alone for a while, will you?”

“Right.” Sandara presses a kiss to the crown of his head, patting the hair soon after. “I’m only doing it for you, I swear.”

“I know.”

That’s the only whisper he can muster to give her as he traces the outline of the title. The ink, the indents, the fresh paper…he misses this, but at the same time, he doesn’t feel ready to return to the emptiness that is felt when going through stardom. He’s enamored of reality, and that isn’t supposed to be a sin.

The more he reads the script, the more he likes it…and he starts to wonder if there are two men living inside of him, or if there is one that perseveres more than the other.

Molding against somebody’s body is a connection on its own. Wonwoo could get used to the dance of breathing that comes with laying next to somebody, when his chest connects to her back, arm weighting her waist down, chin squished to her shoulder. However, this morning is different. They don’t wake up to the sound of her alarm but to something else. His ears make out a noise that is familiar to him.

Flashes.

Clicking.

Shouts.

His name.

Her name.

Why do they know her name?

Wonwoo stands up, breathing quickly with the flaming hope of only being in a nightmare. However, the coldness of the floor seeps through his bare feet when he moves towards the window, moving the curtain to the side in order to see a herd of paparazzi standing outside of her home. Jun is in front of them, waving his hand like an idiot and posing for the camera. Quite like the characters in White Chicks would.

“Love, where are you going?” She’s mumbling against the pillow and for a moment, all Wonwoo sees is white. He feels let down by the woman waiting for him in the mattress. How could they have found him here, when he has gone months to no end completely unnoticed by the citizens? And Jun is enjoying the attention, that has to say something.

“Nowhere. I am unable to go anywhere because there are fucking paparazzi in your front yard.” Wonwoo lurks through the clothes left on the floor, running the fabric of a cotton t-shirt over his body and sighing in distaste. He’s walking from side to side in the bedroom. The paparazzi will only leave when he gets out of that door, after all.

“What?”

“Just tell me the truth. When did you call them? I was with you the entire night.” Wonwoo points out the obvious, placing his hands in his waist and frowning towards her. Her eyes widen and he swears he sees the little, fragile glass that she has within her chest playing as a heart breaking with one look alone. “You did exactly what everyone did before you—”

“Fuck, Wonwoo, what are you even saying? I would never do that to you!” She stands up and though he wants to believe her, he has heard that before. She’s walking towards him, sheets pressed to her chest, pleading at him with her vision alone. “Let me see.”

“No!” He shouts, taking her by the arm and keeping her away from the window. “If they take a picture of you, it’ll be everywhere in a second.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how t—these things work.” She stutters, pressing her hand on top of his and trying to rub at the skin there. “Wonwoo, you have to believe me. I would never betray your trust like this.”

“Your roomie is out there making a show out of this.”

“Jun would never, either! He’s probably just enjoying the attention.”

“My God.” Wonwoo takes another glimpse out of the window, feeling his eyes get filled with tears. “How…How am I supposed to believe you when it all ends like this? Another scandal. I don’t deserve to be in the highlights of a magazine once again!”

“I’m sorry…” She mumbles, trying to catch him in her arms but he’s moving. Walking out of the bedroom, he goes down the set of slim stairs as he prepares to go through the masses of paparazzi and perhaps, lose himself in the process of stardom once again. Vacant answers, eye-rolls, and the undignified tilt of his head looking down because of the flashes and the lack of sincerity towards his self. “I don’t want you to leave. I’m—I’ll go with you, just let me get dressed and I’ll talk to them with the truth. They just need to know who you really are.”

“You truly believe that being sincere is what helps me here?” Wonwoo turns around, looking down at her and scoffing. “Sunshine, I’ve tried to be sincere in a world where they only want to see my worse and I expected you to understand that.”

“…You know, I’m starting to feel offended that you don’t believe me. I understand you, but I would never do this to you.” Wonwoo sighs at her words, sparing one good look at her face. He will miss the shared laughter and even more so the love that she had gifted to him without nothing in return. Nothing more than loving her back.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience in your home.” Wonwoo says, putting on his jacket and his sunglasses before turning around and nodding at her. “And thank you for giving me the benefit of loving you.”

“Wonwoo—”

He opens the door in a hassle, eager for paparazzi not to see her in her pajamas and shred her to pieces. Jun greets him happily, offering him a cup of coffee that he ignores as he walks through the masses. The cameras go wilder for him, asking him questions:

“Where is your new love?!”

“When are you returning to Hollywood?!”

“Is she aware of your soft-porn pictures?!”

“Is this the end of your career?”

At this last question, he turns around, grabbing the microphone from the journalist’s hand and adding: “I don’t know, you’ll be the judge of that.” With that, he gets inside his car, hands trembling as he years to get out of there. They will follow after him, but the best he can do is reach Sandara and hope that she can take care of it.

With a broken heart and his wheels swirling, Wonwoo gets out of her life for good.

And he doesn’t look back.

For twenty-one days, she curses believing in love again. Even so, she starts to ponder if she should take out the entirety of the romance shelf off her library, but Jun is the one to stop her before she wiped out the best-selling row of their plethora of books. A fraction of her being understood where Wonwoo was coming from, and maybe, that’s the reason that upon hearing he’d be holding a press conference in a city nearby her own, she decided to go give it a glimpse. Perhaps, be another fan that just happened to get a little too close to the star.

“You’re losing your damn mind.” Jun says when following after her, entering the crowds of people that mingle to get a glimpse of Wonwoo as he’s expected to enter one of the most popular hotels in the city. “And I’m starting to like it. You’ve never acted like this before.”

“Jun!” She drags, a little mortified that she’s here. She has tried contacting Wonwoo, but the last thing she heard about him is that he had taken a plane back to Hollywood. She was even a bit surprised that he had come back. Everyone was trying to deduce who was the one that had captured him for three months in some secluded villa that no one had been able to find him in, but the masses of rumors were met by silence from his team as they announced his new film. “I shouldn’t even be here. He hates me, and for pictures that I wasn’t even in.”

“And I finally got the number of the girl in the supermarket because she saw me on TV. One of us is winning, so that makes two of us winning.” Sometimes, she wishes to pluck each hair of Jun’s head one by one only to see if he has a proper adult reaction. However, her best friend wraps an arm around her shoulder, grinning at her. “Are you sure you want to be around here? I looked up the best places to visit around here and we can totally go. It wouldn’t be on vain either.”

“I want to see him. One last time.” She ponders, humming at his words. Though, she has to scream a bit, considering the fans are going crazy, talking within themselves about the announcements he was supposed to be making today. “You know, maybe I can pluck him out of my heart that way.”

Though, that thought completely vanishes when looking at him. Wonwoo has decided to wear a long brown coat, sunglasses propped on the tip of his nose, getting out of a limousine as two guards help him get through the groups of people. A black shirt enters his black slacks, accentuating the waist she’d rest her cheek on when hugging him from the side as he poured coffee for her in the early mornings. She had lost that, along with the smile that characterized him when being with her. Though, she can say it had been taken away from both of them.

They are placed in a corner of the grand room in the hotel that is supposed to be taken up by Wonwoo and his team. He’s seated on a table, well perched and high on the stage, with Sandara on one side and another man whom she does not recognize on the other, but he’s making sure that the microphone is working well. The fans, such as them, are on the side to support him as the journalists take up most of the space.

Like parasites, she realizes, when the interview starts to enroll.

It’s supposed to be a press conference to announce the return of Wonwoo to acting and stardom, but they have made it all about the pictures that months ago had reached a magazine because of his ex…situationship, and also included glimpses of her. Of the mysterious woman whom he can’t find words, for he chooses other questions and gets shouts from the journalists who want more from him. He does admit to have signed a contract for a film, and she’s entranced in the way he speaks about the plot and what he wishes out of it.

A woman in her forties stands up, heels clicking when she plots her hip to the side, grabbing the microphone in between her hands with expertise before adding: “We have gathered information and found out, Mr. Jeon, that you have lived in the villa for almost four months by now. Reading books, having coffee, just living the life of a man in his fifties while also being in your twenties. What was the reason to stay out of stardom for so long and do you wish to go back to it any time soon?”

Wonwoo is uncomfortable; she can tell by the way he wrings his hands and turns them pale after taking off his sunglasses. He’s rotting in between the sense of lying or being truthful to himself. However, before Sandara could say to ask another question, Wonwoo leans over the microphone and sighs.

“Because I…happened to meet people who made me want to stay, and I sadly did not have the chance to stay for longer.”

“How so?” The journalist keeps prodding now that he has answered, and Sandara takes up over the microphone.

“I think it’s time we cut this round off—”

Though, Wonwoo gently pushes her away, rubbing at one eye before clearing his throat. “Because, as an actor, I have played enough roles for people to visualize me as such. I wanted to be someone normal for once, and reading books, like you said, made me unite with the citizens around the villa. I—I would have stayed if I could, but…reality wants me here. This is who I am.”

That could be the finalization of them, and it should have been, but damn her for being stubborn and knowing precisely when a good person is leaving her life, because she places a hand on top of Jun’s shoulder and whispers in his ear:

“Hoist me up. I’m going over the gate and getting to him.”

“What?”

“I can’t let him leave like that. Not without knowing I love him, at least.”

“Alright. If you’re going to jail, I’m going with you.”

What a paradox, it is, that the start of their story included him helping her get over her own gate and now she does as such, earning gasps and shouts from the masses of people as the guards rush towards her and catch her just in time for her mouth to let out:

“I just—Hey, I just wondered, Mr. Jeon, if you’d like to hear something from one of the citizens!” She’s battling against the strong hands of the guards trying to drag her away, feet kicking and asking to be given a second by Wonwoo.

She swears she sees a smile creep up his features when he leans over the microphone once again and says: “Let her go. I know her.”

The strong pair of arms unravels from around her waist and she sighs out in glee before she’s granted a microphone. She fixes her hair, stands up a little straighter and hates the fact that she didn’t try to look better after twenty-one days of missing him. “I was wondering, Mr. Jeon, if there was anyone who would have made you stay in that villa if it weren’t for your duty calling you. If…if it hurt you leaving the villa at all.”

She should expect the worst, judging by the ways cameras start flashing and people start whispering within themselves. However, Sandara is talking in Wonwoo’s ear, eager to get him to say the right thing, but as they look at each other, they are back to the nights in which she’d ask him to turn off the lights because she didn’t want him to see her without makeup or sick and he’d shrug his shoulders without a care in the world. They are back to the first time he was able to sleep next to her without turning off all the phones in the house.

It’s just the two of them. Their world. Their villa. Their three months.

“…You. You are the only one who could make me stay.”

That’s what makes everyone talk louder, after the bead of silence that leads up to the grandest reveal. The cameras turn towards her and she’s afraid of how she’ll look after, but that won’t matter if Wonwoo returns…one day, even after the movie, even for the weekends or when he’s free.

“That’s…that’s lovely.” She says, looking up as not to feel shy or embarrassed by what she’s about to admit. “Because I want you to stay, Wonwoo.”

“Um, I think we need to return to the questions—” Sandara is speaking, but Wonwoo has lifted his eyebrows, smiling softly and standing up from his spot and going over to where she is. Each step slows down the closer he gets, and the guards move to his place in order not to have journalists or fans jumping at him.

“Before you say anything,” She starts, interlocking her hands together in front of her body. “I…I love you. I just need you to know that. I don’t need anything else right now.”

Wonwoo quirks his head to the side, cheeks blushed and hands fisted in his pocket. “Well, I was about to offer three months in Los Angeles to film a movie and then, back to our villa indefinitely but—”

“You have to be joking.” She coos with a smile on her face, but Wonwoo shakes his head.

“Pretty honest. I am characterized for being such, aren’t I?”

Before she knows it, she’s launching herself at his arms, lips jotted to his own and even though everyone is looking, she couldn’t care less.

Indefinitely. That starts to sound a lot like forever, and with him, that doesn’t seem impossible.

“I love you, too.” He whispers as she hides her face from the cameras in his jacket, laughing at his words.

dedicated to @wisteria-woo

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #seventeen #kpop scenarios #writing #actor!au #notting hill!au #and my return from writing after months be nice to it omg

[dropsofletters]

I AM BACK

with stuff to post, being academically a doctor. life is good.

#text #missed u guys so much

[dropsofletters]

TEN On My Youth (231108)

#oh man #a million times yes #one two three four five six seven eight nine ten