Author: FarFromSuga (Alyce)

Tequila dreams are the most romantic. Laying in the warm sand, on a beach somewhere near the equator, sipping on a margarita, getting drunker quicker than she could think.

That's exactly what happened to Hyerim that night. She'd gone out to a bar by herself in the nice part of town, hoping fewer creepy guys hung out in the high-end bars. Rich guys--it turned out--were just as creepy and perverted as your average guy. 

Their glances lingering on her body for a little too long and one even propositioned her thinking she was a prostitute. Why else was a girl wearing a tight dress in a bar on that end of the city?

Well, she wasn't there for the men that was for sure. Hyerim was there to get drunk on overpriced tequila that would get her in the state she desired, quicker than the watered-down stuff served at her average pub.

She wasn't quite sure how she was going to get to her apartment on the other end of the city. 

The buses would stop running to her part of the city halfway through the night and based on the price of the drinks she was buying, she probably wouldn't have enough for a cab. But, those cares began to slip away as she drank more.

She wasn't much of a drinker if she were being honest, but her life had seemed to be crumbling lately. Hyerim and her boyfriend of nearly four years had broken up, she'd gotten evicted from the apartment she shared with him soon after, and finally, her boss was telling her to write more attention-grabbing pieces or she would be done for.

You'd think as a celebrity gossip magazine they wouldn't be too picky with its content, but the one Hyerim wrote for: underneath all of its sensationalist headlines and somewhat biased articles, it was almost all true. Her boss required at least a sliver of evidence before publishing a piece.

This was where Hyerim was always hung upon. It was easy to make up stories, she'd been doing it since she was a little girl. But, finding evidence to back up her stories was harder. She wasn't rich, she didn't have connections, and she wasn't pretty enough to get into clubs just by batting her eyelashes and saying a couple of pretty words. She'd occasionally enlist one of the company's photographers, but even then, there was no guarantee she could get what she needed.

Most of her articles were fashion-related or on celebrity scandals that were already well documented. Her boss wanted to publish Hyerim 's breakthrough piece, she wanted her to strive to her full potential. So, she laid down the ultimatum: write better articles that will sell magazines or Hyerim would lose her job.

It wasn't like she wanted to write celebrity gossip columns her entire life, but there was something about it that made her feel big, even for a few moments. 

Celebrities had everything; money, adoring fans who would throw themselves at them, good looks, and everything they could possibly want in life. And what did she--Cho Hyerim--have? She had expensive tequila instead of dinner on a Friday night, willing all her problems away.

Which--despite the depressing nature of it all--would've been okay with her, but she continued to drink.

Maybe it was that she took a few free drinks from strangers to be polite or that she simply wanted to blackout and hope she came to with another life. One with a cute boy and a job she actually liked. A job where she created stories that couldn't get her sued if she went too far, a job where the stories rumbling around her head could be shared and respected. Not just whittled down to a semi-misleading headline and 1,000 words of circumstantial evidence.

At the very least, Hyerim wanted the hard stuff. She wanted to hit where it hurt. Covering the cheating scandals and breakups. The things people were really interested in. And, maybe that's why she really came to a bar she couldn't afford on the opposite side of the city. She hoped to run into some heartbroken idol drinking away his heart with whiskey on the rocks or some actor sitting with a woman that was definitely not his wife and stroking her calf under the table. 

But, all she got was some businessmen flicking their eyes over her body as if she weren't young enough to be shopping with their daughters on the high street and a few sympathetic gazes from the bartender when he set down another drink.

^^^

The rest of the night was a blur. Hyerim didn't remember how or why she ended up cracking the back of her head on the edge of a table. Maybe she fell off the barstool? Maybe she was dancing and tripped out of her three-inch heels she could barely walk in any way?

The only concrete things she remembered were his milky brown eyes looking down at her and the gentle touch of his palm as he helped her up.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"It looks like you hit your head pretty bad."

She didn't remember responding or not responding but, whatever she said or didn't say, must've convinced him of her inebriated state. Not only was she drunk off her ass, she probably had a concussion, too.

The ride home was encased in fog. She remembered her butt hitting the leather seat of the car as a rush of pain ran through her head. She must've told him her address, Hyerim having no idea how she got home otherwise. She was surprised she even remembered her own address.

He told her not to fall asleep, but she wanted desperately to do nothing else. Hyerim reverted to studying his form, only making out his basic shapes. His floppy, oblong hair that complimented the sharp line of his jaw. His lips were plump and round but, despite having his shapes memorized, the true look of his face never took form.

^^^

Hyerim woke up the next morning--or rather the next evening--finding a jacket thrown loosely over her form. Her heels were set neatly set by the door and a note was left on the coffee table.

I helped you home last night. You hit your head and I think you should see a doctor as soon as you wake up. I stayed as long as I could to make sure you were all right. Don't worry about returning the jacket.

Below he'd left a phone number, but no name. Her head ached as she read the words, having to read the three sentences multiple times in order to grasp the meaning.

She couldn't help but smile. It was unlikely to find such a decent guy anywhere in Seoul, let alone where she was the night before. He'd helped her home without taking advantage of her vulnerable state and even left her his jacket. Her heart swelled, albeit it less violently than her head.

^^^

Once she recovered, Hyerim could hardly keep her eyes off the note the mysterious man had left. She'd stuck it to her fridge so she'd always have a reminder of the world's kindness, beneath all of its grim.

Hyerim hands hovered over the keyboard as she wondered whether or not she should text the number he left. He deserved a proper thank you, but her hands shook as she attempted to type it out.

What could he think of her? A girl who went across the city to a bar she obviously couldn't afford just to get drunk. 

She shuddered.

Despite her insecurities, her fingers managed to find the words.

Hyerim (3:23pm): I'm the girl you helped home a couple of weeks. I'm recovered now. Thank you.

She sent the message before she thought better of it.

^^^

Hyerim returned to work not long after recovering, finding everything the same as she had left it. The bag of chips she had hidden in the bottom drawer of her desk, the pen she taped to the bottom so no one would steal it, and the ultimatum.

"I'm happy to see your fully recovered," her boss said, sitting back in her chair. 

"But, I hope that this time off has allowed you plenty of time to think of article ideas?"

"Actually, it has," Hyerim said, "but, I may need one thing from you."

"And what would that be?"

"I need to go undercover. It seems I can't get evidence for the kind of articles myself unless I enter their worlds. I have a particular idol in mind."

Her boss smiled. 

"That is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to hear. Who is this idol?"

"Kim Seokjin."

Hyerim's boss's eyes widened, but she nodded. 

"That's an interesting choice. He's fairly clean. Never parties or has much room for scandals."

"Exactly," Hyerim said, "I remember reading that he and his longtime girlfriend recently broke up. Other than the initial news, no one seems to be reporting it. That seems odd. I feel like there's more to this break-up."

"If you can prove it, I'll print it."

"I intend to."

"Very well then," she said. "Your duties will take you outside of the office from now on, but I need you to be careful. We don't need other magazines thinking that you and Jin are closer than just friends. I also need a progress report every week."

Hyerim nodded, smiling widely as she walked from her boss's office.

^^^

3 days later

Him (2:12pm): You're welcome. Glad to hear you've recovered.

-❤