[1:15 PM – Outside the Podcast Studio | Black Car | Doors Slammed Shut]
She slipped into the car first.
Still in that ridiculous yellow Patiala frock.
Dupatta falling from one shoulder.
Hair loose.
No makeup.
Sneakers.
Her comfort outfit. Her shield.
Not anymore.
Because today?
It caused mayhem.
Four confessions.
One inside the hospital elevator.
One with coffee in the corridor.
One backstage.
And one—in front of him.
She buckled her seatbelt with a sigh, avoiding his eyes.
He entered next.
Silent.
Controlled.
Still wearing that dangerous look in his eyes.
The kind that said: "I'm calm, but only because I have plans."
The car started.
Smooth. Effortless.
But she could feel the storm riding shotgun.
She glanced at him, annoyed. Then stared out the window.
Y/N (muttering):
> "I'm never wearing this dress again. Never. It's dangerous."
He didn't say anything for a moment.
Just drove.
One hand on the wheel.
The other resting lazily in his lap.
Silent. As if he hadn't claimed her thigh with that same hand thirty minutes ago.
Then…
He spoke.
Voice soft.
Casual.
Like he was commenting on the weather.
Kim Bum:
> "Maybe it's not the dress."
"Maybe it's just you."
"You make people fall in love without trying."
She froze.
Eyes widened.
Neck whipped toward him like she just got electrocuted.
Y/N:
> "YAAAHHHHHH! You—YOU CAN'T say things like that!"
He smirked.
Didn't even glance at her.
Just kept driving, like he hadn't just sent her heart into cardiac arrest.
She sank lower into her seat.
Tried to melt into it.
As if the seat could swallow her whole and end this humiliation.
Her arms crossed.
A tiny pout forming.
She turned her face toward the window.
Sulking.
Sulking hard.
He didn't stop.
Kim Bum (innocently):
> "I mean… those guys confessed. I can't blame them."
"You looked like sunshine."
"Like trouble wrapped in chiffon."
"Like a dare I want to lose."
She whined softly into the glass.
Y/N:
> "Stop ittttt…"
Kim Bum (grinning now):
> "And that pout?"
"Illegal."
"You should come with a warning label."
She thumped her forehead gently against the window.
Still not speaking.
Refusing to play into his teasing.
Then—
His hand.
Sneaky.
Confident.
Landed on her thigh again.
She slapped it off.
He put it back.
This time higher.
Firm.
She slapped it off. Again.
Harder.
Kim Bum (chuckling):
> "Fiancé abuse."
She narrowed her eyes but said nothing.
Just sulked harder.
Then—
He did it again.
Slow.
Purposeful.
His palm rested just above her knee, thumb brushing once.
She didn't remove it this time.
Didn't say anything.
Just turned her face fully toward the window.
Cheeks red.
Lower lip out.
Sulking like a kid whose candy got stolen.
Kim Bum (softly):
> "You're cute when you're mad."
She stayed silent.
But her heart?
Screaming.
And him?
Already planning what to say next.
Something worse.
Something sweeter.
Something even more dangerous.
Because teasing her?
Might be his new favorite thing in the world.
[1:45 PM – At Home | Living Room | The Calm Before the Storm (or So She Thinks)]
The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of their house.
Not a word had been exchanged since the last thigh-touch showdown.
She unbuckled her seatbelt in record time, threw the door open, and marched straight inside like she hadn't been blushing the whole way back.
Didn't wait for him.
Didn't glance back.
Didn't even take off her sneakers.
Straight into the living room she went—
Plopped herself onto the couch—
Let out the loudest, most dramatic sigh in the history of sighs—
Then threw her dupatta over her face like a curtain, hiding from the world.
Or maybe just from him.
He followed a moment later.
Slow.
Relaxed.
Shutting the door behind him like they were just getting home from a grocery run and not a full-blown emotional ambush.
He didn't say anything.
Not at first.
Just stood near the entrance for a few seconds, watching her from across the room.
There she was.
The tiny fox in a yellow storm of ruffles.
Pretending to be mad.
Actually mad.
Probably both.
He took off his shoes.
Stepped closer.
Her dupatta shifted slightly—just enough for one eye to peek.
He saw it.
Smirked.
And moved like a tiger who smelled blood in the water.
Still silent.
Still dangerous.
She closed her eye immediately, yanking the dupatta fully over her head again.
Y/N (muffled beneath the fabric):
> "Go away."
Kim Bum (softly):
> "Why? I live here."
Y/N:
> "Not on this couch, you don't."
Kim Bum:
> "Then where?"
No response.
She stayed hidden.
The tiniest pout visible from the sheer edge of her dupatta.
And just like that—he decided:
He wasn't done teasing her yet.
Not even close.
[2:00 PM – Living Room | Seoul | Her Blush, His Playground]
He stood there.
Still smirking.
Still watching the barely-breathing mountain of yellow ruffles and drama sprawled across the couch like a defeated queen.
She hadn't moved.
Still hiding.
Still pretending he didn't exist.
Still cute.
Way too cute.
He stepped even closer, slowly—because slow was deadly—and stood right in front of the couch, looking down at her.
Kim Bum:
> "You know… Little fox… You're not very good at sulking. You talk too much to stay quiet this long."
Y/N (still under the dupatta, muffled):
> "I said go away, Mr. Actor."
Kim Bum (grinning now):
> "But this is my couch too, isn't it?"
Y/N (still dramatic):
> "Not anymore."
Kim Bum:
> "Fine."
And just like that, he dropped himself onto the couch.
Correction: Into her lap.
Yes.
Full.
Reckless.
Deliberate.
Head-first like she was a pillow sent from heaven.
She flinched so hard her dupatta slipped halfway off her face.
Y/N:
> "W-What are you doing!?"
Kim Bum (settling in like royalty):
> "Getting comfortable. You said don't sit on the couch. You didn't say anything about in your lap."
Y/N (face redder than the sun):
> "I DIDN'T MEAN—"
He shut his eyes dramatically.
Hands folded on his stomach.
A soft, victorious smile playing on his lips.
Like he'd just conquered a kingdom.
Kim Bum (eyes still closed):
> "Mmm… warm. Soft. Smells like vanilla. Mine."
Y/N (about to combust):
> "Kim Bum!"
He cracked open one eye, looking up at her with an exaggerated pout.
Kim Bum:
> "Oh no. Full name. That's when I know I'm winning."
She tried to push him off.
He held on tighter.
He even snuggled in closer like a clingy cat refusing to be moved.
Kim Bum (grinning):
> "You started it, little fox. Teasing me in that yellow dress. Payback."
Y/N:
> "This is NOT payback—this is chaos!"
Kim Bum:
> "Same thing."
And then—
She froze.
Because he let out the tiniest hum of contentment.
Like a sleepy child.
She looked down at him…
His hair was slightly messy now, his face resting against her, eyes closed again.
Calm. Happy.
Too soft.
Too much.
She stared.
Then very, very gently—
Her fingers reached up…
And stroked through his hair.
Once.
Twice.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He… giggled.
An actual giggle.
Not his usual dramatic actor laugh.
But a small, boyish, pure joy kind of giggle.
Like a kid being tickled by clouds.
Kim Bum (softly, eyes still shut):
> "You're doing it again…"
Y/N:
> "Doing what?"
Kim Bum (barely above a whisper):
> "Making me feel like home."
Her heart melted right into her ribcage.
Gone.
Destroyed.
She sighed. This time, a soft one.
No drama.
Just… affection.
Y/N (muttering, defeated):
> "Why are you like this…"
Kim Bum:
> "Because you're mine. And you're stuck with me, little fox."
She didn't answer.
But her hand never stopped stroking his hair.
And he never stopped smiling like a child who had the world.