He remembered the fans that had surrounded his members in the aeroplane, watching with perverted glints in their eyes. The way they had entered the toilet in packs whenever he used it. He remembered the fans that had lunged for him at the airport, eager to touch his skin. He remembered the calls on his phone, the pictures they would send to their twitter account.
The screams. The proximity. The lust in their eyes when they dug their claws into their private lives. He clamped up a little at the thought of obsessive fans. His eyes drifting to hers in an attempt to read the situation. Was she just as deluded and crazed as those fans?
His cock wilted at the thought, his mind grimacing and recoiling with disgust. A cold feeling rushed up to his skin as horror draped across his frame and he questioned his decisions and desire for her.
"I do," she nodded, her eyes looking a little steely at his implications. "Don't worry," she said as if she could read his expression. As if she knew exactly what he was thinking of. "I won't beg you for a photo, an autograph or whatever. I won't boast about meeting you on social media. I promise." She raised her hands in surrender, sliding her phone onto the table and switching it off.
She continued with a soft exhale. "I'm afraid that I don't have any further proof for you so you'll just have to take my word for it."
She watched him carefully with a small bitter smile on her lips. He felt a little lost at her reaction. The way she seemed to guard herself, the way she seemed to look sad when she said those words.
He felt bad, bad that he was wary of her.
She twirled her pen between her fingers and at this angle, Hikaru could finally see that she was doing an ink sketch of the tent. He was transfixed by the detail. The way the smoke seemed to rise and curl out of the papers and how the rain appeared to move and drip down the plastic tent within the paper.
"If you're uncomfortable, I can leave," she spoke, snapping the book shut and rising to go.
Hikaru found himself panicking, his heart was racing and his hands snapped up to stop her before she could go. He pulled at her sleeve, watching her with wide beseeching eyes.
"I can't finish all this food by myself." The words escaped his body before he could stop them. "Stay and eat with me." He begged.
He hoped that she didn't hear the pleading in his voice, hoped that she brushed it off as her own imagination. His heart pounded harder in his chest when she looked at him carefully and then sat back down, gifting him a small, cute smile.
Sweet. It bubbled up like a drop of sugar in a pot of bitter gourd soup and he found himself longing for more of that smile. He found himself a little transfixed and he struggled to break his gaze away from her to look at his food. He tried to keep himself sane with normalcy. His trembling fingers grasped the chopsticks to spear into a piece of blood sausage.
His fingers shook with the emotions that consumed his frame. And to hide it he made sure to move quickly, scooping huge amounts of food into his mouth and then dropping his hands back to his lap as he chewed.
He couldn't taste his food, his mind was consumed by thoughts of her. He peeked up at her from under his lashes as her lips twitched into a lopsided smile.
She nibbled on a piece of dough flake from the clam soup, taking slow sips of savoury broth. She seemed much more aware of her expressions and didn't give him those sexual moans like the ones he had seen at the buffet. But she did let loose a low hum of delight.
The sound pulsated to his cock. It jolted in his pants, weeping with its arousal and he squirmed. He choked on his food, the clumps of flour closing in on his breathing pipe.
He would have died if not for the soju which he poured quickly into a glass cup to wash it down his throat in one quick chug. The burn of alcohol stung on his tongue and boiled in his belly, successfully saving his life.
He slammed the cup onto the table coughing a little, his eyes teary. He looked up to see her expression of alarm and concern. Hikaru blushed and looked away as he cleared his throat.
Damn it. He must have looked so darn stupid. What was he doing? Mentally, Hikaru screamed and boxed himself for acting like a loser in front of her.
Her lips twitched and she took the green bottle, pouring the drink into his empty cup with two hands. A usual etiquette practice among Koreans between a younger and an older individual. Something he had forgotten in his panic to save his life.
He burned, squirming in his seat in shame. He felt like a mess. How could he have forgotten that drinking etiquette? He must have looked so damn rude! Regardless, she didn't seem to mind and her expression was tinged with her humour.
"If you don't mind my asking, who were you talking to?" She asked while taking a sip of soju. Her question jolted him out of his depressing thoughts and he glanced up at her.
"M-my father," he replied, flushing as he spoke. God, why was he so damn stupid? Blurting out all that shit in front of her? He might as well have indirectly confessed to her! He needed to apologise. He needed to let her know he wasn't a damn creep.
"I'm sorry!" He squeaked, standing quickly to bow awkwardly. He took his seat. "He's been forcing me into matchmaking meetings and I just really, really hated them. So..." He pressed his lips together and played with the hem of his jacket. "I used you." He spoke, cringing at the way it sounded.
"So...Was any of that real?" She asked, leaning forward to drink another spoonful of soup. She glanced up at him from under long lush lashes and he flushed, feeling hot and bothered. "The fairy." She waved her hands. "Uh, shooting star thing." She sat back looking at him with those deep warm eyes.
If Hikaru was in a better state of mind, he would have noticed that the flush to her cheeks was not a result of the cold or the heat. He would have noticed that her hands and bottom lip trembled with her own emotions. But Hikaru was way too consumed by his own thoughts and feelings to notice.
"N-no," he stammered automatically, his immediate reaction to deny. Then something within him lurched forward and he gasped. "No, I mean YES!" He declared loudly, then he realised what he was implying by saying yes. Goddamnit. He blushed prettily, the heat travelling up his skin. "I-uh-no..." He faltered, wincing at himself.
"Is that a maybe?" She asked softly, amusement playing on her lips.
"I—" Hikaru opened his mouth only to be stopped by the sound of someone noisily stomping into the tent shouting his name.
"HIKARU!" The gruff, sound bellowed and vibrated through the tent, familiar and filled with anger.
Hikaru turned, gaping at his father who stood at the entrance to the tent panting hard. His father was lightly soaked from the rain. Beads of sweat were on his brow, his face red from his exhaustion.
His father looked as if he ran miles to get here and his hand was propped on his hip to press against a stitch. Hikaru fumbled, brows scrunching together as he stared at the incredulous situation, his mouth dropped open in shock.
How the hell was he here?
"Dad?" He switched back to Japanese, raising his voice as he stood to look at his father.
"Hikaru!"
No honorifics to his name. Hikaru winced. The man was angry. It reminded him of his youth when he would steal peaches from the neighbours and get scolded by his father.
Hikaru would cry in a corner, sobbing to himself until his mother came to him with a cup of peach jelly. Their secret, she would say. It was made from one of the peaches he had stolen.
"You cannot just end your call like that and not answer my calls!" His life-giver yelled at him and Hikaru winced. He glanced at his phone. Ten calls, twenty messages. Oops. "What was I supposed to think?"
His father demanded, raising his finger to wag it at him. "I thought you were captured, mugged, raped or something!" His father stomped to their table. "How dare you!"