Nayoung was on the wrong side of drunk well before new year’s, entirely and unfortunately out of her own volition. Jeonghan shifted from where he was leaning against the railing to face her. “You’re mad at me,” he stated with amusement.
“I needed to clear my head,” she still had the self-preservation to correct. But she wasn’t quite above the curiosity gnawing at the back of her throat like a dog with a bone, “Why would you think that?”
The wine glass balanced between Jeonghan’s fingers refracted the city lights on its curved face like a mirrorball. “Just a hunch,” he said.
She propped her chin against the palm of her hand. It was freezing on the balcony, and her cheeks were surely flushed from the winter cold. All conditions for the, “You say that like you’re privileged enough to know,” she accidentally let slip.
“Ah,” Jeonghan echoed.
“That’s not saying a lot.” After all, she’d watched from the couch as he took his sweet time after shrugging off his coat at the front door, talking to everyone on his long-winded path toward her. It wasn’t like her, she knew, to stalk out in haste as their eyes met from across the living room, her heart suddenly deafening in her own ears. "You know everybody."
He smiled. “And is that such a bad thing?”
“Why would it be?” she scoffed.
“It just seems like it,” Jeonghan replied so gently that she made the mistake of looking at him. His gaze steadfastly trained on her was gentle, too. “To you.”
Nayoung inhaled shakily. “I feel like I’m being cornered,” but she was the one leaning into him against her better judgment.
“You’re the one who led me out here into the dark to make out,” Jeonghan retorted, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “So who really started this?”
Feeling the liquid courage heat her belly, Nayoung tugged at the collar of his shirt. She proffered directly to Jeonghan’s mouth an open challenge, “Only one way to find out,” and he closed the distance to kiss her just as the crowd inside started the countdown from ten.
game theory - nayoung/jeonghan - au
“I needed to clear my head,” she still had the self-preservation to correct. But she wasn’t quite above the curiosity gnawing at the back of her throat like a dog with a bone, “Why would you think that?”
The wine glass balanced between Jeonghan’s fingers refracted the city lights on its curved face like a mirrorball. “Just a hunch,” he said.
She propped her chin against the palm of her hand. It was freezing on the balcony, and her cheeks were surely flushed from the winter cold. All conditions for the, “You say that like you’re privileged enough to know,” she accidentally let slip.
“Ah,” Jeonghan echoed.
“That’s not saying a lot.” After all, she’d watched from the couch as he took his sweet time after shrugging off his coat at the front door, talking to everyone on his long-winded path toward her. It wasn’t like her, she knew, to stalk out in haste as their eyes met from across the living room, her heart suddenly deafening in her own ears. "You know everybody."
He smiled. “And is that such a bad thing?”
“Why would it be?” she scoffed.
“It just seems like it,” Jeonghan replied so gently that she made the mistake of looking at him. His gaze steadfastly trained on her was gentle, too. “To you.”
Nayoung inhaled shakily. “I feel like I’m being cornered,” but she was the one leaning into him against her better judgment.
“You’re the one who led me out here into the dark to make out,” Jeonghan retorted, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “So who really started this?”
Feeling the liquid courage heat her belly, Nayoung tugged at the collar of his shirt. She proffered directly to Jeonghan’s mouth an open challenge, “Only one way to find out,” and he closed the distance to kiss her just as the crowd inside started the countdown from ten.