He did his best though, to keep himself together and not lose it in front of the clients. He had to stay chill. He took a seat and folded his fingers over his crossed legs, hoping to hide the fact that his heart was hammering uncomfortably. He couldn’t stop glancing at her as the clients continued to talk about what exactly they wanted from the two of them, their collaborations (which made no sense anyway, because clients never really knew what they wanted).
Oh god. They would have to spend time together twice a week for the next three months, though. Jiyong sat mostly in silence, zoning out a little but nodding every once and a while, wondering if he was perhaps actually in hell.
“Call me Belle--Jiyong” she mused in reply before returning his bow briefly, cheery smile an omnipresent presence for the entirety of the meeting. And aside from the way she said his name, laced with a hint of nostalgic and a mixture of emotions, nothing seemed out of the ordinary for Belle. She still cracked jokes, never wavered from his gaze, and got along quite swell with the clients. It wasn’t until the clients were about to leave that anxiousness gripped Belle’s stomach -- it’s only been 10 minutes why the fuck are they leaving now -- she couldn’t help thinking to herself. She didn’t want to be alone with him, she couldn’t. Part of her wanted to just drop the arrangement all together, but Belle knew that doing so she not only lost business but also would tarnish her name within the artistic community. After all, She’d already agreed.
“well, we really don’t have much to add so I guess we’ll be going now. Here are the keys to the gallery and a credit card to put orders for supplies on.” The Mr. said, handing Belle a small envelope that held two keys and a credit card. “If you don’t have any questions, we’ll be leaving! We’ve got a plane to catch but keep in touch via text darlings!” The Mrs. cooed -- and just like that....they were gone.
Belle couldn’t even get in a “wait!” and the couple had fled. “goddammit.” Belle muttered under her breath, fingers mindlessly playing with the envelope as she stared at the empty doorway, eyes watching the door slowly swing shut.
Closing her eyes to regroup her composure, Belle turned around slowly. Emerald hues settling on the man before her -- a boy that she’d once held onto now embodying a real man. Fuck. Belle thought, eyes taking in every single inch of the familiar face etched into her skull -- the one she couldn’t forget no matter how hard she tried. He was the one that got away, or really, that’d ran away.
No words left her mouth as she simply stared at him, silence surrounding her as she simply stood there. All the past cheeriness, warmth, and smiles she’d held for the clients only momentarily gone just like that.
He’d changed, she thought. Gone were the untamed tresses that she’d pushed countless times away to reveal his dark hazel eyes. Gone was the young boy that’d shown her all the thrills of life, rampaging the streets at dark, just two young kids in love -- a little lost, a little crazy, but both without a care in the world. and in their place stood two people, grown-up and perhaps not as carefree, tamed and in chains created by society. Yet she could still see hints of the boy that’d once been hers, of the mysterious yet confident aura that still seemed to surround him. It was him alright.
