・❥・ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴜꜱʜ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. Jung Wooyoung, known for his hot pink cosplay outfits, has blossomed with confidence thanks to his boyfriend, San. Enduring a time apart due to San's work, Wooyoung has held his own. But upon San's return, the dynami...
The next few days were a test of patience and perseverance. I sat in the corner of Wooyoung's café, casually sipping my coffee. He didn't acknowledge me or entertain my presence, making every effort to avoid speaking to me. But I wasn't going to force him. Instead, I focused on showing him small gestures of my love, from sending flowers to writing letters. I wanted to prove that my feelings for him were genuine and not a joke. I was determined to reveal a softer side of myself that he had never seen, to make him fall in love with me. San's engagement to Wooyoung didn't matter to me—I was solely focused on Wooyoung, on his angelic face and the beauty that shone from within his sweet, gentle soul.
Reflecting on my time in juvenile detention, I realized I had approached everything the wrong way. I wanted to mend what I had broken—our so-called friendship. I longed to be around him more, to speak to him freely. Just hearing his voice soothed me. I watched as he glanced my way in confusion before walking into the kitchen, ignoring me.
I sighed, setting down my coffee cup. This wasn't going to be easy, but I was committed to proving myself. Each day, I left a small bouquet of his favorite flowers on his counter with a handwritten note, expressing my remorse and my desire to make amends. I didn't expect an immediate response, but I hoped that over time, he would see my sincerity.
I noticed Wooyoung lingering by the counter, reading one of my notes. His expression was hard to read, a mix of curiosity and wariness. He glanced in my direction, and for a moment, our eyes met. I offered a small, hopeful smile, but he quickly looked away, disappearing into the kitchen again.
Determined not to give up, I continued my quiet campaign. I left a beautifully wrapped book on the counter one day, knowing it was one he had mentioned wanting to read during one of his streams. Another day, I arranged for a delivery of gourmet chocolates, each piece carefully selected to suit his tastes.
Gradually, I noticed small changes. He no longer avoided eye contact as much, and occasionally, he would nod slightly in acknowledgment when he saw me. These were small victories, but they gave me hope.
As Wooyoung approached my table to place down the coffee, his movements were precise and devoid of any unnecessary interaction. Just as he was about to walk away, I reached out impulsively and grabbed his wrist. He tensed immediately, his body stiffening under the unexpected contact.
"You have to stop coming here, Joon—don't waste your money on me. I'm happily engaged," Wooyoung said sharply, pulling his hand away from my grasp with a quick, determined motion.
