MIL | YG [✔]

13. Beomgyu

My jaw loosened, falling slack as I stared at the couple a mere ten feet away from me. Kazuha squealed, drawing the attention of the entire lobby while Yujin remained mute, eyes pinned on what was happening just behind the glass doors of the studio.

They swept open, and Hyunjin stepped inside, curls littered with droplets of chilly rain and cheeks the color of the apple I ate for breakfast. He ran his fingers across his bottom lip, and though it was small, his smile couldn't have been missed.

Kazuha squealed again, and he shot her a look clearly demanding she remain cool.

Too late.

"He kissed you!" She blurted.

I didn't think it was possible but Hyunjin's cheeks reddened even more, and he cast a quick glance over his shoulder, making eye contact with Chris. Something passed between them then—something sweet yet dangerous. Chris' icy eyes blinked once, looking at Hyunjin with such intensity I gasped.

It was exactly how Yeonjun looked at me.

"It was one kiss," Hyunjin mumbled, still tracing his bottom lip. "It was hardly a declaration of love."

Bullshit.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, but unlike Kazuha, I kept my mouth shut. Whatever happened between Hyunjin and Chris over the last five weeks was personal—a file of classified minutes and covert kisses only the two of them would ever be privy to.

"Drop it," Hyunjin said, pinning Kazuha with a pleading look. "I'm not ready to talk about it."

Kazuha snapped her mouth shut so quickly, that the sound of her teeth clicking together made me cringe. She nodded once, and Hyunjin flashed her a long look of gratitude. If I hadn't ever met Yeonjun, and fallen in love with a complicated man myself, I might've missed the longing and confusion that swam inside of Hyunjin's eyes—a tangled mess of honey and need.

"How was your class, B?" He asked, and I didn't mind the conversation change.

"Amazing." Peering over my shoulder, I glanced at the studio I'd just come out of. "I really missed those kids."

"Kaedan went nuts for his painting," Yujin said, giving my arm a light squeeze. "It was really incredible of you to make all those."

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"Don't act like everybody has the talent and drive to paint a dozen portraits of kids while practically bedridden."

Guilt tapped at my chest, and I tried to keep my grimace inward, lowering my gaze in an effort to avoid lying to my friend's faces. Being deceitful wasn't a talent of mine, and the act often made me feel itchy.

"It was the least I could do," I mumbled, shoving my suddenly sweaty hands into the pockets of my joggers.

All the dishonesty made my stomach clench like a pretzel that'd been tied too tight.

Though my wounds healed, I wouldn't consider myself fully recovered in a mental capacity. I'm not certain anybody ever gets over being kidnapped and held hostage. Even so, it was something I refused to let dictate the way I lived my life. I hadn't ever had one this wonderful before, and I'll be damned if I let that man take it from me.

My bruises were gone, Soobin was dead, and Daddy was practically feral in his attempt to protect me.

Fear was something I no longer wished to possess.

Through my desire to ensure Yeonjun's anonymity, fabricating my absence was the only choice that made any sort of sense. It left my insides knotted up and my skin clammy, but I would do it over and over again.