Says the Boy | j.jk ✓

02 • lord farquaad looking ass

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Moments later we're strolling outside into the late summer breeze, greeted by a smiling Yoongi and a sulking Cho.

"You're late," my best friend accuses.

"Pack it up, Sherlock Holmes," I grumble, earning me a swift flick to the forehead.

Jeongguk and Yoongi take the lead, Cho and I trailing a couple of steps behind as the four of us make our way downtown. The scenery shifts around us, stone campus buildings transforming into the dirty, busy streets of downtown Seoul, alive and bursting with light.

"Nice sweater, by the way," Cho teases quietly. "Where'd you get it?"

"You so much as breathe wrong in his direction and your ass is mine."

Cho laughs.

We make it to Seokjin's in the nick of time.

The bright, modern interior of the wildly successful restaurant hums with conversation, laughter and clinking dishes. The aromas of sweet and spice fill my mouth with saliva, baiting the beast in my stomach to release a hungry growl. Now that I think about it, the last meal I'd had was undercooked cafeteria pizza and browning salad, both of which did nothing to satisfy the endless hunger I'd felt since moving into residence. If the reviews are true, I know I'm finally in for some good food.

A cute host with a boxy smile leads us to a booth by the window. While Cho and Yoongi sit on one side, Jeongguk and I slide into the other. The blond's tall frame swallows what little space there is, and I discreetly shift my bare knees away from him.

Conversation is mellow and light (if somewhat strained) as we consult the menus, waiting to be served. I'm just about to make a meal out of the bread basket and call it a night when a server finally reaches our table.

"Can I start you folks off with something to drink?"

I look to Cho, silently confirming our earlier arrangement.

"Fine," she sighs. "Just don't go too overboard on the soju."

"Me? Never."

The alcohol opens me up, easing the initial awkwardness from my system and replacing it with fizzing bubbles of joy. My worries and tension fades into loose lips and easy smiles, both of which (plus the effects of his own wine) gradually coax confidence from the boy beside me. Jeongguk becomes less stiff, relaxing into his seat and even throwing an arm behind me on the headrest. He becomes alive.

God, how I missed him. His humour, his kindness, his wit, his warmth, his ridiculously silly stories that have me rolling and wishing I had been there to live them in the first place. There's this magnetic aura about him that draws me in, hanging onto every last word and constantly working to meet his banter. And every time he laughs at something I say or teasingly nudges me with those sparkling, starry eyes, I feel as if the earth stops spinning for a moment and it's just him and I.

How disgustingly whipped could I be.

The food itself is to die for — quite literally, seeing as I damn near choke to death on a rather greedy helping of spicy noodles. Jeongguk laughs at that, to which I respond by stealing his tteokbokki and relishing in the sight of his pursed brows and frustrated pout.

Too soon though, dishes are being cleared and tabs are placed in front of each of us. As promised, Cho covers my drink bill, shooting me a grateful smile upon realizing that I'd kept my drinks to a reasonable price and quantity.

I reach for my own wallet to cover the rest of my meal only to have a large hand cover my own and stop me.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jeongguk asks, seeming rather offended. His face is an adorable shade of pink — presumably from all the alcohol.