I see him first.

Sitting on the sand, scribbling away into a faux leather notebook, flip flops off, as well as something else. His shirt.

As I approach him from behind, the muscles of his back ripple beneath his smooth tanned skin as he turns a page, leaning back on one of his bicep-bulging arms, and that's when I decide to scare him.

"Hey, Kim Namjoon!"

That arm he depended so heavily on supporting his balance slides back, causing him to land on his back, staring up at me, a Korean girl with long wavy sienna brown hair and a long tropical dress that hugs her figure in all the right places. He smiles.

"Hwarin! Hey."

A slight sea breeze stirs the air, and I notice the way his almond shaped eyes reflect the blue skies above, the way his blond hair shimmers softly into curls of gold, the way he looks like an ethereal sea god despite being upside down...

"Sorry I scared you, I didn't think you'd..." I trail off with a giggle as he sits back up, brushing himself off, and I am momentarily distracted by the great expanse of his chest, with the faint outline of abs visible beneath the long necklace he wears with a shark tooth dangling from it.

"Oh, no!" he grabs his notebook, which has tumbled face first onto the sand, inches away from being swept into the ocean, and clutches it to his chest with a sigh of relief. "Phew, that was close."

"What's in it?" I plant myself beside him, leaning on my arm just as he did moments before, and he chuckles, flipping through the notebook.

"Oh, you know, just thoughts, drafts, random stuff," he closes the notebook, then turns to face me with a beam. "Nothing, really."

"I'm sure it's not nothing," I scoff with a playful grin. "Are you a writer or something?"

He shrugs. "I mean, I wouldn't call myself anything right now, but in the general sense of the word, as someone who writes, I suppose I could be considered a writer, yes."

I observe him with an amused smile. "You could've just said yes."

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I could've. If you haven't noticed already, I talk a lot."

"Hm, I couldn't tell," I tease, triggering further laughter from him.

"I'm sorry, I'll try not to babble too much-"

"Oh, no," I interrupt him. "Babble is good. I like babble. Kim Namjoon," I shift my body to face him completely, "would you like to babble with me?"

His eyes sparkle. "It would be an honour to babble with you."

"Okay, let's go, then," I stand up, grabbing my bag. "Let's walk while we babble."

So as the sun sunk towards the sea, we strolled in its dwindling golden embrace, babbling and drabbling about anything and everything. Starting with where we left off.

"I skipped a grade," he tells me. "As soon as we moved to Melbourne, I started school in grade four, but it was too easy for me, so they moved me up to grade five. And that's when I met my best friend, Yoongi."

"Is he Korean?"

"Yeah, it was just my luck that the first friend I made in my class was from Korea too," he chuckles. "When I first met him, he was sleeping in class, and as soon as I sat next to him, he woke up, blinking at me. And you know what he said?"

"What did he say?" I press, completely hooked in the way he tells these stories. He's a writer for sure.

"He said, 'you better not be one of those punks.' I remember thinking do I look like a punk? Because when I first walked in, I didn't wear my glasses, and my hair was still kinda short, so I spiked it up with some gel, and -"

"You probably looked like a punk then," I laugh.

"Probably," he agrees. "But as soon as I took out my glasses he said, 'oh, good, you're just a nerd.' I didn't know whether to be offended or what because this guy, Yoongi, he's so...blunt. He's not afraid to tell you the truth, and that's what I love about him. He's a great friend."

I listen to him speak about all his friends, and then I speak about my own life, and my own friends back home, friends who have known me since high school and have been with me through the good and bad. One thing we both seem to have in common, Namjoon and I, is our ability to talk about the people we love more than ourselves. I don't think we talked about ourselves as much as our sisters, or our mothers, or our best friends. And I bring this up, as we sit down for dinner at the local restaurant with a perfect view of the golden pink sunset.

"Well, as a writer, I can't help but pay more attention to people around me than myself," he explains. "I'm more of an observer than a main character."

"I'd say I'm more of a main character, then. Sometimes I feel so caught up in my own world that I seem to forget where I am, the people around me, even if I do love to talk about others," I respond as I peruse the menu for the vegetarian options. As usual, it's limited, but I take what I can get. Once we order, Namjoon turns to me.

"You don't eat meat?"

I shake my head. "Not a fan."

His eyes widen in surprise. "Really? Not even a little bit?"

I shrug. "Meat's just not for me, ya know? And before you say anything, yes, I am aware of how delicious samgyeopsal and bulgogi are, but it just gives me indigestion. Plus, I don't agree with the way animals that are bred to be slaughtered are treated. Have you seen the documentaries?"

"Unfortunately, I have seen a few, and to be honest, I have tried going vegetarian before, however, it didn't last long when my roommate brought home KFC for dinner," he laughs at the memory. "I'm a sucker for fried chicken. But for me, seafood is a no-go. Seafood -" he wrinkles his nose. "Never liked it. Plus, as a wise man once said, fish are friends, not -"

" - food! Right, gotcha!" we share a laugh, but then I frown. "Hang on, wasn't it a shark who said that, not a man?"

"I mean, that can be debated, right? Because sharks cannot talk," Namjoon counters with a smirk. "And the man behind the voice of the shark is, well, a man, not a shark."

"But it's the character he's playing that's a shark, and since it's the character's words, not the man's -"

"You do have a point there," he grins, just as the waiter brings a bottle of champagne.

"Did we...order that?" I frown as the waiter pours us both a sparkling glass. Namjoon shoots me a wink that makes my heart skip a beat while thanking the waiter, and once he's gone, he answers my question.

"I did," he whispers. "Champagne is always good."

"Let's drink to that," I hold up my glass, clinking it with his. And as we sip the bubbling liquid which catches the last rays of the sun in its sparkling depths, a sea of pink and gold, I feel the happiest I have ever been in a long time. Bathed in pink and gold, he is...glowing. Perfection. Everything I have ever wanted in a man. Everything that I've been looking for. His ability to carry conversation, stimulating my mind and my senses, making me think, making me smile, making me laugh...

He makes me feel like a champagne sunset, sparkling bubbling pink and gold, captured in the moment, a beautiful phenomenon.

🌻

"You should write about this."

She tells me this with pink and gold in her hair and her eyes, pink lips lifted into a smile, golden hands supporting her golden chin.

"I'll do something even better," I bring out my phone and snap a photo of her, and she gazes at me, lips parted in surprise with the sunrise of a smile.

"A photo. That's great and all, but I think we can go one step ahead," she retrieves her own phone, holding it out before her with a giggle. "Say hello, Namjoon."

I cower into a laugh, bringing a hand to cover half my face as she points the camera in my face, but then I feign confidence, nodding my chin up and letting out a deep, "Sup."

"Hm, I think I'll just film the sunset instead," she teases, moving her phone, so I reach over and snatch it from her, gently so as not to cause any damage, and I film her, who squirms beneath the camera's gaze.

"Hey! I'm the one that should be filming," she pouts, and I chuckle, letting out an involuntary, "Ah, cute!" in Korean. If she heard, she doesn't let on, instead taking a sip from her champagne glass and letting out a satisfied exhale.

"Mm, bubbly."

"Mm, beautiful," I murmur, forgetting about the camera and instead just taking her in with my own eyes, this Korean beauty before me who captured my heart when I was ten, and is doing a very good job of capturing it again, twelve years later.

"Ooh, looks like our food is coming!" she claps as she spots a waiter making his way towards us, and I stop the video, clearing my throat as I set it on the table near her.

We eat our meal as the colour gradually drains from the sky, leaving a faded grey as clouds gather over the horizon. She eats my cherry tomatoes and I eat her olives, and when we are done, I notice a lingering spot of sauce on the corner of her mouth, even after dabbing it with a napkin, so I lean forward, heart racing as I successfully remove it for her.

"Thanks," she blushes, and I move away slowly, wishing I could say, "No, thank you, because you gave me a chance to touch you, admire you from a closer perspective," instead of a plain, "No worries."

So that's why I suggest we walk off the meal on the beach, again, because I don't want to say goodbye yet. Her presence is addictive, and though I'm full, I'm still hungry for more of just...her.

"I've always loved this," she grins like a kid as she splashes her feet through the water. "Long walks on the beach. Cliché, right?"

"Not at all," I interpose as she giggles, running away from the tide that nips at her heels, not seeming to get enough of her either. And for once, I am jealous of that tide, for it gets to kiss her before I do...

"Hey, earth to Namjoon," she waves a hand in my face, and I blink, shaking my head and laughing.

"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about something."

"Perhaps a new novel?" she prods as we continue walking with our shoes dangling from our fingertips.

I toss a glance at her, at the way the wind teases her hair back, the way she shines even in the darkness, and a smile graces my lips. "Yeah. Something like that."

"How long does it take to write a novel? I've always wanted to write something, but I've never had the time."

"The few that I have written took only months," I reply, recalling the fond memories of my high school writing adventures. "But if I were to write a good one, it'd take way longer than that."

"Well, whatever you write, I'd love to read it someday," she says, her arm brushing against mine as she walks, lifting her dress so that it exposes her calves.

"Of course," my heart does a somersault. No one has ever been this interested in my writing, so to find someone who wants to read it is incredibly flattering.

"Oh my god!" she lets out a squeal of laughter as the wave crashes around our knees, forcing her to grip my arm for support so as not to topple over.

"You good?" I chuckle as she continues to cling to me until she lets go with a startled yelp.

"Sorry," her hair blows across her face as she examines her drenched dress with a sigh. "Oh, no."

"Let's get away from the tide," I find myself tugging her hand and she lets me lead her up the sand where there is more light for her to see how wet she got.

"I'm sure it'll dry in this wind," she decides, and that's when I notice the lightning on the horizon.

"I think we should get going," I point to the skies, which are crowded with black clouds, making the evening darker than it should be. "Your dress will only get even more soaked if we don't -"

My words are drowned out by thunder, and she lets out a gasp, squeezing my hand, and that's when I realize that we're still...holding...hands.

"Sorry," she lets go, biting her lip, and that's when the rain starts pouring, so sudden and so strong that by the time we find shelter it's already too late. We're soaked.

"Well, this isn't how I thought the night would go."

Hwarin cracks a smile, her hair dripping droplets onto her shoulders and down her collarbone, and I follow the path of one droplet which disappears down into her -

"How long does it rain in Hawaii?" her words snap my gaze back up to hers, which is set on the pounding rain outside the restaurant.

"A long time," a passing waiter answers her question, and she raises her eyebrows, before turning to me. "What do we do?"

I check my phone. "Well, it's currently half past eight, and if this rain will last a while, maybe we should just leave now."

"Oh, no, I forgot about the curfew," Hwarin groans. "The college closes its doors at nine, and I don't think I'll make it back in time."

"You can stay at mine," I blurt. "Just for the night."

"Okay," she agrees without a second thought, and I feel my heartbeat pick up its pace, slowly increasing its rhythm the closer we get to the hotel.

Why did I say that? Why did I suggest such a thing?

And why did she agree?

🌻

"There's only one bed, but I'll just sleep on the sofa," he offers, tossing me a towel. I catch it, draping it over my head as I look around his hotel room. He's got a TV, a mini fridge and a balcony.

"Cool," I nod. "So, uh, where's your bathroom?"

He leads me to the ensuite, an elegantly decorated room of black and silver, and I tell him I'll be taking a shower before closing the door.

It's only when I finish showering that I realize I don't have a change of clothes with me.

"Crap," I whisper, clutching a towel around my center with the other towel wrapped into a turban on my head. I peak out the door, wondering if I should call him, but then I chicken out and shut the door, leaning against it with a sigh.

Why did I take a shower in his hotel without a change of clothes?

It's like the rain washed away any sense left in my brain, and now I'm here, in his bathroom, with nothing but a towel, on the first date.

"Oh, God," I slap a palm to my forehead just as there's a knock on the door. "Namjoon?"

"I've got clothes!" comes the muffled response from the other side of the door.

"Oh, thank God!" I let out, turning the knob and sticking out a hand. "Thank you!"

I feel the warmth of his hands on mine as he passes the clothes before shutting the door and releasing the biggest sigh of relief yet. Crisis averted!

When I unravel the clothes, my cheeks burn. It's one of his shirts, and judging by the size...wow, it's big.

Perfect.

First date and I'm already wearing his clothes. Talk about moving fast.

"I ordered some tea. Do you want some?"

I tug at the bottom of the shirt, which is a little higher up my thigh than what I'd deem comfortable, as I tiptoe onto the carpet, my hair scraped up into a damp bun on my head, makeup completely removed, feeling completely vulnerable in front of him. But as soon as I see the steaming cup of tea in his large sun-kissed hands I smile.

"Yes, please."

I sit beside him on the sofa as he pours me a cup, the hot amber liquid making my mouth water and my skin tingle. It's been a while since I've had a nice warm cup of tea, and once again, I feel a spark as our fingers touch during the exchange, and I bring the steam to my face, allowing it to caress my skin and enter my nostrils with its herbal scent.

"Mm," the hot liquid is comforting, replacing the discomfort I initially felt and relaxing me to the point where I say anything that comes to my mind.

"Was this your plan all along, Mr Kim Namjoon?" I smile sleepily. "Wait for it to rain, then bring me to your hotel room, dress me in your clothes and drug me with some tea?"

For a moment he just stares at me, before throwing his head back, cackling so hard he has to set his cup of tea down.

"I was wondering when you'd figure it out," his eyes glitter in the low light of the lamp as the rain continues to fall outside the window, creating a soft background noise that mingles with the chocolate tones of his voice.

"I'm smarter than I look," I quip, and he doesn't hesitate with his response.

"You're as smart as you are beautiful, Hwarin."

His words take me by surprise, but they also take my breath away. "Thank you," I manage to utter out, softly, quietly, for nothing is louder than the drum of my heart in my ears, surging over the drumming of the rain on the window pane.

"You've always been so smart...and so beautiful," he continues, resting his head on his hand, which is supported by his elbow on the back of the sofa. He gazes at me in that dimly lit hotel room with glittering eyes and a faraway smile, and I force myself to focus on the tendrils of steam that rise from my cup as I take another sip, disappointed to find that it is the last.

"Please, don't say those things," I say, but I don't mean it, because hearing it feels so wonderful, almost better than a cup of hot tea while it rains outside.

"Why not? It's the truth," he smirks softly, and I bite my lip to contain my smile.

"Stop," but I don't want him to.

"You know, I never told you this, but I really..." he pauses. "Nah, I can't say it."

"Say what?" I raise my eyebrows at him with a teasing smile, and that's when I notice how we've subconsciously shuffled closer to each other. I swear we were not sitting this close together before.

"Oh, it's nothing," he runs a hand through his hair, which looks so soft and shiny, I wish I could just...

"That's what you said about your notebook, but I'm sure it's got the wonders of the universe in there," my eyes flicker over to where it sits on the table in front of us, untouched, waiting for it to be stolen...

"Hey!"

I giggle as I hold it away from him, darting across the room with it clutched to my chest and he follows with long loping strides and a tired smile.

"Come on," he sticks out a palm, but I shake my head, feeling mischievous, so I flip through it right in front of him, stopping on a random page and reading the first sentence there.

"She appeared again, like a dream that has bloomed into a woman, a woman that dares capture his heart again, just as she did all those years ago."

I look up at him, but he avoids my eyes, so I step forward, tentatively, until I am centimeters away from him. Then I place the notebook in his hands, with my own hands covering his, a sensation that makes him look at me again.

"Was that about me?"

My voice is barely above a whisper, and a heavy silence hangs in the air, save for the pitter patter of rain, and the pitter patter of our heartbeats, pulsing with anticipation.

"Of course," comes his husky reply. "Who else could capture my heart the way you did all those years ago?"

I take a deep breath, a deep shaky breath as I am so lost for words, that all I can do is look at him, really look at him, illuminated by nothing but a little lamp, yet I can see it all. The grooves of his dimples, the slope of his nose, the full shape of his lips, the hoods of his eyelids, the depths of his dark eyes that draw me in with a force greater than the universe.

"You're really something, Kim Namjoon."

He chuckles, looking down at the way our hands overlap each other on the notebook. "I guess what I couldn't say before has been said now. I really liked you, Hwarin, and I..." his eyes meet mine once more. "I think I'm starting to like you all over again."

"Wow."

"What?"

I smile. "You really do talk a lot, don't you?"

"What?"

I roll my eyes, still smiling. "Just kiss me, silly."

"Now?"

I laugh at his cute expression before standing on my tippy toes and using one hand to grasp his shoulder as I whisper against his lips, "Now."

And then we kiss, fingers still entwined over the notebook which falls with a faint thud to the floor, just like my heart as he grips my waist, pressing me closer to him as he explores my mouth deeper, giving me a taste of what it feels like to be loved, treasured, admired by someone so much that they would write about you, make you feel like the lead protagonist of a romance novel, except now...

We're living it.

🌻

oh my god the way I love this chapter please they are so cute together 😍