➺♕ wonwoo and hyeri’s (not so) infinite playlist ! ww ❣ hr ↺
acawonwoo:
they’re running.
well, he is. in some sense hyeri really is running too, though—this operation. as expected.
wonwoo, for once, doesn’t find it in himself to complain.
“you’re pretty light,” he notes out loud, hoisting her up every now and then as they witness passersby’s funny looks on the way. “but that’s not an excuse for you to be smart and say pretty and light.” otherwise, i’ll fucking drop you.
the stop light’s not in their favor when they’re finally there, much to his dismay. theirs? he can’t tell if hyeri’s paying attention; his back feels weighed on enough all around. it wouldn’t be particularly nice for her to do whatever she’s capable of if she’s noticed a premature stop in their step though, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the present panic.
on a whim, the tall male paces back and forth as a front, daring to look back just to see their situation. it’s not such a good one. the supposed bodyguard is a lot closer than expected.
stop light’s still red.
fuck.
ten more seconds, judging from the gradual switch of turns in the ongoing lanes.
danger, danger, danger!
“noona-”
run the light, wonwoo.
why are you such a fucking pussy?
is there a sin in wanting to be safe?(!) what would he be to have some liability against him for ruining hyeri’s stupidly perfect skin and face in an attempt of keeping her safe for different reasons? a fool, or just someone with bad luck? the irony hurts, almost physically now.
your feet, are fucking ridiculous, he wants to say.
now.
the suited man could practically reach them at this point.
now.
but the risk of darting through passing cars makes this impossible. a risk so, so horribly taken, wonwoo’s not sure what’s knocked the air out of him when they reach the other side of the street.
they, hopefully.
↺ “you said it, not me,” hyeri easily quips despite her current situation; her narcissism does know no bounds. still, she takes the off-hand compliment, because compliments are something to be taken, and those in that nature are a kind she particularly likes to keep for herself.
but she doesn’t have enough time to bask in the glory of having the jeon wonwoo eat his words because she feels his panic through his back, her ears pressed close enough to pick-up the erratic heartbeats of that tell-tale muscle. instinct tells her not to look, but her own curiosity betrays her, and she lets out a high-pitched squeal before (again) using the boy as a shield,
and then they’re running. through rush-hour traffic. great.
she hears it all--the angry honks of interrupted cars, the gasp of the passersby on the sidewalk, the sassy ahjumma saying something akin to “kids and their k-drama fantasies” as she watched. but she pays them no heed. instead, she shuts her eyes tight and latches onto wonwoo’s back, her thighs squeezing his torso as much as she could while they made their risky exodus.
nerves packed with adrenaline, she lands a hefty punch on on the crossing’s emergency button, and the red sign loops for another hundred-twenty seconds.
“are you--oh.” she ended up choking him, apparently. she’s quick to unlatch her arms from his poor, poor neck, though her legs wobble from the sensation of actual pavement on her soles.
nah. it’s the broken heel. speaking of.
“it’s over here.” she grabs the boy’s wrist and pulls him to the alley on the left, one foot permanently left en pointe as she does her best to walk towards the department store.
they make it inside, though with much delay from the little handicap, but they’re safe in the many floors and boutiques in the posh shopping haven. but the first order of business is shoes, and this time, hyeri does not hesitate to take off the dilapidated pair (dior!), tossing it to the nearest bin with much precision. that’s five inches off her height, but she’s still as intimidating as ever.
"shoes first, then we plan our next move.” she doesn’t even bother correcting her pronoun use--wonwoo’s already gotten himself into this mess, and hyeri’ll make sure he stays until the end. she drags him to the elevator, knowing quite well that the shoe stores should be on the third floor.
she turns to face him before entering the contraption.
“as apology for almost choking you to death,” she begins, hesitant. reparations aren’t things she was admittedly good at. “--’ll pay for whatever you want to buy today.”
