all the romantic comedies he’d seen before couldn’t have prepared him for this. it’s the climax, he thinks. it’s that point in the movie where something finally clicks, when it all begins to fall into place. he’s filled with a sort of hope as he looks up to see chaewon back in the room, her blush reminiscent of when they used to play under the summer sun as kids; cheeks pink and radiant, red reaching her ears. he feels every bit enamored of her now as he did then, and it was so so stupid of him to think that this feeling would ever go away.
he was in love with chaewon, always has been, and that’s that.
he stands up from where he was previously kneeling on one knee, puts the fallen petals back into the pages while he listens to chaewon explain. the part of him that’s used to denying his feelings, the part that’s scared of being rejected wants him to cut this conversation short; to just end this inquiry here because maybe she doesn’t feel the same way. the flowers really were prettyㅡbecause chaewon deserved no lessㅡand maybe that’s all there is to this.
but there’s a part of him that notices how carefully arranged the petals were, how chaewon even took the time to sort them by date, and that part of him wants to keep hoping. that part of him wants to know if there’s something more. “is that the only reason?” he brings himself to ask, voice as soft as it could go. “is that the only reason you kept them? because i'mㅡ,” he pauses for a split second, just to let himself breathe, “because i’m really hoping that it isn’t.”
he walks towards her, book still in his hand. he doesn’t stop until there’s only a sliver of distance between them, close enough that the tips of their feet are almost touching. “do youㅡdo you get what i’m saying, chaewonie?“
she is frozen on the spot, unable to move a limb, unable to breathe for a moment. of course she knows what he means, cannot deny that his words, the way he speaks, the way he looks at her and moves, makes her heart race against her ribcage. and, quite frankly, this feels like a dream; like she’s fallen into her very own shoujo series with the super ikemen guy about to confess his feelings to the clumsy protagonist.
pink lips part, but no voice comes out, only whispered stuttering of little noises of speechlessness. soobin’s bold moments never fail to catch her off guard, but this one right here is something entirely else. she knows she cannot lie; has never lied to him before and she doesn’t plan on starting now. cannot deny everything she feels for him, all the emotions that have been built up and blossomed over their time together; they are too real, too evident. “i... i do get what you’re saying.” she replies, finally, voice equally soft, filled with all the pent up adoration for him.
her neck cranes, has to in order for her to look up at him now that he’s close, so close. it’s almost as if her body works on autopilot, no longer in her control, when her fingers reach up and curl into the material of his shirt, eyes locked on eyes. “it’s not the only reason. of course it’s not. those flowers, they mean the world to me. the memories of getting them every year make me happy. you -- you make me happy. so happy.” she speaks with utmost sincerity, an unknown force guiding her as she tugs at his shirt, a quite request for him to lean down.
“happier than anyone else. happier than just a friend i like. the kind of happy that makes my heart skip a beat and my face turn red. the kind of happy that has me wish i’m the only person you make happy like this. the kind of happy i’ve never experienced with anyone else. the kind of happy i don’t want to experience with anyone else.” a breath cuts off her words, silence reigning briefly, “do you get what i’m saying, soobinie?”
