Chapter Text
The scent of roses and eucalyptus filled the air as Yejun and Bamby worked together, arranging a cascade of white lilies and pastel pink roses onto the ornate wedding arch. The sound of staff walking here and there, the clinking of flower shears, and the soft rustle of petals were heard in the background.
Everything was calm, until Bamby broke the silence with his shout, then thrusting his phone screen in Yejun's direction. “Look at this!” Bamby exclaimed.
An invitation to a group blind date at a cozy coffee shop downtown.
“You’re going on a group blind date now?” Yejun asked.
“Not me,” Bamby’s grin stretched wider. “It’s you who’ll go for the blind date, hyung.”
Yejun raised an eyebrow, setting down the flowers he’d been working on. “You registered my name secretly?”
“Of course, I did.” Bamby looked satisfied with his scheme
Yejun let out a sigh, giving the phone a cursory glance before turning back to his arrangement. “Not interested.”
“Oh, come on!” Bamby’s voice had the exasperation of someone who wasn’t taking no for an answer. “You haven’t been on a date in ages. When was the last time? High school? That boy with the... what was his name?”
“I don’t need your matchmaking service,” Yejun said dryly. “And for the record, I have moved on. I just haven’t found someone who makes my heart flutter. You know, someone that I can feel is the one.”
Bamby crossed his arms, “Sounds like an excuse to me.”
Yejun turned his face to the younger, and his lips curled into a teasing grin. “If anyone needs this date, it’s you, Bamby. How long are you going to cry over Eunho every day? You know, the guy who’s still very much dating his boyfriend?”
The words hit their mark, and Bamby’s cheeks flared red. He puffed out his cheeks dramatically, letting out an exaggerated huff. “I do NOT cry over Eunho every day!”
Yejun’s laughter bubbled up. It was always funny to tease his brother like this. Bamby glared at him, his determination didn’t waver.
“Seriously, hyung. You need to put yourself out there. Don’t you think it’s time? It’s been, what, three years since you broke up with him?”
“Five,” Yejun corrected without looking up.
“See? It’s been too long. Come on! This could be fun. Just... try it. For me?” Bamby persisted.
Yejun had never been interested in events like this. Group blind dates were nothing but trouble in his eyes—awkward small talk with strangers, the pressure to keep the atmosphere lively, and the constant tug-of-war between forced politeness and genuine disinterest. The very thought of it made him cringe.
He wasn’t the type to thrive in social situations like this. They drained him more than entertained him. But now seeing Bamby’s pleading face had chipped away at his resolve. His younger brother had a way of looking so pitifully earnest, his wide eyes practically begging for Yejun’s cooperation. And though Yejun sighed heavily, muttering about how ridiculous this was, he knew deep down he couldn’t say no.
“Fine,” he relented, placing the rose carefully into the arrangement. “I’ll go. But only because I’m tired of hearing you nag.”
Bamby clapped his hands, grinning ear to ear. “You won’t regret it!”
“I already do,” Yejun muttered, though a smile drew at the corners of his lips as Bamby hugged him tightly, and gleefully resumed their floral arrangements.
From a young age, Yejun had always been captivated by the idea of love.
He spent countless hours curled up in his small bedroom, flipping through the pages of romance novels or watching the latest dating shows on TV. Those stories, with the grand gestures, dramatic confessions, and serendipitous meetings, filled his dreams of magical transformative love and utterly his own.
There was one story that still lingered in his mind. It came from a movie he watched late one night. In it, a character explained that before humans were born into the world, God would ask the human spirit if it wanted to be born. God would ask this question several times, and the spirit would hesitate each time. Only on the final question, God revealed a glimpse of the life the spirit was destined to live in the world.
It was in seeing this fragment—a fleeting, golden moment—that the spirit would finally agree to be born.
The story fascinated him, embedded in his thoughts. It made him wonder what his spirit had seen at that moment—what image or memory had been so beautiful and so compelling, that it had convinced him to come into this world as Nam Yejun.
But as he grew older, Yejun began to doubt whether his life had any such golden moments waiting for him.
He wasn’t remarkable in any way. In fact, he was so ordinary. Not so smart, not so popular. He was neither the most athletic nor the most artistic. Even his secondary gender was the one that people often overlooked.
Yejun was a beta.
In a world full of beautiful love stories, even the angsty ones, it always revolved around alphas and omegas. Like the unwritten rule, betas would always be with another betas. And alphas would always find their perfect match, their perfect love story, in omegas. That belief started rooting deeply in Yejun’s heart.
Betas like him were destined for mediocrity.
And so, Yejun had slowly resigned himself to this idea. The kind of love he read about and watched on screen, wasn’t meant for him. It was a dream for others.
Now, Yejun sat at a table for eight. He was at the cafe, surrounded by strangers who seemed effortlessly engaged in lively conversations. He shifted in his seat, his fingers toying with the edge of his coffee cup. His initial friendly attitude had long worn off, replaced by a creeping fatigue.
He scanned the room, mentally looking up for excuses to leave. Maybe he could claim an urgent business or a sudden work call. Anything to escape this.
However, across the table, one man caught his attention. He had been stealing glances at Yejun for a while. His sharp and serious gaze was hard to ignore. The man’s broad shoulders and strong jawline gave off a quiet authority, accentuated by his cold attitude. Even without saying a word, Yejun could tell this man was an alpha.
His piercing eyes still fixed on Yejun with an intensity that made him fidget. Deciding that awkward silence wouldn’t make this any easier, Yejun cleared his throat and initiated small talk. “So, uh, have you been to one of these before?”
The man blinked, as if startled out of his thoughts, and shook his head. “No. First time,” he replied, his voice deep but tinged with a hint of nervousness.
“Same here,” Yejun said, offering a small smile. “It’s… a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
The man nodded, his gaze briefly dropped to his hands. “Yeah. I’m not really good with crowds.”
“I noticed,” Yejun chuckled softly. “You’ve been sitting so stiffly.”
The man’s eyes widened before he let out a soft laugh, the sound catching Yejun off guard. It was warm and unguarded, a stark contrast to his serious looks. “I guess I’m not hiding it well, huh?”
“Not at all,” Yejun teased. “But at least you’re not pretending to love every minute of this. That’s refreshing.”
He chuckled again, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m Yu Hamin. What’s your name?”
“I’m Nam Yejun.” He smiled warmly.
Hamin nodded softly, then continued, “What about you, Yejun? You seem… comfortable.”
“Comfortable? Me?” Yejun laughed. “I’ve been plotting my escape since I got here.”
Hamin raised an eyebrow, smirking, “Why haven’t you left, then?”
“Well,” Yejun leaned forward slowly, “There’s this guy who kept staring at me. And made me feel like I couldn’t just leave without saying anything.”
Hamin’s cheeks tinted faintly pink, and he quickly looked away. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Yejun laughed, assuring him quickly. “You didn’t. If anything, you’ve made this whole thing a lot more bearable.”
As the conversation continued, Yejun found himself surprised. What started as clichéd small talks about favorite coffee blends or weather complaints, soon turned into something warmer. Hamin might look cold and reserved, but actually he had an undeniably friendly personality.
There was something about Hamin that made it impossible for Yejun to look away like there was some kind of magnetic force he couldn’t resist. Was it because of his charming presence? Or his eyes that seemed like holding a thousand stories? Or maybe it was his smile, or maybe the way he spoke so cutely when his voice was deep and soothing. Yejun couldn’t pinpoint it, but the longer he watched Hamin, the more he realized a strange familiarity—as if this wasn’t the first time they met each other.
“Hamin,” Yejun began, narrowing his eyes slightly in thought. “Your face looks familiar. Have we met before?”
Hamin’s cheeks reddened, and for a moment, he looked away before answering.
“We have. Kind of. It was at a wedding venue. You worked as a flower vendor at that time. And you spilled coffee on me.”
Yejun’s eyes immediately widened. Instantly, the memory of a chaotic moment, juggling too many things at once, the horror of the spilled coffee, and a hurried apology came rushing into his head. Oh, that’s why!
“That was you?!” Yejun asked, guilt creeping into his voice.
Hamin nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. But it’s okay, though. I didn’t mind.”
Yejun flushed, bowing his head apologetically. “I’m sorry again. I’m usually more careful.”
Hamin chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Really, it’s fine. It’s nice to officially meet you, anyway.”
Yejun’s heart stuttered at the sight of Hamin’s smile. There was something disarming about it, something that made the room feel a little less crowded and the noise a little less overwhelming. He wasn’t sure why, but Hamin’s warmth seemed to linger in the space between them, drawing Yejun in.
His cheeks blushed slightly, and he glanced down at his cup, swirling the remnants of his coffee. Whatever it was, it made Yejun want to stay a little longer.
What harm could a little more conversation do?
Well, maybe Bamby was right after all. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.
*********
A few weeks had passed since the group blind date, and life had fallen back into its familiar rhythm. Yet, no matter how busy Yejun kept himself with work or how much he focused on helping Bamby at the flower shop, thoughts of Hamin lingered in the corners of his mind. The memory of that day played over and over in his head.
Yejun regretted not asking for Hamin’s phone number. It hadn’t seemed necessary at the time, and he hadn’t wanted to come across as too forward. But now, he couldn’t help but cursing at himself for not taking the chance to ask it anyway.
Late at night, when the world outside was quiet, Yejun would find himself staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting toward Hamin. There was something about the black-haired man that stuck with him, something deeper than just his charming smile or friendly manner.
Was this what longing felt like?
He’d always dreamed of experiencing a love story like the ones in novels—a serendipitous meeting, followed by connections that grew stronger with every interaction. He wondered if their encounter was the start of such a story. The beginning of something that would turn into the most unexpected and beautiful love story anybody could write.
But then reality crept in, grounding him. Hamin was an alpha. A part of Yejun couldn’t help but feel inadequate. Would someone like Hamin even be interested in a beta like him? He imagined the kind of partner Hamin might prefer—maybe someone prettier, more delicate, maybe an omega with the kind of allure that naturally drew people in. Someone nothing like Yejun.
And then there were pheromones. The thought of it made Yejun’s chest tighten with both yearning and frustration. Alphas and omegas could sense each other’s pheromones, those invisible threads that deepened bonds and brought each other’s comfort. But betas like him were left out of that world. Yejun couldn’t help but wonder what Hamin’s scent was like. Was it calming and warm, like a quiet evening? Or did it have a more invigorating edge, like a breath of fresh air?
His imagination ran wild, painting a picture of how it might feel to breathe in Hamin’s scent. Would it settle over him like a comforting blanket, sinking into the very recesses of his heart? He closed his eyes and tried to picture it, but the thought only left him feeling emptier. No matter how hard he tried to imagine it, it couldn’t compare to reality. And the reality was painfully clear. He was a beta, unable to smell it at all.
Though the ache in his chest didn’t fade, his whole being wanted to scream. He wanted to meet Hamin again. Not just to satisfy his curiosity or to rekindle the warmth of their first meeting, but because he simply wanted to see him. To talk to him. To sit across from him and watch the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
“I want to meet him,” Yejun whispered to the ceiling, his voice barely audible even to himself. “I really want to.”
But as the days stretched into weeks, and weeks turned into months, Yejun wondered if fate would ever bring them together again—or if Hamin would be just a bittersweet memory of what could have been.
Yejun was at the wedding venue, making sure the floral arrangements and decorations aligned with the client’s vision. He stood beside Nayeon, a person in charge of the organizer and the venue, going over the last-minute details.
“I’ve double-checked the flower delivery, and Bamby’s overseeing the setup. Everything should be ready ahead of schedule,” Yejun reassured her.
Nayeon nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. “That’s great! You guys always do such an amazing job. Honestly, it’s such a relief having you handle the decorations.”
Yejun chuckled softly. “We try our best. Weddings are stressful enough as it is. The last thing anyone needs is a décor crisis on top of everything else, right?”
“Exactly!” Nayeon agreed. “The bride this time is… let’s just say particular. Getting her approval and adjusting to her tastes is pretty challenging. But I knew someone who could pull off some magic here.” She gave Yejun a playful nudge, while Yejun laughed in response.
“Magic is a bit of a stretch, but thank you, Nayeon, I really appreciate it.”
They continued discussing the setup when a pair of footsteps caught Nayeon’s attention. She tilted her head, and that’s when her eyes widened as she saw a figure approaching.
“Mr. Yu?” Nayeon’s voice carried a note of surprise.
Yejun instinctively turned his head, and when he saw who it was, the world seemed to stop spinning.
It was Hamin.
He met him again.
For a moment, everything around him seemed to move in slow motion. Yejun's heart was pounding, his hands were sweating. He wasn't sure what he should do. For the second time since meeting him, Yejun felt like he was standing in the middle of a story he didn’t quite know where it was going.
“Mr. Yu,” Nayeon said, bowing slightly. Her tone shifted, becoming more formal. “What brings you here?”
Watching how Nayeon behaved, Yejun immediately assumed that Hamin held an important position. Is he the manager? Nayeon’s boss, perhaps?
“Nothing much,” Hamin replied with a casual smile, his eyes lingering on Yejun. “Just looking around. Then I saw my friend here.”
Yejun’s heart was beating so fast that it might burst at any moment. Seeing Hamin again was something he had dreamed of countless times. And now, with Hamin standing so vividly right in front of him, it felt as if the goddess of fortune had finally smiled his way.
A rush of joy threatened to pull a grin across his face, but he had to fight the urge to smile from ear to ear. This wasn’t the time for personal emotions to take over. Yejun reminded himself to stay composed, clearing his throat to steady his voice.
“Are you here to check on the wedding preparations?” Yejun finally asked, managing a professional tone despite the whirlwind emotions inside of him.
Hamin hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“I see… As a manager, you must be busy all weekend,” Yejun remarked casually, trying to lighten the mood.
“Oh, no, Mr. Yu is—” Before Nayeon could correct him, Hamin suddenly interjected.
“Yes, you’re right. It is my job to ensure everything goes smoothly. Right, Nayeon-ssi?” He gave a subtle glance towards her to convey a silent request.
Nayeon hesitated for only a second before nodding in agreement. “Yes, Mr. Yu is very hands-on with every event,” she added quickly. But, before Yejun could ask anything else, someone called Nayeon from across the venue.
“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Nayeon said, bowing politely again before hurrying off to handle the matter.
That left Yejun and Hamin standing side by side, watching staff members adjust floral centerpieces and aligned rows of chairs. He could feel the tension in his chest, the urge to say something to fill the silence. His mind raced, trying to figure out what topic or question could bridge the distance between them. He just didn’t want to make Hamin feel uncomfortable.
Hamin looked as effortlessly handsome as Yejun remembered. Every movement, every glance seemed to draw Yejun in deeper. The way Hamin smiled as he greeted passing staff, his voice warm yet commanding, only added to the magnetism. Yejun found himself watching him more than he intended. He had been captivated by Hamin’s charm the last time, but seeing Hamin now in this setting, made Yejun feel even more drawn to him than ever before.
“You know,” Hamin suddenly spoke after quite a while, breaking the silence, “The flowers your shop sent are stunning. They make this place come alive. Make everything more—” His words hung in the air, and when Yejun glanced at him, he realized Hamin’s gaze wasn’t on the decorations.
It was on him.
“...beautiful,” Hamin smiled softly, his eyes holding Yejun’s for a long moment.
Yejun was flustered, caught completely off guard by the way Hamin was looking at him. “Oh, um, thank you,” he stammered, quickly turning his gaze toward the decorations. “But I can’t take credit for that. My brother, Bamby, is the one who arranges the flowers.” He gestured toward Bamby, who was overseeing a team setting up a large centerpiece.
Hamin followed Yejun’s gesture, nodding thoughtfully. “So it’s a family business?”
“Yeah,” Yejun replied, eager to shift the focus away from himself. “Bamby’s the creative one, he’s amazing with the flowers. As for me, I handle the finances and all the business work. You know, the boring stuff.”
“Boring?” Hamin tilted his head, his expression softening even further. “I don’t think so. It takes a lot of skill to run a business like this. It just means you’re smart, dedicated, and good with people. So, that’s not boring.”
Yejun blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. But I think you’re giving me too much credit.”
“I don’t think so,” Hamin’s voice dropped slightly, almost as if the words were just for him. “I really think you’re an interesting person, Nam Yejun.”
Yejun laughed nervously as he scratched the back of his neck. “I think you’re just being nice. I’m really not that interesting.”
Hamin didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he let the moment linger. There was a little awkward moment in which neither of them knew what to say. Hamin had been looking too intense at Yejun, and he felt embarrassed by that stare, so Yejun began observing his gleaming shoes and chewing the inside of his cheeks. He had to talk at that time or else he was going to miss this perfect chance. To ask for Hamin’s number. After all, he didn’t know when he was going to see Hamin again.
“Can you give me your number?”
“Would you want to have dinner with me?”
They both spoke at the same time, making them blush like a high school teenager after they realized what the other was saying.
“I can give you my number, but in exchange, would you have dinner with me tonight?” Hamin repeated his question.
“L-Like on a date? Or…?” Yejun blabbered, he didn’t know why he asked that stupid question. Before he could clarify it, he heard Hamin’s chuckle, his gaze softened.
“Sure, like on a date.”
*********
Later that evening, they found themselves at a BBQ place. Hamin had initially planned to take Yejun to a nice restaurant nearby, but when Yejun mentioned his sudden craving for grilled meat, Hamin couldn’t refuse. The air filled with the aroma of grilled meat and laughter from other diners. The sizzling sound of the grill punctuated their conversation, which began lightly but quickly got into more personal topics.
“You wouldn’t believe it!” Yejun exclaimed, already loosening up with every sip of beer and soju. “This one bride wanted flowers that don’t exist! She showed me this ridiculous fantasy novel illustration and expected us to make it happen. I had to spend an entire day explaining that we’re florists, not magicians.”
Hamin laughed, “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full,” he said while flipping a piece of meat on the grill.
“Full? It’s flooding!” Yejun chuckled, his cheeks already tinged pink from the alcohol.
Hamin tilted his head, his smile softening. “You’re really passionate about your work, aren’t you?”
Yejun blinked at him before letting out a small laugh. “Yeah… I love it, even when it’s crazy.”
Yejun grew more relaxed, and the stories flowed freely. He talked about clueless customers, last-minute funny disasters, and the occasional bridezilla. Hamin listened intently, his laughter coming easily as he watched Yejun’s expressive gestures and the way his blue hair shimmered under the warm lights.
“You’re surprisingly good at holding your liquor,” Hamin remarked as he poured another round of soju for both of them. “I think we’ve gone through more than half a dozen bottles.”
Yejun leaned back in his chair, grinning. “What can I say? I’m a pro.”
Hamin chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, pro at being adorable when you’re tipsy.”
Yejun rolled his eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the blush creeping up his neck.
When they finally left the restaurant, the night air was cool against their flushed faces. Yejun wobbled slightly, his steps uneven as he clung to Hamin’s arm for balance. His face was as red as a steamed crab, and his laughter bubbled up uncontrollably every few steps.
“Are you okay?” Hamin asked, steadying him with a hand on his back.
Yejun paused mid-step, squinting at the dimly lit park ahead. “Let’s rest a little bit,” he murmured, pulling Hamin toward the grass. Without waiting for a response, Yejun plopped down and stretched out on the cool ground, exhaling deeply as he gazed at the starry sky.
Hamin hesitated before lying down beside him. The soft rustle of grass and the distant hum of the city filled the air. The crisp autumn breeze kissed his cheeks as the stars seemed impossibly bright, stretching endlessly above them.
“It’s beautiful,” Yejun murmured.
Hamin turned his head slightly to look at him. “Yeah… it really is.”
But he wasn’t talking about the sky. It was about Yejun—about his slightly mussed blue hair, and the relaxed smile on his lips, or the way the moonlight danced across his features. At that moment, Hamin thought, maybe this is what happiness feels like.
“Do you have a golden moment in your life, Hamin?” Yejun asked, his voice carrying a quiet curiosity.
Hamin frowned, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Golden moment?”
“Yeah,” Yejun replied softly, taking a deep breath before he continued. “There’s this movie I watched. It said that before a person is born, God will ask their spirit over and over if they want to enter the world. At first, the spirit hesitates. But then, God shows them a glimpse of their life… a series of golden moments. That one moment so beautiful, so powerful, that the spirit finally agrees to be born.” He paused, a small smile playing on his lips. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? What was the golden moment that convinced us to come into this world?”
Hamin fell silent, his gaze drifting as he searched his memories. “I think… I have one…” he admitted, though his tone a little sheepish. “What about you?”
Yejun let out a quiet chuckle. “Good for you, then. I don’t have one yet.” He stared at the night sky for a moment, then, almost absentmindedly, he said, “You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer.”
“Oh yeah? That’s unexpected,” Hamin replied. “Do you still want to?”
“Not really,” Yejun admitted with a soft laugh. “When I was a kid, I imagined singing in a stadium with thousands of people cheering me on. That dream also was the reason I chose to study music in university. Because I just loved singing so much.” He paused, his eyes still lingered to the night sky above. “But when my mother passed away… I couldn’t bring myself to close the flower shop. It was her legacy, a reminder of the love she poured into our family. So, I made a choice,” His voice grew quieter. “I buried my dream and took over the business.”
A beat of silence stretched between them before Yejun smiled faintly. “You know, sometimes… some dreams are just meant to be a dream… Nothing more…” His voice softened at the end, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips.
Hamin didn’t respond right away. He turned his gaze back to the stars before finally saying, “I’d really like to hear you sing, Yejun.”
“Trust me, you don’t. You’d fall for me instantly if you did.” The joke only made Hamin smile. After a quiet moment, Yejun sighed. “Maybe a life like this, a simple ordinary life, is best for me after all.”
Yejun’s words lingered in the air, blending with the quiet rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city. Hamin lay beside him, letting the silence stretch out as he contemplated what to say next. There was something bittersweet in Yejun’s tone, like an acceptance of a life Yejun thought was meant for him. But Hamin didn’t see it that way—not at all.
“Yejun,” Hamin said, still staring at the night sky, his voice low but firm. “Don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop achieving what you want. You’re special. If there’s a word stronger than special, it’s you. At least…” Hamin’s heart pounded as he spoke, his throat tightening. “At least, that’s how I see you.”
Yejun didn’t respond. Hamin waited nervously for a reply as the silence only made his heart beating even faster. But then—he heard it. A small whistle-like sound. He turned his head, only to see Yejun had fallen asleep, his face peaceful, lips slightly parted.
Hamin was dumbfounded.
“Seriously?!” he muttered, though a laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it. The tension that had filled his chest eased as he stared at Yejun’s sleeping face. His heart tightened in the most confusingly sweet way. “You’re really something, you know that?” he whispered.
He watched Yejun’s chest rise and fall with every slow, steady breath, his face peaceful and unguarded. Hamin couldn’t help but smile. His gaze lingered on the faint glow of Yejun’s flushed cheeks, the soft curve of his lips, and the way his blue hair fell messily over his forehead. It was an image Hamin wanted to hold onto forever.
Slowly, almost unconsciously, he leaned closer. His mind whispered all the reasons he shouldn’t—what if Yejun woke up? What if this ruined everything?—but his heart drowned out every argument. It felt so right, so natural, to close the distance between them. His heart raced as their faces inched closer together. Just a little more, and their lips would touch.
But then—Yejun’s eyes fluttered open.
Hamin froze, wide-eyed, before quickly jerking back. “I—uh—” he stammered. His face burned with embarrassment as he scrambled to sit up, avoiding Yejun’s gaze. “You were asleep, and I thought—well, I wasn’t—”
Yejun stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, as if nothing had happened, Yejun pushed himself up and brushed off his clothes. “I think I should go home,” he said quietly.
“Yejun, are you okay?”
Yejun paused but didn’t turn around. “Yeah,” he said, his tone calm. “I just… need some air.”
Hamin didn’t know what to say. He felt paralyzed, unsure if he should apologize, explain, or let him go. As he watched Yejun walk away, Hamin’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. He had no idea what to do next.
But suddenly Yejun stopped.
Hamin’s breath hitched as Yejun turned back, his gaze hesitant but steady. For a moment, neither of them spoke, until Yejun finally asked, “Do you want to walk me home?”
Hamin’s head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat. “W-what?” he stuttered, not sure if he’d heard correctly.
Yejun shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze flicked between Hamin and the ground. “I mean… it’s late. And, well, I’d feel safer if you walked me home. Only if you want to, though,” he added quickly, his cheeks tinged with a soft pink that wasn’t from the alcohol.
For a moment, Hamin just stared, stunned by the sudden shift. But then, as the realization sank in, a small relieved smile crept onto his face. “Of course,” he said, standing up and brushing off his pants. “Let me walk you home.”